Tag: Opera

Categories
Recording

Weber: Silvana

Pale green early floral

Michaela Kaune Mechthilde, Ines Krapp Clärchen, Ferdinand von Bothmer Graf Rudolf, Jörg Schärner Albert von Cleeburg, Detlef Roth Graf Adelhart, Andreas Burkhart Fust von Grimmbach, Simon Pauly Krips, Tareq Nazmi Kurt, Marko Cilic (spoken) herald/Ulrich, Rut Nothelfer cello, Chor des Bayerischen Rundfunks, Münchner Rundfunkorchester, Ulf Schirmer
141:34 (2 CDs)
cpo 777 727-2

An opera in which the heroine doesn’t sing? Well, I suppose many of us will have experienced performances that inspired the feeling that it might be an improvement, but this is the only example I know of where the part was written in such a way. The first of Weber’s operas to achieve some success, Silvana has its roots in the composer’s first operatic venture, Das Waldmädchen of 1800. The immature teenage work was discarded, but Weber incorporated fragments of it when he returned to a re-worked version of what is an archetypal Romantic story. A naïve mute girl is discovered living in a wild forest by Rudolf, a hunting nobleman. He of course falls in love with her and after many twists and turns eventually discovers she is the noble sister of the woman to whom he is unwillingly engaged. Fortunately she too wants to marry someone else, so all ends well, especially as Silvana has only been playing mute. Silvana created little impression when first given in Frankfurt in 1810, but achieved greater success when it was staged in Berlin two years later.

Both as literature and drama Silvana is fatally crippled by a quite abominable libretto. Characters appear and disappear, only to play no further part in the proceedings, while a line like ‘shall I ruffle my hair in my rage?’ is sadly not unique. Musically, too, the opera is hardly distinguished, though the forest setting of the first and third acts inspires the evocation of nature in all its sublime awesomeness that would reach full maturity in Der Freischütz a decade later. There are also many felicitous touches of orchestration, the touching scene in which Rudolph attempts to question the silent Silvana enhanced by an expressive cello solo.

The present performance of the original 1810 version is taken live from a production in Munich in 2010. The singing is variable, the demanding role of Rudolph in particular needing an heroic tenor in the Jonas Kaufmann mould, qualities regrettably not in evidence in the strained, over-parted singing of Ferdinand von Bothmer. The main female singing role is that Silvana’s sister Mechthilde, Michaela Kaune progressing from an unsteady start in the scene with her blustering father Adelhart to give a dramatically compelling and more tonally secure account of her big act 2 recitative and aria. The only other major role is that of the squire Krips, a Papageno-like character, well if not memorably sung by Simon Pauly, while the singing of the smaller roles does nothing to add or detract from the overall competency. The experienced Ulf Schirmer directs with sensitivity and due regard for Weber’s fresh, bright orchestral palette, while drawing fine playing from his Munich Radio forces, though period winds (in particular) would doubtless have provided greater piquancy. The booklet includes a translation of the sung parts, but does not print the spoken dialogue in German or English, a synopsis being provided in another part of the text.

Brian Robins

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Categories
Recording

Veracini: Adriano in Siria

Floral design

Sonia Prina Adriano, Ann Hallenberg Farnaspe, Roberta Invernizzi Emirena, Romina Basso Sabina, Lucia Cirillo Idalma, Ugo Guagliardo Osroa, Europa Galante, Fabio Biondi
172′ (3 CDs)
Fra Bernardo FB1409491

[dropcap]A[/dropcap]driano in Siria was the first of three operas written by the virtuoso violinist Francesco Maria Veracini for Handel’s London rivals, the Opera of the Nobility. It was first performed at the King’s Theatre on 26 February 1735, subsequently running to an impressive 20 performances. The booklet notes for this first recording wrongly suggest a mixed reception, in the process inaccurately citing the king as the leading supporter of the Nobility, and quoting a long, damning (if amusing) report of the opera by Lord John Hervey, without recognising that Hervey was by no means an impartial observer, being a bitter opponent of the Prince of Wales, who was the leading supporter of the Nobility. Adriano was set to a much-altered libretto of Metastasio’s. It tells of the Emperor Hadrian’s (Adriano) betrayal of the Roman princess Sabina in favour of Emirena, his captive and the daughter of his enemy Osroa, King of Parthia. Caught in the middle of this intrigue is Farnaspe, a Parthian prince betrothed to Emirena, a role taken by Farinelli, who headed a glittering cast that also included Senesino (Adriano), Cuzzoni (Emirena) and the bass Montagnana as the fierce Parthian ruler. The score is an admirably capable piece of work that includes an agreeable variety of arias. The writing, perhaps understandably, tends to be more instrumental in character than one might expect from Handel or Hasse, some of it indeed being reminiscent of Vivaldi (cf Osroa’s act 1 aria di furia ‘Sprezza il furor’). If there is a weakness it is a tendency for the instrumental writing (usually for strings alone) to fall back on sequential chains of roulades.
     Nonetheless a large vote of thanks is due to Fabio Biondi for reviving the opera (and providing the missing plain recitatives) and doing so with a cast that in present-day terms seeks to emulate the original. Praise must however be tempered with considerable reservation regarding Biondi’s direction of the live performance, which emanates from the 2014 edition of Vienna’s Resonanzen Festival. Tempos are often extreme, while within arias they are often pulled around mercilessly, especially (for some reason) in B sections. The strings, not favoured by a dry recording, sound woefully undernourished, the small number (3-3-2-1-1) contrasting starkly with the 20-odd known to have been employed by the King’s Theatre at the time. The addition of timpani in several numbers is almost certainly spurious. It is a measure of the quality of Ann Hallenberg’s wonderful Farnaspe that it eclipses the remainder of a splendid cast, not least because she is the only one to produce proper trills. But whether in primarily lyrical arias such as ‘Parto, sì bella’ (act 1) or the rather vacuously virtuosic ‘Amor, dover, rispetto’ that ends act 2, Hallenberg is here at her peerless best. The presen-tation by the recently established Fra Bernardo label is poor. The booklet’s small white print on black is difficult to read, there is no translation of the Italian text and the synopsis of the plot is remarkably unhelpful. The company has an interesting catalogue in prospect, but it will need to be more user friendly to English speaking collectors if it is to succeed.

Brian Robins

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Brian adds: The rating for performance is an average. It would be 2 for orchestral work, 4 for singing (5 for Ann Hallenberg!)

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Categories
DVD

Handel: Rodelinda

Floral design

Danielle di Niese Rodelinda, Bejun Mehta Bertarido, Kurt Streit Grimoaldo, Konstantin Wolff Garibaldo, Malena Ernman Eduige, Matthias Rexroth Unulfo, Luis Neuhold Flavio, Angelo Margiol Flavio’s friend, Concentus Musicus Wien, Nicolaus Harnoncourt
189′ (2 DVDs)
Belvedere 10144

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his DVD is hardly worth listening to, let alone seeing. The speeds are dull – to take for example the overture (where was the minuet?), the largo was andante-larghetto; the allegro was andante. The tempi continue in such fashion (‘mean’ Handel – where fast is too slow and slow too fast). The cast is pretty decent, although indiscriminate vibrato taints them all. And while Bejun Mehta is not bad as Bertarido, Matthias Rexroth (Unulfo) makes a good case for using a contralto or mezzo. (Amazingly, women can play men.) As the heroine, de Niese has good facial expressions and can act (makes up for an indifferent voice), but Rodelinda is misconceived: no dignity or that aura of untouchability that means a) Grimoaldo is helpless about her in more sense than just love, and b) that she keeps her reputation and poise throughout. For example, her ‘L’empio rigor’ (far too pedestrian, by the way – and that’s before de Niese lags behind the beat) starts with Grimoaldo actually touching her and towering over her; she seems indecisive and at a loss what to do. The music is so at odds with this that the whole thing’s a nonsense. It’s a shame, for Grimoaldo’s entrance is suitably bumbling. And there’s some bizarre wardrobe-moving – but what else do you do in the da capo? (And, of course, Rodelinda, being a woman, is only interested in clothes anyway.) The recitatives are awful – very sung; all notes almost the same length (interminable). There are occasional good moments (e. g. the first encounter between Grimoaldo and Eduige, and Bertarido’s ‘Dove sei’), but the bad moments are too cringe worthy – e. g. the sex scene between Eduige and Garibaldo (never mind that Eduige is supposed to have left the stage… And how do you bonk with your trousers on/tights up?) We’ve only got a third of the way through Act I. It doesn’t improve. Avoid!

Katie Hawks

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Categories
Recording

Il Pianto d’Orfeo or the Birth of Opera

Floral design

Nicholas Achten baritone, Deborah York soprano, Lambert Colson cornetto, Scherzi Musicali
75:49
Deutsche Harmonia Mundi 88843078722

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his intriguing CD takes the Orpheus legend as a springboard to explore the world of early opera. To a surprising extent the legend dominated the early years of opera, providing in its story a powerful message about the power of music, but also a hero who conveniently performs monophonically to his own instrumental accompaniment. What Nicholas Achten has done here is stitched together a fantasy opera in which numbers from a range of these early settings are placed in sequence to retell the story. At first I determined to listen to the sequence ‘blind’ to see whether the music by Monteverdi stood out from his contemporaries as many commentators suggest that it ought to. Of course this proved impossible to judge as I already knew the Monteverdi well, but to my mind much of the ‘supporting’ music by Rossi, Merula, Caccini, Cavalieri, Piccinini, Falconieri, Landi, Sartorio and of course Peri seemed highly effective and, in the hands of Scherzi Musicali, powerfully expressive.

The role of Orfeo is taken by the Nicholas Achten, whose light baritone voice seems constantly on the verge of ornamentation and is perfectly suited to the music – his account of the Monteverdi’s superlative aria Possente spirto is one of the finest I have heard. His Euridice, who in keeping with the earliest settings plays a much smaller role in the drama, is Deborah York whose soprano voice is also convincingly expressive. The accompanying consort of strings plus two cornetts and a range of continuo keyboards including harpsichord, organ and virginals occasionally joined by theorbo, guitar, harp and bass cittern provides highly charged textures to support the singers as well as performing purely instrumental items with considerable delicacy and passion. This CD is a true pleasure to listen to, and provides the very useful service of bringing several early operatic composers out of the textbooks and into the limelight, if perhaps in the context of a co-operative effort which few of them would have countenanced in life.

D. James Ross

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