This review was commissioned by Mumbai Theatre Guide and is also available at:
http://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/dramas/reviews/17-english-play-review-27-11.asp
“27/11” adapted by Rahul Da Cunha from “The Mercy Seat” by Neil LaBute.
Directed by Rahul Da Cunha.
Cast: Shernaz Patel and Nadir Khan.
NCPA Experimental Theatre, 13 December 2012, 7pm.
Neil LaBute is an enfant terrible of the American theatre….or rather, theater. His plays take a misanthropic look at the dark side of human nature; are laced with gender politics and imbued with emotional sado-masochism. All of these are apparent in “The Mercy Seat”, his theatrical response to the World Trade Center attacks on September 11, 2001.
Rahul Da Cunha’s adaptation is called “27/11” and sets the play, not surprisingly, on the day after the terrorist attacks in Bombay on 26 November 2008. However, the script is not about the attacks per se; but uses their occurrence as the backdrop for a tenuous adulterous relationship betweeen boss and employee.
In this, Nina Mehta is the mistress of her married underling Raj Mirpuri, who just happened to be at her home that evening, enjoying her “special Bangkok massage” instead of a boys’ night out at the Taj Mahal Hotel....which was the scene of a bloody terrorist attack. His constantly ringing cell-phone becomes the manifestation of the play’s crux: should he play dead and use this opportunity to disappear and start a new life with his mistress? In examining the options, a veritable Pandora’s Box is opened and the relationship laid bare in all its mutual use and abuse.
Rahul Da Cunha’s staging establishes this dynamic from the outset, with these people “faking the orgasm of life” accosting each other in confrontation, coming together in affection or stalking one another warily across the room. Considering this is a wordy script with only two characters, there is rarely any sense of it dragging, as the tension is maintained more-or-less consistently. However, it becomes clear the play depends almost entirely on the performances by the two actors; and here the results are uneven.
Shernaz Patel endows Nina with her customary sincerity and honesty, especially in the more emotional passages which can be quite searing. Even so, one can't help feeling that some facets of her characterisation remain under-developed, as she is sometimes merely elocutionary where more delineation is required.
Nadir Khan does not seem to have got under Raj Mirpuri’s skin. With insufficient projection of both voice and character, this incredibly insecure, selfish man comes across as a too-generalised and nondescript creation onstage. And there is hardly any electricity between him and Ms Patel.
The production’s design by Dhanendra Kawade could best be described as strange. With long, sharp shards of newspaper hanging from nets suspended over the realistic set, which also boasts a window with three staggered frames made of newspaper and a TV of the same material, it seems a “statement” is being made, trying to place the play in context of the horrific events of 26/11. But the truth is, the script has very little to do with what happened that day; and what might have been truly frightening, had that actually been the case, comes across here as quite unnecessary, pretentious and even obtrusive. The living-room set itself, though, is finely judged and beautifully lit by Kawade and Yael Crishna.
It seems this production of “27/11” is a work-in-progress. One hopes the teething problems of opening night will soon be resolved because, with more work and a little re-think, the play’s potential could be fully realised.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Americana as microcosm
“Our Town” written by Thornton Wilder
Directed by Akash Khurana
Experimental Theatre, NCPA
9 December 2012, 7pm.
“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it --- every, every minute?” asks Emily in “Our Town”, a play about life as it is.
In this, Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize-winning script presents vignettes of daily life in small-town, turn-of-the-century America as a microcosm of universal human condition. However, instead of offering intellectual Existential meanderings about the “why” of things, it concentrates on “how” people live --- their daily chores and concerns, the growing pains of childhood, the discovery of love, the institution of marriage, the finality of death. It urges us to savour each detail of our lives, especially those we take for granted, and make the most of living….before it has passed us by.
This canvas of universal existence is, appropriately, a near-empty stage with a minimum of sets and props; and actions are played-out on it with an extensive use of mime to denote realistic, everyday situations. The audience’s imagination kicks-in, colouring the ‘picture’, aided by sound and light and prompted by the Stage Manager, who acts as narrator, friend, philosopher and guide, taking one through the play from the simplistic scenario of the opening to its surrealistic end.
In Akash Khurana’s production, the script’s three acts have been telescoped into one, dropping some lines and a few minor characters; but the cuts dont bleed. In fact, the experience becomes all the more concentrated and all the better for it, making for an intense ninety minutes. The choice is a courageous one and demands utmost involvement from actors and audience.
It is to Mr. Khurana’s credit that one’s attention doesnt flag….most of the time. There is thankfully no attempt to mimic any kind of American accent (let alone the specific rural New Hampshire variety) but one cant shake the feeling that most of the characters, the older ones in particular, somehow dont ‘look’ right. There seems to be too large a difference between what is said about them (by the Stage Manager) and what is actually seen and heard onstage. It seems the doctrine of ‘universality’ has been taken too far, as some of these characters are robbed of distinctive colour, and therefore, credibility.
Khurana has paced the play judiciously, neither breathless nor somnolent. Though opening night could have been a shade tighter, the action dovetails neatly from scene to scene, some of which are quite complex with multiple simultaneous goings-on, orchestrated masterfully. The miming, however, tends to be somewhat approximate.
The director himself plays the Stage Manager. He was initially a little flat but warmed-up expressively thereafter in communicating with the audience; though one always felt there was a certain distance maintained, perhaps intentionally. The finest performance of the evening came from Lucky Vakharia as Mrs. Gibbs, utterly true and spot-on in emotion and characterisation. Abir Abrar, as Emily, was an unfortunate disappointment, lacking the vocal range and a certain incandescence required to bring this pivotal, trenchantly-written role to vivid theatrical life. The rest of the cast was more than competent.
The production’s sound-design by Dilshad Edibam Khurana is beautifully judged; the many sound-effects, offstage and on, accurately chosen and executed. The mise-en-scène, aided by Akarsh Khurana’s adept lighting, conjures-up a three-dimensional world, extending well into and around the audience.
One only hopes the audience would feel similarly involved, because, on the whole, this production of “Our Town” remains earthbound. The play’s deceptively simple script has nuggets of quiet, homespun philosophy which can transcend into a deeply uplifting, even spiritual experience….a transformatory magic seldom realised in this staging.
Directed by Akash Khurana
Experimental Theatre, NCPA
9 December 2012, 7pm.
“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it --- every, every minute?” asks Emily in “Our Town”, a play about life as it is.
In this, Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize-winning script presents vignettes of daily life in small-town, turn-of-the-century America as a microcosm of universal human condition. However, instead of offering intellectual Existential meanderings about the “why” of things, it concentrates on “how” people live --- their daily chores and concerns, the growing pains of childhood, the discovery of love, the institution of marriage, the finality of death. It urges us to savour each detail of our lives, especially those we take for granted, and make the most of living….before it has passed us by.
This canvas of universal existence is, appropriately, a near-empty stage with a minimum of sets and props; and actions are played-out on it with an extensive use of mime to denote realistic, everyday situations. The audience’s imagination kicks-in, colouring the ‘picture’, aided by sound and light and prompted by the Stage Manager, who acts as narrator, friend, philosopher and guide, taking one through the play from the simplistic scenario of the opening to its surrealistic end.
In Akash Khurana’s production, the script’s three acts have been telescoped into one, dropping some lines and a few minor characters; but the cuts dont bleed. In fact, the experience becomes all the more concentrated and all the better for it, making for an intense ninety minutes. The choice is a courageous one and demands utmost involvement from actors and audience.
It is to Mr. Khurana’s credit that one’s attention doesnt flag….most of the time. There is thankfully no attempt to mimic any kind of American accent (let alone the specific rural New Hampshire variety) but one cant shake the feeling that most of the characters, the older ones in particular, somehow dont ‘look’ right. There seems to be too large a difference between what is said about them (by the Stage Manager) and what is actually seen and heard onstage. It seems the doctrine of ‘universality’ has been taken too far, as some of these characters are robbed of distinctive colour, and therefore, credibility.
Khurana has paced the play judiciously, neither breathless nor somnolent. Though opening night could have been a shade tighter, the action dovetails neatly from scene to scene, some of which are quite complex with multiple simultaneous goings-on, orchestrated masterfully. The miming, however, tends to be somewhat approximate.
The director himself plays the Stage Manager. He was initially a little flat but warmed-up expressively thereafter in communicating with the audience; though one always felt there was a certain distance maintained, perhaps intentionally. The finest performance of the evening came from Lucky Vakharia as Mrs. Gibbs, utterly true and spot-on in emotion and characterisation. Abir Abrar, as Emily, was an unfortunate disappointment, lacking the vocal range and a certain incandescence required to bring this pivotal, trenchantly-written role to vivid theatrical life. The rest of the cast was more than competent.
The production’s sound-design by Dilshad Edibam Khurana is beautifully judged; the many sound-effects, offstage and on, accurately chosen and executed. The mise-en-scène, aided by Akarsh Khurana’s adept lighting, conjures-up a three-dimensional world, extending well into and around the audience.
One only hopes the audience would feel similarly involved, because, on the whole, this production of “Our Town” remains earthbound. The play’s deceptively simple script has nuggets of quiet, homespun philosophy which can transcend into a deeply uplifting, even spiritual experience….a transformatory magic seldom realised in this staging.
The Met: Live in HD....at the Godrej Theatre, NCPA.
One event, two reviews....the "event" being "The Met: Live in HD" series of opera-screenings from the Metropolitan Opera, New York, now being shown in Bombay.
I reviewed the second of these, Verdi's "Otello", and have written two different pieces on it. One is a feature on Mumbai Theatre Guide, focussing on the somewhat inadequate experience of watching these in the Godrej Dance Theatre at the NCPA. This is also available at: http://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/dramas/features/12/nov/29-the-met-live-in-hd-feature.asp
The other is a review on Seen and Heard International (reprinted here, below this piece) and includes a detailed evaluation of the performance of the opera.
Opera is the ultimate combination of music and drama; and New York’s Metropolitan Opera is one of the finest presenters of this complex, thrilling art.
In India, our appetites have been whetted by recent operatic productions mounted or imported by the NCPA and Neemrana Foundation. But now we are able to watch truly world-class performances from the Metropolitan Opera, in their global initiative titled “Live in HD”.
In this, select Saturday-afternoon performances are broadcast via satellite to several countries. And, to accommodate those in time-zones where the broadcast-time would be inconvenient, the entire performance is recorded and played-back later via a file saved on hard disk. Thus the screenings in India take place some time after the original broadcast but offer an identical experience, complete with intermissions giving fascinating glimpses into backstage preparation and change of scene. There are also interviews with singers and creative crew which some opera-lovers would probably find interesting, though some might well say “Get on with it!”
The NCPA’s Godrej Dance Academy Theatre is the venue for these screenings; and one wishes it were better suited. This auditorium is shaped like a horizontal shoe-box, with some of the audience seated to the far left and right of the centrally-located screen. Thus, if one is not close to the centre, one should be prepared to watch the video from an extreme angle.
Morover, one should also be prepared for some serious anomalies in the sound, which would be dominated by the output from the speaker(s) to which one is closest. The audio configuration is 7.1, with side and rear speakers mounted on the appropriate walls; the centre-channel located (as it should be) behind the acoustically-transparent screen; and the musically all-important front left and right speakers placed on the extreme left and right of the WIDE stage, embedded in the proscenium behind perforated metal grilles.
Herein lies the rub. For the bulk of the orchestral sound comes from these speakers, whose positioning effectively splits the musicians in two. And the audio suffers from severely curtailed high frequencies, probably because the metal grilles block the tweeters and rob treble sounds of detail and impact. Sadly, this is made all the worse when one is seated in the centre, as then you are way “off-axis” from the left and right speakers, which dulls the treble still further.
To make things even more difficult, the Met recordings usually do not place singers’ voices exclusively in the centre-channel; instead, a voice’s placement in the soundscape is dependent on the singer’s actual position onstage. Thus, voices often emamate from extreme left or right, where the sound-quality is markedly inferior compared to when they are in the centre and reproduced by the correctly-mounted centre-channel speaker. This becomes glaringly obvious when a singer crosses the stage.
But what of the performances? Not everything from the Met is beyond reproach and the current season, presenting screenings of “L’Elisir d’Amore” and “Otello” so far, is no exception. Moreover, at least six of the twelve performances slated for broadcast are of old productions, some of which are available on DVD/Bluray or online with different, stellar casts. The new productions promise fresh insights; but whether they will actually deliver the goods musically and dramatically remains to be seen.
In sum, watching the Met at the NCPA “Live in HD” is a mixed experience. It certainly affords a glimpse into the workings of a world-class opera-house and offers a reasonable facsimile of the real thing. One hopes, however, that the audio problems will be sorted-out. If not, people owning high-quality audio-video systems may well want to watch these performances at home.
I reviewed the second of these, Verdi's "Otello", and have written two different pieces on it. One is a feature on Mumbai Theatre Guide, focussing on the somewhat inadequate experience of watching these in the Godrej Dance Theatre at the NCPA. This is also available at: http://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/dramas/features/12/nov/29-the-met-live-in-hd-feature.asp
The other is a review on Seen and Heard International (reprinted here, below this piece) and includes a detailed evaluation of the performance of the opera.
Opera is the ultimate combination of music and drama; and New York’s Metropolitan Opera is one of the finest presenters of this complex, thrilling art.
In India, our appetites have been whetted by recent operatic productions mounted or imported by the NCPA and Neemrana Foundation. But now we are able to watch truly world-class performances from the Metropolitan Opera, in their global initiative titled “Live in HD”.
In this, select Saturday-afternoon performances are broadcast via satellite to several countries. And, to accommodate those in time-zones where the broadcast-time would be inconvenient, the entire performance is recorded and played-back later via a file saved on hard disk. Thus the screenings in India take place some time after the original broadcast but offer an identical experience, complete with intermissions giving fascinating glimpses into backstage preparation and change of scene. There are also interviews with singers and creative crew which some opera-lovers would probably find interesting, though some might well say “Get on with it!”
The NCPA’s Godrej Dance Academy Theatre is the venue for these screenings; and one wishes it were better suited. This auditorium is shaped like a horizontal shoe-box, with some of the audience seated to the far left and right of the centrally-located screen. Thus, if one is not close to the centre, one should be prepared to watch the video from an extreme angle.
Morover, one should also be prepared for some serious anomalies in the sound, which would be dominated by the output from the speaker(s) to which one is closest. The audio configuration is 7.1, with side and rear speakers mounted on the appropriate walls; the centre-channel located (as it should be) behind the acoustically-transparent screen; and the musically all-important front left and right speakers placed on the extreme left and right of the WIDE stage, embedded in the proscenium behind perforated metal grilles.
Herein lies the rub. For the bulk of the orchestral sound comes from these speakers, whose positioning effectively splits the musicians in two. And the audio suffers from severely curtailed high frequencies, probably because the metal grilles block the tweeters and rob treble sounds of detail and impact. Sadly, this is made all the worse when one is seated in the centre, as then you are way “off-axis” from the left and right speakers, which dulls the treble still further.
To make things even more difficult, the Met recordings usually do not place singers’ voices exclusively in the centre-channel; instead, a voice’s placement in the soundscape is dependent on the singer’s actual position onstage. Thus, voices often emamate from extreme left or right, where the sound-quality is markedly inferior compared to when they are in the centre and reproduced by the correctly-mounted centre-channel speaker. This becomes glaringly obvious when a singer crosses the stage.
But what of the performances? Not everything from the Met is beyond reproach and the current season, presenting screenings of “L’Elisir d’Amore” and “Otello” so far, is no exception. Moreover, at least six of the twelve performances slated for broadcast are of old productions, some of which are available on DVD/Bluray or online with different, stellar casts. The new productions promise fresh insights; but whether they will actually deliver the goods musically and dramatically remains to be seen.
In sum, watching the Met at the NCPA “Live in HD” is a mixed experience. It certainly affords a glimpse into the workings of a world-class opera-house and offers a reasonable facsimile of the real thing. One hopes, however, that the audio problems will be sorted-out. If not, people owning high-quality audio-video systems may well want to watch these performances at home.
The Met's Moor in Mumbai
Commissioned by Seen and Heard International and also available at:
http://www.seenandheard-international.com/2012/11/26/the-moor-in-mumbai/
Verdi: “Otello”
“The Met: Live in HD” screening.
Godrej Dance Academy Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, 24.11.2012 (JSM)
Otello: Johan Botha
Desdemona: Renée Fleming
Iago: Falk Struckmann
Cassio: Michael Fabiano
Conductor: Semyon Bychkov
Production: Elijah Moshinsky
Set Designer: Michael Yeargan
Costume Designer: Peter J. Hall
Lighting Designer: Duane Schuler
Choreographer: Eleanor Fazan
“Othello” is surely the most conjugal of Shakespeare’s plays. The relationship between the Moor and his wife is its dramatic spine, made all the more evident in Verdi’s opera “Otello”. Herein, Arrigo Boito’s masterful libretto graphs this relationship through each of its four acts, starting with unmitigated love and ending in brutal murder.
Each act has at least one major scene between Otello and Desdemona; and it is up to the principal singers to bring their tragic destiny to operatic life. Watching the Met’s Live in HD presentation of the opera in Mumbai, it became all too apparent this relationship was dead on arrival, for there was little or no chemistry between Johan Botha’s Otello and Renée Fleming’s Desdemona.
Ms Fleming is, of course, well-known for her portrayal, starting with her career-making step-in as understudy in the same Met production, soon after its première in 1994. Her Otello then was Plácido Domingo; and their extraordinary partnership was documented for posterity in the DVD release of a telecast performance. Here we have Johan Botha partnering the diva in another broadcast, this time via HD to theaters all around the world, but charged with little or no electricity.
Much of the problem lies in Botha’s stolid, stock characterisation, with little of the psychological layers suggested by Domingo. Some may find Botha’s simplicity disarming, though many others would probably be irritated by his face-making and posturing, sometimes unintentionally hilarious in the manner of a B-movie monster-villain. Vocally, though, he is lyrical and utterly musical, notwithstanding the slight beat in the voice, with secure top notes almost making one forget the lack of squillo (most noticeable in his opening Esultate!) and sheer power associated with the role. This was unleashed only occasionally but to great effect; for example in the shout “quella vil cortigiana!” in the Act 3 duet.
However, in the same duet, it was Ms Fleming who had to shoulder virtually the entire burden of making the scene dramatically involving. Even so, Botha followed with a very moving account of the monologue Dio mi potevi, with scrupulous attention to the score, delivering much of it in a hushed monotone rather than resorting (like so many others, including Domingo) to showy melodrama. Not surprisingly, the highlight of his performance was the final Niun mi tema which was sung with aristocratic restraint; and almost left this reviewer with a lump in the throat.
Ms Fleming, on the other hand, gave a no-holds-barred performance; and occasionally it seemed she may have been trying too hard. Undoubtedly with age, her voice has lost some of its warmth and volume, though she can still float some ethereally lovely pianissimi. Her singing, as always, remains rooted in rock-solid technique and innate musicality; and her dramatic sensibilities have certainly strengthened over the years. As mentioned earlier, she was quite riveting in the crucial Act 3 duet; but her Willow Song was a little too “loud” and, for the most part, curiously unmoving.
Falk Struckmann seemed severely strained by Iago’s high tessitura, hectoring rather than singing his way through the part. Barking and snarling do not a characterisation make; and Mr. Struckmann resorted far too much and too often to such ungainly, extra-musical effects to make his points. Even so, his Credo ended with a thrilling top F, sustained well into the orchestral conclusion; and Era la notte had some interesting touches. His Drinking Song, however, was a near-disaster.
Semyon Bychkov was in the pit and offered a reading of hyper-clarity, with every semiquaver given its due. This robbed the performance of bite, vitality and visceral impact, which so much of “Otello” demands. The ensembles with chorus were the worst affected, in particular Fuoco di gioia! which was funereal instead of joyful. And the antics onstage during this scene could only be described as embarrassing.
Bychkov’s measured approach paid-off in some of the more introspective passages like the introduction to Act 4; but he did a complete volte-face at the end of Act 2 for the Vengeance Duet, which was taken hell-for-leather and threatened to turn into a “runaway train”. The Met orchestra did the best they could, with some ravishing playing from the principal string and woodwind players.
Elijah Moshinsky’s venerable production has worn well, although on renewed acquaintance the many huge pillars seem to dwarf the action and cramp the stage, especially during the great finale of Act 3 where the chorus and supernumeraries are literally squeezed into the space between them. Even so, it is certainly beautiful to look at, aided by Duane Schuler’s shaded, saturnine lighting.
The HD screening at the Godrej Dance Theatre in Mumbai’s NCPA needed better adjustment of black-levels to allow more detail and definition in some of the darker scenes, which seemed a little washed-out. And the sound, despite an impressive array of equipment from B&W and Classé, was a huge disappointment.
The problem lies in the deployment of speakers in this horizontal shoe-box of an auditorium. Those carrying the musically all-important Front Left and Right signals are at opposite ends of the WIDE stage, embedded in the proscenium behind a perforated metal grille. As a result, the orchestra is virtually split into two; and high frequencies are severely muffled. The center-channel speaker is, however, correctly positioned behind the acoustically-transparent screen; and the anomalies in sound-quality become glaringly obvious when a singer’s voice crosses the soundstage from one side to the other, through the center.
Even so, being able to watch the latest offerings from the Met, in countries like India where opera isnt regularly performed, is a welcome treat for music-lovers. In this, the Met’s “Live in HD” is a worthy initiative indeed.
http://www.seenandheard-international.com/2012/11/26/the-moor-in-mumbai/
Verdi: “Otello”
“The Met: Live in HD” screening.
Godrej Dance Academy Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, 24.11.2012 (JSM)
Otello: Johan Botha
Desdemona: Renée Fleming
Iago: Falk Struckmann
Cassio: Michael Fabiano
Conductor: Semyon Bychkov
Production: Elijah Moshinsky
Set Designer: Michael Yeargan
Costume Designer: Peter J. Hall
Lighting Designer: Duane Schuler
Choreographer: Eleanor Fazan
“Othello” is surely the most conjugal of Shakespeare’s plays. The relationship between the Moor and his wife is its dramatic spine, made all the more evident in Verdi’s opera “Otello”. Herein, Arrigo Boito’s masterful libretto graphs this relationship through each of its four acts, starting with unmitigated love and ending in brutal murder.
Each act has at least one major scene between Otello and Desdemona; and it is up to the principal singers to bring their tragic destiny to operatic life. Watching the Met’s Live in HD presentation of the opera in Mumbai, it became all too apparent this relationship was dead on arrival, for there was little or no chemistry between Johan Botha’s Otello and Renée Fleming’s Desdemona.
Ms Fleming is, of course, well-known for her portrayal, starting with her career-making step-in as understudy in the same Met production, soon after its première in 1994. Her Otello then was Plácido Domingo; and their extraordinary partnership was documented for posterity in the DVD release of a telecast performance. Here we have Johan Botha partnering the diva in another broadcast, this time via HD to theaters all around the world, but charged with little or no electricity.
Much of the problem lies in Botha’s stolid, stock characterisation, with little of the psychological layers suggested by Domingo. Some may find Botha’s simplicity disarming, though many others would probably be irritated by his face-making and posturing, sometimes unintentionally hilarious in the manner of a B-movie monster-villain. Vocally, though, he is lyrical and utterly musical, notwithstanding the slight beat in the voice, with secure top notes almost making one forget the lack of squillo (most noticeable in his opening Esultate!) and sheer power associated with the role. This was unleashed only occasionally but to great effect; for example in the shout “quella vil cortigiana!” in the Act 3 duet.
However, in the same duet, it was Ms Fleming who had to shoulder virtually the entire burden of making the scene dramatically involving. Even so, Botha followed with a very moving account of the monologue Dio mi potevi, with scrupulous attention to the score, delivering much of it in a hushed monotone rather than resorting (like so many others, including Domingo) to showy melodrama. Not surprisingly, the highlight of his performance was the final Niun mi tema which was sung with aristocratic restraint; and almost left this reviewer with a lump in the throat.
Ms Fleming, on the other hand, gave a no-holds-barred performance; and occasionally it seemed she may have been trying too hard. Undoubtedly with age, her voice has lost some of its warmth and volume, though she can still float some ethereally lovely pianissimi. Her singing, as always, remains rooted in rock-solid technique and innate musicality; and her dramatic sensibilities have certainly strengthened over the years. As mentioned earlier, she was quite riveting in the crucial Act 3 duet; but her Willow Song was a little too “loud” and, for the most part, curiously unmoving.
Falk Struckmann seemed severely strained by Iago’s high tessitura, hectoring rather than singing his way through the part. Barking and snarling do not a characterisation make; and Mr. Struckmann resorted far too much and too often to such ungainly, extra-musical effects to make his points. Even so, his Credo ended with a thrilling top F, sustained well into the orchestral conclusion; and Era la notte had some interesting touches. His Drinking Song, however, was a near-disaster.
Semyon Bychkov was in the pit and offered a reading of hyper-clarity, with every semiquaver given its due. This robbed the performance of bite, vitality and visceral impact, which so much of “Otello” demands. The ensembles with chorus were the worst affected, in particular Fuoco di gioia! which was funereal instead of joyful. And the antics onstage during this scene could only be described as embarrassing.
Bychkov’s measured approach paid-off in some of the more introspective passages like the introduction to Act 4; but he did a complete volte-face at the end of Act 2 for the Vengeance Duet, which was taken hell-for-leather and threatened to turn into a “runaway train”. The Met orchestra did the best they could, with some ravishing playing from the principal string and woodwind players.
Elijah Moshinsky’s venerable production has worn well, although on renewed acquaintance the many huge pillars seem to dwarf the action and cramp the stage, especially during the great finale of Act 3 where the chorus and supernumeraries are literally squeezed into the space between them. Even so, it is certainly beautiful to look at, aided by Duane Schuler’s shaded, saturnine lighting.
The HD screening at the Godrej Dance Theatre in Mumbai’s NCPA needed better adjustment of black-levels to allow more detail and definition in some of the darker scenes, which seemed a little washed-out. And the sound, despite an impressive array of equipment from B&W and Classé, was a huge disappointment.
The problem lies in the deployment of speakers in this horizontal shoe-box of an auditorium. Those carrying the musically all-important Front Left and Right signals are at opposite ends of the WIDE stage, embedded in the proscenium behind a perforated metal grille. As a result, the orchestra is virtually split into two; and high frequencies are severely muffled. The center-channel speaker is, however, correctly positioned behind the acoustically-transparent screen; and the anomalies in sound-quality become glaringly obvious when a singer’s voice crosses the soundstage from one side to the other, through the center.
Even so, being able to watch the latest offerings from the Met, in countries like India where opera isnt regularly performed, is a welcome treat for music-lovers. In this, the Met’s “Live in HD” is a worthy initiative indeed.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Tender yet uncompromising
My review of the play "Tuesdays with Morrie" was commissioned by Mumbai Theatre Guide and is also available there at: http://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/dramas/reviews/01-tuesdays-with-morrie-english-play-review.asp
“Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom and Jeffrey Hatcher
“Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom and Jeffrey Hatcher
Directed by Meera Khurana
Cast : Adhaar Khurana, Akash Khurana and Lucky Vakharia
Stage, Lighting and Sound-Design : Akarsh Khurana
Experimental Theatre, NCPA : 28 October 2012
“You cant always do it alone…..we need teachers” says Professor Morris Schwartz to his young student Mitch Albom, in the latter’s play “Tuesdays with Morrie” adapted (with the collaboration of Jeffrey Hatcher) from his autobiographical novel.
The play describes the relationship between Mitch and Morrie, which is revived after a gap of sixteen years when the older man is dying of degenerative nerve-disease. In a series of weekly meetings, every Tuesday, Morrie offers tender yet uncompromising life-lessons which ultimately help his “student” alter his hard-bitten, hard-driving attitude to himself and the world. It is not surprising that Mitch often refers to Morrie as “coach”.
The play’s “teachings” are made all the more poignant by their truthfulness and a steadfast refusal to wallow in sentimentality. The realities of illness and death are shown as they are; neither exaggerated nor covered-up.
Meera Khurana has directed with a fine, sensitive hand. There is a welcome respite from artificially-accelerated pace, which is so often used (and misused) to sustain audience-interest; at the same time, there is never any sense of self-conscious portentousness imposed on the play’s tragic trajectory.
A portion of the credit for this surely belongs to Akash Khurana, whose portrayal of Morrie does not fall into the trap of mawkishness or tear-jerking. An 'actor’s actor', he offers a subtle, insightful characterisation, conveying the man’s facets of charm, pragmatism, humour and wisdom. Even so, the scene where the professor breaks down in tears, unable to eat because of poor muscle-control, is very moving; and Khurana graphs his physical decline with frightening, near-clinical precision.
Mitch is played by Adhaar Khurana with a deadpan quality which, towards the play’s end, becomes more emotive as the character softens. However, there is a difference between playing deadpan as an actual expressive choice by an actor; and a lack of any expression, becoming deadpan by default….wherein lies the younger Khurana’s weakness. As a result, the character only rarely leaps across the footlights.
Here, one has to mention a couple of faux pas. We are told Mitch is an accomplished jazz-pianist; and he plays a piano onstage, while accompanying his singer-wife. But it becomes obvious that the actor’s knowledge of the instrument is rudimentary at best; and it would be kinder to give him a pre-recorded soundtrack of piano-accompaniment. Morover, the latter part of the scene, where a background score does indeed take-over during Morrie’s imaginary dance with Mitch’s wife, is clumsily staged.
The production’s design by Akarsh Khurana is exemplary. His set is spread right across the NCPA’s Experimental Theatre, with four clearly demarcated locales, each of which is accurately, beautifully detailed (with the exception of the car, which looks like a sofa with a steering-wheel). His lighting has tremendous finesse, responding vividly (yet delicately) to changes in mood and emotion; delineating faces, objects and spaces with the masterstrokes of a painter.
In all, “Tuesdays with Morrie” is a rara avis in the theatre today: a quiet play in the midst of so much fatiguing hysteria. However, its civilised gentility packs a hidden punch in sheer wealth of truth and meaning, for those who seek and value it.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Warhorses, for baritone and orchestra
This concert-review was commissioned by Seen and Heard International and published here:
http://www.seenandheard-international.com/2012/10/02/warhorses-for-baritone-and-orchestra/
http://www.seenandheard-international.com/2012/10/02/warhorses-for-baritone-and-orchestra/
Anooshah Golesorkhi (baritone); Symphony Orchestra of India, Zane Dalal (conductor).
Jamshed Bhabha Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, 30.9.12.
Wagner: “Rienzi” - Overture
Verdi: “Don Carlo” - Per me giunto….O Carlo ascolta
“Otello” - Credo in un Dio crudel
Suppé: “Poet and Peasant” - Overture
Verdi: “Il Trovatore” - Il balen del suo sorriso
“Un Ballo in Maschera” - Prelude to Act 2; Eri tu che macchiavi
Puccini: “Tosca” - Te Deum
Puccini: “Tosca” - Te Deum
Rossini: “Semiramide” - Overture
Verdi: “Macbeth” - Pietà, rispetto, amore
Giordano: “Andrea Chénier” - Nemico della Patria
Johann Strauss Jr: Egyptian March
De Curtis: Non ti scordar di me
Johann Strauss Jr: “Emperor” Waltz
Leoncavallo: Mattinata
Baritone Anooshah Golesorkhi returned to Mumbai exactly two years (to the day) after his stunning performance here as Baron Scarpia in “Tosca”, to give a recital consisting of seven mainstays of the operatic repertoire and two popular songs, interspersed with orchestral favorites. A challenging program, executed with a modicum of success; with the participation of the Symphony Orchestra of India, conducted by Zane Dalal.
Mr. Golesorkhi possesses a voice of medium power, lacking the squillo of the true Verdian baritone but reasonably secure on the high notes, though less so at the bottom of the stave. There is genuine musicality at work, an attempt at line and legato which sometimes, however, falls short and is further stretched by slow tempi or extremes in dynamics and tessitura. Above all, there is real awareness of character; an ability to adapt color and expression to suit psyche and emotion. Thus, the seven gentlemen portrayed did NOT sing with one voice.
The major disappointment herein was, surprisingly, Scarpia. Unlike his previous incarnation in this city at Mr. Golesorkhi’s behest, the Baron lacked almost all semblance of lust in the Te Deum; and was sometimes barely audible over the orchestra.
The baritone’s best performance of the evening was Gérard the revolutionary, in Giordano’s verismo warhorse “Andrea Chénier”. The character’s complexities and contradictions; his compulsion to live-up to ideals all came across in a moving performance of the aria Nemico della Patria. Within the singer’s limitations, it packed a powerful musico-dramatic punch.
The five Verdi villains, anti-heroes and noble souls lay somewhere between those two in accomplishment. Of these, Iago fared the best, his Credo delivered with bite, venom and vivid word-painting; in particular the penultimate utterance “La Morte e il Nulla!” given in a chilling whisper. But here again, Mr. Golesorkhi was sometimes almost drowned-out by Mr. Dalal’s orchestra whose “accompaniment” was often too loud.
Macbeth’s Pietà, rispetto, amore began with a vocally secure and appropriately blustering recitative, undergoing a sea-change at the thought of possible defeat and ending in a plangent mezza voce. The aria proper was performed with fine Verdian cantabile unfortunately compromised by occasionally intrusive aspiration.
Also compromised were Il balen del suo sorriso from “Il Trovatore” and Eri tu from “Un Ballo in Maschera” by inconsistent legato in phrasing and execution of ornamental gruppetti; and a reluctance to give some notes their full value. The former aria was taken at a dangerously slow pace which exacerbated the singer’s problems; and in the latter, Renato’s bitter indictment of his unfaithful wife’s relationship with his best friend was, interestingly, conceived more in sorrow than anger.
The Marchese di Posa’s death scene from “Don Carlo”, with which the baritone began his recital, was a clear indication of what was to follow, indicating the singer’s strengths and weaknesses. These were again evident in the popular songs with which he concluded the program, Non ti scordar di me and Mattinata, both sung with verve, grace and generosity of spirit, making one forgive any previous shortcomings.
Maestro Dalal elicited fine, sensitive playing from members of his orchestra, particularly Principal Cellist Boris Baraz and, in the accompaniment to Eri tu, flautists Katherine Bicknell and Sarah Bennington, along with Tatiana Oskolkova on the harp. However, as noted earlier, the balance of orchestra with baritone-soloist needed to be better-judged, especially since both were placed at the same physical level.
The trumpet-calls which began Wagner’s “Rienzi” Overture (and the concert) were clarion-like and executed with perfect swell and ebb; and the music of Rienzi’s Prayer was meltingly played. Although one got the feeling it peaked too early, this utterly musical performance of the overture made the tiresome bombast of its concluding pages tolerable!
The Overture to “Semiramide” was variable. After some tentative phrasing by the quartet of french horns, the ensuing Allegro was taken at a clip with fine rhythmic sensibilty and bounce, though one found the string pizzicati too soft in relation to the woodwinds, who played admirably. The brass section (here and elsewhere) seemed to lag a little behind the rest of the orchestra; and Rossini’s crescendi could have had better gradation.
One wondered why the comparatively lightweight Suppé and Johann Strauss Jr. selections were present in the program….perhaps to make it more palatable to mainstream audiences? In any case, the former’s “Poet and Peasant” Overture was given a sonorous opening, though the fiercely-trilled tutti which followed from the strings lacked dramatic attack; and the waltz had little Viennese lilt. Similarly, the performance of Strauss’ “Emperor” Waltz, despite much fussing over details, came across as entirely unidiomatic. However, his insouciant little Egyptian March was delivered with brio and charm.
On the whole, the concert had the makings of an enjoyable evening; but was severely undermined by terribly fatiguing sound, apparently caused by the new reflectors hanging over the orchestra. They seem to amplify and project the sound unnaturally, especially from the strings and woodwinds, making it harsh and headache-inducing. This was never the case in the Jamshed Bhabha Theatre whose acoustics could, in fact, be described as somewhat cavernous and indistinct, depending on where one was seated. If installing the reflectors is an attempt by the NCPA to “improve” the sound, the method is evidently counter-productive and extremely ill-advised!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Beethoven and Liszt: a Curate’s Egg.
Commissioned and published by Seen and Heard International at: http://www.seenandheard-international.com/2012/08/02/beethoven-and-liszt-a-curates-egg/
Maciej Pikulski (piano); Experimental Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, 1 August 2012.
Beethoven: Piano Sonata No: 8 in C minor, Op. 13 “Pathétique”
Piano Sonata No: 32 in C minor, Op. 111
Liszt: Totentanz (version for piano-solo)
“Miserere”: Concert Paraphrase after “Il Trovatore” by Verdi
Concert Paraphrase on themes from “Rigoletto” by Verdi
The pianist Maciej Pikulski is well-known to Mumbai audiences, having given several concerts here as soloist and accompanist. He returned to the National Centre for the Performing Arts for a set of two performances, one featuring the piano music of Beethoven and Liszt.
Beethoven was first to grace the keyboard, with the “Pathétique” sonata. Pikulski’s opening set the tone for his performance, lyrical and legato. With much use of the pedal, the opening’s questioning phrases and agogic pauses lost most of their drama; and the ensuing Allegro, though initially precise, soon gave way to a kind of homogenous anonymity with occasional smudged runs and wrong notes. There was hardly any sense of Beethovenian Sturm und Drang.
The following Adagio Cantabile fared much better. After a somewhat meandering opening, Pikulski showed himself possessed of a fine lyrical sensibility that he used to milk the movement of every ounce of poetry. The Rondo finale followed almost without pause; and here the pianist really came into his own from the very first notes, giving an elegant, assured performance.
The recital continued in Beethoven’s “C minor mood” with his last sonata, the Opus 111. Here again, Pikulski fell short of drama, the first movement’s Maestoso opening almost perfunctory; the Allegro con brio seemingly oblivious of Beethoven’s appassionato marking, conveying clarity rather than conflict.
This two-part sonata represents diametric opposites of “unmatched drama and transcendence” (Robert Taub) and, on a more philosophical note, “Samsara and Nirwana” (Hans Von Bülow). Though this performance was shy of the former, the latter was evident in all its purity, right from the wonderfully hushed opening of the second and final movement titled Arietta.
Here, Pikulski’s Chopinesque playing served well. Although the music’s jazz-like inflections could have been better pointed, the faery dances had a pearly translucence. His extended trills, however, were not always well-sustained, though the final one rose to a fine climax followed by an appropriately pensive epilogue.
The programme’s second half was, on the whole, another kettle of fish. It was clear from the outset that Liszt, rather than Beethoven, was Mr. Pikulski’s true métier.
The fiendishly difficult piano-solo version of “Totentanz” was given a stunning performance. The opening’s titanic pounding chords were followed by playing of unabashed virtuosity; and any fear that the performance would degenerate into loud vulgarity was dispelled by passages of meltingly beautiful lyricism.
Similarly, “Miserere”, the concert paraphrase after Verdi’s “Il Trovatore”, was accorded a vivid rendition, making palpable the emotional mise-en-scène in Act 4 Scene 1 of the opera. Starting with the deep funeral bells of the monks’ “Miserere” chorus, a poignant contrast was established in Manrico’s farewell to Leonora; and Liszt’s dark chromatic runs embellishing her tortured cries were highlighted with hair-raising acuity.
Another Verdi concert paraphrase,“on themes from Rigoletto” ended the scheduled programme. Like the preceeding “Miserere”, this is a re-working of a single scene of the opera, the quartet “Bella figlia dell’amore” from Act 3….but, coming after the former, it was somewhat anti-climactic. The nervousness of its introduction could have been better delineated; and the main theme was lacking its undercurrent of shameless sexuality. Even so, there were some beautifully-filigreed runs; and the piece ended with an impressive series of cascading chords.
The encores came as a surprise. Mr. Pikulski invited to the platform his collaborator for the next evening, the baritone Laurent Naouri. Having been in the audience through the concert, Mr. Naouri admitted he would be singing cold: under the circumstances, he would have been wiser not to attempt Ich grolle Nicht from Schumann’s “Dichterliebe”, which stretched him to the limit. The second encore was the Drinking Song from Ravel’s song-cycle “Don Quichotte à Dulcinée” and was decently dispatched.
It was only while leaving the concert-hall did this reviewer notice the marque of the piano being used: a Yamaha. Considering the weight and stature of the music being performed, why couldn’t the NCPA provide its Steinway??
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
When Less is More
(This review was commissioned by Mumbai Theater Guide; and appeared on their website http://www.mumbaitheatreguide.com/ in April 2012.)
“A Man for All Seasons”
Written by Robert Bolt.
Directed by Arjun Sajnani.
Nehru Centre, 22 April 2012.
Robert Bolt’s “A Man for all Seasons” is a morality play in the strictest sense of the term. Its basic premise is the clash between principle and pragmatism; a conflict as old as the ages and one that is as contemporary today as it was in 16th century England, in which the play is set.
Its hero is Sir Thomas More, Chancellor to King Henry the Eighth, who was forced to choose between compliance with his sovereign’s wishes and adherence to his own moral code and conscience. His inability to betray his soul, his “self”, ultimately cost him his head.
An adjunct to this was his utter faith in the law. He believed that, by sticking fastidiously to the letter of it, he couldnt be touched; and used the ploy of remaining totally silent when asked why he wouldn’t swear allegiance to the Act of Succession, which would give the King absolute power over the Church as well as the State; an Act that most of his peers acquiesced to, out of fear or desire for advancement. Ironically, he was sent to his death on account of perjury by a witness during his trial.
The script, written in language filled with wit and wisdom, views this battle of wills between the individual and the State through the eyes of the Common Man, who addresses the audience directly and enacts several roles through its course, changing costumes and arranging props as required. This Brechtian device brings a further dynamic into play, contrasting the matter of spiritual versus temporal authority, and Sir Thomas’ personal conflict therein, with the everyday needs of a common person who may or may not have the luxury (or awareness) of principles; but must do as best he can to make ends meet.
Arjun Sajnani’s production has, to its credit, a Spartan economy which is in keeping with the script’s uncompromising arguments. The overall style is generally naturalistic and understated; moments of uncalled-for melodrama or bombast, few and far between. If one were to sum it up in a word, it would be “conventional”….which is preferable to deliberate attention-seeking. But its blandness exacts a price: the play rarely “lifts off”, remaining bound to the stage-boards.
A large, grey, open-plan set, with a drawbridge-like staircase, is used to convey many locales, illustrated by a few simple props and add-ons. The mise-en-scène is simple, elegant and effective, with one especially magical moment: a moonlit boatride across a river shrouded in mist.
The costumes seem to be well-researched and authentic to the period; but there are many oddities in fit and finish, which just dont look right. The original music-score (with a nod or two in the direction of some Baroque pieces) is also effective and economical….though it could do without the syrupy, tear-jerking violin obbligato at the beginning and end of More’s prison-meeting with his family.
The cast, on the whole, do justice to their roles though most are somewhat two-dimensionally interpreted. Naval Narielwala’s cameo as King Henry stands out in his able depiction of this mercurial monarch, although he looks older than Henry was at the time. Ashish Sen’s Duke of Norfolk takes a while to establish character but, once there, is articulate and expressive. Nakul Bhalla as Richard Rich, the man who finally betrays Sir Thomas, goes the other way, beginning with a nicely-pointed urgency which dwindles into a kind of sullen monotony by the play’s end. Susan George has a lovely voice and presence as More’s daughter Margaret; and Vivek Madan all but steals the show as the Common Man, enlivening the proceedings with fresh charm and agility in his many avatars.
The one major disappointment is Aporup Acharya, who plays More’s nemesis, Cromwell. This seems to be a case of miscasting, since he lacks the right physicality and also the range to convey the motivations and layers in this truly dangerous, formidable antagonist.
The play’s protagonist is, of course, Sir Thomas More; and, as interpreted by Ashok Mandanna, he comes across as somewhat….pedantic. Certainly, punctiliousness is a major facet in the man’s character; but one is left with the distinct feeling there is so much (pardon the pun) more, which is only hinted-at, rarely glimpsed in its complex human entirety. Consequently, one’s involvement with his predicament remains equally aloof and limited.
In sum, this production of “A Man for All Seasons” is a fairly accomplished, faithful, even-handed rendition of a classic play….even if it doesnt quite achieve theatrical incandescence. As such, it is a worthy effort to keep a tradition alive, in a theatre too keen to jettison the beauty of language and ideas, in favour of cheap, dumbed-down show-business.
“A Man for All Seasons”
Written by Robert Bolt.
Directed by Arjun Sajnani.
Nehru Centre, 22 April 2012.
Robert Bolt’s “A Man for all Seasons” is a morality play in the strictest sense of the term. Its basic premise is the clash between principle and pragmatism; a conflict as old as the ages and one that is as contemporary today as it was in 16th century England, in which the play is set.
Its hero is Sir Thomas More, Chancellor to King Henry the Eighth, who was forced to choose between compliance with his sovereign’s wishes and adherence to his own moral code and conscience. His inability to betray his soul, his “self”, ultimately cost him his head.
An adjunct to this was his utter faith in the law. He believed that, by sticking fastidiously to the letter of it, he couldnt be touched; and used the ploy of remaining totally silent when asked why he wouldn’t swear allegiance to the Act of Succession, which would give the King absolute power over the Church as well as the State; an Act that most of his peers acquiesced to, out of fear or desire for advancement. Ironically, he was sent to his death on account of perjury by a witness during his trial.
The script, written in language filled with wit and wisdom, views this battle of wills between the individual and the State through the eyes of the Common Man, who addresses the audience directly and enacts several roles through its course, changing costumes and arranging props as required. This Brechtian device brings a further dynamic into play, contrasting the matter of spiritual versus temporal authority, and Sir Thomas’ personal conflict therein, with the everyday needs of a common person who may or may not have the luxury (or awareness) of principles; but must do as best he can to make ends meet.
Arjun Sajnani’s production has, to its credit, a Spartan economy which is in keeping with the script’s uncompromising arguments. The overall style is generally naturalistic and understated; moments of uncalled-for melodrama or bombast, few and far between. If one were to sum it up in a word, it would be “conventional”….which is preferable to deliberate attention-seeking. But its blandness exacts a price: the play rarely “lifts off”, remaining bound to the stage-boards.
A large, grey, open-plan set, with a drawbridge-like staircase, is used to convey many locales, illustrated by a few simple props and add-ons. The mise-en-scène is simple, elegant and effective, with one especially magical moment: a moonlit boatride across a river shrouded in mist.
The costumes seem to be well-researched and authentic to the period; but there are many oddities in fit and finish, which just dont look right. The original music-score (with a nod or two in the direction of some Baroque pieces) is also effective and economical….though it could do without the syrupy, tear-jerking violin obbligato at the beginning and end of More’s prison-meeting with his family.
The cast, on the whole, do justice to their roles though most are somewhat two-dimensionally interpreted. Naval Narielwala’s cameo as King Henry stands out in his able depiction of this mercurial monarch, although he looks older than Henry was at the time. Ashish Sen’s Duke of Norfolk takes a while to establish character but, once there, is articulate and expressive. Nakul Bhalla as Richard Rich, the man who finally betrays Sir Thomas, goes the other way, beginning with a nicely-pointed urgency which dwindles into a kind of sullen monotony by the play’s end. Susan George has a lovely voice and presence as More’s daughter Margaret; and Vivek Madan all but steals the show as the Common Man, enlivening the proceedings with fresh charm and agility in his many avatars.
The one major disappointment is Aporup Acharya, who plays More’s nemesis, Cromwell. This seems to be a case of miscasting, since he lacks the right physicality and also the range to convey the motivations and layers in this truly dangerous, formidable antagonist.
The play’s protagonist is, of course, Sir Thomas More; and, as interpreted by Ashok Mandanna, he comes across as somewhat….pedantic. Certainly, punctiliousness is a major facet in the man’s character; but one is left with the distinct feeling there is so much (pardon the pun) more, which is only hinted-at, rarely glimpsed in its complex human entirety. Consequently, one’s involvement with his predicament remains equally aloof and limited.
In sum, this production of “A Man for All Seasons” is a fairly accomplished, faithful, even-handed rendition of a classic play….even if it doesnt quite achieve theatrical incandescence. As such, it is a worthy effort to keep a tradition alive, in a theatre too keen to jettison the beauty of language and ideas, in favour of cheap, dumbed-down show-business.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Art for Arties' Sake
A slightly-edited version of this review has been posted (along with my previous music/opera reviews) on my webpage at: http://www.seenandheard-international.com/tag/jiten-s-merchant/
Arties Events are an international initiative by the cellist Gauthier Herrmann, to spread an awareness of classical music in countries where it is not indigenous. They are based in Pune, India; and their Festivals of chamber music are held twice a year (March and November) in various locales, spanning the length and breadth of this country. Now in its ninth “edition”, the Festival included three performances in Mumbai, of which this reviewer attended the first.
The program was unusual, consisting of music for soprano, piano, clarinet and string quartet in various combinations. Indeed, some of it had probably never been performed in this city before; and thus was of great interest to those jaded by predictable choices in chamber music programming.
The concert began with a group of French mélodies by Fauré, Debussy and Hahn, all settings of poems by Paul Verlaine. In these, soprano Karen Vourc’h showed a keen affinity for the idiom but was often inaudible below the stave at the end of a phrase, owing to inadequate breath-support. Pianist Emmanuel Christien offered richly pointed accompaniment, underscoring the subtle harmonies in the music.
“Luonnotar” by Sibelius, in the original, pre-orchestrated version for voice and piano, was next; and here Ms Vourc’h gave a thrilling performance, utterly secure in her vocalism, with unflinching high notes. However, she missed conveying the mystery of the closing pages depicting the wonder of creation. Mr. Christien, on the other hand, began with the right air of atmosphere in the tremulous, hushed piano introduction but was no surrogate orchestra….though he whipped-up a respectable sea-storm in the work’s central climax.
Schubert’s “Der Hirt auf dem Felsen” ended the program’s first half, where Vourc’h and Christien were joined by clarinettist Olivier Patey, familiar to Mumbai audiences from his recent appearance here with the Mahler Chamber Soloists (see review). His phrasing was exquisite, sensitively dovetailing with the soprano. Ms Vourc’h was assured and even from top to bottom of the very wide range demanded by this song, the octave-plus leaps posing no problems. She did not, however, seem so comfortable with the German language nor the coloratura, which was somewhat approximate. Also, near the end of the song’s middle section where the shepherd bemoans his lot, there is a wonderful transformation into the major key at the words Die Herzen es zum Himmel zieht mit wunderbarer Macht (surely the dying Schubert’s acceptance of Divine Will, depicted in music of great beauty and serenity) where her coloring was more anxious than spiritual.
Post-interval, Mr. Patey returned with string quartet, proving himself well up to the virtuosic demands made of his instrument in Weber’s Clarinet Quintet. For instance, the upward runs in the Adagio were almost perfectly mirrored in their pianissimo “echoes”; and the intricate passagework in the finale was, quite literally, breathtaking. But his tone tended to harden while playing forte above the stave; and the soft, impish figures in the Menuet were sometimes imprecise and barely audible.
The work has often been criticised as being more a concerto for clarinet, accompanied by string quartet, rather than a truly symbiotic piece of chamber music; but the performance often disproved this, for example during the trenchant dialogue between Mr. Patey’s clarinet and Gauthier Herrmann’s cello.
Finally, Ms Vourc’h joined the string quartet, along with Mr. Christien at the piano, for an impassioned rendering of Chausson’s “Chanson Perpétuelle”. They made a superb ensemble; soprano and piano blending seamlessly with the quartet (though Marie Chilemme’s viola could have had more presence) and the performance seemed deeply felt by all, quite moving in its intensity and building to a cathartic climax.
In sum, the concert was a worthy, out of the ordinary start to another Arties Festival, auguring well for more to come.
Arties Events are an international initiative by the cellist Gauthier Herrmann, to spread an awareness of classical music in countries where it is not indigenous. They are based in Pune, India; and their Festivals of chamber music are held twice a year (March and November) in various locales, spanning the length and breadth of this country. Now in its ninth “edition”, the Festival included three performances in Mumbai, of which this reviewer attended the first.
The program was unusual, consisting of music for soprano, piano, clarinet and string quartet in various combinations. Indeed, some of it had probably never been performed in this city before; and thus was of great interest to those jaded by predictable choices in chamber music programming.
The concert began with a group of French mélodies by Fauré, Debussy and Hahn, all settings of poems by Paul Verlaine. In these, soprano Karen Vourc’h showed a keen affinity for the idiom but was often inaudible below the stave at the end of a phrase, owing to inadequate breath-support. Pianist Emmanuel Christien offered richly pointed accompaniment, underscoring the subtle harmonies in the music.
“Luonnotar” by Sibelius, in the original, pre-orchestrated version for voice and piano, was next; and here Ms Vourc’h gave a thrilling performance, utterly secure in her vocalism, with unflinching high notes. However, she missed conveying the mystery of the closing pages depicting the wonder of creation. Mr. Christien, on the other hand, began with the right air of atmosphere in the tremulous, hushed piano introduction but was no surrogate orchestra….though he whipped-up a respectable sea-storm in the work’s central climax.
Schubert’s “Der Hirt auf dem Felsen” ended the program’s first half, where Vourc’h and Christien were joined by clarinettist Olivier Patey, familiar to Mumbai audiences from his recent appearance here with the Mahler Chamber Soloists (see review). His phrasing was exquisite, sensitively dovetailing with the soprano. Ms Vourc’h was assured and even from top to bottom of the very wide range demanded by this song, the octave-plus leaps posing no problems. She did not, however, seem so comfortable with the German language nor the coloratura, which was somewhat approximate. Also, near the end of the song’s middle section where the shepherd bemoans his lot, there is a wonderful transformation into the major key at the words Die Herzen es zum Himmel zieht mit wunderbarer Macht (surely the dying Schubert’s acceptance of Divine Will, depicted in music of great beauty and serenity) where her coloring was more anxious than spiritual.
Post-interval, Mr. Patey returned with string quartet, proving himself well up to the virtuosic demands made of his instrument in Weber’s Clarinet Quintet. For instance, the upward runs in the Adagio were almost perfectly mirrored in their pianissimo “echoes”; and the intricate passagework in the finale was, quite literally, breathtaking. But his tone tended to harden while playing forte above the stave; and the soft, impish figures in the Menuet were sometimes imprecise and barely audible.
The work has often been criticised as being more a concerto for clarinet, accompanied by string quartet, rather than a truly symbiotic piece of chamber music; but the performance often disproved this, for example during the trenchant dialogue between Mr. Patey’s clarinet and Gauthier Herrmann’s cello.
Finally, Ms Vourc’h joined the string quartet, along with Mr. Christien at the piano, for an impassioned rendering of Chausson’s “Chanson Perpétuelle”. They made a superb ensemble; soprano and piano blending seamlessly with the quartet (though Marie Chilemme’s viola could have had more presence) and the performance seemed deeply felt by all, quite moving in its intensity and building to a cathartic climax.
In sum, the concert was a worthy, out of the ordinary start to another Arties Festival, auguring well for more to come.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Burana in Bombay
This piece is also posted (with small edits) on my webpage at http://seenandheard-international.com/tag/jiten-s-merchant/
Large-scale works are beloved of concert organisers and audiences alike. After all, which ordinary symphony can compare with Beethoven’s Ninth or Mahler’s Eighth for sheer glamour or frisson? "Carmina Burana" is surely one of the few in the same league.
However, like others of its ilk, it makes huge demands. For one thing, co-ordinating the oversized orchestra (with augmented percussion section and two pianos), a large choir, children’s chorus and three soloists can be a logistical nightmare. And then there’s the musical challenge of making sure they are all well-rehearsed to play in time and tune, under a conductor who knows exactly what he’s doing.
It is to the NCPA’s credit that these formidable challenges were partially met, on the evidence of the work’s first performance (of two) at the Jamshed Bhabha Theatre. Not that Mumbai hasn’t heard "Carmina" before: this was at least the third time the shockingly contemporary Benediktbeuern manuscripts from the Middle Ages, set to music by Carl Orff, have been performed here.
Marat Bisengaliev, Music Director of the Symphony Orchestra of India, conducted this performance hinself, with mixed results. Mr. Bisengaliev favoured extreme and sudden changes in tempo, sometimes in two adjacent phrases. A case in point was his conducting of the two orchestral dances: the first thrillingly fast, with its syncopations neatly pointed; the second slow to the point of somnolence. There could have been fewer and shorter pauses between sections in a piece, thus making the performance more spontaneous and organic; and one missed an overall sense of structure and unity in his evidently “episodic” interpretation.
The orchestra was able to keep up with him….most of the time. There were occasional minor imprecisions in ensemble from the brass; but the strings played con brio and the percussionists gave it their all.
The chorus was another matter. One initially got the distinct impression they were focussing entirely on singing the words and notes correctly, with the consequent loss of open-throated abandon that only fluency can bring. Things improved gradually during and after Ecce gratum as they gained confidence; and by the time Veni, veni, venias came around, they were in fine fettle. However, there were some instances of imperfect co-ordination with orchestra, especially when the chorus had to begin a piece --- most damagingly in Floret silva nobilis and Swaz hie gat umbe where their attack was poor indeed, indicating insufficient rehearsal with a mercurial conductor! Moreover, the sopranos did occasionally flat their highest notes; and the male chorus could have been more full-bodied during In taberna; but the children’s chorus was bright and clear.
Soprano Annamaria Dell’Oste gave a fluent account of her opening solo; but, as the performance continued, her vibrato became intrusive. She seemed stretched by the conductor’s slow tempo for In trutina, consequently needing to take breath-pauses mid-phrase; and her lower notes were virtually inaudible --- not surprising, since the part was written for a full-fledged lyric soprano; and, judging by her timbre, she is apparently a coloratura. However, this paid dividends in the fiendishly-high Dulcissime, where she managed the flights in alt with hardly any strain.
Baritone Javier Arrey sang with warm, full tone and immense musicality; but limited understanding of the meaning of words in the haunting Omnia sol temperat and the headlong Estuans interius (which he nevertheless ended with a ringing top A) while his drunken Abbot was decidedly sober. Even so, through impeccable legato and beautifully-rounded vocalism, he conveyed passion in Circa mea pectora and lovesickness in Dies nox et omnia movingly, singing the latter entirely in full-voice without resorting to the customary falsetto above the stave….and, sadly, cracked.
The famous Song of the Roasted Swan was prefaced by an evocative orchestral introduction by Mr. Bisengaliev. Tenor Filippo Adami launched into the piece with gusto, attacking the exposed high-notes with fearless security, shifting seamlessly into falsetto when required. This, combined with his graphic colouring of words, made for a vivid rendition and definitely the finest (albeit brief) contribution to the concert that evening.
Speaking of which, the subsequent performance the following day was probably more assured, with some of the kinks ironed-out. But that’s what rehearsals are for; and, with proper attention, it should certainly be possible to get things right on opening night!
Large-scale works are beloved of concert organisers and audiences alike. After all, which ordinary symphony can compare with Beethoven’s Ninth or Mahler’s Eighth for sheer glamour or frisson? "Carmina Burana" is surely one of the few in the same league.
However, like others of its ilk, it makes huge demands. For one thing, co-ordinating the oversized orchestra (with augmented percussion section and two pianos), a large choir, children’s chorus and three soloists can be a logistical nightmare. And then there’s the musical challenge of making sure they are all well-rehearsed to play in time and tune, under a conductor who knows exactly what he’s doing.
It is to the NCPA’s credit that these formidable challenges were partially met, on the evidence of the work’s first performance (of two) at the Jamshed Bhabha Theatre. Not that Mumbai hasn’t heard "Carmina" before: this was at least the third time the shockingly contemporary Benediktbeuern manuscripts from the Middle Ages, set to music by Carl Orff, have been performed here.
Marat Bisengaliev, Music Director of the Symphony Orchestra of India, conducted this performance hinself, with mixed results. Mr. Bisengaliev favoured extreme and sudden changes in tempo, sometimes in two adjacent phrases. A case in point was his conducting of the two orchestral dances: the first thrillingly fast, with its syncopations neatly pointed; the second slow to the point of somnolence. There could have been fewer and shorter pauses between sections in a piece, thus making the performance more spontaneous and organic; and one missed an overall sense of structure and unity in his evidently “episodic” interpretation.
The orchestra was able to keep up with him….most of the time. There were occasional minor imprecisions in ensemble from the brass; but the strings played con brio and the percussionists gave it their all.
The chorus was another matter. One initially got the distinct impression they were focussing entirely on singing the words and notes correctly, with the consequent loss of open-throated abandon that only fluency can bring. Things improved gradually during and after Ecce gratum as they gained confidence; and by the time Veni, veni, venias came around, they were in fine fettle. However, there were some instances of imperfect co-ordination with orchestra, especially when the chorus had to begin a piece --- most damagingly in Floret silva nobilis and Swaz hie gat umbe where their attack was poor indeed, indicating insufficient rehearsal with a mercurial conductor! Moreover, the sopranos did occasionally flat their highest notes; and the male chorus could have been more full-bodied during In taberna; but the children’s chorus was bright and clear.
Soprano Annamaria Dell’Oste gave a fluent account of her opening solo; but, as the performance continued, her vibrato became intrusive. She seemed stretched by the conductor’s slow tempo for In trutina, consequently needing to take breath-pauses mid-phrase; and her lower notes were virtually inaudible --- not surprising, since the part was written for a full-fledged lyric soprano; and, judging by her timbre, she is apparently a coloratura. However, this paid dividends in the fiendishly-high Dulcissime, where she managed the flights in alt with hardly any strain.
Baritone Javier Arrey sang with warm, full tone and immense musicality; but limited understanding of the meaning of words in the haunting Omnia sol temperat and the headlong Estuans interius (which he nevertheless ended with a ringing top A) while his drunken Abbot was decidedly sober. Even so, through impeccable legato and beautifully-rounded vocalism, he conveyed passion in Circa mea pectora and lovesickness in Dies nox et omnia movingly, singing the latter entirely in full-voice without resorting to the customary falsetto above the stave….and, sadly, cracked.
The famous Song of the Roasted Swan was prefaced by an evocative orchestral introduction by Mr. Bisengaliev. Tenor Filippo Adami launched into the piece with gusto, attacking the exposed high-notes with fearless security, shifting seamlessly into falsetto when required. This, combined with his graphic colouring of words, made for a vivid rendition and definitely the finest (albeit brief) contribution to the concert that evening.
Speaking of which, the subsequent performance the following day was probably more assured, with some of the kinks ironed-out. But that’s what rehearsals are for; and, with proper attention, it should certainly be possible to get things right on opening night!
Santuzza in stilettos, Canio on TV
This piece is also posted (with small edits) on my webpage at http://seenandheard-international.com/tag/jiten-s-merchant/
(Also apparently available via a link on http://theoperacritic.com/ which can be accessed only by a paid subscription).
Opera in Mumbai used to be a rare phenomenon, occurring once in a very great while. However, thanks to the opera-centric management at the city’s National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA) and its world-class orchestra-in-residence, the Symphony Orchestra of India, it is now relatively frequent, with new productions being staged for limited runs every two years or so.
Since Mumbai lacks an opera-company, productions are imported in varying degree; and this latest offering of "Cavalleria Rusticana" and "Pagliacci" came from South America, complete with sets. As such, it minimised the Indian contribution to a few members of the orchestra (most of whom are, again, “imported”), some choristers and extras. It had a run of three performances, of which this reviewer caught the first and the last.
Opening-night was fraught with problems. For one thing, the interval lasted 75 minutes, owing to the elaborate set-change. The truth is, the Jamshed Bhabha Theatre has limited space around the stage; so large sets cannot be wheeled on and off; and have to be struck and mounted in situ. The subsequent performances saw a progressive reduction in this inordinate delay, down to about 50 minutes.
In "Cavalleria", mezzo-soprano Elena Bocharova as Santuzza was apparently unwell on opening night; and decided not to attempt any high notes after the Easter Hymn, singing them an octave lower. Wearing what looked like diamond ear-studs, a pearl or coral necklace and a pair of bright and shiny patent-leather stilettos, it seemed as though a member of the audience had lost her way onto the stage. And there was nothing in her performance that conveyed more than cursory emotional involvement with the predicament of this supposedly poor, simple village-girl.
Her Turiddu was slightly better. Giancarlo Monsalve had the looks and physical presence; but his vocalism was heavy-handed, needing a “leg-up” to reach the high notes; his tone an ill-focussed spread. Even so, he managed a surprisingly proficient account of his final Addio alla Madre.
The others saved the day. Gevorg Hakobyan’s Alfio was alpha-male in his swagger and robust tone, though somewhat cavalier with note-values during Il cavallo scalpita. Marianna Vinci was spot-on as Lola, though clotted below the stave; and Chiara Fracasso gave probably the finest performance in the cast as Mamma Lucia, note-perfect in a finely-shaded, idiomatic characterisation.
Ms Bocharova was replaced after opening-night by soprano Chiara Angella, who had no problems with the role’s high tessitura and wore much more sensible footwear. She did, however, have a wide and pronounced vibrato. Even so, her sheer involvement and innate musicality paid immense dividends during Voi lo sapete and the duet with Turiddu, ending in a hair-raising “Bada!” and curse.
Mickael Spadaccini sang Turiddu on the last night and his interpretation was “softer” than the animal-like quality of Monsalve; his vocalism followed suit with sensitive phrasing, though not always perfectly-rounded in tone.
In Pagliacci, tenor Francesco Anile proved himself to be very much a singer’s singer, allowing the pathos and passion in the music to express itself (à la Björling) without resorting to bathetic boo-hooing or savage shouting. Possessing a relatively small but evenly-produced voice, his high notes were laser-sharp, cutting through orchestral tutti with ease. Acting-wise, he erred on the side of economy, conveying Canio’s extremis simply but effectively. However, the final stabbing of Nedda and Silvio could have been much more crazed and vicious; here it barely registered on the audience.
Sabina Cvilak, as Nedda, was secure and powerful above the stave; and threw herself into her part with convincing abandon. Although she was occasionally inaudible in the lower passaggio (but with strong chest-notes) her musicality was unimpeachable, with ravishing pianissimi in her duet with Silvio, where baritone Javier Arrey was also superbly lyrical and offered a moving rendition of his brief solo.
Silvio Zanon’s harder, gleaming baritone suited Tonio perfectly. Though slightly strained by the Prologue’s top notes, he gave a vivid musico-dramatic characterisation of the hunchback, reaching its peak in the fiery exchange with Nedda. In contrast, he showed a real flair for comedy during the antics of Scene 2, in which Filippo Adami sang Beppe’s little solo in full voice with insouciant ease; and moved with great agility.
If "Cav and Pag" are said to be twins, they could hardly be more dissimilar than in this production. Here, "Cavalleria" was played on an exquisitely-detailed set of a Sicilian village-piazza; beautiful but shrouded in a near-perpetual twilight through which the Sicilian sun shone only intermittently. "Pagliacci", interestingly, was set in a TV studio from the early 60s, with professional cameras “shooting” the action in black and white, displayed on a screen at the back. A large neon-sign announced “23 ORE” as the title of the show in which Canio’s troupe was slated to perform; and the chorus became the studio-audience. The show itself, in Scene 2 of the opera, was a circus-style extravaganza complete with acrobats, while the preceeding intimate scenes were performed “off-camera” in a dressing-room and the empty studio.
Director Willy Landin’s imagination had obviously run riot, offering a thoroughly riveting “modern” mise-en-scène of "Pagliacci", albeit with a few minor inconsistencies. It was difficult to accept that the same director was responsible for the somewhat four-square "Cavalleria" earlier that evening!
Landin’s forte was the interaction between principal characters, brilliantly realised in both operas, especially "Pagliacci" in its switching back-and-forth between reality and Commedia dell’Arte. The chorus were given little attention in "Cavalleria", being made to walk around in slow-motion or strike stilted poses in groups, without much sense of “character” or involvement (where were their wine-glasses during the Brindisi?). In "Pagliacci", however, they remained happily seated until called-upon to react, in time to the music.
This amalgamation of choirs, though satisfyingly full-voiced, lacked the agility of a true operatic chorus, being somewhat sluggish in its response to the dynamics of music-drama; and unable to adapt to sudden changes in tempo. As a result, there were major imprecisions in ensemble with the orchestra, under both conductors.
Antonello Allemandi conducted opening-night con brio….to a fault. The orchestra was king, playing with full-blooded attack and burnished tone; the conductor seeming to revel in the amplitude of its sound at the expense of those singers who were unable to cut through it. His tempi were generally fast, making for a thrilling listen but also the occasional Runaway Train, when singers were unable to keep-up.
Resident-maestro Zane Dalal was, on the other hand, more responsive to the lyricism in both scores, keeping passion in its place. From the very first, meltingly-beautiful notes of the Prelude to "Cavalleria", it was clear this was going to be an utterly musical, elegant reading of the operas. He conducted with a firm, clear downbeat, in sync with variations in rhythm (for example, the heady swirl of Nedda’s Balatella) and highlighting inner voices with tender clarity. Climaxes, when they occurred, had requisite weight and volume, if not quite the visceral slam conjured by Maestro Allemandi.
The semi-covered pit of the JBT was perhaps responsible for amplifying the orchestral sound to a point where only the most securely-produced voices were able to ride it successfully; and this was evident at three differently-located seats, in an auditorium notorious for its unpredictable acoustics.
This, along with technical limitations and logistical problems, makes staging opera a difficult proposition in this city. Mumbai’s NCPA has a few more lessons to learn; but, with experience and international support, it might well become a major operatic centre in this part of the world.
(Also apparently available via a link on http://theoperacritic.com/ which can be accessed only by a paid subscription).
Opera in Mumbai used to be a rare phenomenon, occurring once in a very great while. However, thanks to the opera-centric management at the city’s National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA) and its world-class orchestra-in-residence, the Symphony Orchestra of India, it is now relatively frequent, with new productions being staged for limited runs every two years or so.
Since Mumbai lacks an opera-company, productions are imported in varying degree; and this latest offering of "Cavalleria Rusticana" and "Pagliacci" came from South America, complete with sets. As such, it minimised the Indian contribution to a few members of the orchestra (most of whom are, again, “imported”), some choristers and extras. It had a run of three performances, of which this reviewer caught the first and the last.
Opening-night was fraught with problems. For one thing, the interval lasted 75 minutes, owing to the elaborate set-change. The truth is, the Jamshed Bhabha Theatre has limited space around the stage; so large sets cannot be wheeled on and off; and have to be struck and mounted in situ. The subsequent performances saw a progressive reduction in this inordinate delay, down to about 50 minutes.
In "Cavalleria", mezzo-soprano Elena Bocharova as Santuzza was apparently unwell on opening night; and decided not to attempt any high notes after the Easter Hymn, singing them an octave lower. Wearing what looked like diamond ear-studs, a pearl or coral necklace and a pair of bright and shiny patent-leather stilettos, it seemed as though a member of the audience had lost her way onto the stage. And there was nothing in her performance that conveyed more than cursory emotional involvement with the predicament of this supposedly poor, simple village-girl.
Her Turiddu was slightly better. Giancarlo Monsalve had the looks and physical presence; but his vocalism was heavy-handed, needing a “leg-up” to reach the high notes; his tone an ill-focussed spread. Even so, he managed a surprisingly proficient account of his final Addio alla Madre.
The others saved the day. Gevorg Hakobyan’s Alfio was alpha-male in his swagger and robust tone, though somewhat cavalier with note-values during Il cavallo scalpita. Marianna Vinci was spot-on as Lola, though clotted below the stave; and Chiara Fracasso gave probably the finest performance in the cast as Mamma Lucia, note-perfect in a finely-shaded, idiomatic characterisation.
Ms Bocharova was replaced after opening-night by soprano Chiara Angella, who had no problems with the role’s high tessitura and wore much more sensible footwear. She did, however, have a wide and pronounced vibrato. Even so, her sheer involvement and innate musicality paid immense dividends during Voi lo sapete and the duet with Turiddu, ending in a hair-raising “Bada!” and curse.
Mickael Spadaccini sang Turiddu on the last night and his interpretation was “softer” than the animal-like quality of Monsalve; his vocalism followed suit with sensitive phrasing, though not always perfectly-rounded in tone.
In Pagliacci, tenor Francesco Anile proved himself to be very much a singer’s singer, allowing the pathos and passion in the music to express itself (à la Björling) without resorting to bathetic boo-hooing or savage shouting. Possessing a relatively small but evenly-produced voice, his high notes were laser-sharp, cutting through orchestral tutti with ease. Acting-wise, he erred on the side of economy, conveying Canio’s extremis simply but effectively. However, the final stabbing of Nedda and Silvio could have been much more crazed and vicious; here it barely registered on the audience.
Sabina Cvilak, as Nedda, was secure and powerful above the stave; and threw herself into her part with convincing abandon. Although she was occasionally inaudible in the lower passaggio (but with strong chest-notes) her musicality was unimpeachable, with ravishing pianissimi in her duet with Silvio, where baritone Javier Arrey was also superbly lyrical and offered a moving rendition of his brief solo.
Silvio Zanon’s harder, gleaming baritone suited Tonio perfectly. Though slightly strained by the Prologue’s top notes, he gave a vivid musico-dramatic characterisation of the hunchback, reaching its peak in the fiery exchange with Nedda. In contrast, he showed a real flair for comedy during the antics of Scene 2, in which Filippo Adami sang Beppe’s little solo in full voice with insouciant ease; and moved with great agility.
If "Cav and Pag" are said to be twins, they could hardly be more dissimilar than in this production. Here, "Cavalleria" was played on an exquisitely-detailed set of a Sicilian village-piazza; beautiful but shrouded in a near-perpetual twilight through which the Sicilian sun shone only intermittently. "Pagliacci", interestingly, was set in a TV studio from the early 60s, with professional cameras “shooting” the action in black and white, displayed on a screen at the back. A large neon-sign announced “23 ORE” as the title of the show in which Canio’s troupe was slated to perform; and the chorus became the studio-audience. The show itself, in Scene 2 of the opera, was a circus-style extravaganza complete with acrobats, while the preceeding intimate scenes were performed “off-camera” in a dressing-room and the empty studio.
Director Willy Landin’s imagination had obviously run riot, offering a thoroughly riveting “modern” mise-en-scène of "Pagliacci", albeit with a few minor inconsistencies. It was difficult to accept that the same director was responsible for the somewhat four-square "Cavalleria" earlier that evening!
Landin’s forte was the interaction between principal characters, brilliantly realised in both operas, especially "Pagliacci" in its switching back-and-forth between reality and Commedia dell’Arte. The chorus were given little attention in "Cavalleria", being made to walk around in slow-motion or strike stilted poses in groups, without much sense of “character” or involvement (where were their wine-glasses during the Brindisi?). In "Pagliacci", however, they remained happily seated until called-upon to react, in time to the music.
This amalgamation of choirs, though satisfyingly full-voiced, lacked the agility of a true operatic chorus, being somewhat sluggish in its response to the dynamics of music-drama; and unable to adapt to sudden changes in tempo. As a result, there were major imprecisions in ensemble with the orchestra, under both conductors.
Antonello Allemandi conducted opening-night con brio….to a fault. The orchestra was king, playing with full-blooded attack and burnished tone; the conductor seeming to revel in the amplitude of its sound at the expense of those singers who were unable to cut through it. His tempi were generally fast, making for a thrilling listen but also the occasional Runaway Train, when singers were unable to keep-up.
Resident-maestro Zane Dalal was, on the other hand, more responsive to the lyricism in both scores, keeping passion in its place. From the very first, meltingly-beautiful notes of the Prelude to "Cavalleria", it was clear this was going to be an utterly musical, elegant reading of the operas. He conducted with a firm, clear downbeat, in sync with variations in rhythm (for example, the heady swirl of Nedda’s Balatella) and highlighting inner voices with tender clarity. Climaxes, when they occurred, had requisite weight and volume, if not quite the visceral slam conjured by Maestro Allemandi.
The semi-covered pit of the JBT was perhaps responsible for amplifying the orchestral sound to a point where only the most securely-produced voices were able to ride it successfully; and this was evident at three differently-located seats, in an auditorium notorious for its unpredictable acoustics.
This, along with technical limitations and logistical problems, makes staging opera a difficult proposition in this city. Mumbai’s NCPA has a few more lessons to learn; but, with experience and international support, it might well become a major operatic centre in this part of the world.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Shame on the audience!
An edited version of the following review is uploaded on my webpage at http://www.seenandheard-international.com/tag/jiten-s-merchant/
Mahler Chamber Soloists: Henja Semmler (violin), Christian Heubes (violin), Anna Puig Torné (viola), Delphine Tissot (viola), Antoaneta Emanuilova (cello), Olivier Patey (clarinet).
Presented by the Indian Council for Cultural Relations (ICCR), Tata Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, India. 24.01.2012
Good things can come in small packages; and this was made evident at the concert by the Mahler Chamber Soloists, a group of six players from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra, in Mumbai. Presented as part of the celebrations honouring 60 years of friendship between Germany and India, it was certainly a success, though one that was somewhat qualified.
The major hurdle in making this a special evening was the audience. Typical of these sponsors, there was a large number of Indian and European government and corporate types among the invitees, which probably explained the bursts of applause after each movement, clicking of cameras, loud coughing and constant traffic of latecomers and premature departees….but mercifully only one interruption from a cell-phone. The genuine music-lovers and regular concert-goers among those present must surely have wondered what kind of impression this audience had made on the hapless musicians; and wished the organisers had included a handbook of concert-etiquette with the brochure.
Even so, the players coped valiantly. Opening with Dvorak’s Terzetto in C Major, they displayed impeccable co-ordination and fine contrast between the cantabile and marcato passages, though the syncopations in the Furiant could have had more rhythmic bounce.
Mozart’s String (Viola) Quintet in G minor followed; and from the start it was apparent this performance was going to be different. The opening Allegro was taken at a clip, establishing a nervous, febrile energy, with sharply angular dynamics and agogic pauses, though the stabbing chords in the following Menuetto could have been made more emphatic. The Adagio was also a shade too fast, lacking gravitas; and it was only in the last movement that the performance struck the right note of grief (especially in Henja Semmler’s soaring violin solos underpinned by pizzicati from the cello) for this was written by Mozart when his father was dying. It has been suggested that the work’s ending, a jaunty Allegro, represented his freedom from paternal tyranny; and here it was appropriately tentative, halting and (again) nervous, bringing us full-circle to the opening.
Brahms’ Clarinet Quintet, after the interval, was undoubtedly the concert’s main event. Its opening promised sylvan shades and autumnal mood….shattered alas in the very first forte passage, the clarinet’s tone hardening acerbically under pressure, exacerbated by the “shouting” quartet. However, clarinettist Olivier Patey’s soft playing thereafter was exquisite, leading up to an ending that was magically hushed. This promise of lyricism was amply fulfilled by the players in the ensuing Adagio; and its rhapsodic “aria” for clarinet was rendered passionately by Mr. Patey, with ravishing pianissimi. The following Andantino was lively, while the last movement’s contrasts were well-realised (for instance, in the clarinet’s flawless legato during its arching phrases, backed by the rhythmic accents of the quartet) with a sombre and very moving end.
Fresh from their concert in Goa, the Soloists offered a charming encore, a medley of Goan folk-songs arranged specially for their ensemble. It proved, unequivocally, that Indo-German collaboration is indeed a happy marriage.
Mahler Chamber Soloists: Henja Semmler (violin), Christian Heubes (violin), Anna Puig Torné (viola), Delphine Tissot (viola), Antoaneta Emanuilova (cello), Olivier Patey (clarinet).
Presented by the Indian Council for Cultural Relations (ICCR), Tata Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, India. 24.01.2012
Good things can come in small packages; and this was made evident at the concert by the Mahler Chamber Soloists, a group of six players from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra, in Mumbai. Presented as part of the celebrations honouring 60 years of friendship between Germany and India, it was certainly a success, though one that was somewhat qualified.
The major hurdle in making this a special evening was the audience. Typical of these sponsors, there was a large number of Indian and European government and corporate types among the invitees, which probably explained the bursts of applause after each movement, clicking of cameras, loud coughing and constant traffic of latecomers and premature departees….but mercifully only one interruption from a cell-phone. The genuine music-lovers and regular concert-goers among those present must surely have wondered what kind of impression this audience had made on the hapless musicians; and wished the organisers had included a handbook of concert-etiquette with the brochure.
Even so, the players coped valiantly. Opening with Dvorak’s Terzetto in C Major, they displayed impeccable co-ordination and fine contrast between the cantabile and marcato passages, though the syncopations in the Furiant could have had more rhythmic bounce.
Mozart’s String (Viola) Quintet in G minor followed; and from the start it was apparent this performance was going to be different. The opening Allegro was taken at a clip, establishing a nervous, febrile energy, with sharply angular dynamics and agogic pauses, though the stabbing chords in the following Menuetto could have been made more emphatic. The Adagio was also a shade too fast, lacking gravitas; and it was only in the last movement that the performance struck the right note of grief (especially in Henja Semmler’s soaring violin solos underpinned by pizzicati from the cello) for this was written by Mozart when his father was dying. It has been suggested that the work’s ending, a jaunty Allegro, represented his freedom from paternal tyranny; and here it was appropriately tentative, halting and (again) nervous, bringing us full-circle to the opening.
Brahms’ Clarinet Quintet, after the interval, was undoubtedly the concert’s main event. Its opening promised sylvan shades and autumnal mood….shattered alas in the very first forte passage, the clarinet’s tone hardening acerbically under pressure, exacerbated by the “shouting” quartet. However, clarinettist Olivier Patey’s soft playing thereafter was exquisite, leading up to an ending that was magically hushed. This promise of lyricism was amply fulfilled by the players in the ensuing Adagio; and its rhapsodic “aria” for clarinet was rendered passionately by Mr. Patey, with ravishing pianissimi. The following Andantino was lively, while the last movement’s contrasts were well-realised (for instance, in the clarinet’s flawless legato during its arching phrases, backed by the rhythmic accents of the quartet) with a sombre and very moving end.
Fresh from their concert in Goa, the Soloists offered a charming encore, a medley of Goan folk-songs arranged specially for their ensemble. It proved, unequivocally, that Indo-German collaboration is indeed a happy marriage.
Friday, January 13, 2012
3 Divas in Bombay!
I am now an accredited reviewer at Seen and Heard International, the live-performance wing of Music Web International, one of the oldest, largest and most-visited online purveyors of musical criticism.
My first review for them was of a concert featuring three sopranos, including the Mumbai-born but UK-based Patricia Rozario.
Since this was extensively edited on the website (sometimes, I admit, for the better!) here is my original piece:
Three of a Kind!
Operatic arias by Patricia Rozario (soprano), Susanna Hurrell (soprano) and Joanne D’Mello (soprano).
Tata Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, India.
9 January 2012.
There are sopranos and sopranos….and this concert at the Tata Theatre in the National Centre for the Performing Arts, Mumbai, showcased three species in the genus.
All three shared a basically lyric fach and timbre, with one offering a shade of spinto; another, the bright tone of a coloratura. Occupying a solid, quintessentially lyric middle-ground between the two was their teacher and mentor, Patricia Rozario. Recently honoured with an OBE, Ms Rozario taught Susanna Hurrell at the Royal College of Music’s International Opera School; and her own compatriot, Joanne D’Mello from Goa, also at the RCM. Both students joined their teacher in this programme of mostly familiar operatic arias and duets (and a few folk-songs).
However, the very first item on the programme was decidedly unfamiliar, Brilla nell’ alma from Handel’s “Alessandro”. Ms Hurrell launched into it con brio but lacking the laser-sharp focus of the true coloratura; and with some approximation in the florid passages. These traits, along with a few lapses in intonation and little evidence of a proper trill, were also seen in two of the latter pieces, the valse from Gounod’s “Romeo et Juliette” and Adele’s Laughing Song from “Die Fledermaus”; but Ms Hurrell saved the day with her confidence above the stave. And really came into her own during Manon’s Adieu, notre petite table, which was performed complete with the preceeding recitative, the singer throwing herself convincingly into Manon’s predicament, fully conveying her conflict on leaving her lover for the high-life.
Joanne D’Mello has the makings of a fine lirico-spinto, though at the moment her voice seems still somewhat unformed. It is relatively small, with almost the timbre of a lyric mezzo in the lower register; but free, ringing top notes. However, there is sometimes a noticeable beat in the voice, which is a little worrying to hear at such an early stage in her career. She is amazingly responsive to changes in colour, differentiating clearly not only between operatic characters but also contrasting portions within the same aria. This was made evident in Cleopatra’s lament from Handel’s “Giulio Cesare” (though she lacked the requisite heft) while her rendition of Euridice’s Che fiero momento showed great sensitivity to emotion and meaning of words. Her Musetta was coquettish and playful but Despina less convincing; and she managed the mezzo parts of Dorabella and Mallika, in the duets respectively from “Cosi fan tutte” and “Lakme”, with aplomb, both partnered by Ms Hurrell.
She was also a charming Susanna in the duet Canzonetta sull’ aria from “Le Nozze di Figaro” in which she was joined by Patricia Rozario as the Contessa. From the start, it was evident that something was terribly wrong and Ms Rozario seemed to be having an off day (courtesy the Mumbai smog?) for this was not the Patricia we have come to know and love! Her legato, always the pride and joy of her vocalism, was heavy and effortful here; and also in the subsequent arias from “The Pearl Fishers” and “Rusalka”, during which she had to clear her throat a couple of times and seemed to rely on sheer will-power to finish. Even so, there was no doubt about the authority of her renditions, although the inclusion in the programme of the Queen of the Night’s “revenge” aria was a sad mistake. Written for a dramatic-coloratura (which Ms Rozario definitely is not) it was painful to hear and perhaps to sing, causing grave concern for Ms Rozario’s vocal health. Thankfully this was unfounded, as she returned later to give an utterly stupendous, show-stopping account of “Its my Wedding” from the opera “Enchanted Pig” by Jonathan Dove.
Mark Troop’s sure-footed piano-accompaniment provided a bedrock of musical support (though sometimes almost overpowering Ms D’Mello) through the evening, which ended with the three ladies singing Dvorak’s Three Gypsy Songs (including the popular “Songs my mother taught me”) with perfect co-ordination. And, in keeping with Ms Rozario’s and Ms D’Mello’s roots, the encores were a couple of lilting Goan folk-songs, sung in the native Konkani, which Ms Hurrell had mastered in two weeks!
My first review for them was of a concert featuring three sopranos, including the Mumbai-born but UK-based Patricia Rozario.
Since this was extensively edited on the website (sometimes, I admit, for the better!) here is my original piece:
Three of a Kind!
Operatic arias by Patricia Rozario (soprano), Susanna Hurrell (soprano) and Joanne D’Mello (soprano).
Tata Theatre, National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Mumbai, India.
9 January 2012.
There are sopranos and sopranos….and this concert at the Tata Theatre in the National Centre for the Performing Arts, Mumbai, showcased three species in the genus.
All three shared a basically lyric fach and timbre, with one offering a shade of spinto; another, the bright tone of a coloratura. Occupying a solid, quintessentially lyric middle-ground between the two was their teacher and mentor, Patricia Rozario. Recently honoured with an OBE, Ms Rozario taught Susanna Hurrell at the Royal College of Music’s International Opera School; and her own compatriot, Joanne D’Mello from Goa, also at the RCM. Both students joined their teacher in this programme of mostly familiar operatic arias and duets (and a few folk-songs).
However, the very first item on the programme was decidedly unfamiliar, Brilla nell’ alma from Handel’s “Alessandro”. Ms Hurrell launched into it con brio but lacking the laser-sharp focus of the true coloratura; and with some approximation in the florid passages. These traits, along with a few lapses in intonation and little evidence of a proper trill, were also seen in two of the latter pieces, the valse from Gounod’s “Romeo et Juliette” and Adele’s Laughing Song from “Die Fledermaus”; but Ms Hurrell saved the day with her confidence above the stave. And really came into her own during Manon’s Adieu, notre petite table, which was performed complete with the preceeding recitative, the singer throwing herself convincingly into Manon’s predicament, fully conveying her conflict on leaving her lover for the high-life.
Joanne D’Mello has the makings of a fine lirico-spinto, though at the moment her voice seems still somewhat unformed. It is relatively small, with almost the timbre of a lyric mezzo in the lower register; but free, ringing top notes. However, there is sometimes a noticeable beat in the voice, which is a little worrying to hear at such an early stage in her career. She is amazingly responsive to changes in colour, differentiating clearly not only between operatic characters but also contrasting portions within the same aria. This was made evident in Cleopatra’s lament from Handel’s “Giulio Cesare” (though she lacked the requisite heft) while her rendition of Euridice’s Che fiero momento showed great sensitivity to emotion and meaning of words. Her Musetta was coquettish and playful but Despina less convincing; and she managed the mezzo parts of Dorabella and Mallika, in the duets respectively from “Cosi fan tutte” and “Lakme”, with aplomb, both partnered by Ms Hurrell.
She was also a charming Susanna in the duet Canzonetta sull’ aria from “Le Nozze di Figaro” in which she was joined by Patricia Rozario as the Contessa. From the start, it was evident that something was terribly wrong and Ms Rozario seemed to be having an off day (courtesy the Mumbai smog?) for this was not the Patricia we have come to know and love! Her legato, always the pride and joy of her vocalism, was heavy and effortful here; and also in the subsequent arias from “The Pearl Fishers” and “Rusalka”, during which she had to clear her throat a couple of times and seemed to rely on sheer will-power to finish. Even so, there was no doubt about the authority of her renditions, although the inclusion in the programme of the Queen of the Night’s “revenge” aria was a sad mistake. Written for a dramatic-coloratura (which Ms Rozario definitely is not) it was painful to hear and perhaps to sing, causing grave concern for Ms Rozario’s vocal health. Thankfully this was unfounded, as she returned later to give an utterly stupendous, show-stopping account of “Its my Wedding” from the opera “Enchanted Pig” by Jonathan Dove.
Mark Troop’s sure-footed piano-accompaniment provided a bedrock of musical support (though sometimes almost overpowering Ms D’Mello) through the evening, which ended with the three ladies singing Dvorak’s Three Gypsy Songs (including the popular “Songs my mother taught me”) with perfect co-ordination. And, in keeping with Ms Rozario’s and Ms D’Mello’s roots, the encores were a couple of lilting Goan folk-songs, sung in the native Konkani, which Ms Hurrell had mastered in two weeks!
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