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.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
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.
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