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/

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

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!

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??

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.