Ramey turned in his usual fine performances (although I
would have preferred to hear van Dam in the two roles - both
of which he has performed, but only the Schicchi on
recording, and that only available if you're willing to
shell out sixty bucks for the entire Tritico). The rest of
the Schicchi cast were (at least to me) more or less
unknowns - except for Rosalind Elias, who sang Zita. I
remember Elias in her prime, when filling a 3000 seat
auditorum with that glorious voice would have been no
problem. She still sounds surprisingly good, for a lady who
must be nearing eighty, but the vocal strength is no longer
there, so I assume casting her was a gesture of appreciation
for past greatness (plus the cynical factor of "name
recognition" in selling tickets).
Since I've begun with the Puccini, I'll comment upon it
first, although it served to provide a cheerful close to
offset the psychologically dark and convoluted work that
preceded it. Aside from a minor cavil - the stage at the
Dorothy Chandler Pavilion is just too BIG for what is
essentially a "chamber opera"! (The set designers did their
best, but it was hard to convert that enormous space into a
convincing depiction of a wealthy Italian bourgeoisie's
bedroom.) It was a delightful romp - more or less in modern
dress, but this is one of those operas where "period" is
immaterial.
I have seen van Dam in some Brussels Opera performances
(live and on video) where the rest of the cast seemed merely
"adequate" compared to his stellar performance - this can be
said for Ramey in L.A. Opera's "Gianni Schicchi", as well -
with less excuse, I think. La Monnaie is a small house
(1152 seats), and van Dam sings there (I've been told) at a
reduced fee, simply because he regards it as his home -
otherwise they couldn't afford him, either. Los Angeles is
hardly a small town, or a poor one, and they seem to nearly
sell out their 3000 seats regularly, so one would expect to
have a better than merely "adequate" supporting cast for
another internationally renowned star. The tenor (Rolando
Villazon) was pretty good, and the soprano (Dianelle de
Niese) did well in her aria and the duet with the tenor,
although for much of the rest of the opera, I thought she
had a very "pop" sounding voice for a serious opera singer.
Ramey proved to be a much better comedian than I had
expected (although I wish I could get to Japan next April to
hear van Dam in the role). However, all the cast turned in
excellent acting performances, so it was fun - although I
could have done without Ramey's spoken "epilogue" (in
English) at the end. Is that in the score, or did someone
just have the bright idea of "balancing" the Bluebeard
prologue? (If so, someone should tell him/her that it
doesn't work very well.)
I have a Hungarian recording of "Bluebeard", and saw it many
years ago when the Pasadena Symphony did it "semi-staged"
in English (IIRC - certainly not in Hungarian) with Marvalee
Carriaga and a fine Hungarian baritone (whose name I can't
recall). In many ways, I prefer the Pasadena version -
primarily because there really isn't much more going on,
onstage, in a "fully staged" production. In this case, the
set (what you could see of it in the usual murky lighting so
favored by L.A.'s lighting directors) was primarily a black
cyclorama plus a tall circular staircase, stage right. The
"doors" were opened by parting the rear-stage curtain to
reveal nothing but colored light, for the first three. Then
they got more imaginative, but the abstract art they
provided then left me longing for the pure light that had
preceded it.
Apparently there IS a spoken prologue (delivered by "the
Bard") in the actual score - a piece of poetry from the
da-da school, which fits Bartok's time-frame better than
ours - although both my recording and the Pasadena
performance spared the audience that. Translated into
appropriately incomprehensible English, this was intoned by
a vampire in black leather, projected onto the upper middle
reaches of the curtain, before it rose.
Not much can be said about the staging - the opera itself is
so completely surreal, with layer upon layer of "meaning",
that there's no "traditonal" model with which to compare
it. I can imagine it being staged with everything
graphically represented, as described in the score, but in
this case, I don't think that would work as well as the
non-representational way it was done here. However, as
stated before, I would have found it easier to deal
throughout with mere floods of colored light to represent
the view behind each door. I didn't feel the art work that
was used for the scenes behind the last four doors was
particularly attractive or apropos, and the "cutesy"
flitting ghosts of the first three wives really did nothing
to emphasize the macabre interpretation chosen for the final
scene. I say "chosen" because this is one opera that can
mean whatever the producer wants it to mean - it can be a
realistic telling of a grim fairy-tale, a portrayal of the
dark reaches of a disturbed mind, or anything in between.
The music, however, is lovely and the two singers did it
full justice, IMO.
Kent Nagano conducted both works - well, of course. (L. A.
is lucky to have him - let's hope he chooses to stay.)
Altogether, a most enjoyable evening, so if you have the
chance to see this unlikely pairing of one-acts, do by all
means go.