|
|
|
|
|
Opera.uk, January 2012 |
Martin Bernheimer |
|
Ciléa: Adriana Lecouvreur, New York, Carnegie Hall, November 8, 2011 |
|
Adriana Lecouvreur
|
|
The reports of the demise of the OPERA ORCHESTRA OF NEW YORK two years ago
seem to have been exaggerated. The institution-to call it a company
stretches credibility a bit-held forth at CARNEGIE HALL on November 8 with a
star-studded reading (term used advisedly) of Cilea's beguilingly tawdry
Adriana Lecouvreur.
The primary raison d'être
had to be the soprano in the oh-so-grateful title role. A revealing,
unblushing, three-page biographical entry in the programme magazine began
thus. "Superstar Angela Gheorghiu, the most glamorous and gifted opera
singer of our time, was born in the small Romanian town Adjud." The
self-proclaimed super-diva (who, despite original plans, is conspicuously
absent from the Met this season) apparently takes her publicity very
seriously. She swept onstage, and off, with imperious grandeur, modelled two
lavish evening gowns, fussing constantly with each, waved warmly to her
adoring fans and stressed indulgent sentiment whenever the music hinted at
such a possibility-also sometimes when it did not. Yet for all her odd
manners and odder mannerisms, she sang artfully, with sweep, ardour,
sensitivity and shimmering top notes (most of them at the wonted pitch).
Jonas Kaufmann partnered her as a Maurizio of glorious passion
counterbalanced by uncommon introspection. He rang the old rafters
effortlessly when climaxes beckoned yet managed a great deal of delicate
dynamic shading. He re-established himself as a master of elegantly focused
pianissimo phrases, not to mention crescendo and decrescendo surprises.
Anita Rachvelishvili, though hardly polished or subtle, sang with
overwhelming opulence as the Principessa di Bouillon. Ambrogio Maestri
sounded like a prime Verdi baritone (Rigoletto, Mr Gelb?) as the sympathetic
Michonnet. The secondary roles were decently cast, with Nicola Pamio a
needlessly luxurious import from Italy for the crusty plaints of the Abate.
Alberto Veronesi, the rather finicky conductor, favoured brio over
languor, except when Gheorghiu dictated otherwise. Still, after all those
years of time-beating by the otherwise worthy impresaria Eve Queler, it was
good to experience a genuine pro on the podium.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|