Leonard Turnevicius

Raise a glass to La Traviata and the New Year

top photo: The cast of La Traviata at the Deutsche Oper Berlin with conductor Yves
Abel third from left. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius
bottom photo: Daniel Barenboim, the Staatskapelle Berlin, soloists, and the
Staatsopernchor after their performance of Beethoven's Ninth in the Schiller
Theater. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius

(Berlin, Germany) Earlier this afternoon, Canadian conductor Yves Abel took to the pit of a sold out Deutsche Oper for a revival of Goetz Friedrich's staging of Verdi's La Traviata.

Abel's upward motioning circular gestures conveyed one desire--a smooth, unbroken line to the singing and the playing. More often than not, he got what he asked for. Abel's tempi were well chosen, though he slowed down in Violetta's Sempre libera. The chorus numbers in Act II were also handled well, with the text coming through clearly. The traditional cuts were taken, and the final words of Annina, Alfredo, and Giorgio, "Oh mio dolor!", were omitted.

His Violetta however, wasn't the scheduled soprano. Irina Lungu was announced indisposed prior to the start of the opera--much to the chagrin of the Berlin audience, many of whom let their feelings be known. Burcu Uyar was hastily called upon and agreed to sing the role.

Povera donna, hers was a mixed performance. Where Verdi wrote 'with enthusiasm' in the score, Uyar sang with a blank expression on her face, as though going through the motions. Thankfully, in the second half that changed for the better.

Yosep Kang was a decent, lyric Alfredo, his tone mildly high strung.

Markus Brueck was also announced indisposed, but nonetheless agreed to come on and sing the role of Giorgio Germont. His was a finely crafted portrayal which also included the evening's best vocalism.

As Flora, dusky toned Jana Kurucova came off like Carmen--flirting with the men, making out with one guy (if you're keeping track, she was on top), and play acting bull fighting with another guy.

Frank Philipp Schloessmann's uniset--three high walls each with many doors and some windows--served all three acts, though not always effectively. In Act II, there was little on stage that would convince anyone that they were witnessing the action in the luxurious country home called for in the libretto. In Act III, unhinged doors and broken shutters symbolized Violetta's brokenness and bankruptcy, both financial and spiritual.

There was a repeat performance of Traviata an hour and a half later, with Abel again in the pit, though with a different cast.

However, some 700 metres down Bismarckstrasse, a packed house gathered to hear Daniel Barenboim and the Staatskapelle Berlin in a staple work on celebratory evenings such as this, Beethoven's Ninth.

There wasn't much of anything new in Barenboim's reading. That is, until the fourth and final movement. Curiously, Beethoven's 'Schreckensfanfaren' were anything but, sounding more on the timid side than striking fear in the listener's ear. And then, the famous Ode to Joy theme, played by the cellos and basses--here so soft that one could have thought these players were off stage. Then, the sound of the violin and viola sections suddenly attained a sweetness not previously heard in the dry acoustics of the Schiller Theater.

Eberhard Friedrich's Staatsopernchor sounded diffuse on their first entry, though that remedied itself soon enough.

As for the soloists, Russian soprano Anna Samuil stuck out like a sore thumb, overpowering German mezzo Simone Schroeder. One expected more heft from tenor Burkhard Fritz, given his body type. Hanno Mueller-Brachmann was a vigorous sounding bass-baritone.

The work ended as it should, in a blaze of glory, attempting to convince the listener that 'all men will be brothers' (though we know that someone always manages to louse up that great idea).

The audience's applause lasted seven minutes before everyone was on their feet for a standing ovation, something of a rarity in these parts.

Barenboim and company repeat the concert tomorrow at 4 p.m. However, the Komische Oper presents its New Year's Day concert at the same time. That concert will be followed by the RIAS Chamber Choir performing Mendelssohn's oratorio Paulus (St. Paul) in the Philharmonie.

A love for The Love for Three Oranges

The cast and chorus of the Komsiche Oper Berlin's production of Prokofiev's Die Liebe zu drei Orangen. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius

(Berlin, Germany) What wasn't there to love at the Komische Oper's production of Prokofiev's The Love for Three Oranges, er, Die Liebe zu drei Orangen (they only sing in German at this house) earlier this evening?

Sure, Werner Hintze provided what could be called a "conventional" staging compared with the EuroTrash fare seen last night at the Schiller Theater. But Hintze's staging worked, and effectively at that.

And speaking of effective, so too were Mechthild Seipel's costumes. The chorus was decked out in 1920s garb, though all in a cream colour including face make-up. Standing out against that were the colourful costumes of the leads--bright blues, reds, greens, oranges (for the three princesses, of course), black, and so on.

Frank Evin's lighting too, was highly effective, soft pastels changing with the scene or the mood.

The singing could have been a disaster, but wasn't. The scheduled Prince had suddenly taken ill this morning. So, the Komische tracked down Philipp Heo who had sung the role previously, and flew him in from Hannover. There was no time for Heo to learn the blocking, so instead, he stood stage right and sang the role from music while Werner Sauer acted the role on stage.

Carsten Sabrowski has a commanding voice. He did a superb job on sort notice as the King, covering for the scheduled singer who was also indisposed.

Frank Philipp Schloessmann's set was a simple one. From the lip of the stage, a few small steps here and there lead to a raked stage, with the whole framed as though a picture. Again, quite effective for this fairy tale setting.

The lone, minor reservation under Andreas Homoki's direction and Schloessmann's set was that the three princesses didn't pop out of the oranges, but entered from the wings, or appeared from within a crowd.

In the pit, Dirk Kaftan for the most part drew out a fine sound from the Komische's orchestra.

Too bad one patron in Loge 1 fell asleep during Act III and began snoring loudly. He missed quite a bit that he would have loved.

Tomorrow afternoon, Canadian conductor Yves Abel is in the pit for La Traviata at the Deutsche Oper, and later that evening Daniel Barenboim leads his Staatsoper Orchester in a New Year's Eve performance of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

Good boys go to heaven. Bad boys go to Berlin.

top photo: The cast and chorus of the Staatsoper Berlin's production of Stravinsky's The Rake's Progress. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius

bottom photo: The cast of Cesar Cui's Puss 'n Boots takes a bow in the Schiller Theater Studio. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius 

(Berlin, Germany) It was a night of EuroTrash at the Schiller Theater thanks to Krzysztof Warlikowski's production of Stravinsky's The Rake's Progress for the Staatsoper Berlin.

Warlikowski's point of departure for this morality opera was Andy Warhol's The Factory. So, you had Nick Shadow a la Warhol (complete with wig) surrounded by his decadent coterie of garish Factory people costumed by Malgorzata Szczesniak. (Sorry, no Lou Reed & band mates in this show.) On stage, a videographer caught any action you may have missed--like Anna servicing a client. (Nothing lewd that would summon Berlin's finest mind you, but all highly suggestive leaving little to the imagination.) The live footage was shown on three screens, one huge screen above stage centre, and then one fixed on each proscenium wall.

The cast wasn't top drawer, although special mention must be made of Anna Prohaska's Anna (her singing that is, not her stripping down to her black panties and bra for an onstage costume change), and Gidon Saks's Shadow, and James Homann's Auctioneer. At least they didn't sing the English text with a German accent which is what you heard all night long from Florian Hoffmann's Tom Rakewell, and Andreas Bauer's Trulove. Baba the Turk, a dress role, was unsuitably taken by countertenor Nicolas Zielinski in drag.

The second half was set in a cinema theatre, the Staatsoper Chorus placed in the balcony. By opera's end, some in the chorus were (purposely) throwing paper airplanes to display their boredom. And that's exactly what this production was: B.O.R.I.N.G.

And that's a shame, because Stravinsky's neo-classical score contains some really wonderful moments, most of which were brought out by Ingo Metzmacher in the pit, who by the way, also plinked a few chords on the harpsichord during recitatives.

Warliowski and Szczesniak were poles apart when it came to Stravinsky on this production. Like they say, good boys go to heaven, but bad boys? Well, judging by tonight, it seems they go to Berlin.

The afternoon saw a matinee performance of Cesar Cui's Puss 'n Boots (Der gestiefelte Kater), sung in German in the Studio of the Schiller Theater.

The performance was geared to kids aged 6 to 12. The studio which seats about 100 or so was filled.

Most of the vocalists came from the Staatsoper Berlin's opera studio. So, some fine young voices were heard, including members of the Staatsoper's children's chorus. The music was accompanied by a five piece ensemble under the direction of Boris Anifantakis.

The production is triple cast, and this afternoon's singers weren't specified in the program booklet. However, the Puss 'n Boots needed to command more of the audience's attention in the beginning. Yes, this was EuroTrash in training: Puss 'n Boots giving orders to helpers to move boxes and what not. Stuff that didn't make any sense, given that the plot of this one hour opera is thin and flimsy to begin with. Mozart where are you when we need you?

If good cats were go to heaven, where would bad cats go? Say it with me: B.E.R.L.I.N.

Raise a glass to Verdi's La Traviata? Ganz komisch!

The cast of the Komische Oper's La Traviata. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius

(Berlin, Germany) Tonight, it was time to raise a glass for Verdi’s La Traviata at the Komische Oper Berlin.

That is, if there was one.

In Hans Neuenfels’s production of this Verdi standard (sung in Walter Felsenstein’s German translation), there were no drinking glasses to be found in the Brindisi of Act I. And Christof Hetzer’s set for the luxurious country house outside Paris for Act II? A chopping block, and two chairs were all you got. No gaming table either.

But oh, Violetta stood on a mock grave (foreshadowing her death?) that had “Ich bin eine Hure” (I am a whore) inscribed in gold capital letters. And the Act II party scene which took place right after intermission? The females in the chorus, in black and white with some shiny metallic elbow pads, sang while mimicking the actions of wind-up robot dolls. Plus, Neuenfels added a mute character—a greaser dude in a muscle top (without the muscles) who seemed to pop up in way too many scenes. There were occasions when a loudspeaker was lowered from the flies through which some of the offstage music (pre-recorded) was played as well as Violetta’s reading of the letter. Get the picture?

 

Brigitte Geller was a Violetta to take note of. Pretty to look at, nice to hear. And she interpolated a high E flat at the end of her Act I aria.

Peter Lodahl was a tall and strapping Alfred Germont. He interpolated a lengthy high C at the end of his big aria, except his awkward release sent the note even higher.

Anton Keremidtchiev was a stand out as Georges Germont.

Annina and Flora were well handled by Christiane Oertel and Elisabeth Starzinger respectively.

In the pit, conductor Kristiina Poska couldn’t handle the low brass who consistently played too loudly. They even managed to cover the Komische Oper Chorus on occasion.

If you haven't guessed by now, it was a "komisch" night at the Komische Oper.

The magic of Mozart's Flute - Part 2

The cast at the end of the Staatsoper's production of Mozart's The Magic Flute. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius

(Berlin, Germany) If you thought the kids had fun at last night’s showing of Mozart’s The Magic Flute at the Deutsche Oper, today’s matinee performance of said work at the Staatsoper Berlin also brought out the kids, both small and big.

This August Everding production was geared to families, and with this being a holiday week, the Schiller Theater (where the Staatsoper has now set up shop due to renovations at their usual house) was completely sold out.

Fred Berndt’s set gave everyone much to look at. Backdrops exhibiting both a classical and Egyptian strains were changed frequently, sometimes lowered from the flies. So too, some characters—Deus ex machina—such as the Queen of the Night, the Three Genii, and so on. There was a fountain gushing from the stage floor, and costumed animals. The kids got a big kick out of the little bird people that appeared out of nowhere after Papagena and Papageno had sung about “Kinderlein” (little children).

Needless to say, Klaus Haeger’s Papageno—in full birdman costume—was a hit. So too, Rinnat Moriah’s Old Hag/Papagena.

Stephan Ruegamer’s Tamino often had a nasally tone. Adriane Queiroz’s Pamina had some darker vocal colours.

Ana Durlovski hit her money notes as the Queen of the Night, but her timbre as well as her German pronunciation betrayed her Slavic roots.

Alexander Vinogradov was a booming Sarastro.

The Three Genii, unnamed in the program, were from the Aurelius Boys’ Choir. They were good though not quite the match for the lads at the Deutsche Oper.

The Staatsoper Chorus, led by Eberhard Friedrich—who also leads the Bayreuth Festival Chorus—was quite good, though the sopranos were a tad strident at times.

In the pit, Julien Salemkour had the Staatsoper Orchester playing with verve.

High standards all round. Would that be the case at the Komische Oper's La Traviata later tonight?

The magic of Mozart's Flute

The cast and chorus of Mozart's The Magic Flute take a bow at the Deutsche Oper Berlin. Photo: Leonard Turnevicius

(Berlin, Germany) When do you have a winner of a production?

When you've got kids lapping up the action happening on stage.

And so it was earlier this evening at the Deutsche Oper Berlin during Guenter Kraemer's production of Mozart's The Magic Flute. Seated in front of me were two young girls accompanied by their grandfather. Throughout the entire opera, these two gals were on the edges of their seats, enthralled by the music and the action. One of them even hummed along to a couple of Mozart's tunes.

And why not? Simon Pauly stole the show as Papageno, especially with his audience friendly clowning with a wine chalice. While strutting on the gangway in front of the orchestra pit, he jokingly singled out someone in the front row and with a play on words called them (in German) a wine cellar (Weinkeller) before correcting himself and calling them a wine conniosseur (Weinkenner) to howls of laughter from the audience.

Opposite him, Anna Schoek was a hoot as the Old Hag/Papagena.

As for the leads, both Yosep Kang (Tamino) and Martina Weischenbach (Pamina) exhibited clear, and fresh tones in a somewhat winning style. Weischenbach's spoken dialogue in Act I did not project well in the hall.

Ante Jerkunica was a full sounding Sarastro, while Burkhard Ulrich was a more than capable Monostatos in black face.

Hulkar Sabirova's Queen of the Night had trouble pitching a couple of the high notes in Der Hoelle Rache, and more than one of her B flats displayed far too much spread.

The remainder of the cast from Stephen Bronk's Speaker, to the Three Ladies (Fionnuala McCarthy, Rebecca Jo Loeb, and Katarina Bradic), to the Armoured Men (Tom Blondelle and Ben Wager) were a capable lot.

Kudos to the unnamed three lads from the Boys' Choir of the Dortmund Choral Academy who were positively superb as the Three Genii.

Under conductor Evan Rogister, Thomas Richter's Deutsche Oper Chorus had a some difficulty with stage-pit coordination in the first act. Richter must either have some unmusical or undisciplined members. A number of them continued marching after the music had stopped at the end of Act I.

Andreas Reinhardt's costumes kept things simple. No feathers for bird-man Papageno, just a white robe. And no armour for the Armoured Men. In fact, this was pretty much a toga and sandals show, with a pyramid propping up a huge moon in one scene. One backdrop had an animal display--an elephant, a swinging monkey, and so on. The one constant was the tree seemingly growing out of the orchestra pit.

The audience showered the cast with applause, and there was some good-natured whistling, too.

Tomorrow, it's over to the Staatsoper and the Komische Oper.