Gaie comari di Windsor - Part the second

I started this entry on October 10th and am finally getting around to finishing it - family, Thanksgiving and life got in the way.  The dates are all wrong of course but .....

Paris 1894: Verdi rehearsing Falstaff as
captured by Maurice Feuillet.

It seems only appropriate that on the 101st anniversary (October 10, 1813) of Guiseppe Verdi's birth and after several postings about the opera itself that I finally get around to writing something about last Friday (October 3rd) evening's performance of Falstaff  by the Canadian Opera Company.  Last presented in 2004 at the Hummingbird (O'Keefe, Sony, whatever) Centre in the elegant but very traditional Jean-Pierre Ponnelle production this new production was in the purpose built Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts in a new production by Robert Carsen.  The production is a joint undertaking that has already been seen at La Scala, Covent Garden and the MET with further performances to come at the Dutch National Opera.   It also marked the greatly anticipated return of Gerald Finley to the COC after an absence of 20 years and his debut in the title role. 

This was my first visit to the "new" opera house since it opened in September 2006 with the first Canadian performance of the complete Ring Cycle. When it opened the Centre, with its five-tiered, horseshoe-shaped auditorium, was praised for its superior sight lines and acoustics and on first viewing I can only second that praise.  From my seat at centre in Ring 3 I had an uninterrupted view of the stage.  The sound was warm and immediate and there was never a problem of balance between the pit and the stage.

View from Ring 3 - Centre | The Five Rings | Main Floor and Boxes | Image Map

My only caveat has to do with a personal preference:  I despise surtitles!  Yes I know they are a Canadian invention - yeh Canada! - but I find them distracting and from my seat (for the entire season I might add) I am at direct eye level with the proscenium surtitle panel.  However that is my only gripe with the facility - the buffet does an excellent chocuterie plate, prices are reasonable for a glass of bubbly, the public areas spacious and the washrooms plentiful.  Now on to the performance itself.


Several of my opera mad loving friends have expressed puzzlement at my love for Falstaff - one friend went as far as to say that neither Verdi nor Wagner should have been allowed (gasp!) to write comedies.  And I can understand their feelings - it's not an easy work and I grappled with it for a long time.  However I think I've made it fairly obvious that this is a piece I love and this performance only made me aware of how much joy and laughter there is in it.

The Ford's kitchen updated to Windsor 1950s by designer Paul Steinberg: Mistress Ford had all the mod-cons but still did her laundry by the Thames! 

Much has made of director Robert Carsen's decision to update the action to the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the second of that name. After the Second World War many of the British nobility (Sir John Falstaff) were impoverished and the affluent middle-class (the Fords) were on the rise.  It is not a new idea - Graham Vick's staging at Glyndebourne in 2009 was set in almost the same time period - and in many ways it made sense and much of it worked.

Blinded by bling Falstaff (Gerald Finley) is easily
duped by Signor Fontana (Russell Braun).  Two great
Canadian baritones match wits and voices!

Photo: Michael Cooper

Very little of the comedy was the traditional operatic schtick - I still don't understand why opera audiences find a baritone imitating a female voice in falsetto hysterically funny? - and being Carsen all of it sprang from the music.  To my mind where he misjudged was setting the second scene of Act One in the posh restaurant of the Windsor Arms and in having that wonderful meeting of Mistress Quickly (Marie-Nicole Lemieux) and Falstaff (Gerald Finley) take place in the men's smoking room of the hotel.

And unfortunately Russel Braun was given some ridiculously over the top business leading up to, and during, Ford's great jealousy monologue.  Surely this is not a time for comedy?  The man is almost insane with jealousy and there is nothing to suggest that either Verdi or Boito intended this as satire or a source of amusement.  Braun overcame the staging to deliver a gripping, almost frightening, portrayal of a man giving voice to the overwhelming, though unreasonable, emotion of betrayal. 

Mistress Quickly (Marie-Nicole Lemieux) tempts Sir
John with the promise of an assignation with Mistress
Ford "dalle due alle tre".  Photo: Veronika Roux-Vlachova

Lemieux has appeared in this production previously at the Met and La Scala and has honed her Quickly dramatically and vocally.  She has the deep rich tones and just the right timing to make the mere word "Reverenza" hysterically funny.  And she gave the proper chill to the beginning of the nero Cacciator narrative - it's unfortunate that business with grooms sweeping up the hay left by the horse (?) Falstaff had shared his musing on an unjust world with undermined what can be an atmospheric introduction to the scene that follows.  The balance of the women were fine without delivering a great deal of individuality.  If Simone Osborne's Nanetta sounded a trifle unsteady during her Act 3 aria it was understandable given that she was being trundled around on a wheeled table.

Again the supporting men did not seem to have a great deal of individuality - perhaps the fault is Verdi's?  I was hard pressed to distinguish Bardolpho (Colin Ainsworth) from Pistola (Robert Glaedow) though Michael Colvin's Dr. Caius was a finely drawn comic creation.  Frédéric Antoun was a lyrical Fenton if again not quite hitting the mark in his lovely aria in the final scene.

The COC chorus destroyed the Ford kitchen and tormented Falstaff in fine fashion.  The orchestra responded to Johannes Debus youthful approach with brio.  This was his first go at a very complex work and he caught the brio and sparkle if not any of the autumnal overtones.  Only once - and briefly - in those tricky ensembles in the second scene did he seem to lose control of his forces.

It takes Gerald Finley over two hours get into the various prosthesis that turn him into
Verdi's Fat Knight. The process was captured in video and photos by the Toronto Star.

Anne-Marie Jackson / Toronto Star

And Gerald Finley?  "What of him?", you ask.  After all the opera is called Falstaff and it was his role debut.  I willingly join the choruses of praise that are being sung in reviews in the media and in blogdom.  Often the role is seen as an opportunity for an aging baritone/bass to bark his way through it in buffo style, which betrays everything that Verdi put into it. That Finley would be able to actually sing the part was never in question.  And sing it he did - richly and gloriously.   That glorious singing was matched by a comic timing that was perfect.  And much of the comic delight was in the small details - as an example, the slightly hurt look he gave Mistress Ford before launching into Quand'ero paggio.  It was possible to believe that this Falstaff had been quite the gallant before gluttony and a fondness for the bottle took over.  And this was a Falstaff who could say with total conviction:  You laugh at me, but it is I who makes you clever.  My wit creates the wit of others.   It's a portrayal which, given Finley's vocal and dramatic abilities, will grow richer over time.  I am more than happy to be able to say:  I was there when ......

Falstaff (Gerald Finley) and friends raise their glasses and assure us that "he who laughs last, laughs best!"

There was a light drizzle/mist as I walked out onto University Ave after having been reassured that "All the World is a joke and all men (including me I can assure you) are clowns."  On the brief trot up to the hotel I felt, as I have done after every performance I've ever seen of Falstaff, that there was much that was right with the world.


The following is the promotional video from the COC website for the production.  I was more than pleased, as I'm sure they are, to see that all seven performances were sold out.

October 23 - 1867: 72 Senators are summoned by Royal Proclamation to serve as the first members of the Canadian Senate.

Perché non?

I’ve always hated the conditional tense, particularly the past conditional: would have, could have, and should have are such sad conjugations. And I find as I get older than I like them less and less.

I was mentioning to a colleague today that I’d decided to go up to Milano next Wednesday to catch the last performance of the Robert Carsen production of Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream at La Scala. She casually asked how long I planned on staying – with that slight raised eyebrow that most Southerners give you when you mention spending any time in Milano. When I said just overnight, she gave me an astounded look and said: All that way for one night? You’re mad you know?

And I guess in a way I am. So far I’ve journeyed up to Milano, Bologna, Reggio Emilia, Parma, Torino and Genova for short periods of time to go to operas or theatre that I particularly wanted to see. But in discussing with Laurent– who often can’t accompany me because of work – whither I should go or not, his response has always been: Why not?

And why not indeed? If I don’t take advantage of the opportunities that are being presented I'm the only one losing. Probably in two years time it will be back to Canada, the winter cold of Ottawa and the mundane existence of a Civil Servant. La Scala, Salzburg, a box at the Opera and travel to the Dolomites, Greece and the Adriatic coast will all be in the past tense. And I would rather that not be past conditional.

And frankly I am getting too old to want to have regrets about not doing something. And not meaning to sound dramatic – Cecilia you know this is to set your mind at rest – but given the on-going health issues, more a matter of not being able to find the parts on E-bay than anything else, I should be making hay while the old sol is shining.

So next Wednesday I will board the 0930 AV for Milano, arrive 4 hours later, check into the Hotel Felice, meander around the neighbourhood, head down to Scala around 1800, get my ticket, grab a bite to eat in the Galleria and be sitting in my palcho at 2000 when Sir Andrew Davies mounts the podium. Next morning after a leisurely breakfast I’ll leave Milano Centrale at 1130. God and the deities of train travel willing I’ll be back in the house by 1600 – much lighter of wallet but a bit higher of heart.

And notice at no point in that last paragraph did I use the conditional – future or past. I really don’t like the conditional tense.

These pictures are from the Carsen Dream when it was presented last year in Athens - my good friend Parsifal took them. For more a few more just click here. It is an incredibly beautiful production.

10 giugno - Santa Diana

Mercoledi Musicale

I mentioned yesterday that we'll be hearing the Prologue to Boito's Mifistofele this weekend on the Accademia; here is the concluding part from the San Fransisco Opera in 1989.

We saw this same production in Chicago in the mid-90s with Sam Ramey as a charismatic Satan. Canadian director Robert Carsen and designer Michael Levine did some of their finest work on this production. I remember wondering if they had blown all their inspiration right off the bat on the prologue only to spend the rest of the evening in constant wonder at their whole conception.



Unfortunately the video quality is not the best nor can it totally capture the magic of this near perfect marriage of music and staging as I recall experiencing it back in Chicago.

29 aprile - Santa Caterina da Siena, patrona d'Italia

On Both Your Houses

I've been remiss in postings about my various opera going forays in and around Italy. On my trip last month I caught, and reported on, the last night (October 22) of the Torino Medea and then went on to Genova for the opening night (October 24) of I Capuleti e i Montecchi at Teatro Carlo Felice.

After the fussiness of Hugo de Ana's "concept" Medea, Robert Carsen's Capuleti was a revelation as to what can be done when a director has a straight forward desire to tell us the composer and librettist's story. Carsen's production, from the Bastille Opera, is simple, elegant and lets Bellini's music guide the drama. Michael Levine's arrangement of walls in a deep, almost blood, red allowed the action to move forward without pause and his Renaissance inspired costumes - again in deep reds for the Capuleti, black for the Montecchi, off-white for Guiletta - were simple but beautiful.

The libretto that Felice Romano gave Vincenzo Bellini to set is based on the early Italian tellings of the story of the ill-fated lovers rather than the more familiar Shakespeare version. There is no Mercutio to steal the limelight from Romeo, no Nurse vainly attempting to amuse us and Tybalt is Giulietta's intended not her cousin, Friar Lawrence has become the family doctor and friend. The action moves swiftly and at times almost violently - confrontation is always at the fore. And Carsen emphasises it when the curtain rises on rows of rapiers embedded in the stage floor being retrieved by Capuleti retainers as they prepare for a war council. Even as the curtain falls the two warring sides confront each other, swords drawn, over the bodies of the dead lovers. Unlike in Shakespeare the two sides have not buried their enmity.

I will have to admit that Bellini is not one of my favorite composers, I find his music is often dull or perhaps just too romantic for my taste. But Capuleti is an exception: the music has a drive and drama that I find lacking in his other works. Though I will probably be racked for saying this, I prefer Capuleti to anything else he wrote - yes I'm including Norma in that statement.

The one thing you can count on in Bellini is that the writing for his women will be both beautiful and demanding. Giulietta was written for a soprano and Romeo is a travisti role written for a mezzo and their duets are the great centre pieces of the work. And so they proved to be when sung by Mariella Devia and Sonia Ganassi.

I've written before about the remarkable Mariella Devia, one of the greatest bel canto singers active today, and though she seemed to be having a bit of an off-night, I'll take her off-night to many other singers good nights anytime. Oh! quante volte lacked the freedom and sheer brilliance of her concert performance in Rome back in September As the evening progressed and she launched into the big duets with Ganassi's Romeo her voice became freer and regained its familiar lustre.

Ganassi was the star of the evening; though physically she may not look the fearless leader of a warring household demanded by Romani, she was in total command of the stage. Her second act lament was gut-wrenching in its simplicity and intensity and in the duet that followed tenor Dario Schmunck matched her in a manner that was a surprise after his lacklustre delivery of Tebaldo's first act aria. In the final scene Ganassi and Devia (now completely on form) showed us the drama that can be achieved by two singers in perfect command of their art. It was breathtaking and heartbreaking.

Conductor Donato Renzetti, in a well-judged reading, allowed the singers plenty of breathing room for the grand lyrical passages but knew when to push the drama onward. And the recent retrenching of forces - administratively and artistically - at the Carlo Felice showed well in the work of both orchestra and male chorus, not always a given in Italian opera houses.

One final thought. I would have like to have seen both the Medea and Capuleti in more a traditional Italian opera house - that is the horseshoe palci/poltroni style auditorium. Torino and Genova have modern houses designed in the North American amphitheatre model and I found it robbed both works of an intimacy that I have come to appreciate over the past year or so of opera going here.

Production photos from Teatro Carlo Felice by Jacopo Morando.

30 novembre - San Andrea apostolo