The Opera Tattler

Aschenputtel

This evening's performance of Rossini's La Cenerentola at the Bayerische Staatsoper seemed to be fraught with various issues. Petia Petrova, the mezzo set to sing the title role, was indisposed, and Anna Caterina Antonacci sang in her stead. Baritone Martin Gantner had hurt his foot recently, and was unable to run about as the choreography dictated.

Nonetheless, the performance came off rather well. Myron Romanul conducted the reduced orchestra well enough. The evil stepsisters, Clorinda and Tisbe, were both acted very well by sopranos Julia Rempe and Helena Jungwirth. Jungwirth's voice is even more quiet and shrill than Rempe's, but the role is small. Likewise, Bruno Pratico was a hilarious Don Magnifico, but his voice did not have much volume. The audience, of course, absolutely adored him. Martin Gantner seemed just fine as Dandini, I would have never guessed he was hurt, except for the announcement. His voice sounded better in Così as Guglielmo, but it is probably because of the part not the singing. Juan José Lopera had a sweet tenor good for the part of Don Ramiro, but he was a touch low on volume. Anna Caterina Antonacci's voice certainly was pretty compared to the sopranos, but she lacks control which lead to a few intonation problems. Her voice certainly was not one that felt effortless and free. The bass John Relyea as Alidoro was most impressive, his voice was both warm and clear, with excellent volume.

The set was charming, involving trompe l'oeil on curtains or panel in white and black. The effect was slightly Edward Gorey. There were essentially two sets, the Don Magifico household and the palace. Set changes happened behind various curtains and were more or less flawless. There was rain in Act II, Scene 7, as Ramiro and Dandini approach Don Magnifico's house for a second time. The scene was pretty and there was a chorus member walking a black poodle, which made the audience gasp.

The choreography was highly artificial, but very much with the music and suitable for the singers. Julia Rempe was especially amusing in the first scene when she is en pointe trying out ballet moves with little success.

The costumes were extremely pretty, gauzy and ribboned and Rococo. Jean-Pierre Ponnelle had a clear vision of what he wanted for staging, set, and costumes, and this was utterly apparent.

I had never seen a Rossini opera before, only heard a recording of Tancredi with Ewa Podles and Sumi Jo. Everyone knows a little bit of Guillaume Tell and Il barbiere di Siviglia, I suppose. The music was nice, very light and sweet. I liked "Una volta c'era un Re."

Sans Elephants

The Ides of March performance of Verdi's Aida had a stunningly hideous staging. This production premiered the 19. January 1996, and was acclaimed by critics as "striking."

John Fiore conducted adequately, the orchestra was together with the singers for the most part. There were horns playing onstage at one point, and they did not have issues with synchronization, as in Don Giovanni.

David Pountney's staging was a bit busy, even without elephants and pyramids. So much was going on, especially in the first two acts, the sheer number of bodies was utterly confusing. Especially strange were the people who crawled on the ground, swathed a bit like mummies in white linen, they were like maggots and occasionally they bumped heads by accident.

Robert Israel's set consisted of a few walls set in triangles, each one pulled on and off stage by supernumeraries. They looked like construction sites for hyper-modern German buildings, with metal pipes here and there, a segmented glass wall, and so forth. There were a few large images incorporated in some of these, two of a brown-skinned person's nose and cheeks, one of a woman's very white thighs, another of a woman's white hands at her neck. They would lower various objects as well, including a dried tree, some stage lights, a huge boat-shaped stone, and another stone that looked like a ruin.

The costumes by Dunya Ramicová were simple, sheaths and mantels in white, black, and various blues and greens. Though Amneris did wear dark red during the first two acts, in contrast to Aida in sage green the entire time.

Nils Christe's choreography was overwrought. They used 6 dancers in various scenes in the first half, these dressed in unitards, dancing in modern technique, lots of squat-like plies, contraction, but with some more balletic movements as well. The dancers were solid and silent, if they were to reveal something about the opera, this was largely unsuccessful. Also, the choreography for the singers was not particularly good. Having Amneris spin around with joy after her engagement with Radamès is just silly.

The singing was fairly good. Baritone Giovanni Meoni stood in for Alexandru Agache as Amonasro, and was perfectly fine in the part. Tenor Stephen O'Mara was a fine Radamès, though his voice was not distinctive. In contrast, Irina Mishura, the mezzo-soprano who sang Amneris, had a dark, rich voice. Soprano Norma Fantini was nice enough in the title role, she was especially good in Act III's "O patria mia." Her voice thins out at the top, but her volume and control seemed good.

Nulla mai temer mi fa.

The Bayeriche Staatsoper's production of Don Giovanni had excellent singers but a disappointing staging. Thus far, all the productions of Mozart operas there have been fairly ugly visually, although the production teams have all been different.

Ivor Bolton's conducting was not impressive, the orchestra was not exactly together during the overture, and the singers and the orchestra seemed off from each other from time to time. Perhaps there was no souffleur? I did not see one, but the stage was raked, so maybe the singers were to follow the conductor. During Act I, Scene 20, when Don Giovanni has a ball in order to seduce Zerlina, there were masked musicians onstage in three separate groups. This produced some unintentional dissonance, more a fault of the staging than the conductor.

Nicholas Hytner's staging and Bob Crowley's sets were somewhat baffling. The stage was raked, not steeply, with walls left and right, which had various compartments that would open to be windows or chambers. There were two scrims, one normal and one near the middle which was in two pieces cut diagonally that came together in the middle. These scrims, which I suppose are not technically scrims since they weren't translucent (they were opaque red) served to make the scene changes flawless. The whole stage was red, perhaps the scrims were like valves, and it was meant to be some abstruse symbol of the human heart. This would not explain the huge golden statues of hands, one appearing in Act I Scene 16 when Zerlina sings "Batti, batti, o bel Masetto" and the other in the aforementioned ball scene. We never return to this image in Act II, rendering whatever impact it was to have rather toothless.

The other major motif was the rood. Four little spirits all in white held crosses and would appear here and there, they were particularly disorienting when they surrounded the Commendatore's body.

What was most annoying was the finale, they had Don Giovanni gone entirely mad, hair a mess and barefoot, stumbling and drunk, eating his dinner with his hands on the floor. If he is out of his mind, how is his punishment just? Also, having him costumed so almost made him look Christ-like, hair down, in a plain white shirt, and wrapped in a red blanket. This image, though beautiful, makes no sense.

I must say though, they did a wonderful job with the statue of the Commendatore, the costume was very good and the scene in the graveyard was marvelous. The Commendatore's grave was his likeness on a horse, and this was surprisingly convincing.

Act II, Scene 15, when the statue comes to dinner was fairly effective. The Commendatore on foot was followed by the Grim Reaper astride a white horse. This could have easily been kitsch, but it worked very well.

The costumes, also by Bob Crowley, were all in strong colors, mostly black and red, except for statues and spirits. They were typical Rococo, though the principal sopranos all had flame-shaped, zigzagged borders in contrasting fabric at their hems. Masetto's dark green and black costume was particularly reminiscent of Frans Hals.

As for the singing, it was exceptional. Sopranos Brigitt Hahn and Aga Mikolaj were fine as Donnas Anna and Elvira, respectively. They both had passionate, fiery voices, and I have never heard two sopranos that sounded better together. Julia Rempe was much better as Zerlina than as Blonde in Entführung. Her voice is not full, it has something of an ugly edge, but she sang much better in this, one could actually hear her most of the time, and her intonation was better, perhaps since she didn't have to get that high A all the time as Zerlina. Her voice was definitely distinct from the other two sopranos, which isn't a bad thing.

Robert Saccà is a solid tenor, his voice was good for Don Ottavio, as it was for Belmonte in Entführung. Bass Maurizio Muraro has a strong voice, good diction, and acting ability to boot. Bass Taras Konoshchenko did not strike me one way or another, he could project better than Rempe. Bass Franz-Josef Selig, on the other hand, was distinctively good as the Commendatore, suitably stately and terrifying.

Bo Skovhus was incredible in the title role. Not only does he cut a dashing figure as the unrepentant rake, his voice is simply charming, light, and very suitable for the part. I remember him being similarly good as Count Almaviva in Le Nozze at SFO in 1997.

On a completely personal note, and I commend the reader for getting this far, I left my shawl in the opera house, couldn't find it and was told to wait at the stage entrance for someone to bring it down. This is where all the die-hard opera coots are, waiting for the performers to come out. It was utterly bizarre to see the singers offstage in street clothes, shaking people's hands and autographing programs. I was too bashful to say anything, I just stood there wide-eyed and blushing, no doubt.

Also, the Balkon (balcony) part of the audience appears to be quieter than the the Ränge (the 3 tiers above the balcony level) or the Parkett (floor).

Una donna a quindici anni

It was asserted to me that Hemingway's novel Across the River and Into the Trees was less bad than Da Ponte's libretto to Così fan Tutte. I find it a very bizarre comparison, but find myself unable to judge any opera libretti against actual literature. Voltaire put this best: Anything too stupid to be spoken is sung.

In the last week, I have seen the Bavarian State Opera's production of Così fan Tutte twice, on the 16th and the 19th. I'm terribly fond of Mozart's music, and Così is quite charming. Peter Schneider conducted admirably, as is expected of him, I've heard him conduct Mozart before at the SF Opera.

Dieter Dorn's set was again a bit given to clean lines, this time reminiscent of Bauhaus furniture. The set consisted of a raised platform covered with a white sheet downstage with six white walls, three on each side of the stage. Various other walls were added for other scenes, and the furnishings were of varnished light wood and not Bauhaus at all. Maybe the metal IKEA chairs from Don Carlo might have been a better match. Upstage was a lowered area with glass doors in the center and an olive tree stage left. There was a curtain towards the downstage area, painted with the same scene, so when they changed the sets they could simply draw the curtain. With eight scene changes but only two acts, this was an effective way of making the transitions smooth.

Jürgen Rose's staging was not as nice as his work in Don Carlo. It seemed too artificial at times, having people climb unseen ladders behind the side walls and sing from there or having Dorabella put a chair on a table and climb up on this as she is singing the aria Smanie implacabili che m'agitate. Most irksome was the choreography in Act I Scene 2, when the four principal singers do a pinwheel as Guglielmo and Ferrando take their leave of Fiordiligi and Dorabella and directly after this the Chorus walks on stage singing Bella vita militar falling down just after they sing "Io sparar di schioppi e bombe" (the firing of muskets and bombs). Interestingly, it wasn't the case that the choreography was too difficult for the singers, the six main characters were played by artists who were very good with movement.

Rose's costumes, however, were better. I was dubious about Fiordiligi and Dorabella being in midriff baring undershirts and petticoats until the last scene in Act I, since it seems highly unlikely they would receive Don Alfonso dressed this way. But for the most part, the costumes were fine. Guglielmo and Ferrando in their "Albanian" costumes were very funny, an orientalist nightmare of Middle Eastern and East Asian styles combined that was only acceptable because they are playing Italians playing at being Albanians. The "Albanian" chorus was dressed as if they had raided their linen closets, wearing tablecloths and sheets.

As for the singers themselves, the cast was quite consistent. The weakest, perhaps, was the tenor Jeremy Ovenden as Ferrando. His voice was just a touch quiet, but I could not detect this from the center of second tier, it was only when I was a bit on the left of the third tier that he seemed quiet. Or it could be that he was having a bad day on Wednesday, it is hard to tell.

Thomas Allen was better as Don Alfonso than Eisenstein in Die Fledermaus, his bass is better than his baritone, as far as vocal projection is concerned. Baritone Martin Gantner was a charming Guglielmo, his voice was well suited to the part.

Of the three sopranos, Julie Kaufmann had the warmest and most powerful voice. Her part, Despina, was the easiest vocally though. Sophie Koch played the fickle Dorabella very well, her soprano is dark, and I'm not surprised that she also sings Cherubino in Le Nozze. Amanda Roocroft was an adequate Fiordiligi, her voice is cold but not shrill. Koch and Roocroft both had very pretty voices, and were also quite pretty to look at, perhaps the prettiest two sopranos I've seen in an opera for awhile.

Figlia d'Eva

The Bavarian State Opera performance of Il Trovatore yesterday night was perhaps the most traditional production I have seen there to date. Zubin Mehta conducted quite well. Luca Ronconi's staging was conservative, it appears to be the only opera she has staged here. My only complaint was the gratuitous use of a scrim to separate Manrico from Leonora in Act III Scene 2, when they are supposedly in a room of the Castellor castle, which is under siege. This tired device has no purpose, there is no reason to have the characters in different spaces and have them sing touching hands against the scrim. The rest of the choreography was natural, no unnecessary collapses, no singing in strange positions, no undressing. The capture of Azucena in Act III, Scene 1 was especially passionate and chilling.

Margherita Palli's sets involved a series of large square pillars. The sets, one imagines, were a challenge, since there are 8 scenes. Instead of using some sort of device or ploy to move the sets around during the action, the scrim or the curtain was simply brought down after each scene. It would take several minutes for the set to change, and they brought the lights up in the hall each time. I have mixed feelings on this point, the long set changes broke the flow, but I appreciate the simplicity of this solution to set change. Gabriella Pescucci's costumes were not elaborate as far as the Spaniards were concerned, though the gypsies had colorful accouterments, which had more of a Middle-Eastern feel than what one typically associates with the Roma.

All together, the singing was of good quality. Alexandru Agache made a fine Conte di Luna, the baritone has a strong voice, and his singing in Act II Scene 2 with Maurizio Muraro (Ferrando) and the chorus of nuns was especially sublime. Mezzo-soprano Elisbetta Fiorillo had a somewhat gritty voice suited for Azucena, though at points she sang with celestial sweetness. Her struggle in Act III Scene 1 was, as I mentioned earlier, exceptionally good and not in the least artificial.

The lead soprano, Fiorenza Cedolins (Leonora), sang admirably, though with a great deal of vibrato, which seemed to overwhelm her at times. Tenor Dennis O'Neill was excellent as Manrico, the troubadour himself. Clear and sweet, his voice contrasted with Fiorillo's nicely.

The audience seemed to like I Puritani more than Il Trovatore, but preferred the latter to Così fan Tutte. Odd, considering the cast for Così was the most consistent, and in my estimation, the one for Puritani was the least, as Gruberova had far and away the best voice. All of these operas are short, in Italian, have complicated plots, and familiar music, though the music to Il Trovatore is likely the best known by laypersons.

O Rendetemi La Speme

Last night's performance of Bellini's I Puritani at the Bavarian State Opera was quite good. Friedrich Haider conducted competently, though the orchestra was, on occasion, rather louder than some of the singers. Also, sometimes the timing appeared off between singer and orchestra. But the blame more likely lies with the singers than the conductor.

Jonathan Miller's staging was pretty good, simple and following the music. The choreography was natural and worked well on non-dancer bodies. Isabella Bywater's sets were likewise plain, stoney tiles as a floor and lighter grey walls that could be moved up and down to suggest a square or a hall or courtyard. It was completely silent, which was excellent. The only thing amiss was a pulpit in the third scene of Act I, put stage left, near a down stage door. It seemed to have no purpose except to suggest the action was inside, not outside, and only once did Riccardo briefly climb its steps. Clare Mitchell's costumes were lovely, very much like Van Dyck paintings come to life. The colors were overwhelmingly blue, purple, and black offset by lace. The hairstyles were also done well.

The only real disappointment as far as the singing was perhaps Liliana Mattei as Enrichetta, widow of Charles I. Her dark soprano was not distinct and rather quiet. Bass Alastair Miles was fairly good as Giorgio, though his lower range did not project so well. Baritone Albert Schagidullin played scorned lover Riccardo well, though he projected even less well than Miles.

José Bros sang the tenor part of Arturo Talbot with passion, his high range is clear and very pretty, but his low range is gritty.

Edita Gruberova was a delight to hear as Elvira. Though her timing and intonation are perhaps imperfect, her flexible voice is lucid and bright.

All together a pleasant evening. Bellini's music is all melody and lyricism, and the opera is brief, a bare 2.5 hours. The 30 minute intermission after Act I seemed unnecessary. The Münchners do clap excessively I believe. They like to make noise, they stamp and scream, even after whispering fiendishly during recitative or orchestral bits. One listens with ears not mouth, and I simply don't understand what they have to say to each other that's so pressing.

Sì, piango, ma t'ammiro.

If all the operas at the Bayerische Staatsoper were as good as their current production of Don Carlo, I would never leave the Nationaltheater. It wasn't perfect, but all the singers were good, and Zubin Mehta is a fine conductor.

They chose to do their own version of Verdi's Don Carlo, something in-between the full five act version, and the later four act version. Five acts, and about 3 hours and 40 minutes of music, plus a 40 minute intermission.

The staging was clever, of course, the person in charge was Jürgen Rose with the help of Franziska Severin. They used a large room with many doors that could be moved back and forth quietly. The doors were a little loud though, when they closed. The main feature of the room was a huge crucifix on the left, not flush against the wall, but leaning on it at an angle so that Christ is at three-quarters. In the middle of the floor was a stairway into it, that could be covered.

I found their scrim with a huge cross on it a bit overbearing, especially when they projected a the image of a very poorly executed drawing portraying one of Murillo's St. Francis paintings, which happened every once in a while when the action moved to the front of the stage, and they hid the room so they could rearrange things.

The furniture of the set was also somewhat obnoxious. A flock of IKEA metal chairs were used for certain scenes, at least a few were tossed about.

The choreography was simple, not fantastic. Don Carlo threw himself to the ground several times, only once did he seem like a dying fish, so I would say that Sergej Larin did an adequate job at the choreography he was given. The first scene of the opera has Elisabetta di Valois walking in the woods of Fontainebleu very slowly and stiffly, and this often looked awkward. Also the scene when Princess Eboli sings Nei giardin del bello, Act II Scene 2 in this version (Act I Scene 2 in the final version of 1867), the ladies of the court dance about in Flamenco style with shawls and fans. They did not do this well, and it seemed reductive, and orientalist, even.

I did enjoy the procession in Act III Scene 2, they had people dressed as Jesus and Mary in various scenes of the Passion. The costumes in general were quite beautiful, like something out of Velázquez, or more accurately, Coello. I'm also partial to certain flashiness, this scene also had the pyres that are lit at the end, and an actual fire was set. The choreography did hit a low point at the beginning of this scene when one of the chorus members lost her sandal. The manner in which it was retrieved was not discreet enough.

Our friend Paata Burchuladze, Osmin in Entführung, was much better suited in the part of the Grand Inquisitor, as the range needed was not as great.

I was also glad to hear Ayk Martiorossien as the friar, as it is always nice to see an Armenian on stage, especially one heard before in Arshak II as Nerses. His voice is wonderful, dark and haunting.

Incidentally, Tebaldo was sung by a woman from Xinjiang (the Uighur autonomous region, also known as East Turkestan). Dilbèr's part was small, but she seemed adequate.

Soprano Miriam Gauci was good as Elisabetta, her voice is not distinct. On the other hand, Luciana D'Intino, mezzosoprano who sang Princess Eboli, was the evening's favorite. Her voice started off occasionally nasal, but otherwise very beautiful and full.

Baritone Paolo Gavanelli was convincing as Rodrigo, his death scene was moving, and his duet with Larin at the end of Act I Scene 1 was one of the best performances of the evening. Another best was the aria at the beginning of Act IV sung by Filippo II (bass Matti Salminen).

My reason for seeing this performance at all was Sergej Larin, since I had heard him as Samson at San Francisco during the 2001-2002 season. His tenor voice struck me as the same, impassioned, slightly raveled, yet there is something light about it.

Verdi isn't Mozart, but he's not so bad. I liked this music more than his Otello, but it might have to do with the conducting, which was somewhat sluggish in Otello, I was told. I wouldn't know. Also, it is perhaps easier to swallow the idea of a Schiller play that I don't know as a libretto, than a Shakespeare one I do know as one.

Tausendundeine Nacht, aber nicht.

Die Entführung aus dem Serail is one of my favorite operas, though in truth, this is more due to my familiarity with the music than anything else. Not to say that Mozart is not incredible, but it just happens that I have seen this opera more than any other, and knowing it this well only increases my enjoyment of it. This latest Bavarian State Opera production of Die Entführung was my fifth time seeing the opera, so I had quite a lot of prejudices going in, especially since the production team was the same as the one that was responsible for that hideous staging of Xerxes earlier this month.

Of the production, I can only say that Martin Duncan, the staging producer, and Ultz, the director, either did not understand the strength of Die Entführung's plot or didn’t care because they were too worried about their own “art” and cleverness that is so essential in our postmodern world. Die Entführung is a Singspiel, and includes speaking parts to move the drama along, most notably, Pasha Selim does not sing at all. This production took out these parts by use of a narrator, Fatma Genç, a Turkish German actress. By taking away the characters interaction with words, the drama is seriously compromised, the parts are merely arias and such strung along, sung by puppets. Most absurd was the part of Pasha Selim, naturally, since taking away the speaking parts renders him utterly silent. Worse yet, since the staging was done almost exclusively on six couches that moved back and for on stage, the choreography was not such that the characters could develop in a human way on stage, not even visually.

Just to give an idea of what proceeded, we began with our beloved group of ten men, dressed again in white tee-shirts and grey trousers. They put newspapers on the ground, and carefully placed bowls on stands so they hung off the edge of the stage. They undressed, revealing their diapers underneath, and carefully grabbed the sponges dipped in red paint in the bowls, then violently smeared their diaper covered crotches in red, indicating that they were eunuchs. For the rest of the production they went around placing newspapers on the floor when it would be mussed up by objects being thrown, taking various things off stage, and being moving tables covered with piles of fruit.

There were also soccer fans dressed in Turkish jerseys that wandered across the stage at various points.

As mentioned before, most of the action occurs on six couches that move to and fro across the stage, each a different color of the rainbow, not including indigo. There were dancers on the couches dressed in harem pants, fez-like hats, and bead necklaces that matched their respective couches and cholis that were a peach color. They danced while sitting on the couches during the overture, and the choreography was quite wanting, it looked like they were doing yoga at a frenetic pace and it didn’t at all go with the music. However, the dancers were fairly synchronized, and when they danced on the stage in the finale, they weren’t so bad.

In general, the choreography was extremely childish, in keeping with the rest of the production. The chorus bounced up and down during Singt dem großen Bassa Lieder that greets Pasha Selim during Act I, their hands balled up in little excited fists as well. This choreography, coupled with the lurid and unflattering costumes in orientalist style, made one think of high school musicals. In particular, something must needs be done about the hairstyles, why go through all of the trouble of dressing one’s characters in orientalist regalia, and just leave the hair looking straight out of the 80s? (I would say, straight off the street, but it seems that a certain percentage of German hairstyles are still from 20 years ago.) The costume department needs to use wigs.

Daniel Harding did a fine job with conducting rather passionately. The orchestra sounded just about perfect from what I could tell.

On the other hand, the singing was uneven. Ingrid Kaiserfeld was fairly good as Contanze, her voice sufficiently loud, her control imperfect, but the part is exceedingly difficult. Julia Rempe as Blonde was simply embarrassing. Her voice was tiny, one could barely hear her in that hall, if she were at San Francisco, which is much larger and has bad acoustics, she would have been silent. Sometimes Ms. Rempe got that high A, and one felt happy for her. She also was even quieter when sitting than standing, so the staging compromised her voice. Roberto Saccà was a good Belmonte, but I think the part just cannot be as difficult, since everyone I’ve heard as Belmonte has seemed quite good. Or else I’ve just had luck with tenors in this opera. Kevin Conners was excellent as Pedrillo, his Romance in Act III was beautiful, and one felt he was competing with a lot since there were five glittery fish hanging from the couch he was singing from, and a eunuch was rolling along on his back blowing bubbles, and to top it all off, two acrobats, representing Contanze and Blonde, flung themselves down by ribbons. Paata Burchuladze as Osmin was wanting in diction, but not in range. His endurance was not the best though, the earlier arias of his in Act I were noticeably better than his later ones. The chorus was grand, and the full effect of the loveliness of the choral music was realized in this production.

After the Act I someone screamed “Diese Entführung ist vertreibt!” or something like this. This Abduction has run off? I don’t know what it means exactly, but I believe the person left and was disgruntled.

Very Strangely

In the last 36 or so hours I've had about 2.5 hours of sleep. This doesn’t sound so bad, I suppose, but I spend a good deal of my time asleep, otherwise I’m rather nonfunctional.

The way one goes about getting opera tickets at the Bavarian State Opera is much different than in San Francisco as far as I can tell. My second day here involved a trip to the box office to see what information was available. There were two main pamphlets, one schedule for January through March 2003 and one schedule for the Münchner Opern-Festspiele, which occurs in the last month of their opera season, July. After careful deliberation, operas were selected by composers and performers, but most of January did not have a good selection of seats, since written orders are filled 2 months in advance to a given performance, and other orders are only filled 1 month prior, and since the main venue only holds 450 people (150 of these are standing room places), the middle-range tickets sell out rather quickly.

After figuring out the ways of regular ticket sales, I went over the Festspiele pamphlet thoughtfully, noting that advanced booking started on January 18th at 10 am until 4 pm, and continued the next day, even though it is a Sunday, from 10 am to 4 pm as well. After that, postal bookings start being processed on February 1st, so I thought it would be a good idea to go about all this in person. I looked at the directions in German, then in English, noting the German was more elaborate, that "Advanced Booking" was called "Erstverkauf" in the German version, which isn't exactly the same thing. "Erstverkauf" means "first sales," and "advanced sales" is more like "Vorverkauf," which is a word they did use for information elsewhere.

At any rate, I decided I would go to the opera box office on the morning of the 18th, and dutifully wrote this in on my calendar. Little did I know, the process for this Erstverkauf was much more arcane than even I could have imagined. The directions for the Festspiele stated nothing of what ensued.

So the Friday before the 18th, I thought I would get to the opera box office a bit before opening to feel out how the large the lines were on a typical day, this, and I could pay for some tickets I had reserved by post. I arrived at 9:30 am and the line was about 30 people, most of whom wanted to see a particular ballet as far as I could gather. I picked up my tickets from a very nice lady, and asked her how the Festspiele sales operated, since I had noticed something on the door about an "Anstehliste für die Opernfestspiele" listing a number of times for "Appelle." She explained that I had to go to a particular location on the other side of the building for a number. I examined the sign on the opera house door again, noted the location which was apparently on Marstallplatz across from some construction, and near a fountain. There were also many numbers listed, but I had no idea what they could mean, I thought they were room or address numbers, and regrettably, I had no pen. So I wandered to the disclosed location, which happened to be right next to the Instituto Cervantes, the Spanish cultural center, always something that makes me pleased. I looked at the fountain, and there was a small car, with a sign that said something about the "Anstehnummern." Incredulously, I went up to the car and asked the kindly man inside where I was to get a number, and he explained that he could give me one, and asked for my name. This, of course, made me horribly nervous, since my last name, in particular, does not look like a word, much less a name, in any Indo-European language. Too many vowels. So I spelt it out, but I always forget how the name of the letter "i" is pronounced in German, and stuttered and was basically quite silly. Then the kindly man gave me a paper with a list of times and told me to come back at each of the times, which seemed rather odd, and I was terribly confused. So another man, who was in line, explained in English that I had to check-in with the person in the car at all of these listed times, and that my number was rather high, and that I might not be able to buy tickets until Sunday. I stared dumbfounded at this list of times: 11 am, 2 pm, 4 pm, 6 pm, 11 pm, 1 am, 5 am, 7 am, and 9 am. I walked home, had lunch, walked back for my 2pm check-in, noting as the person went through the list, that people had been doing this since Wednesday, checking-in every 2 or so hours to keep their place in line. On the one hand, it made me a little nervous that I would not be able to get good tickets for the Festspiele, and on the other, I was a little relived I didn't know that I could have gotten in this surrealistic line some 48 hours earlier, because I fear I would have, out of sheer prideful idiocy.

So, I wandered around the opera house all of yesterday and today, except for the 2.5 hours that I slept from 1:30 am to 3:30 am this morning and from 12:00 to 12:30 pm after lunch. It was a little too cold to just sit and read when the sun was down, so I walked and stared at buildings and trees. The moon was quite full.

At 8:30 am, a man with a clipboard and the list called out numbers and had us all line up, something like 200 or so folks, mostly Germans. Then we waited and we got an "official number" after which most of the people dispersed. I went into the opera house to warm up and watched as the people with low numbers line up, by 10:40 they had gotten through number 15, so I decided to go home for lunch, since my number was 139. I returned at 1:30 pm and tried to discern what number they were at, it seemed like 96 or so. I tried to look for the person before me and the one after me, but I didn’t see either of them. But by 2:15 they were there and I quietly found my way between them, and I was lead to a lady downstairs by 2:30 pm. To my relief, I was able to get tickets for the nine performances I decided on early in the month, and I also bought tickets for a young lady whose number was above 300, since one is allowed 4 tickets per performance.

The opera people gave out jelly donuts to the people waiting. I had one with an apricot jelly filling.

Die Fledermaus

Johann Strauß’s Die Fledermaus has quite a lot of charming music and something of a convoluted plot. When I first saw it in Vienna I didn’t quite know what was going on, but had a lovely time anyway. Last Friday I attended a performance of this opera at the Bavarian State Opera, this time having read a synopsis in English beforehand, but not the libretto since my copy is either somewhere between Santa Cruz and Avignon or Emeryville and Garching, depending on which box it was placed.

This celebratory production included many streamers of various colors. It was a happy bordering on mad, Christopher Robson, the countertenor who was in Xerxes, was particularly nutty as Prince Orlofsky, and they had him sing in his higher range for some of this part.

Gabriella Fontana as Rosalinda was fairly good, her voice was a bit quiet though. Thomas Allen was well suited for the part of Gabriel von Eisenstein, his voice was adequate, his movements and acting were good. Margarita De Arellano was adorable as the maid Adele, hough her voice is shrill in the upper range. As Adele’s sister Ida was Beate Vollack, who must be the skinniest principal in an opera anywhere. Unsurprisingly, she is a ballet dancer, though she did sing a little. Her dancing wasn’t bad. My favorite singer of the evening was fellow Angeleno Eduardo Villa as Alfred, he had a beautiful tenor voice. They had him sing various snippets of Puccini and Verdi arias, which was quite funny.

The favorite of the evening was undoubtedly Jörg Hube as Frosch, who naturally doesn’t sing at all, but as the addled drunk jailer, his part is rather comedic.

The sets were well-designed and quiet, particularly impressive was the transition between Acts I and II when the room of von Eisenstein’s house was simply pushed off by servants dressed in a Rococo manner, only to reveal Prince Orlofsky’s party. Most of the set had a Art Nouveau aesthetic, though Orlofsky was floated in on a leopard print couch, wearing a magenta suit with silver spangles.

It was nice to see Jun Märkl conducting again, he had his San Francisco Opera debut in Ariadne auf Naxos last Fall.

Serse at Bayerische Staatsoper

The production of Serse at the Bavarian State Opera was hideous. When one is staging an opera, which does, in fact, involve music, and thus, sound, perhaps one should think about how the sounds that various parts of the production may distract from the music at hand. All sorts of supernumeraries stomped here and there on stage, and there was also Atalanta and her dancers wearing dresses that had extremely noisy plastic beads. The choreography was poor, especially in the case of Atalanta and her dancers who were dressed with a nod toward cabaret styled belly dance costumes. No one quite owned the movements, as it were.

Speaking of which, the costumes were garish in general, lots of sequins, it looked like some sort of cheap 80s prom dress nightmare. Though the supernumeraries were dressed in white t-shirts and gray trousers as they moved various parts of the stage to and fro. There was also a part of Act II in which a gaggle of supernumeraries, both male and female, wearing black gowns with a cut outs for prosthetic breasts to jut out of. Thankfully, they also had modest head scarves in place as well.

Among the various atrocities in the set were huge frames that were hoisted by supernumeraries on stage, complete with obnoxious comments in German on them; various flashing lights onstage; Arsamene undressing onstage, always a crowd-pleaser, even if he wore a body stocking; persons being hoisted on swings while discussing diplomacy; and persons being carried about in boats with bubbles encased in plastic in the background. Mind you, this is what I could see from my standing area that had an obscured view. I cannot detail for you a complete list, unfortunately. But I'm rather glad I did not pay the 97 Euros for a seat with a view of the stage, which was all that was left.

Mezzo-soprano Ann Murray as the Persian prince Serse was a bit uneven. Her voice was nice in her middle range, but her intonation was off in her higher register. Her voice in the lower range did not always carry, even though the acoustics in the Nationaltheater are quite good. In her mid-range I preferred her voice to Christopher Robson's countertenor (Arsamene), although his is like a muffled bell, very pretty. The best of the lot was Susan Gritton, the soprano who sang the part of Romilda. Her voice was damp and sweet, if a bit thin. Veronica Cangemi as Atalanta had a raw edge, a little lack of control, but not bad. Nathalie Stutzmann as scorned Amastris also lacked a bit of control of her upper range, her intonation was flat.