Girls of the Golden West, a new opera set during the 1850s California Gold Rush by composer John Adams and librettist Peter Sellars (pictured left, photograph by Terrence McCarthy), will have a world premiere at San Francisco Opera in November of 2017. More details will be released next January as part of the Company's 2017–18 repertory season announcement.
Press Release | SF Opera's Official Site | John Adams' Official Site
* Notes *
Over the weekend Esa-Pekka Salonen conducted Los Angeles Philharmonic in the world premiere of Shostakovich's Prologue to Orango. The piece was orchestrated by Gerard McBurney, based on surviving piano sketches. There was relatively little singing in the 40 minutes of music, as the 11 parts included an overture and three dances. Some of the singers were difficult to hear. The Entertainer, bass-baritone Ryan McKinny, blended into the sound of the large orchestra. Timur Bekbosunov (Paul Mâche) sang to Salonen, instead of to us. While humorous, this did not serve the music well. Yulia Van Doren was convincing as Susanna, and her vibrato seemed appropriate and controlled. Michael Fabiano sounded sweet and sufficiently loud as the Zoologist. Eugene Brancoveanu gave a committed performance in the title role. Though he sang rather little, it was obvious how beautiful his voice is.
The concepts behind Peter Sellars' staging looked like they had been pulled together in less than five minutes. We were shown images of Occupy Wall Street, a Rhesus monkey with pins in its skull, fighter planes, citrus fruits, and so on and so forth. Members of the chorus (the Los Angeles Master Chorale) were dressed in orange, disregarding the fact that the words orange and orangutan are not related. The fruit (and color) are from Sanskrit via Arabic and the first half of the animal name comes from Malay for "man." There were moments of the production that were interesting, especially when Orango jumps from his pedestal and attacks Susanna, who was seated in the first row of the Orchestra Level. Overall the proceedings were not cohesive, and a concert version of the work would have been less insulting to the intelligence of even this audience.
The second half of the evening was devoted to Shostakovich's Symphony No. 4. Salonen made sharp distinctions between the parts of the piece, but kept the music moving. The differences in tempi and volume were all clear. The orchestra did sound a bit muddy, but there were no egregious errors. The symphony ended gorgeously, melting into silence.
* Tattling *
The audience in the terrace was appallingly ill-behaved. Of 10 people in our immediate vicinity, 9 spoke during the music. More than one person fell asleep during the second piece. My companion tapped the knee of someone snoring in Row P to wake him up, and the offending person was irate, asking the person with him repeatedly if he had been making noise. After the performance there was rather ridiculous confrontation between awakener and woken.
* Notes *
Vivaldi's Griselda (Act III pictured left, photograph by Ken Howard) at Santa Fe Opera had a third performance last night. The small orchestra lilted under Maestro Grant Gershon, but were not always with the singers. The cast features many fine voices. Isabel Leonard (Constanza) looked lovely in her white ruffled gown with red trim, and has an attractive, dark voice. Her trills were strong. Amanda Majeski made for a convincing Ottone, if not a rather bird-like and pretty one, both physically and vocally. Yuri Minenko sang Corrado with a lightness that floated over the orchestra.
David Daniels (Roberto) sounded fairly sweet. He had a nice ease in Act I, but may have been more strained in the second half. Paul Groves made the best of the unsympathetic character of Gualterio. His sound is warm and pleasing, however, some of the coloratura of his arias seemed quite difficult. In the title role, Meredith Arwady sang with richness and depth. Her voice has some texture to it and is full without being overly loud. Overall the musical performance was vibrant but not perfectly cohesive. Vivaldi's music is beautiful, and that came through well.
The production, directed by Peter Sellars, is oddly static. There were a lot of giggles, but whether this was from confusion or engagement was not clear. Gronk's scenic design is bright, as are Dunya Ramicova's costumes. James F. Ingalls used the same strong colors in the lighting. On balance the effect is both lurid and a little boring. The production did not elucidate the plot, nor did it help bring the performance into focus.
* Tattling *
The person in RA 40 sounded like she was doing origami during the overture, and seemed baffled that I kept hushing her. Three latecomers surrounded me in the first 30 minutes of the show, and then it turned out they were not even in the correct spots. The tardy standees in RA 42-46 also spoke, but more quietly. There was noticeable audience attrition and more than three-fourths of the standing room was empty for Acts II and III.
* Notes *
The cast for Lyric Opera of Chicago's Hercules is nothing short of impressive. The Thursday matinée performance seemed well-attended, even the lecture from director Peter Sellars was rather full. Sellars certainly expressed a strong conception for how he staged this oratorio, and has both respect and understanding for the work. However, sometimes it is difficult to see past all the artifical miming, especially with the chorus. While the movements were humorous, I suspect one is not supposed to laugh at the lines "Jealousy! Infernal pest!"
The set is attractive, not unlike an elaborate, classically-informed water feature in an outdoor mall. The lighting was rather literal, red when fire or passion was mentioned, blue and green if water was invoked. The costumes were somewhat puzzling, the women looked like they were SCA members in their casual wear, the men vaguely like they were from the Pacific Northwest.
The orchestra lacked crispness in the overture under Harry Bicket. There were parts that were more focused and pretty, and those that were less so. The cello in "There in myrtle shades" was overwhelming, and the first brass part during the triumphal march was somewhat sour.
The chorus was slightly off from the orchestra in the second choral number, especially when the choral soloists sang. The singers did their choreography well. The last chorus, "To them your grateful notes of praise belong," was moving and beautiful.
The principals were all exceedingly fine, both in acting and in singing. Despite being ill, Richard Croft (Hyllus) sounded warm and sweet, though quiet at times. Lucy Crowe was brilliant as Iole, her voice is gorgeous, and "My breast with tender pity swells" was one of the best arias of the afternoon. David Daniels made the most of Lichas, sounding clear and lovely. In the title role, Eric Owens showed a full range of emotions with his scant three arias. The last was particularly stirring. Likewise, Alice Coote effectively displayed her dramatic abilties within the constraints of the Baroque form. Her Dejanira is incredibly human, and her voice has strong low notes and striking high ones.
* Tattling *
A phone rang during the first half of the show. Many audience members in the boxes fell asleep, at one point there was quite the chorus of snores. Worse yet, an elderly couple in Box 9 kept speaking during the music, once in the overture, once during Daniels' first aria, and once during Crowe's first aria. Thankfully, they responded fairly well to being asked to be quiet, and they left at intermission.
* Notes *
Though the fourth performance of Nixon in China at the Metropolitan Opera was simulcast yesterday, the Opera Tattler was nonetheless to be found in Family Circle standing room. While Adrianne Lobel's set was streamlined and efficient, Peter Sellars direction seemed overblown. The dancing, choreographed by Mark Morris, was attractive. The lines were good, though not completely exact from dancer to dancer.
The orchestra sounded together under the baton of the composer himself, John Adams, whose sense of timing is apparently impeccable. The chorus too appeared synchronized and clear.
Richard Paul Fink's role of Kissinger may have been small, but he certainly made the most of it. In the title role, James Maddalena looked and moved like Nixon, but he sounded strained and wobbly. Russell Braun sang Chou En-lai with conviction, and Robert Brubaker likewise impressed as Mao Tse-tung. Janis Kelly struck me as a bit shrill at first, but her "This is prophetic!" had great charm. Kathleen Kim was terrifying as Chiang Ch'ing. Her big aria in Act II was both imposing and arresting.
* Tattling *
The line for standing room was only 20 people deep in the morning, but there were quite a lot of people standing by the time the performance began. The person behind 202 of the last row of the house was not particularly considerate. He encroached so much on the person next to him that she had to ask an usher to intervene. Near the end of the performance, he began to make a great deal of noise as he got himself ready to leave.
I must admit I was not well-behaved either. At intermission I may have been seen "accidentally" tossing someone into one of the lobby walls, after which I collapsed into hysterical giggles. After careful consideration, the (pernicious) fellow at hand was kind enough to not press charges, for which I am quite grateful.
* Notes *
Doctor Atomic had its last performance this season at Lyric Opera of Chicago yesterday. The first half of the opera seemed much like what audiences saw in San Francisco two years ago, besides a few minor changes in the libretto and a soprano as Kitty Oppenheimer, instead of a mezzo. I had been warned that Act II was rather different, but looking at the synopsis, it certainly did not look like it would be a change in plot. Indeed, it was not, though the roles of Kitty and Pasqualita were expanded, there was more furniture, the crib was not under the bomb, and some of the choreography was changed. Even with the revisions, Act I was stronger than Act II, especially since the aria at the end of the first act, "Batter my heart, three person'd God," is particularly good. In Act II, the chorus singing "At the sight of this, your Shape stupendous" made an impression, though I find the use of the text from the Bhagavad Gita a bit boggling.
For the first half, the singing was somewhat hard for me to hear unless the singers were downstage, but I believe this was mostly due to my location in the house, off to the right and on the ground floor. When I moved toward the center after intermission, the sound improved. Richard Paul Fink was recovering from a cold, but sang Teller quite audibly and acted well. I especially love his line "The only saviors are the ham sandwiches and hot coffee," which Fink delivered with a certain archness. Jessica Rivera was convincing as Kitty Oppenheimer, though I found her voice more pleasant in her lower range. Meredith Arwady sang Pasqualita beautifully, the contralto sounded perfectly in control. Gerald Finley remained very much in the character of Oppenheimer.
The choreography annoyed me much more this time around. It was often too literal and inelegant. Oppenheimer practically mimed John Donne's words in "Batter my heart, three person'd God."
The sound coming out of the speakers at the back of the ground level was deafening, I wish I had known it would be so loud, for I would have chosen different seats or brought ear plugs. When I left the opera house I felt that strange sensation of not being able to hear exactly normally, feeling like a membrane has grown over one's ear canal.
* Tattling *
The Civic Opera House is the coldest one I have been to, at least as far as the ground floor lobby is concerned. However, the colorful style is quite charming.
The pre-opera lecture was by the librettist himself, the flamboyant Peter Sellars. He discussed the Greek origins of opera, the texts used in Doctor Atomic, the history of the characters, and a rundown of what would happen during the performance. He warned the audience that "Act II is something you will really hate. It is incomprehensible and too long. Opera is the last thing in America that is too long and you can't do anything about it."
The person sitting next to me arrived only a little before the curtain rose. Somehow he placed his coat on half of my backrest, and seemed utterly bewildered that a person was sitting in his coat's seat when he saw me on it at the end of Act I. The person in front of me had his elbow almost on my knee, and when he finally moved it, it was to draw his companion to him so that their heads completely blocked my view of the stage. Said companion had bathed in perfume, and I was apparently allergic to it, as I had to suppress sniffles and coughs until I could get fresh air during intermission. Thankfully the people on my other side left after intermission, so I was able to escape both coat and perfume.
The couple behind me had never been to the opera before and had been expecting something "more like Les Mis." The young man expressed disappointment in opera as a form, he thought there would be "songs" instead of "sing-talking." I was overcome with glee at this, and wanted to tell him that Doctor Atomic is not a paragon exemplar of opera, but was able to control myself. Perhaps they thought since the opera was in English that somehow it would be "opera-lite."
John Adams' Doctor Atomic had its world premiere on the first day of this month at San Francisco Opera. The opera is in English and is set in New Mexico in July 1945. It starts off with the chorus singing something like "Energy! Matter can neither be created nor destroyed!" It was difficult not to laugh, and I admit, I did laugh many times rather inappropriately to the situations being depicted. The audience was more or less indifferent to these scenes, which I found impossibly absurd.
Adrianne Lobel's set was appropriately stark, many aspects of it moved vertically and hung from the unseen ceiling. The floor had geometric shapes carved into it, a circle off to the right side midstage, upstage some lines met. Certain elements of the set design and staging were rather cliché. The shadow of Oppenheimer behind the sheet covering the bomb was especially egregious, as was a crib strategically placed beneath the bomb itself.
Lucinda Childs' choreography was somewhere between Graham and dance seen in musicals. Too bad SF ballet has no sense of synchronization, it could have been very good. The loudness of the music did cover up most of their eternal clumping, however. One of the dancers did execute a gorgeous hinge to the ground as Pasqualita (Beth Clayton) sang about cloud blossoms.
The singers were quite solidly good. Often with contemporary music, I can't really tell one way or another. I liked the aria "Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God" at the end of the first act, it almost sounded Baroque. The words are from John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV, and thus are not completely inane. It actually has a tune a normal person can follow and perchance even remember. Adams, at times, sounds very much like Glass to me, a lot of agitated clanging and building up without release.
In the end, the release is simply silence. This dead silence is extremely unusual at the opera and only happened because the audience was could not tell if there was to be more singing.
John Adams' Doctor Atomic had its world premiere on the first day of this month at San Francisco Opera. The opera is in English and is set in New Mexico in July 1945. It starts off with the chorus singing something like "Energy! Matter can neither be created nor destroyed!" It was difficult not to laugh, and I admit, I did laugh many times rather inappropriately to the situations being depicted. The audience was more or less indifferent to these scenes, which I found impossibly absurd.
Adrianne Lobel's set was appropriately stark, many aspects of it moved vertically and hung from the unseen ceiling. The floor had geometric shapes carved into it, a circle off to the right side midstage, upstage some lines met. Certain elements of the set design and staging were rather cliché. The shadow of Oppenheimer behind the sheet covering the bomb was especially egregious, as was a crib strategically placed beneath the bomb itself.
Lucinda Childs' choreography was somewhere between Graham and dance seen in musicals. Too bad SF ballet has no sense of synchronization, it could have been very good. The loudness of the music did cover up most of their eternal clumping, however. One of the dancers did execute a gorgeous hinge to the ground as Pasqualita (Beth Clayton) sang about cloud blossoms.
The singers were quite solidly good. Often with contemporary music, I can't really tell one way or another. I liked the aria "Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God" at the end of the first act, it almost sounded Baroque. The words are from John Donne's Holy Sonnet XIV, and thus are not completely inane. It actually has a tune a normal person can follow and perchance even remember. Adams, at times, sounds very much like Glass to me, a lot of agitated clanging and building up without release.
In the end, the release is simply silence. This dead silence is extremely unusual at the opera and only happened because the audience was could not tell if there was to be more singing.
But as I look back on other recently composed operas that have happened at SF, Doctor Atomic is probably the least awful. Saint Francis just sounded like cell phones because of the ondes martenot, Le Grande Macrabre was painfully absurd, and Doktor Faust was simply nothing much.