Nuremberg & Thalidomide: The Good The Bad & The Ugly.

It is not really the first time we visited a place that has a rather haunting history. St. Petersburg is one such place especially when one re-visited the whole sordid saga of the murder of the small children of the Russian Tsar family.

Now we are starting our high school reunion on our river cruise. The journey starts at Nuremberg. All of us of course remember the Judgment at Nuremberg. I decided to watch it again. The principle that just because your boss told you to do things in a certain way did not absolve you from the greater humanitarian aspect of what you do. This is most important for doctors and if you think we have shied away from the Nuremberg era, think again. In one way or another, those that dare speak out against what management in our beloved NHS does were met with some of the worst fates unimaginable in any democratic society.

Nuremberg of course was the famous setting for one of Wagner’s well known Operas, Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg which was in 2011 performed at Glydnebourne for the first time ever to much international acclaim. 

But Nuremberg was sadly linked to one of the worst drugs disaster of our time. This was uncovered by none other than Newsweek.

As they opened a new Waitrose across from my clinic, I find myself shopping there most days after work. It was one of those de-roling activity that is important after a whole day being involved in the mad of sad world of child psychiatry. John Barnes in Swiss Cottage was the first local store that was very close to the Tavistock Clinic where I trained. It was there that I saw the wooden escalator that my father reminisce about of the ones in Shanghai in the 40s. John Lewis and Waitrose remained my favourite haunt for all these years.

One day, at one of the specially designed check outs, sat a girl on a special raised mechanical chair was a girl with arms a quarter the size of ours and a few minute fingers. Yes, a Thalidomide victim doing a proper check out job.

Yes, we tried our best not to notice and our best not to treat her any differently as we well know that that is what she would want. I raised my hat to Waitrose for treating her like any of their partners. That is how the world should be.

But I never knew that there was any link between Thalidomide and Nuremberg. O.K. I knew Thalidomide was developed by a German Company, Grünenthal.

Nuremberg©2015 Am Ang Zhang

The Nazis and Thalidomide: The Worst Drug Scandal of All Time

Newsweek

Adding to the dark shadow over the company, it is increasingly clear that, in the immediate postwar years, a rogues’ gallery of wanted and convicted Nazis, mass murderers who had practiced their science in notorious death camps, ended up working at Grünenthal, some of them directly involved in the development of thalidomide.

 What they had to offer was knowledge and skills developed in experiments that no civilized society would ever condone. It was in this company of men, indifferent to suffering and believers in a wretched philosophy that life is cheap, that thalidomide was developed and produced.

Perhaps the best known of Grünenthal’s murderous employees was Otto Ambros. He had been one of the four inventors of the nerve gas sarin. Clearly a brilliant chemist, described as charismatic, even charming, he was Hitler’s adviser on chemical warfare and had direct access to the führer—and committed crimes on a grand scale. As a senior figure in IG Farben, the giant cartel of chemical and pharmaceutical companies involved in numerous war crimes, he set up a forced labor camp at Dyhernfurth to produce nerve gases before creating the monolithic Auschwitz-Monowitz chemical factory to make synthetic rubber and oil.

In 1948 Ambros was found guilty at Nuremberg of mass murder and enslavement and sentenced to eight years in prison. But four years later, he was set free to aid the Cold War research effort, which he did, working for J. Peter Grace, Dow Chemical, and theU.S. Army Chemical Corps. Ambros was the chairman of Grünenthal’s advisory committee at the time of the development of thalidomide and was on the board of the company when Contergan was being sold. Having covered up so much of his own past, he could bring his skills to bear in attempts to cover up the trail that led from the production of thalidomide back through its hasty trials to any origins it may have had in the death camps.

Dr. Kelsey, FDA scientist who kept thalidomide off U.S. market, dies at 101.

Dr. Kelsey is honored by President John F. Kennedy in 1962. (Courtesy of FDA)

The tragedy was largely averted in the United States, with much credit due to Frances Oldham Kelsey, a medical officer at the Food and Drug Administration in Washington, who raised concerns about thalidomide before its effects were conclusively known. For a critical 19-month period, she fastidiously blocked its approval while drug company officials maligned her as a bureaucratic nitpicker.

Freedom of Speech: Truth & Thalidomide!

Case 5 – The Truth about Thalidomide Given the lack of a constitution enshrining free speech, we do need some protection against frivolous libel actions and injunctions which try to prevent the truth from being revealed. Otherwise the truth about thalidomide would never have been told.

“Thirty-eight years ago,” he wrote, “I sat through days of hearings by the Law Lords deliberating on whether I and the paper I edited were guilty of contempt in 1972-3 in campaigning for justice for the thalidomide families. All five Law Lords voted to ban publication of our report. Only a 13-11 victory in the European Court of Human Rights removed the gag order” – and thus, I add, enabled The Sunday Times to expose one of the great scandals of that time, and subsequently win compensation for the families with young children born damaged or deformed, often without legs or arms, because their mothers had taken the drug, thalidomide, which was marketed as a mild sedative that would relieve morning sickness in pregnancy.                                                                                             Telegraph

Luckily, the European Court eventually ruled for The Sunday Times:

“The newspaper then decided to fight the injunction on its investigation into the origins and testing of the drug. The case went right through the British legal system and up to the European Court of Human Rights, which decided that the injunction violated the right of ‘freedom of expression’. The full story of thalidomide could eventually be told in 1976, revealing that both Grünenthal (the maker) and Distillers had not met the basic testing requirements of the time.”

I mentioned thalidomide also because in 2002 Gordon Brown, the then chancellor, attempted to tax the benefits payable through the Thalidomide Trust.

Metopera: Der Rosenkavalier

Der Rosenkavalier

Sir Simon Rattle & Company Concoct Chamber-like Intimacy in Strauss’ Most Versatile Score

By David Salazar

(Credit: Karen Almond / Metropolitan Opera)

A debutante. The return of a singer for the first time in eight years. A rising star finally getting a true standout role. A bass-baritone reprising his star-making turn. And one of the great living conductors also making a vital return.

These were the main pieces that came together, among others, for what has to be one of the defining moments of the Metropolitan Opera’s 2019-20 season to date.

The Robert Carsen production of “Der Rosenkavalier” was the poignant coda to Renée Fleming’s career at the Met Opera (to this point anyway) when it premiered in 2016-17. The director himself reportedly returned to work with many of the cast members on this revival and as such its strengths remain intact (read more about the production in the original review). It’s major glaring weakness, having the Marschallin walk into a brothel in the opera’s climactic scene, also remains a major distraction. But this iteration, with a completely new cast, seemed to take many of the best ideas and push them to the next level.

A Revelatory Reading

At the core of all this was conductor Sir Simon Rattle leading an extraordinary rendition of this amazing score. To be fair, this is a long night and in the hands of most conductors, it can feel exactly like that. Much of that has to do with their inability to generate a sense of shape or drive in a score that moves quickly, but can be full of lengthy meditative sections. What often occurs is that conductors indulge in the music’s lush romanticism with all the contrasting moods blending into each other to detrimental effect.

But Rattle was the complete opposite of this in so many ways. Act one flew by with the opening scenes taken at quicker tempi. This suggested Octavian’s exuberance in the first act and perfectly contrasted Baron Ochs’ own masculine virility; as such you could almost feel the connection and contrast between the two leading “men” in the work. The ensuing scene with all of the people waiting on the Marschallin also moved quickly allowing for a massive contrast with the act’s final scene, the glorious meditation in which the leading lady considers her mortality and the end of her love affair with Octavian. Rattle had bought himself so much time with the swifter approaches to the other passages, that the sudden breadth in this section came as a breath of fresh air and really allowed the audience to simply sit with the character on her painful emotional journey.

Faster tempi were favored in much of the latter two acts with Rattle pulling back during the Sophie-Octavian duets in Act two and the glorious final trio, which was truly Wagnerian in its sense of never-ending expansion. Again, the drive of the action-based scenes really allowed the emotionally resplendent moments to pay off gloriously.

In also maintaining this more propulsive feel, Rattle allowed many of the stylistic shifts employed by Strauss to really resonate. “Rosenkavalier” is an opera full of dance and rococo, something that can be completely overlooked when the work is played with a heavy Wagnerian approach (which is very common). But Rattle’s interpretation brought forth the more classical feel of the trio between Octavian, the Marshallin, and Ochs, and really propelled the second-act Waltz into something full of excitement and joy; in this latter case, the exuberance of the piece contrasted perfectly with the boorish Ochs as portrayed by Günther Groissböck.

The Met orchestra also sounded at the top of its game (which has been particularly common over the last few weeks in operas like “Akhnaten” and “The Queen of Spades”) with Rattle managing a wondrous tonal balance in the ensemble that meshed well with the singers. This score can go from a very light touch to a very dense tapestry, with the latter often providing the singers with its greatest challenge. Rattle knew how to keep the artists onstage at the forefront so that they were always clearly heard throughout the Met Opera’s mammoth hall.

This enabled Rattle to do something that few conductors manage in their own renditions of this opera – create a true cohesive whole within the individuality of his soloists. He managed to get the three singers to meld their voices sublimely in certain moments and even pushed them to true vocal extremes; this was most noticeable in the softness of the pianissimo during the final duet between Sophie and Octavian where the two soloists’ voices were but hushed whispers that still carried beautifully into the hall. This contrasted with how much Rattle pushed Groissböck as Ochs, the fortes boisterous, but perfectly inline with the nature of the character in the opera’s musical tapestry. To that point, other major characters were placed into similar parts of the expansive color palette, their vocal associations allowing the audience to track their emotional paths within the greater story. There was almost a chamber music-like feel to the entire performance and coming away from it, there was no doubt that everyone was on the same page, breathing emotionally and musically as one. That is a truly rare feat.

(Credit: Karen Almond / Metropolitan Opera)

From Boy to Man

The embodiment of this musical exploration and development as best resembled by a selfless and chameleon-like performance from Magdalena Kožená in her big return to the Met since 2011. Her opening scene was a perfect encapsulation of Octavian’s own emotional immaturity. She portrayed him as a hormonal teenager who would not stop his intense advances of the Marshallin (he kissed her everywhere at any possible moment he could get at her), providing an ominous similarity to Baron Ochs’ own masculine crudeness in ensuing scenes.

But vocally, Kožená’s voice was a gentle thread of sound that coalesced beautifully with that of Camila Nylund as the Marcshallin. In fact, they were so aligned vocally throughout those opening exchanges that at times it was hard to distinguish one voice from the other; one came away with this true feeling of oneness and unity between the two that only music can express. There was a natural gentility to Kožená’s singing here that really created a sense of ease, particularly on the myriad of F naturals and that abound throughout this opening section, that was light years away from the anxious sex drive represented by her physicality.

The final scene of the act presented a 180-degree shift from this. Dressed now in a grey uniform, Kožená’s Octavian was elegance embodied, finally mirroring a similar poise from Nylund physically, but the singing was full of intensity, the vibrato widening.  This was most notable during her fretful “Nicht heut, nicht morgen,” her voice climaxing on a pulsating high A on “Ich will den Tag nicht denken.”

In Act two, she portrayed even greater facets of Octavian. The first of these was the gentleman, poised in carrying out his mission of delivering the rose and then even more tender and supportive in his exchanges with Sophie. Here, Kožená’s singing aligned beautifully with that of Golda Schultz. While there was a clear demarcation in their respective sounds, the Czech mezzo-soprano managed to lighten the quality of her voice to match that of her colleague, once again expressing the emotionally connection with Sophie. This was particularly present in their two duets with the vocal lines wondrously balanced throughout. And the relationship would get its most incredible payoff in the final Act duet that closes the opera, the singing between Kožená and Schultz even more unified in the most glorious of pianissimo singing; together they pulled the listener into the most intimate of experiences; this was chamber music-making at its finest.

But the other aspect of Octavian that Kožená revealed in the second act was the child against men. While we saw Octavian as a gallant gentleman, he clearly looked overmatched for most of Act two when faced with Baron Ochs. As directed, and executed, this created a greater sense of empathy for the character, fighting not only a more physically mature man, but also what he represents – a repressive society.

When asked to take on the role of Mariandel in Act three, Kozena played up the hijinks, providing a comical mirror of her first act performance. Whereas in that first scene, her Octavian was all over the Marshallin with romantic intensity, in this act, her Mariandel was similarly sexually charged, but in a far more exaggerated and vulgar manner that comically aligned the audience with Ochs, getting a taste of his own medicine. Vocally, she also played up the exaggeration, her voice more angular, dry, and far less vibrant; the sound came off as coarser, which both mirrored that of Ochs, while being a complete shadow to that of her more elegant and poised Octavian.

It’s been eight years since her incredible “Pelléas et Mélisande,” but on the opening night of “Der Rosenkavalier,” Kožená reminded the audience that she is truly the full package artistically.

(Credit: Karen Almond / Metropolitan Opera)

Pure of Heart

Not to be overlooked was Golda Schultz’s Sophie, in what was a truly exciting breakout for the soprano. While she sang the first notes of the 2019-20 Met season, her role in “Porgy and Bess” was often overshadowed by the bigger voices in that opera; the same can be said for her beautiful appearance as Nanetta in 2018-19. But no one was going to opaque her brilliance as Sophie, propelling to the forefront as one of the best lyric sopranos singing today.

Her Sophie had agitated energy from the get-go, immediately casting her into the busy setting around her. She moved about with excitement, her singing similarly vibrant and full in those opening passages, particularly during “Dahin muss ich zurück” where she dispatched a high A- C sharp-B sequence of notes with purity of line on “Zeuit und Ewigkeit.” In their second duet together, “Mit Ihren Augen voll Tränen,” the soprano’s voice was sweeter and lighter, matching a similar texture from Kožená. Strauss even keeps the tessitura slightly lower to match Octavian’s vocal range, with the soprano line never surpassing a high A natural; Schultz’s voice was at its most breathtaking here, the legato line connected and building with each phrase. It is worth noting that few moments were as touching as her reaction to Octavian’s “Was Sie ist;” the moment he said this to her, Schultz’s Sophie seemed to turtle, hiding away the tears of joy that her body managed to express.

But it wasn’t all about bel canto with the soprano; she didn’t shy away from a pricklier approach in her confrontations with her father and Ochs. Here she really leaned into an accented vocal line with an emphasis on consonants that really highlighted Sophie’s exasperation. Physically, she was also more unsettled, using her hands to slap away or push away Ochs as best as she could; in some moments this came off as comedic, but in other instances, there was a really intensity behind her physicality that added tension to the scene.

In her final appearances of the opera, Schultz took on a more collected stance. She stood on the margins throughout with a worried expression, providing the main tension of the scene; we felt her sense of loss and heartbreak ready to express itself fully. Her singing was truly delicate in these moments, but in the final scenes, it is Sophie that invites Octavian to release their passions onstage. She was playful and joyous, allowing Octavian to also express a different facet of his sexuality that came off as more sincere and involved than the selfishness often expressed in his first scene with the Marschallin.

(Credit: Karen Almond / Metropolitan Opera)

A Trapped Princess

Completing the love triangle was the peerless Camila Nylund in her Met Opera debut. The Finnish soprano’s singing is pure luxury from top to bottom with a full tone that exuded elegance with every phrase she sang. One might note that there was a level of restraint in the singing throughout the opening act, which highlighted her own physical restraint in her interactions with both Octavian and Ochs. While Octavian tried to engage her in more sexual foreplay, she simply took it and eventually stopped him. With Ochs, she maintained the power in the dynamic of the scene, always laughing him off and politely shutting him down with a smile. This exertion of power was even more potent in the final act, where she strode onstage in an elegant dark dress that stole all the spotlight by its very existence.

But here, her physicality continued to imbue her with power. She didn’t move all that much, but her every gesture or look was charged with subtext. When she had an enough with Ochs, she made just a few steps in his direction before unleashing the full potency of her voice for the full time on “Versteht Ern ich, wenn eine Sach’ ein End’ hat?”

In a latter moment before the trio, she walked slowly toward Octavian, as if to kiss him, but instead she walked right by him, essentially ending their relationship. One often felt that Nylund was playing up the social façade that the Marschallin has to exhibit in the midst of society, underlining the subtle tragedy of the character – a woman of influence who is always marginalized within the framework of the society that gives her this “power.”

Her emotions, instead, were expressed in her singing. As noted, she matched Kožená in the initial scene but her big moment at the close of the act was truly her own. In hushed and gentle tones she delivered her monologue with a deepened sense of internalization. Her expanded lines, coupled with her delicate singing truly personified the fragility of time. Even in the face of Kožená’s pleading vocalism at the close of this scene, she retained that sense of restraint, making the scene all the more powerful. You felt that this was a woman coming to terms with her fate but being resilient while facing it down.

While she managed a similar emotion in the final scene, Nylund allowed some of that pain to come through in the final trio, the opening lines stretched with sublime piano singing; her ascension to the high A flat on “ihn lieb zu haben” was ethereal, Rattle allowing her to hold it a bit to mesmerizing effect. As the trio developed and the three singers were pushed to the fullness of their resources, Nylund truly let her sound expand into the hall.

(Credit: Karen Almond / Metropolitan Opera)

Arrogance Embodied

Contrasting these three mesmerizing singers was Günther Groissböck as the pedantic Ochs. In the 2016-17 run of the opera, the bass-baritone was undeniably the star of the run. On this night, he was a similar scene stealer though his stage hijinks were perfectly balanced by the other leads.

He was, in one word, obnoxious, but in the very best way. Like Octavian in the opening scene of the opera, he was overly touchy with Mariandel, groping her all over. In many ways, the comedy of this scene served as a perfect foil to Octavian’s opening scene with the Princess, the two men consistently pushing the line with the woman; Ochs does this even more in his scene with Sophie, bullying her into submission in front of his entourage and even offering up to Octavian at one point. To say that Ochs crosses the line throughout the opera is an understatement. In this context, the final act’s subversion of this, in which he feels noticeably uncomfortable with Mariandel’s overzealous sexual advances, is the perfect payoff to the entire drama.

Groissböck’s arrogance also came from his violent persona, his singing very muscular and rarely graceful. This is a singer with a glorious instrument capable of the most immersive legato lines, but on this night, he eschewed it all in favor of a brusquer color, his tone drier and seemingly hallowed out of an overly ringing vibrato but never lacking for potency. Even a resonant crescendo on an extended D sharp on “Palais von Faninal in Act one, tended toward more straight tone than a plusher sound. Nonetheless, Groissböck filled the hall in virtually every single moment he opened his mouth and his accents of the consonants only made him stand apart from the more flowing line of Sophie, Octavian, and the Marschallin. Even in his rendition of the beloved Waltz, Groissböck’s singing had a jagged nature.

His delivery of the “Weiss bereits, nich, was ich von diesem ganzen quid-pro-quo mir denken soll (I still do not know what to think of this quid pro quo)” also drew out the greatest laugh of the entire evening, though context undeniably matter. He also managed to pick up Katharine Goeldner and spin around with her while singing at one point, further accented his character’s hubris in truly exciting fashion.

Adding Color & Life

In the character of Faninal, Markus Eiche made a notable debut at the Met. His Faninal’s initial behavior coupled with his potent and aggressive vocalism toward his daughter mirrored Ochs’ behavior; one felt him dramatically as a double for Ochs, thus emphasizing the stakes for the young singers. But again, his big payoff at the end of the opera was to get to throw more vitriol in the third act, this time at Ochs’ reprehensible behavior. He did manage to draw a number of laughs from his panic attacks in both acts.

As the Italian singer, tenor Matthew Polenzani sang with a fluid vocal line, though his ascensions into some of the higher notes did come off a bit flat in a number of instances. Playing Annina and Valzacch were Katharine Goeldner and Thomas Ebenstein, in his Met debut. Of the two, Goeldner seemed a bit more present in the proceedings, snake-like in her movements, particularly as she begged Ochs for money after delivering the letter from Mariandel.

Mark Schowalter was perfectly timed as Faninal’s butler, particularly in the scene where he asked an over-excited Sophie to sit down with just a slight gesture.

Scott Conner was an imposing Police Commmissioner while James Courtney’s Notary managed to display restraint in the frustrating encounter with Ochs in Act one.

Alexandra LoBianco also had a solid Met debut as Marianne, her resonant and ample vibrato a solid contrast to Schultz’ fine tonal qualities.

We are all looking for the perfect gift to give family members throughout the holiday season. Giving them the gift of opera has never been a better proposition than the Met Opera’s “Der Rosenkavalier.” Rarely has this opera managed to create such a mixture of emotions in what feels like an otherworldly experience.

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A Rosenkavalier for the radio at The Met

By Robert Levine, 18 April 2017

There are several things wrong with the new Robert Carsen directed Der Rosenkavalier that just opened at the Met, but the singing is not among them. Announced as diva Renée Fleming’s farewell to the stage and then retracted and somewhat confused by Ms Fleming herself, judging by her vocal performance in the cavernous Met, she is not ready for retirement.

Renée Fleming (The Marschallin)

© Ken Howard | Metropolitan Opera

Over the past ten-or-so years, her problems have outweighed her glories: the irritating mannerism of scooping into notes and going for what (in jazz) is called the “blue note”, has become torturously invasive, and the once full, rounded, luscious sound itself has gotten slimmer. This has thrown her one-size-fits-all acting – although she always looks beautiful – and superficial insights into the spotlight. Well, her “farewell” Marschallin is another story. There was not a note in the role that wasn’t cleanly placed and refulgent; her use of chest voice was for emphasis, her control over and use of dynamics just right. She still doesn't really color the text and she skims the Marschallin's true feelings – one recalls, at the Met, the searing Leonie Rysanek, the womanly Régine Crespin, the poetic Evelyn Lear and the classy Felicity Lott – but in all, she triumphed.

Act 2, Der Rosenkavalier

© Ken Howard | Metropolitan Opera

This triumph was almost despite Mr Carsen’s production. The first act does not suffer too much from the updating to the imminence of World War I, but Paul Steinberg’s bright-red walls hung with giant paintings are cool and museum-like rather than sensual. By Act 2 – Carsen probably taking his jump-off point from one line in the first act that tells us that Faninal is supplying arms to the Netherlands – the grand room in which Ocatvian presents the rose sports two giant howitzers. Ochs’ retinue are soldiers. During the Presentation, sixteen dancers waltz slowly, removing all intimacy and stillness from the scene. (The eight lackeys who serve the Marschallin her breakfast are a warning that the stage will be over-populated.). And the obnoxious last act now takes place in a whorehouse, where Octavian, dressed more like Marlene Dietrich than a sweet serving maid, fits right in and torments Ochs; innocence is gone, and it’s fifty-shades-of-decadence-to-come. There are plenty of half-clad bodies acting alluringly at one another. Princess Marie-Thérèse showing up in a whorehouse? I doubt it. The opera’s final tableau, after the lights dim on Octavian and Sophie going at it in bed (where’s the Duenna when you need her?), is of soldiers aiming guns at the audience, and bodies dropping.

Gunther Groissböck (Baron Ochs) and Elīna Garanča ("Mariandel")

© Ken Howard | Metropolitan Opera

All of this takes the attention away from the Marschallin’s fears and introspection and places them elsewhere. Mr Carsen’s focus is on Baron Ochs – and his kind. The choice of Günther Groissböck to play Ochs – young, dashing, somewhat scary in his military-type demeanor on top of being vulgar – rather than the usual bumbling fatso, lets us know where Carsen feels the world is going. Groissböck is magnificent in the role, his basso wonderfully profundo. In the last act, he talks down and acts threateningly to the Marschallin who, by the way, has dyed her hair platinum since we saw her in Act 1, and leaves on the arm of a policeman. So much for the Old Order and the philosophy of accepting one’s age.

Elīna Garanča (Octavian) and Erin Morley (Sophie)

© Ken Howard | Metropolitan Opera

Octavian is Elīna Garanča, utterly convincing throughout, refulgent of voice and acting up a storm in the whorehouse, legs akimbo. She even smokes her cigarette in Act 1 like a young guy. And if she and Ms Fleming seemed to be having more fun than lust, ask Mr Carsen. But Ms Garanca’s every move was right, and at least her love and caring for Sophie was clear in this context. Erin Morley’s Sophie was lovely in all ways; it takes, really, just complete control of the notes and dynamics and appealing looks to succeed in the part, and Ms Morley had them. Markus Brück, in his debut, was a big-voiced, expressive Faninal, nouveau riche to the core. Matthew Polenzani, dressed and made up to look like Caruso (he signed one of his recordings for the Marschallin) was a fine Italian tenor, despite coming in just south of his first B flat. Alan Oke’s Valzacchi and Helene Schneiderman’s Annina were marvelously nimble co-conspirators.

The divine Met Orchestra made the score sound matter-of-factly easy – even the horn parts – and Sebastian Weigle’s leadership, while lacking the type of plush cushioning that both Karl Böhm and James Levine brought to it, was right on the money.

The end of an era? Probably not for Renée Fleming, but in Carsen’s view, there went Imperial Vienna. Close your eyes for a four star performance; listen and watch it for a three.

Metopera: Le Nozze di Figaro

Le Nozze di Figaro

Cast Packs Punch with Season Premiere

By Logan Martell

(Photo Credit: Marty Sohl / Met Opera)

On Nov. 16, 2019, the Metropolitan Opera premiered this season’s production of Mozart’s “Le Nozze di Figaro.” Amidst the modern set of Richard Eyre’s production, the stellar cast of artists brought no shortage of laughter while delivering a musically splendid performance. Making his conducting debut with the company was Antonello Manacorda who was able to draw much from the music while keeping the energy going strong.

Wasting little time, during the overture we see the scantily-clad Count Almaviva, with a maid dressing herself in a hurry on the way out. The stage turns and we see a sort of montage of all the preparations being made for such an eventful day, visually reinforcing the frantic grandeur coming from the orchestra.

Thanks to the dramatic and comedic sensibilities of the artists, there was hardly ever a dull moment during the performance as they flirted, fought, schemed, and scurried to stay one step ahead of each other. Recitatives between the musical numbers were handled with a quick, natural speed of delivery that did not let the charge fade before the next one, each building up into the other nicely.

Magnetic Leads

In the title role, bass-baritone Luca Pisaroni gave a highly dynamic performance; his stalwart vocality flourished through the emotional and dramatic chaos of the opera.  We find his Figaro measuring the room for his new bed with his own body as Pisaroni quickly re-arranged himself, before Susanna gets his attention for their bright and charming duettinos. His countenance taking a heavier look as Susanna began to raise her concerns, Pisaroni’s repetition of Susanna’s melody to the line “I’d like to hear the rest… but I’m getting upset,” receiving a firm, drawn-out delivery. While she explained the Count’s intentions towards her, Pisaroni’s Figaro continued to assemble the bed in the middle of the room, ostensibly by ripping entire boards from the set. Though his voice and face conveyed his disbelief with his lord, that he kept at his work showed that it did not give him much pause as he transitioned to a smoldering rendition of his cavatina “Se vuol ballare.” This number was calculating but far from cold as Pisaroni fenced with a cane in hand, armed also with scornful, confident tones. These qualities returned for his Act three aria “Aprite un po’ quegli occhi,” now directed at his seemingly-unfaithful wife. Here the jaded rhythm nicely bolstered Pisaroni’s driving triplet measures as he railed against the fairer sex, shining a flashlight into the audience as he sang the phrase “See them as they are!” Few performers are as funny as Pisaroni, and performances such as Saturday’s serve as solid proof.

As Susanna, Nadine Sierra’s velvety, full-bodied soprano saw a wide breadth of expression throughout her extended time on stage. Not long after endearing the audience with her playful opening numbers, Sierra’s duettino with Elizabeth Bishop’s Marcellina, “Via resti servita,” saw the two slinging insults with a fun, sonorous flair. At times at the mercy of the unfolding events, while at others pulling the strings, Sierra’s effervescence lasted with great consistency; these latter moments were highly entertaining, with the occasional excited, mischievous cackle from Sierra to spice up her honeyed lyricism. The Act three sextet “Riconosci in questo aplesso,” was joined by Sierra’s lovely, indignant ornaments as she fumed at Figaro’s seeming betrayal, her ensuing slap coming across strong and clear. Her Act three duettino with Susanna Phillips “Che soave zeffiretto,” saw the two sopranos engage in lovely, conspiratorial harmonies. Her later aria, “Deh vieni, non tardar,” made for a magical number due to Sierra’s enchanting rendition, slowly making her way up the stairs wrapped around the tree in the middle to deliver gorgeous sustained tones.

Splendid Supporting Cast

In the role of Count Almaviva, Adam Plachetka struck a figure that was comedic while not sacrificing any of the count’s menacing qualities; this was seen earlier on after furiously emerging from his hiding spot for the trio “Cosa sento.” His firm threatening phrases meshed well with Sierra and Giuseppe Filianoti’s fearful ones, building up to a nice reveal of the hiding Cherubino. As he mused on the events of the previous two acts, the set spun around to a set dinner table, as Susanna mustered up the courage to attempt luring him to the gardens later. His anger on realizing her ploy led to a nice, fiery rendition of his aria “Hai gia vinta la causa.” As he savored getting the last laugh on his servant, Plachetka indulged in firm yet darkly-excited ornaments.

As Countess Almaviva, Susanna Phillips was elegant and deeply touching, as heard from her entrance aria “Porgi amor.” Her legato phrases ached with loving, nostalgic sentiment that rose towards a tenderly soaring height.  These delicate qualities made it all the more delightful when the countess has to hide Cherubino in the closet, doing her best to try to dissuade her husband’s burning suspicions. Her disguised entrance during the finale came smoothly, not missing a beat as she readied to reveal herself. Her answer as to whether or not she forgives him, however, came after a brief pause which nicely played with what everyone knows to be a done deal.

Making her Metropolitan Opera debut was mezzo-soprano Gaëlle Arquez in the role of Cherubino. Her entrance was full of youthful zest, which carried nicely into her aria “Non so piu cosa son, cosa faccio,” as heard from her agile vocal leaps. This romantically-charged daydream saw Arquez deliver a gently-soaring cadenza before the lyrical adagio section. Here Arquez indulged in the slower tempo set by Mancorda, really fleshing out the delicate phrases while not allowing the mood to dissipate, before bringing it to a bright and excited close. Her Cherubino entered and often exited full of energy, as seen in both her hilarious jump from the window, or earlier when running offstage from the count as a nice transition to the chorus “Giovani liete, fiori spargete.” Her interactions with Phillip’s Countess, however, were full of a sensual charge that made their attraction visibly mutual, and strongly foreshadowed the characters’ future affair in Beaumarchais’ “The Guilty Mother.”

As Dr. Bartolo, Brindley Sherrat’s resonant bass saw an early showcase with his aria “La Vendetta,” deftly handling the lower plunges as well as the pattering measures of legal nomenclature. His outburst of “Coll’ astuzia!” and “Col giudizio!”, backed by the orchestra’s forte chords, humorously startled Marcellina as she tried to do her makeup. The earthy presence of his voice ensured he was not lost amidst the many strong egos of the other characters. Speaking of strong egos, Elizabeth Bishop made a delightful showing as Marcellina; her enthusiasm for stopping the wedding quickly gave way to joy after learning Figaro is her son. When asked if anyone could be happier, her bright, sustained repetition of “I am!” came as a funny, bubbly interjection.

In the role of Barbarina, Meigui Zhang displayed a clear and lovely soprano through her time onstage. Her Act four cavatina “L’ho perduta, me meschina,” saw Zhang explore the phrases with a highly-gentle touch as she repeated her way through the softly concerned phrases, building to a refined, cradling hold of the last “cosa dira?”

While “Le Nozze di Figaro” is an opera frequently performed, Saturday’s cast of artists reminds one why this is the case as they brought waves of laughter while seizing the most out of the music, making for an utterly splendid season premiere of Mozart’s timeless comedy.