Mr. Levine, 72, has long been struggling with health problems, including Parkinson’s disease. This year, the Met was poised to announce his retirement as music director when he was given areprieveby his doctor, who thought an adjustment in his medication might better control Mr. Levine’s symptoms. This “Simon Boccanegra” is in essence a trial run.
It was hard to see how Friday’s performance could be determinative. Mr. Levine has championed this great but flawed Verdi opera, with its profound score but convoluted plot. He knows the music intimately and led a radiant, stirring, if sometimes uneven performance. His arm gestures and cues still seem loose and flailing. But by now the Met musicians must know what Mr. Levine is after, especially in a signature work like “Boccanegra.”
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From left, Plácido Domingo, Lianna Haroutounian and Joseph Calleja in Verdi’s “Simon Boccanegra” at the Metropolitan Opera.CreditSara Krulwich/The New York Times
Still, wouldn’t Mr. Levine want to be judged by the standards he has set for himself throughout his towering career? Nothing went seriously wrong here. He conveyed the dramatic thrust and majestic depths of the piece. But during whole stretches there was a tentative quality, in which the players seemed to be holding back slightly as if waiting for a cue or tearing into a vigorous episode to push the music forward. During crowd scenes, the coordination between the pit and the choristers onstage was mostly solid, but still cautious.
Regarding Mr. Domingo, it’s almost unheard of for an opera singer to be performing in his mid-70s, let alone a tenor who has prolonged his career by taking on baritone roles. But Mr. Domingo seems to have no intention of retiring, and companies including the Met have him booked well into the future.
Last spring, after Mr. Domingo’s sorry performance as Don Carlo in Verdi’s “Ernani,” a baritone role, Isuggestedhe should retire from the opera stage lest he tarnish the memory of a colossal career. But Simon, a corsair in the service of the Republic of Genoa in the 14th century, a complex man who makes a hash of his youth yet is later embraced as a leader, is a role Mr. Domingo knows thoroughly.
He firstsang itat the Met in 2010, a great if qualified success. By taking on a touchstone Verdi baritone part, Mr. Domingo was asking fans to indulge him in fulfilling a lifelong fantasy, one for which his voice was not really suited. He sang formidably and acted compellingly. Still, he sounded like a tenor, not a baritone with the particular colorings and weight that Verdi imagined.
On Friday, he still sounded like a tenor, if now a leathery-voiced, weather-beaten one. His singing was strongest in the upper reaches of the role, when flashes of the old Domingo sound came through. His low range was quite weak, often barked. The contrasts with the other singers in the cast were glaring.
At 66, the great Italian bassFerruccio Furlanettomay have lost a little vocal luster. Still, as Fiesco, a Genoese nobleman and Simon’s unwitting adversary over 25 years, Mr. Furlanetto brought consummate style and darkly rich colorings to his performance. Here, voice type and expressivity were one.
The sopranoLianna Haroutounian, as Amelia, boasted a big, plush, youthful voice. Her full-bodied singing may have lacked subtlety and grace. Still, throbbing intensity filled every phrase. During the crucial scene when she and Simon discover they are daughter and father, however, Verdi imagined a contrast between soprano and baritone voices. No such luck here.
The tenorJoseph Calleja, who sang Gabriele Adorno, the nobleman who falls for Amelia, is one of the most abundantly gifted tenors of the current generation. His voice has melting warmth and carrying power. He has been prone to technical hitches over the years, and had some nasal-toned phrases and occasional tightness on Friday. The baritone Brian Mulligan, as the villainous Paolo, and the bass Richard Bernstein, as the populist leader Pietro, were both very strong.
So what now for Mr. Domingo? It’s easy to see why he forges on: The audience gave him an enormous ovation. He will return to the Met next season to sing another classic Verdi baritone role: the title character in “Nabucco.” Mr. Levine is to conduct.
Met Opera: Domingo, Levine, and Verdi Together Again in “Simon Boccanegra”
If one were able to choose a dream team for an exciting night at the opera, the trio of Placido Domingo, James Levine, and Giuseppe Verdi would be at the top of the list, and the Metropolitan Opera has brought all three together for a stirring and poignant revival ofSimon Boccanegra.
With a solid cast that includes the Armenian soprano Lianna Haroutounian as Maria (aka Amelia), the tenor Joseph Calleja as her lover Gabriele, and the basso Ferrucio Furlanetto as Fiesco, it is an exciting and moving drama of love, betrayal, and revenge with some real-life 14th-century politics thrown in.
But it is Domingo and Levine, two of the main driving forces who over the past four decades and more have restored the Metropolitan Opera to its place of preeminence in the opera world, on whom the spotlight shines in thisSimon Boccanegra.
It is Levine who in his 45 years as conductor and music director has molded the Met Orchestra into one of the finest orchestras in the world. And Domingo, the foremost dramatic tenor of our time, has been a stellar mainstay on the Met stage for nearly 50 years, singing over 650 performances and conducting 150 more.
The opera that brings them together on this outing was also one of Verdi’s own favorites. A flop at its premiere at La Fenice in 1857 - for which politics may have biased its Venetian audience - Verdi recruited Arrigo Boito to rewrite the libretto and provided some new music for a production at La Scala 24 years later that was a big success.
If it has never enjoyed the popularity as some other Verdi operas, part of the reason may be that it departs from more familiar forms. There are fewer big, show-stopping arias and Verdi relies more heavily on orchestrations to explore the emotional swings of the main characters.
Each principal has an aria, but it is the magnificent duets and ensembles where the music most marvelously expresses the characters’ inner feelings, from raging anger to poignant familial love. The big ensemble at the end of Act I, for example, with full chorus and quartet, is one of the most rousing hymns to peace ever written.
The opera is set in the 14th century, when the Italian city-states were wracked by the wars between the Guelphs and Ghibellines. And at the time of its first premiere, Italy was embroiled in its violent struggle for unification and the themes of peace, patriotism, and forgiving one’s enemies run through the score.
Another drawback for the opera’s popularity may be the complexity of its plot. Opera has many story lines that test the limits of credulity, butSimon Boccanegrais of soap-opera intricacy. It is taken from a play by Antonio Garcia Gutierrez, and as we now would say, is “based on a true story.” At least the character of the title really existed and was a Doge of Genoa.
It opens with a Prologue that sets up the back story. Simon is a former pirate who fell in love with Maria Fiesco, daughter of a Genoa nobleman. In fact, she bore Simon a daughter, also named Maria, and has since been locked up by her father. In short order Maria the mother dies, Maria the daughter flees from the convent to which Simon entrusted her, and Simon is elected Doge.
The story then fast-forwards 25 years. Simon is still Doge, and the Fiescos have gone into exile on the Ligurian coast and taken the name Grimaldi. The father Jacobo has been raising a young orphan girl named Amelia, and she has fallen in love with another patrician named Gabriele. But one of Simon’s court cronies, Paolo, also wants to marry her, mainly for her money.
It does not take an opera buff to know that Amelia and Maria are one and the same, and when Simon discovers that his daughter is alive and well he will do anything to please her. The plot then thickens. She is kidnapped (by Paolo) but escapes, there is an uprising against Simon (led by Gabriele) that is put down, Paolo poisons Simon, and there is a general reconciliation before he dies at the curtain.
The Met production, by Giancarlo del Monaco, is over 20 years old but still one of the most handsome in the repertory. It is like a virtual reality trip to 14th-century Genoa, starting in a dark torch-lit piazza with stairs leading to alleyways in different directions, then moving to a villa overlooking the Ligurian Sea, and on to a majestic council chamber with ceiling and wall frescoes in the Doge’s palace.
When this staging first opened at the Met, Domingo sang the tenor role of Gabriele. For a revival six years ago, he sang the baritone title role for the first time there. As a baritone, he still has the rich vocal resonance and emotion that made him one of the world’s greatest tenors. It is manifest in even the smallest detail as when he conveys all the bliss of paternal love in singing the one word “figlia” upon learning Amelia is his long-lost daughter.
Haroutounian is making only her second appearance at the Met - she debuted last season inDon Carlo- and she is a thrilling addition to the roster. She has a lilting and silvery voice, full of joy, that climbs effortlessly to the upper registers. Calleja, who made his mark as Rigoletto a decade ago, sings Gabriele with ardor and passion, and Furlanetto brings all the anguish of a bereaved father to the role of Fiesco. And Brian Mulligan adds a credible villain as Paolo.
‘Roberto Devereux’ at the Met, and a Soprano’s Triple Crown
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The Soprano Sondra Radvanovsky in Donizetti’s “Roberto Devereux.”CreditJames Estrin/The New York Times
The applause and bravos for the soprano Sondra Radvanovsky were so frenzied at the end of Donizetti’s “Roberto Devereux” at the Metropolitan Opera on Thursday night that she looked overwhelmed, almost a little frightened.The audience members knew, it seemed, that they had just witnessed an emotionally vulnerable and vocally daring performance, a milestone in the career of an essential artist.
Portraying Elisabetta (Elizabeth I), Ms. Radvanovsky completes a marathon at the Met,having sung all threeof Donizetti’s daunting Tudor queens in a single season. Her run began in September with a poignant, fervent account of Anne Boleyn in“Anna Bolena,”and continued in January with wrenching singing as Mary Stuart in“Maria Stuarda.”
Elisabetta may be the best match for her distinctive gifts. The opera presents the queen late in life, still regal and intimidating, yet frail, wobbly on her feet and consumed with insecurity: She believes that the younger Earl of Essex, Roberto Devereux, once her fawned-upon favorite, has been disloyal. True to form, Ms. Radvanovsky sings with searing power, flinty attack and incisive coloratura passagework. There has always been a slightly hard-edged quality to her sound that takes some getting used to. But that grainy tint suits her take on this aging queen. During moments of doubt, when Elisabetta expresses her isolation, Ms. Radvanovsky shows that she can bend phrases with aching tenderness.
For the Met’s first production of “Roberto Devereux,” the company has assembled an ideal cast and an insightful conductor, Maurizio Benini. The superb tenorMatthew Polenzaniexcels in the title role, his lyrical elegance matched by youthful ardor. Roberto is in trouble when the opera opens, having led a losing military campaign in Ireland. He has returned to England, where he faces charges of dereliction of duty.
Roberto was once a young hothead, toying with the smitten Elisabetta’s affection. But here he is a broken man, hopelessly in love with Sara, the Duchess of Nottingham (and the wife of his good friend the Duke). Mr. Polenzani conveys the character’s remnants of feisty rebellion and frustrated yearning in a compelling performance.
The baritoneMariusz Kwiecien, singing with virile sound and soaring lyricism, captures the confusions of the Duke, shattered by personal betrayal. And it is true luxury casting to have the great mezzo-sopranoElina Garancabring her sumptuous voice and charisma to the role of the retiring, love-struck Sara.
The staging is thelatest at the Met fromthe director David McVicar, who also led “Anna Bolena” and “Maria Stuarda.” Mr. McVicar keeps the attention on the performances by opting for a traditional look and setting. The costumes by Moritz Junge, especially the queen’s elaborate gowns, would look at home in a Hollywood historical drama.
Mr. McVicar presents the opera as a play within a play. The production uses, essentially, a single set designed by Mr. McVicar, a first for him at the Met. It shows a spacious room in a Tudor-era palace, with dark-wood walls trimmed in gold and a profusion of chandeliers. Walls slide and reconfigure to suggest other scenes, including the Tower of London, where Roberto winds up.
Looking at that stately set all night gets a little tiresome. But with his concept, Mr. McVicar conveys the intrigues at court. Courtiers and ladies (the members of the Met chorus, excellent as always) watch what’s going on, even during intimate scenes between Elisabetta and Sara, or Roberto and Nottingham. The choristers stand at the sides of the stage, sneaking peeks, or peer down from a balcony, quick to spread gossip about the intimate life of their unmarried queen. And it’s true that a palace in Elizabeth’s day was a hard place to maintain secrets, or even to find some privacy.
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Matthew Polenzani as the title character and Elina Garanca as Sara in “Roberto Devereux.”CreditJames Estrin/The New York Times
Mr. McVicar also plumbs psychological undercurrents, particularly those of Roberto and Nottingham. During a crucial scene in Act I, the Duke unburdens himself to his friend, whose life is under threat from the charges he faces. He also expresses suspicions that his wife may be betraying him (not realizing that it’s Roberto who loves her). Mr. Polenzani’s and Mr. Kwiecien’s characters treat each other with a physical affection that hints of homoerotic longing.
Mr. McVicar seems on to something: Nottingham’s marriage to Sara was arranged by the queen; Sara has never loved the duke. Yet Nottingham’s security as a man, and hence his value in his beloved friend’s eyes, depends on showing that his wife is true. Roberto’s affection toward Nottingham, though genuine, is burdened by his guilt. This opera reunites Mr. Polenzani and Mr. Kwiecien, who earlier this season appeared as devoted friends in a remarkable production of Bizet’s“The Pearl Fishers,”another story in which a male bond is riven by a woman.
During the Tower of London scene, Mr. Polenzani has a chance to remind us that Roberto is the opera’s title character. On Thursday, he sang the anguished aria of despair, in which Roberto yearns for a pardon, primarily so he can prove Sara innocent of adultery, with rich colors and noble elegance. By the end of this long scene, his voice seemed to tire. Still, he finished with fearlessness and integrity.
That Ms. Garanca’s voice is so plush and velvety made her Sara a poignant counterpart to Ms. Radvanovsky’s steely Elisabetta. And the glamour she conveys so naturally suggests that this meek woman has inner will that she has yet to tap.
Met audiences can rightly complain about a company that lavishes such attention on five Donizetti operas in a single season, during which the newest work on the boards is Berg’s “Lulu,” first performed in 1937. Still, completing the Tudor trilogy is an achievement for the house, and a triumph for Ms. Radvanovsky.
FromRoberto Devereux,at the Met.Photo: Ken_Howard/Metropolitan Opera
A skeletal statue with a nasty-looking scythe presides over an opera that begins with a capital crime and ends with an execution. From the opening ax-chop chords and doleful answer in the overture, we know howRoberto Devereuxwill end, and all the principal characters get plenty of opportunities for morbid moping along the way. Yet death is a lively, lovely presence in the Metropolitan Opera’s first-ever production of the final installment in Donizetti’s Elizabethan trilogy. An energized cast, supercharged by Maurizio Benini’s high-voltage conducting, makes mortality seem like an adventure, and pain a worthwhile trade off for so much pleasurable music.
Opera can transfigure bleak, crushing misery into a suite of sensual experiences — like the title character’s final scene in the Tower of London, in which the imprisoned Earl of Essex slips from delusional hope to resignation. With his honey-coated, spring-loaded tenor, his pliant phrasing and confident pianissimos, Matthew Polenzani turns a doomed man’s musings into an ecstatic journey. His last utterance is acabalettamore light-filled than tear-stained, and if, on opening night, Polenzani’s voice flagged before the final exit, it felt like a reasonable exchange for all that elegant intensity.
Opera audiences crave glamour, and director David McVicar doesn’t stint. Choristers in Elizabethan dress crowd the galleries of his onstage theater, chandeliers rise and fall, and the ornamented rear wall slides back and forth, carrying its freight of menacing statues and majestic doors. McVicar is one of the relatively few opera directors who understands how music works — how much time a cadence needs to ring, how a calculated stillness can help a singer activate her voice, and how a final stomp or sweep of the arm can make it seem as if she’d been frantically pacing all along. The way this production looks makes it sound better.
The cast is a gathering of veterans. Mariusz Kwiecien and Polenzani have both been Met regulars since the 1990s, and have made the slow slog to stardom. Elīna Garanča, a more recent — and splendid — addition to the roster, sings the somewhat inert role of Sarah, Dutchess of Nottingham, so ravishingly that she makes self-pity seem like an almost attractive quality. Sondra Radvanovsky has given nearly 200 performances at the Met in 20 years, but if there were any doubts that singing Donizetti’s three queens — Anne Boleyn, Mary Stuart, and Elizabeth I — would make her the company’s unchallenged sovereign, they were dispelled by the hollering (not hers) that turned her curtain call into a cathartic release.
Elizabeth is a dour monarch, stiff and limping and desolately in love with the doomed Devereux. But Radvanovsky pours all that corseted rage into singing that floats and stings. She achieves with her voice all the wild freedom that her character is denied, and makes something splendid even of her ruthlessness and regret. Her soprano is all velvet and steel, and as she pushes up into the role’s high-altitude acrobatics, she acquires ever more infallible poise. It’s a great moment in opera when she enters encased in a marble-white outfit sculpted by costume designer Moritz Junge, a pair of gauzy butterfly wings framing her auburn curls and chalky face, to deliver her aria of martial love “Ah! ritorna qual ti spero.” Later, when she is shorn of wig, collar, and gown, and reduced to the aspect of a frail old lady, she wields Donizetti’s music like a whip, urging the opera to its electrifying end. Death, be proud.
Roberto Devereuxis at the Metropolitan Opera through April 19.
