Returning to the podium of the New York Philharmonic last week for the first time in 11 years, Gustavo Dudamel brought a jolt of bristling vitality to an overplayed staple: Dvorak’s “New World” Symphony.
On Thursday, for the second program in this two-week engagement, Mr. Dudamel began with Schubert’s Symphony No. 4, often taken for granted. Trying to jolt this charming, if modest, 30-minute score would be counterproductive. Instead, Mr. Dudamel showed taste and sensitivity in a lovely performance that stood out, even on a program dominated by Mahler’s great symphonic song cycle “Das Lied von der Erde.”
Schubert gave his Fourth Symphony the tagline “Tragic.” But other than in the grave introduction to the first movement, the piece doesn’t seem particular dark. I’ve always felt that the title could be Schubert’s dig at his own circumstances when he wrote the work. He was 19 and struggling to get his career off the ground, and assuming his music would be ignored. (Which it more or less was.)
Those hopeless feelings seeped into the Philharmonic’s weighty, restrained and elegant performance on Thursday. The somber slow introduction began with a forceful chord, played with gnarly sound and rattling timpani, and maintained that grim cast. In the main Allegro section, the tempo was insistent but held in check, giving the music a nervous, almost panicked feel. Mr. Dudamel and the players brought glowing warmth and grace to the wistful slow movement. The scherzo had the heartiness of a rustic dance.
The finale, the work’s weakest movement, needs a little juicing up. So here Mr. Dudamel went into his dynamo mode, leading a fleet, crackling account that put all tragic thoughts out of mind.
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The tenor Andrew Staples was a last-minute substitute in Mahler’s “Das Lied von der Erde.”Credit...Michelle V. Agins/The New York Times
The tenor soloist in “Das Lied” was to have been Simon O’Neill, but he called in sick on Thursday morning. Luckily Andrew Staples, who had sung Andres in the Metropolitan Opera’s final performance of Berg’s “Wozzeck” on Wednesday, was still in town and came to the rescue.
Had I not known all this, I would never have suspected that Mr. Staples was performing this demanding music on less than a day’s notice: He sounded youthful and confident from the start, in the vocally punishing “Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde.” The first of six settings of Chinese poems that make up the 60-minute “Das Lied,” “Das Trinklied” is an eerily exuberant toast to the desolation of life. The soaring phrases keep taking a tenor into his high range as the orchestra blares away, and Mr. Staples mostly kept those high phrases light and clear, while bringing affecting warmth to the reflective passages that interrupt the boisterousness. The mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung, a veteran Mahler singer, gave a subdued and dusky-toned account of the pensive second song, “Der Einsame im Herbst.”
I mean it as praise that Mr. Dudamel conveyed no overarching interpretive concept in this formidable work. Instead, he showed a keen ear for colorings, details, intricate textures and brassy blasts of delirium, while giving attentive support to the singers. Whole stretches of “Das Lied” are restrained and delicate, and those qualities came through in this fresh performance. Ms. De Young was at her soaring best when it mattered most, in the sublime, wistful, 30-minute final song, “Der Abschied.”
Aleksandra Kurzak stars as Violetta in the Metropolitan Opera production of Verdi’sLa Traviata.Photo: Marty Sohl
If one can say this about a veteran performer, a star was born Friday night at the Met, as soprano Aleksandra Kurzak ruled the stage for three hours as Violetta in Verdi’sLa Traviata.
No stranger to the house, Kurzak has appeared in half a dozen lyric roles over the past decade and a half, winning admiration for her exceptionally full, creamy tone, vocal agility, and sensitive expression.
But to carry the show in what is essentially a three-person drama revolving around her character, experiencing the highest of giddy highs and the darkest of despairing lows, is one of the great challenges in the opera repertoire.
Kurzak met it with sparkling coloratura in Act I and deeply affecting phrasing as her character’s fortunes and health declined. High range or low, in aching pianissimo or passionate forte, her voice filled the Met’s vast space without a hint of strain.
To be fair, her performance was more a musical triumph than a dramatic one. In the brilliance of Act I’s “Sempre libera,” one saw more the proud, vital vocal athlete than the heedless party-girl character, and in purely stage terms it was hard to buy the robustly healthy-looking, mature singer as a consumptive youngster. (Verdi, realist that he was, had similar reservations about the soprano who created the role in Venice in 1853.)
But if there have been more dramatically convincing Violettas, few have matched Kurzak for vocal opulence and expressive delivery. One could, literally, listen to her sing for hours.
Tenor Dmytro Popov was a sturdy Alfredo in a performance that emphasized rectitude over impulsivity. The devil-may-care fellow who won a reluctant Violetta’s heart with his mad passion was a little hard to find in Popov’s clear, polished delivery. One believed he was crazy about Violetta because he said he was.
A welcome return from the Michael Mayer production’s first staging last season was baritone Quinn Kelsey as Alfredo’s father Giorgio Germont. In one of Verdi’s most original characterizations, Germont comes on at first as the stern voice of social morals and respectability, but ends up admiring and even loving the courtesan he came to scold. In a vocally non-showy role, Kelsey more than held his own with impressive acting skills, a slightly gruff forward-placed voice, and impeccable diction.
The opera’s half-dozen other roles function mostly as foils to Violetta, but that didn’t prevent performers such as Maria Zifchak as the faithful maid Annina, Trevor Scheunemann as the haughty lover Baron Douphol, Megan Marino as best friend Flora, and Paul Corona as the sympathetic Doctor Grenvil from convincingly inhabiting their characters.
The sad, ethereal strings sounded a trifle scratchy in the opera’s opening bars, but conductor Karel Mark Chichon soon had the orchestra breathing with the singers and subtly weaving the drama’s moods from exuberant to tragic. The strings’ shuddering heartbeat under Act III sent chills.
Ironically, considering that Verdi wanted a contemporary drama but the Venetian censor insisted on a setting circa 1700, set designer Christine Jones gave this production a neoclassical look, with pillars, an open dome and stylized trellises that crowd in to make the lovers’ bower in Act II.
Kevin Adams’s mood lighting, with colors sometimes bordering on garish, sculpted the set in response to the character of the music and suggested the various interiors specified in Francesco Maria Piave’s libretto.
While Susan Hilferty’s handsome costumes appeared entirely realistic for 1853, the rest of the production design, and the dumb-show sequences during the preludes to Act I and Act III, seemed to echo Mayer’s Rat PackRigolettofor the Met. The Vegas-like (or Venetian?) fantasy seemed somewhat at odds with the contemporary urban social dilemmas confronting the three main characters.
But the Act II party dance of gypsies and matadors—choreographed by Lorin Latarro and miraculously executed by a dozen ballet performers on a stage already full of cast, chorus, and furniture—was a creature of Piave’s libretto, not a designer’s imagination.
La Traviatacontinues through March 19. Beginning February 26, Lisette Oropesa will appear as Violetta, Piero Pretti as Alfredo, and Luca Salsi as Giorgio Germont, and Bertrand de Billy will conduct.metopera.org; 212-362-2000.
2 Responses to “Kurzak triumphs in Met’s “Traviata””
I found the performance the most boring performance of Traviata I have ever attended at the Met (and I attended some in the last 35 years), with total lack of finesse, no real feeling or understanding of the role from Madame Kurzak (Alagna), supported by a cast which was as boring as she was. Ms Kurzak’s voice has serious pitch problems and some technique issues as her voice sounded very uneven throughout the performance. Zero personality, just focusing on the singing which was bad! This was my first time I left the opera house without being touched by a Traviata performance…. A triumph? A star? What a joke, made me laugh!
Kurzak gave a tremendously beautiful performance. Gorgeously sung with many unique interpretive choices.
Lisette Oropesa published publicly that she was so impressed with Kurzak’s performance.The audience was ecstatic and showed Resounding appreciation in their applause. I can’t wait to listen again to the broadcast. Quinn Kelsey was also wonderful. I however sorely missed Grigolo who would have put the performance over the top. That’s one of the great performances of Traviata.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to marvel about otherwise.
It Isn’t Better The Second Time Around…
In its first revival since last year, Michael Mayer’s production looked 30-years-older. The sets failed to illuminate and looked dark the entire evening, almost as if they were covered in dust. Interestingly enough the intrusiveness of the production when it opened seemed to fade into the distance. The distracting choreography in Act one was nowhere to be seen as the chorus members stood in their spots throughout the entire evening and costumes in Act one that resembled Beauty and Beast looked dim thanks to the lack of creative lighting choices.
There was, of course, the bed which remains a huge issue and that was most noticeable as supers picked up Kurzak in the first act awkwardly trying to avoid it. In Act two, scene two, the ballet dancers attempted to avoid it causing the choreography to look messy and disjointed. And the choreography continued to be a big distraction as it didn’t match the rhythm of the piece; at times the only thing one heard was stomping on the floor in lieu not Verdi’s incredible music. However, one has to give credit to the two lead dancers for their flexibility and their virtuosic movements.
Other distractions that continued to be detrimental to the viewing experience were Germont’s daughter who was on stage for about two minutes before exiting and Germont’s costume. As designed by Susan Hilferty, there is nothing in the elder Germont’s wardrobe that would indicate he is older than Alfredo; this becomes confusing to the storytelling when you have such a young baritone like Quinn Kelsey in the part. On this evening Kelsey looked like both Kurzak and Dmytro Popov’s brother, making it hard to believe the stakes and circumstances on stage. You shouldn’t have to be constantly working on your suspension of disbelief; great stagecraft is designed to immerse you in the story without making you remember that what you are watching is “fake.”
But overall, thefirst impressionof this production remained the same as last year with the second viewing seemingly a bit more tedious.
Credit: Mart Sohl/ Metropolitan Opera
A Radiant Star
While this performance was rather uneventful at major moments, it was never the result of Kurzak, who despite playing the dying Violetta, was full of energy and life; she was the lifeblood of this showcase. The Polish soprano was a triumph.
In the first act the soprano ran in with a bright smile and loads of energy. Her singing was filled with vocal fireworks and precise coloratura as well as a lighter timbre that emphasized the jovial aspects of the scene. Physically she was also quite active twirling around the stage and dancing freely. But even so, Kurzak did make it clear from her entrance that this was an ill Violetta, giving the character a slight cough that she ignored quickly.
In her first scenes with Alfredo her interactions were flirtatious, but once she got to the duet, she was overcome with so much emotion. The joy she felt once he left was emphasized in her rendition of “Ah forse lui.” The aria was sung with a fluid legato line that floated with gorgeous sound. Kurzak held out the phrases with precision and connected them with elegance and ardor. One could see that her Violetta had just fallen head over heels for Alfredo.
Yet as she ended the aria and went into the recitative “Follie, follie,” she sang them with assertion and conviction. That was emphasized in her “Sempre Libera” which was a tour de force. When she started the cabaletta she sang the coloratura with brightness as she twirled around the stage with a champagne glass emphasizing, she was a free woman, the text sung with an assertive quality.
But in the repetition after hearing Alfredo, Kurzak’s voice darkened and the voice obtained a weighty quality. That passion returned and while she still sang with precise coloratura, it was clear Kurzak was fighting Alfredo’s call. This time she gave slight accents to the dynamics and text and the “Sempre libera” seemed a bit forced. She threw her glass forcibly and her twirls didn’t seem as organic. One could feel this was a Violetta with conflicting thoughts. Kurzak beautifully conveyed that as she sang this cabaletta with such virtuosic power and topped it off with a rousing E Flat.
That conflicted nature in her singing was on full display throughout Act two. If Act one was about youthfulness, Act two was about dramatic power and rich tone. Her duet with Germont was filled with a wide range of emotional and vocal shifts as Verdi’s music requires. At the start of the duet as Quinn Kelsey sang “Pura siccome un angelo,” Kurzak listened with intent and gave her response “Ah, comprendo dovrò per alcun tempo” with a measured tone. But as the music quickly transitioned to more intensity, her tone grew and her following phrases “Ah, no giammai!” were given a defiant quality. This Violetta seemed to be fighting Germont’s request and unlike most interpretations, Kurzak’s “Non sapete quale affetto” was filled with tension and strength. But in the next musical shift, Kurzak brought out the fear in Violetta, singing with a softer tone; the lines flowed with more passion. Then in “Dite alla giovine – sì bella e pura,” Kurzak lightened her voice and sang with tenderness and heartbreak. One could hear how the lines were reminiscent of a cry for help.
That cry escalated in the “Amami Alfredo.” As Verdi’s music continuously crescendoed in this moment, Kurzak got on her knees and let out her full lyric power, singing the lines with heart-wrenching and raw emotion. If her voice thinned at the top, she made up for it with a creamy middle voice that resonated throughout the auditorium.
It’s hard to talk about the second scene in the act as it is an ensemble scene and no matter how much Violetta does to ignite it, it falls on the tension between Alfredo and Violetta and the surrounding chorus and comprimario roles. Kurzak attempted to show her fear and pain in the Card scene but that tension between them didn’t really read due to the lack of chemistry with Dmytro Popov and the chorus standing upstage, reacting to nothing.
However, her “Pietà di me, gran Dio!” was truly affecting and one did feel that conflict in Violetta as she saw her lover. That lack of chemistry was even more apparent in her subsequent scene with Alfredo.
As Violetta attempted to run from Popov’s Alfredo as he scolded her, one never really seemed to understand it. The one thing that did ring true in this entire scene was Kurzak’s “Ebben l’amo” as she emoted the words with vigor, trying to hurt this Alfredo. And in the concertante Kurzak’s voice rang through the massive ensemble, filling the auditorium. While Kurzak was truly compelling throughout the scene the one thing that did ring false was her Violetta running and throwing herself at Alfredo during the concertante. After seeing such fierce emotions and defiance throughout the evening, this approach just weakened the character and everything that Kurzak had created through the first two scenes. It was yet another of the “original” decisions by the directing team that didn’t work within the context of this story.
In Act three Kurzak continued to transform her voice, obtaining a grittier timbre. It was all about the crudeness of the moment as in this act Verdi gives the soprano many moments to emote which Kurzak relished. One instance came as she read her letter. She began reading with a soft tone that slightly crescendoed and obtained a nervousness that eventually ended in her shouting “È tardi!” with pain and terror. That was followed by a heartbreaking “Addio del passato.” The lines swelled with immaculate breath-control and one sensed that Kurzak was holding each phrase as long as she could. The voice continuously grew and the “Ah, della traviata sorridi al desio” soared with intensity. As the aria ended, the repeated “Tutto” were given slight pauses and staccato phrasing; when she sang the final “finì!,” she held out the note as long as she could, even though it slowly started losing brightness and accuracy of pitch. It was effective nonetheless, a visceral expression of Violetta losing her breath.
It must be noted that during this scene Kurzak’s Violetta seemed to be aware her impending death and consequently unlike most sopranos whose voices glow and brighten in “Parigi o caro” and “ora son forte,” Kurzak chose to maintain that grittiness and darkness in her sound. That was all the more emphasized in the lines “A niuno in terra salvarmi è dato,” which she emoted with potency before going on to sing “Gran Dio! morir sì giovane” with contrasting dynamics; the opening two lines were given an accented forte that was then brought down to a piano. That fear of death became most poignant during these phrases.
Kurzak’s turn was truly compelling and with such commitment one would have wanted the rest of the cast’s performances to be at the same level.
Credit: Marty Sohl/ Metropolitan Opera
Beauty Without Drama
In the role of Alfredo, Dmytro Popov had a mixed evening. The Ukrainian tenor has an elegant dark-hued voice that projects well into the Met auditorium. However, he tended to be stiff on stage, lacking chemistry and passion with his stage partners. In Act one, the duet “Un di Felice” was sung with precision and technical security but it lacked the passion and ardor of an Alfredo just having fallen in love. However, in the cadenza Popov’s voice did ignite with intensity. His demeanor also didn’t help the cause as he seemed reserved and looked like he was following blocking rather than engaging in organic movements. Perhaps he was portraying a timid man. However, that didn’t quite come through.
In Act two, Popov also seemed to be disengaged, often times singing out of tune and once again going through the motions. He did create some captivating phrases in the recitative “Lunge da lei” and phrased splendidly in “Dei Miei Bollenti,” particularly in the cadenza as he sang with an exquisite mezzopiano, the lines melting in his voice with ease. However, in the cabaletta “O Mio Rimorso,” Popov was overpowered by the orchestra with his sound getting muffled and uneven. The only bright spot was his potent and ringing High C.
In Act two, scene two, Alfredo is supposed to lose it and let loose emotionally. However “mi chiamaste? che bramate?,” was sung with finesse. It seemed overly safe, especially given the emotional context of the character. The high notes were bright and accurate, but did not immerse the listener viscerally. That was also evident in his static acting. After he threw money at Violetta, he looked to the audience calmly and as he turned to the chorus and a few chorus members grabbed him, he didn’t appear moved or attempt to let go. It was quite strange and it jarringly took one out of the scene.
Act three didn’t see much change, but it unfortunately did get more awkward. Just like last season as Violetta sings one dramatic line after the next, Popov stood by an ottoman with his head covered. It made for unrealistic staging and only emphasized a weak character with no growth, evolution or care for Violetta as she is dying.
The Supporting Cast
In the role of Germont, Quinn Kelsey reprised his turn from last season. When he premiered the production, Kelsey filled the Met auditorium with his plush baritone. There was also rigidity in his interpretation. Nothing seemed to change on this evening. His voice is large and has an impressive roundness, but throughout the evening his interpretation lacked gravitas. While his aria “Di Provenza” was sung with a gorgeous tone, the line never seemed to gain nuance or even suggest deeper emotional exploration and characterization.
His duet with Kurzak also lacked any type of suspense or drama. While Kurzak attempted to plea with Kelsey, he seemed quite stoic and didn’t react to her raw emotions even when she had intense outcries. The character came off as unsympathetic, something Germont isn’t. Instead the movements seemed to be mechanical. That was most evident in his “Piangi, piangi.” Kelsey sang with a booming sound that undercut the lament that “Dite alla giovane” could be.
Credit: Marty Sohl/ Metropolitan Opera
More thrilling was Megan Marino’s Flora. She was full of energy and one hoped she had more to do in the opera. Her Flora was defined with seductive power at the beginning of Act two, scene two, but was also at the same time an intermediary who tried to calm the impending conflict. Even in moments where she did not sing, she was engaged in the drama and created a personality for a character that is often lost in the masses.
Christopher Job, Brian Michael Moore, and Maria Zifchak also gave energetic performances that helped lift Kurzak’s stunning interpretation.
In the pit Karel Mark Chichon led a sturdy performance with Verdi’s score, but sometimes receded into the background far too much. It seemed more a proper reading than an incisive one. Chichon did have some great tempi, especially during the card game in Act two, scene two which moved the drama forward and also allowed for dramatic pull. The solos by concertmaster Benjamin Bowman were also exquisitely phrased giving a nice subtlety to the melancholic lines in Act three. The Act three prelude was also delicately textured and it conveyed the tragedy that was about to unfold. Chichon also held out the final notes of the score with such power that it was hard not to feel something as he emphasized the percussion.
There were two things however that disappointed in Chcihon’s reading. The first was the cut of Germont’s cabaletta which made for one of the most awkward transitions of the evening. Throughout the years that cut has been opened, allowing audiences to hear Verdi’s true intentions and on this evening, the composer’s score was let down by a routine cut that should be eliminated from modern standards. On this evening, the orchestra suddenly lost volume before crescendoing back to the dramatic conclusion of the scene.
And then there was the lack of a second verse in “Addio del Passato.” This is of course a soprano call and with Kurzak giving so much raw emotion in the aria, one wished to hear what else she could do with the second verse.
All in all this was Kurzak’s night and she sparkled in it. One hopes that the rest of the cast starts to shine brighter in order to bring to life Mayer’s sloppy production.
It is not really the first time we visited a place that has a rather haunting history.St. Petersburgis 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.
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 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.
Ms Kurzak’s voice has serious pitch problems and some technique issues as her voice sounded very uneven throughout the performance. Zero personality, just focusing on the singing which was bad!
This was my first time I left the opera house without being touched by a Traviata performance…. A triumph? A star? What a joke, made me laugh!