Johan Botha and Eva-Marie Westbroek in the Metropolitan Opera production of Wagner’s “Tannhäuser.” Photo: Marty Sohl
The Metropolitan Opera’s revival ofTannhäuseris a significant success, but a perverse one. A great opera put on stage with a combination of indifference and superficiality would normally be a failure. But when sung and played as beautifully, richly, and musically as is this, the magnificence ofTannhäusercomes through.
Otto Schenk’s production debuted in 1977, and hasn’t been presented at the Met for a decade. It’s pluperfectly mediocre: robes, gowns, swords, gothic landscapes and interiors, all tasteful, all bland. The production illustrates the story without offering any illumination or ideas.
Inside Venus’ dank grotto, the forest, the meeting hall of the Wartburg castle, the direction from Stephen Pickover is active, natural, and fluid. As dated as the production feels, there are no concessions to park and bark blocking. The simple movements and interactions of the singers are enough to humanize the characters, crossing the line between staged concert and opera.
It is strange to contemplate how inconsequential that all turns out to be. The singing and orchestral playing simply overpower every inadequacy of the production. Everyone in the cast is no less than excellent, and there were moments and performances that could not be better.
Singing the title minstrel knight is tenor Johan Botha. His voice is piping and substantial, and he has the stamina, and the ease in his upper register, for the role. He may not have the dark weight ascribed to the quasi-legendary heldentenor voice, but there’s nothing to quibble about.
Botha sang the character’s long lines with exceptional breath control and phrasing. He’s not a great actor, but he has charisma on stage, and the voice did the rest. His musical degrees of emotion all through the refrains of “Dir töne Lob!” was wonderful, especially as he maintained a constant legato, making the expressive modulations a matter of subtle shadings along a spectrum. He used his voice all night to differentiate between the character’s conflicting desires.
Mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung is Venus, and she seemed to relish the role, singing with lustrous, and lusty, power. She and Botha were intense and involving together in the Venusberg scene, and her ability in her role matched his. One hears the start of “Geliebter, sag” with an uneasy curiosity—can the singers get through this exhausting stretch without mishap? Botha and DeYoung set one at ease immediately.
The most powerful voice onstage was that of soprano Eva-Maria Westbroek, who sang Elisabeth. Her G in the opening phrase of “Dich, teure Halle” filled the house. Her voice has the richness usually heard with mezzos, with a soprano’s shine, and throughout the night, her instrument had more presence than any other, including those in the pit.
Westbroek’s vocal strength made for an equally strong character, a fully realized woman, rather than a girl. When she steps in front of Tannhäuser’s fellow minstrel knights, their swords drawn and ready to cut him down for his sins of sex and paganism, her authority and command are substantial and stunningly dramatic.
Just about stealing the show is baritone Peter Mattei as Wolfram. Mattei continues to turn in one remarkable performance after another at the Met, and the music for Wolfram not only sits well for his voice, but seems to speak to him as a musician. Mattei’s voice is both pure and beautiful and his phrasing was simple and unadorned in a way that sounded perfect. His “Blick ich umher” was lovely and charming, and the epitome of his art was exemplified in Act III: the first line of “Wohl wußt’ich” descends to a cadence on B-flat, and Mattei’s attention to motion, to gradually adding musical weight that would finally settle on that note, was full of expression and meaning.
James Levine led the singers and orchestra in a warm yet driven performance. Levine’s pace was excellent and well-modulated throughout, pushing forward when the emotions were agitated and high, laying back with what felt like exquisite timing and attention to the large-scale form Act III. The orchestral playing throughout Act III was exceptionally lyrical and vocalized. The Act I Overture was full, with just a touch of weight held back, and Levine delivered that portion right at the end, where Wagner’s marvelous combination of hymn and fanfare was plangent and moving.
Levine gave every singer the opportunity to shine, and all were brilliant in turn. Soprano Ying Fang was bright in the small part of the shepherd, and bass Günther Groissböck sang the role of Hermann with a vibrant vocal presence, full bass color and perfect intonation without heaviness. The chorus made a blended sounded throughout that matched the warmth of the orchestra, and Levine balanced dynamics and ensembles expertly—everything came through.
The Met is using the Paris version of the opera, which has essentially become the standard, which means the Venusberg music and the orgy of fairies and nymphs just after the opening curtain. This is displayed by a complement of dancers moving in the semi-shadows of the grotto—the choreography is by Norbert Vesak—and climaxes in some cheerleader-esque acrobatic coitus.
If the rest of the performance showed that kind of imagination, this would be aTannhäuserfor the ages. As it is, with this cast it’s sung like one.
Tannhäusercontinues through October 31metopera.org
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 was the first time Anna Netrebko and Plácido Domingo would grace the Metropolitan Opera together in a production. But we all know how that turned out.
For weeks, Met audiences had no clue what to expect. The company said nothing as it awaited an investigation from the LA Opera. And then, less than a week before the sold-out opening, a report came out stating that Domingo was destined for the Met and the orchestra and chorus members were angry. Domingo then proceeded to sing the dress rehearsal for “Macbeth” before general manager Peter Gelb finally made his first (and to this point only) cameo appearance in this lengthy drama to defend the famed singer. But then, a day before “Macbeth” was set to open, Domingo withdrew, effectively ending his career with the company.
It was the inevitable outcome ever since the AP made its announcement back in August, but the emotional roller coaster of the past few days, especially for those involved in this production, didn’t stop on Tuesday with Domingo’s departure; the final stop came in Wednesday’s opening night, which for better or worse could be considered a public dress rehearsal. Baritone Željko Lučić, despite being scheduled for later performances, did not really get much time to rehearse the revival with the cast for the opening.
And the effects of that were visible on this night, which was very challenging to review given the circumstances. As follows, we will relate what was experienced on opening night with the rare but essential caveat that things are likely to be better in future shows.
Underpowered Couple
Verdi’s Macbeth hinges on the relationship between the two central characters. Unlike Shakespeare who gave Macbeth and Lady Macbeth a few scenes together, Verdi developed the couple’s relationship through various recitatives, duets, and concertatos. The tension builds within each scene with Lady Macbeth’s dominance exploding at the end of the opera in their final duet. Without a power couple to explore the dynamics of this relationship, the work could feel static and uneventful. This was definitely the case on opening night of this run.
In their opening scene together, Netrebko attempted to sexually seduce her Macbeth by lying on the bed and grabbing his arms. But Lučić did not respond and it was clear that his focus was on the maestro. During the following duet, after which Macbeth commits the murder, Netrebko hovered over Lučić, kicking him and placing her legs over his body. But he would not respond in anyway to her.
Most telling was the scene at the opening of Act two where Netrebko toyed with a gun in her hands as she attempted to seduce him once again. Lučić didn’t look at her in any instance and instead looked like a weakened tyrant that was near the end of his reign. The same lack of chemistry continued through the banquet scene at the end of Act two where the Serbian baritone did not react to Netrebko’s fury as she forced him to dance. Lučić remained stiff, barely moving and more compelled to lay on the ground. The awkward interactions came to a head in the Act three duet “Ora di Morte e di Vendetta.” Netrebko burst into the scene with urgency, pushing away her guard with such vehement frustration that the audience exploded with laughter. That explosion of energy, however, was immediately snuffed out with the two barely interacting in what followed. Throughout the duet, Netrebko moved around him like a predator trying to galvanize its prey, but Lučić looked distressed weakened and lacked that same drive for “Vendetta” as the text states. During the final High C, Netrebko opened his shirt and pushed him to the floor attempting to finally consummate her building lust; but again there was no response.
Netrebko and Lučić first performed the title roles together during the 2014 revival and later reprised them in 2018 at the Royal Opera. So they do have a history of performing this role together and their interpretations in 2014 on this very stage were quite incredible (just watch the DVD). Despite the situation they were thrown into, it was surprising to see them this disconnected. But this is likely to shift in the right direction over the course of the run.
A Maddeningly Inconsistent Diva
But it wasn’t just their interactions with one another that were off. Individual performances were sloppy, at best.
Back in 2014, Anna Netrebko had one of the greatest successes of her career in this role. She gave a provocative performance of Lady Macbeth that she would later repeat on various occasions around the world to great acclaim. But on this evening when she was repeating the role for the first time since then, Netrebko seemed to be having an off-night.
When Netrebko entered the stage she came in with imposing fashion, ripping a letter away from her lady-in-waiting and initiating her recitative with clear diction that emphasized and accented consonants. It was fiery and dramatic reading of the latter that suggested a demonic and vengeful quality.
But then she started to sing and this imposing and daring Lady Macbeth fell short during her opening aria and cabaletta “Vieni t’afretta” and “Or tutti sorgete.” Netrebko’s intonation was consistently spotty, her high notes pushed, and her coloratura (which has never been a strong point) exceedingly sloppy. Her ascensions into the top of her register never seemed to connect with her middle range and the vocal line never flowed with the muscular quality the music asks for. More telling was sometimes she seemed underpowered in her lower range. She also looked visibly lost on stage and sometimes fell out of character as she attempted to sing through the coloratura lines in the cabaletta. She moved about the stage in routine fashion walking side to side with no real motivation or emphasis on character and made a number of stock gestures that would emphasize her power. At one point she threw herself to the floor only to get right back up and to continue walking around before jumping awkwardly onto the bed. In another, she grabbed the bed sheet for no real reason, wrapped herself in it for a moment and then threw it away. It was a rather awkward and frustrating scene from a singer who had utterly brought the house down when she had previously done it.
Her “La Luce Langue” was a visible and aural improvement as she chewed into the text and brought all the rawness of her sound even to the point of making the sound hollow and coarse in the lower register of her chest voice. During the second part of the aria “O voluttà del soglio,” Netrebko let out her full volume, blasting imposing and terrifying sounds that finally showed the frightening and manipulative Lady Macbeth she is capable of.
Her drinking song “Si colmi il calice” was full of contrasts. The first iteration was sung with glimmering coloratura runs that showed a brighter and more refined texture. While she wan’t always at ease, the voice seemed to finally bloom and high notes gleamed into the stage. Then in the second repeat, she delivered accented phrases that emphasized her anger and fury.
But in Act four Netrebko’s energy seemed to wane after her aforementioned duet. During the famed sleepwalking scene “Una macchia è qui tuttora,” Netrebko walked on the row of chairs looking possessed and transfixed. And as she began to sing, she gave shimmering pianissimo sounds that resonated with haunting effect. But after these opening lines, her movements started to become predictable and somewhat robotic. When she threw herself to the floor and placed the light against the audience, it seemed calculated. Vocally she delivered glimmering sound and a connected middle voice but it seemed too safe for a diva known for bringing power and unpredictability to the stage. Her upper register also seemed constrained as she missed one of her high notes and final D flat sounded tentative with iffy intonation.
A Rigid Ruler
In the title role, Željko Lučić had a very uneven performance that did little to convey a character. Again, context is everything with this particular performance and it was undeniably hard for him to enter the arena with little preparation. Still, he was brought in mainly because he is a Macbeth veteran and it was somewhat surprising to find such inconsistency in a role that has been developed for nearly a decade. In this case, Lučić’s Macbeth did not develop beyond a hesitant king.
Vocally he had some fine moments, especially his monologue in Act one. He sang with piano sounds that emphasized the sense of terror and dread. It brought to life the hesitance that Macbeth feels about killing the king. In the Act two concertato, he also sang with powerful phrases and his timbre gleamed with lush sound that easily went over the ensemble. There was also an expressive moment in Act three, “Fuggi regal fantasima,” where Lučić seemed possessed and frightened, singing with detached phrases and airy sound that brought to life Macbeth’s impending doom.
But the overall vocal quality was never quite solid. In the opening duet Lučić’s phrases flowed between a pianissimo sound and accented fortes. It created a chaotic and ultimately mannered approach to a legato line. In his final aria “Pietà, rispetto, amore,” it was clear that the baritone was giving it all emotionally, but there was a lot of spotty intonation, especially during the ascension to F flat on “Sol la bestemia,” with ensuing phrases sounding like they were in the wrong key. His sound started to lose its brightness, the harshness making for a tough listen.
Audiences of future performances are likely to benefit from the baritone warming back up into the role and production.
An Uneven Support
In the role of Banquo, bass-baritone Ildar Abdrazakov showed great physicality in his fight choreography and as a threatening image as the ghost of Banquo. But vocally, his dark but rough timbre proved an odd match for the role. He was barely audible over the emphatic orchestra in both his opening duet and his aria “Come dal ciel precipita.” Only in his climactic final note of the aria, did Abdrazakov convey the fear in his character. The low notes were also lacking in weight, often getting lost in his lines.
Matthew Polenzani, who was making his role debut as Macduff, gave an expressive account of “Ah, la paterna mano” singing with a smooth legato line and a pure pianissimo sound that easily crescendoed through the lyrical lines. There were some intonation issues throughout the piece and the tone seemed a bit dry in the hall, particularly in the passaggio. However, he was most affecting in the recitative passages that preceded this aria, his voice weeping as he recounted his dead children and wife.
In the pit, Marco Armiliato had an unbalanced evening conducting with little nuance and little drive, making it two straight nights that the Met Orchestra (after a wonderful “Porgy and Bess” rendition) sounded out of sorts. The entire evening was filled a with bombastic brass sound that accented every crescendo that was reminiscent of a banda sound and not of the haunting demonic colors that Verdi’s work can have. The descending chromatic scales in the winds and strings, despite having ascents over every note, lacked bite or ever enough separation, the notes blending into one another. When the brass has its own scalar ascensions a few bars later, the notes, also individually accented, similarly lacked clarity. The tempi were also languid particularly in “La Luce Langue” as Armiliato seemed to always be behind Netrebko.
That said, this is Armiliato, and he had some truly fine moments. There was a hint of eeriness in the intro to the sleepwalking scene which began with a shimmering violin color that slowly crescendoed into the reprisal of the prelude that begins the opera. When Macduff exits the dead King’s chambers, the contrasts between the forte and pianos on the sixteenth note passages in the Allegro Agitato were so extreme as to truly be earth-shattering; the crescendoes on the syncopated ascending lines helped to build these moments up beautifully.
The chorus had a solid night with the women’s chorus displaying bright energy as the witches during the opening. The final chorus was also the highlight of the evening, bringing an overall lackluster performance to somewhat of a joyous conclusion. However, the Patria oppressa” sounded constrained and lacked the passionate lament Verdi’s music requires; dynamic builds were muted and overall, the choral passage felt static musically.
More off-putting was the lack of energy the chorus seemed to convey on stage. As the witches, the women’s chorus seemed to be static with barely a hint of interest in Adrian Nobles’ concept and in the Act two banquet scene, the chorus looked similarly disengaged in its movements. In its original conception, the chorus was asked to dance around to Verdi’s joyous drinking scene, but on this evening they seemed to be inactive. When Netrebko attempted to interact with many of them, they did not respond.
The sets by Mark Thompson also creaked all night, distracting from anything happening on stage.
This “Macbeth” is likely a case in which the singers will adjust and eventually find their stride.
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!