Caetano Veloso: Dark Times Are Coming for My Country

Brazil’s presidential runoff election is being held on Sunday, October 28. As a consequence of this historic event, today’s guest contributor, composer, singer, writer and political activist Caetano Veloso, published an article for THE NEW YORK TIMES Op-Ed page on October 24. In it, the singer-songwriter talks about the dark times ahead in Brazil if Jair Bolsonaro becomes president of the Republic. Below is a re-print of the article.

Singer, songwriter, author and political activist Caetano Veloso (Photo: newv2)

RIO DE JANEIRO — “Brazil is not for beginners,” Antonio Carlos Jobim used to say. Mr. Jobim, who wrote “The Girl from Ipanema,” was one of Brazil’s most important musicians, one [who] we can thank for the fact that music lovers everywhere have to think twice before pigeonholing Brazilian pop as “world music.”

When I told an American friend about the maestro’s line, he retorted, “No country is.” My American friend had a point. In some ways, perhaps Brazil isn’t so special.

Right now, my country is proving it’s a nation among others. Like other countries around the world, Brazil is facing a threat from the far right, a storm of populist conservatism. Our new political phenomenon, Jair Bolsonaro, who is expected to win the presidential election on Sunday, is a former army captain who admires Donald Trump but seems more like Rodrigo Duterte, the Philippines’ strongman. Mr. Bolsonaro champions the unrestricted sale of firearms, proposes a presumption of self-defense if a policeman kills a “suspect” and declares that a dead son is preferable to a gay one.

If Mr. Bolsonaro wins the election, Brazilians can expect a wave of fear and hatred. Indeed, we’ve already seen blood. On Oct. 7, a Bolsonaro supporter stabbed my friend Moa do Katendê, a musician and capoeira master, over a political disagreement in the state of Bahia. His death left the city of Salvador in mourning and indignation.

Recently, I’ve found myself thinking about the 1980s. I was making records and playing to sold-out crowds, but I knew what needed to change in my country. Back then, we Brazilians were fighting for free elections after some 20 years of military dictatorship. If someone had told me then that someday we would elect to the presidency people like Fernando Henrique Cardoso and then Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, it would have sounded like wishful thinking. Then it happened. Mr. Cardoso’s election in 1994 and then Mr. da Silva’s in 2002 carried huge symbolic weight. They showed that we were a democracy, and they changed the shape of our society by helping millions escape poverty. Brazilian society gained more self-respect.

Caetano at a concert on Copacabana Beach

But despite all the progress and the country’s apparent maturity, Brazil, the fourth-largest democracy in the world, is far from solid. Dark forces, from within and from without, now seem to be forcing us backward and down.

Political life here has been in decline for a while — starting with an economic slump, then a series of protests in 2013, the impeachment of President Dilma Rousseff in 2016 and a huge corruption scandal that put many politicians, including Mr. da Silva, in jail. Mr. Cardoso’s and Mr. da Silva’s parties were seriously wounded, and the far right found an opportunity.

Many artists, musicians, filmmakers and thinkers saw themselves in an environment where reactionary ideologues, who — through books, websites and news articles — have been denigrating any attempt to overcome inequality by linking socially progressive policies to a Venezuelan-type of nightmare, generating fear that minorities’ rights will erode religious and moral principles, or simply by indoctrinating people in brutality through the systematic use of derogatory language. The rise of Mr. Bolsonaro as a mythical figure fulfills the expectations created by that kind of intellectual attack. It’s not an exchange of arguments: Those who don’t believe in democracy work in insidious ways.

The major news outlets have tended to minimize the dangers, working in fact for Mr. Bolsonaro by describing the situation as a confrontation between two extremes: the Workers’ Party potentially leading us to a Communist authoritarian regime, while Mr. Bolsonaro would fight corruption and make the economy market friendly. Many in the mainstream press willfully ignore the fact that Mr. da Silva respected the democratic rules and that Mr. Bolsonaro has repeatedly defended the military dictatorship of the 1960s and ’70s. In fact, in August 2016, while casting his vote to impeach Ms. Rousseff, Mr. Bolsonaro made a public show of dedicating his action to Carlos Alberto Brilhante Ustra, who ran a torture center in the 1970s.

As a public figure in Brazil, I have a duty to try to clarify these facts. I am an old man now, but I was young in the ’60s and ’70s, and I remember. So I have to speak out.

Gilberto Gil (l.) and Caetano in exile in London in the late 1960s

In the late ’60s, the military junta imprisoned and arrested many artists and intellectuals for their political beliefs. I was one of them, along with my friend and colleague Gilberto Gil.

Gilberto and I spent a week each in a dirty cell. Then, with no explanation, we were transferred to another military prison for two months. After that, four months of house arrest until, finally, exile, where we stayed for two and a half years. Other students, writers and journalists were imprisoned in the cells where we were, but none was tortured. During the night, though, we could hear people’s screams. They were either political prisoners who the military thought were linked to armed resistance groups or poor youngsters who were caught in thefts or drug selling. Those sounds have never left my mind.

Some say that Mr. Bolsonaro’s most brutal statements are just posturing. Indeed, he sounds very much like many ordinary Brazilians; he is openly demonstrating the superficial brutality many men think they have to hide. The number of women who vote for him is, in every poll, far smaller than the number of men. To govern Brazil, he will have to face the Congress, the Supreme Court and the fact that polls show that a greater majority than ever of Brazilians say democracy is the best political system of all.

I quoted Mr. Jobim’s line — “Brazil is not for beginners” — to bring a touch of funny color to my view of our hard times. The great composer was being ironic, but he spoke to a truth and underlined the peculiarities of our country, a gigantic country in the Southern Hemisphere, racially mixed, the only country with Portuguese as its official language in the Americas. I love Brazil and believe it can bring new colors to civilization; I believe most Brazilians love it, too.

Many people here say they are planning to live abroad if the captain wins. I never wanted to live in any country other than Brazil. And I don’t want to now. I was forced into exile once. It won’t happen again. I want my music, my presence, to be a permanent resistance to whatever anti-democratic feature may come out of a probable Bolsonaro government.

Copyright © 2018 by The New York Times

‘Mefistofele’ — ‘Ecco il Mondo’: The Devil’s in the Details of Boito’s Opera, Act IV and Epilogue (Part Eight – Conclusion)

‘Mefistofele,’ Act IV: The Vale of Tempe Scene (in Las Vegas kitsch-style), from the Teatro Massimo, Palermo (2008)

Night of the Classical Sabbath

Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships,

And burnt the topless towers of Ilium—

Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.—

[Faust kisses her] Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!—

Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.

The above lines were taken from English playwright and poet Christopher Marlowe’s play Doctor Faustus. Oft quoted by aspiring thespians and used as a running gag in the Academy Award-winning motion picture Shakespeare in Love, the lines are spoken by the philosopher Faust upon meeting the fabled Helen of Troy from Antiquity.

The legend of Faust and his bargain with the Devil (actually, a wager between Lucifer and the Lord) have inspired many an artist throughout the centuries, most noteworthy among them the German poet and author Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Faust, his own two-part study in verse, was the inspiration as well for a number of like-minded composers.

Gounod’s five-act Faust, the most memorable of the works transformed into operas based on Goethe’s poem, eliminated all mention of Helen of Troy; it concentrated instead on the love affair between the maiden Marguerite (called Gretchen in Goethe’s original) and the dashing young cavalier Faust. Berlioz, too, maintained a reasonable focus on the Faust-Marguerite love story in La Damnation de Faust, a symphonic poem for orchestra, soloists and chorus that is frequently staged as an opera.

Even earlier than either the Gounod or the Berlioz work is Robert Schumann’s oratorio-like Scenes from Goethe’s Faust, a three-part choral and orchestral piece for eight solo voices. Later, Busoni, in a more eclectic, intellectually conceived design, gave the operatic world his version of Doktor Faust, which eliminated Marguerite entirely (the character is hinted at via the presence of her brother) in favor of metaphysics. Helen, too, is scarcely perceptible as a phantasmagoric vision.

Stage production from the Teatro Regio, Parma, of Robert Schumann’s ‘Scenes from Goethe’s Faust’ (2008)

It was left, then, to the Italian Arrigo Boito to conjure up the voluptuous image of the Greek beauty Helen, stolen by Paris from her husband, the warlike Menelaus, which led to the decade-long siege of Troy (or Ilium, as it was also called) and to the city’s eventual fall and destruction. Although Boito’s Mefistofele, a cosmic interpretation of Goethe’s epic work and originally presented in two parts, was considered an abject failure at its 1868 La Scala premiere, it was later re-worked, re-written, and re-thought and given a triumphant remounting in 1875. Further revisions shaped it into the bombastic piece we know today.

What remained of the so-termed “Night of the Classical Sabbath” is a truncated, hardly awe-inspiring fourth act to follow the emotionally charged third. Tacked on to Mefistofele as more of an after-thought than a carefully constructed bridge between acts, it contrasts the romantic liaison of Faust and Margherita (who, you will recall, met her untimely demise in Act III) and the make-believe one of Faust and the regal Helen, who holds court by the River Pineios (or Peneus), named after the river god of ancient Thessaly. This act is also known as the Vale of Tempe sequence.

In the volume Opera on Record 3 (edited by Alan Blyth), music critic and contributor John Higgins proposed that “the music of the fourth act [of Mefistofele] is never included in selections of highlights from the opera, and it could possibly be considered optional in a stage performance, in much the same way as the Walpurgisnacht Ballet in Gounod’s Faust” (coincidentally, as part of a very long Act IV of that work). Well, we needn’t go that far. While it’s true that audiences are eager to get on to the rousing conclusion, I am of the opinion that Boito’s Act IV makes for a palatable lead-in to what comes after.

However, Higgins went on to claim that “the Vale of Tempe Act also poses the problem of whether to cast a second soprano as Elena (Helen) or whether to treat her as another facet of Margherita.” Surely, there was a financial consideration involved in this suggestion. In most live productions of Mefistofele, the part of Elena is normally taken by a second artist (as in San Francisco Opera’s 2013 revival with soprano Marina Harris). It makes perfect sense, too, to cast the same singer as both Elena and Margherita, provided she has the goods to mold separate and distinct characterizations. Elena’s tessitura is not as vocally demanding or as emotionally taxing (or rewarding) as that of Margherita’s. Still, either way will work given that both roles are clearly differentiated on stage.

As the act opens, the audience hears a barcarolle-like musical theme amid harp-plucked textures that call to mind (and that listeners may rightly compare to) the more famous Barcarolle from Offenbach’s unfinished The Tales of Hoffmann. Elena and the mezzo-soprano portraying Pantalis blend their voices together in an ethereal number, “La luna immobile innonda l’etere …. Canta” (“The motionless moon bathes the still ether … Sing on”). The two women give pause from their moonlight boat ride as Faust, from a distance, calls out Helen of Troy’s name repeatedly, each time in varying octaves (“Elena, Elena, Elena, Elena”) — the last of which rises in anticipation of his meeting with the legendary figure.

Faust (Ramon Vargas) greets Helen of Troy (Marina Harris) in San Francisco’s 2013 production of ‘Mefistofele’

This number is similar in execution to the opening of the third act Witches’ Sabbath scene at the hellish Brocken Mountain (“Folletto, folletto, velloce, leggier”). Here, though, familiarity breeds contempt. Surely, Boito could have found a more trenchant musical representation, though in truth the calmness and serenity of this sequence (including a delightful minuet in the Boccherini mode) boosts the languid nature of the plot. Furthermore, the change in tone and mood is palpable, and clashes markedly with the rest of the opera. Listeners should take this episode for what it is: a pleasant diversion, even a brief respite, before the big finale.

Mefistofele has brought Faust to this ancient locale so the philosopher can forget his remorse at how the pitiable Margherita met her tragic fate. Faust will taste of mythical love, but the overly-respectable ambience and decorum leave Mefistofele cold and bored: He much prefers the harsh scents of the Brocken (the Hell he does!). With the entrance of dancing nymphs and such, Mefistofele momentarily takes his leave.

Helen enters and, in an intensely dramatic delivery (“Notte cupa, truce, senza fine, funebre!” – “Oh night, dark and grim, endless, funereal!”), she recalls the terrible time that Troy was sacked. The very air reverberated with the echoes of clashing shields, thundering chariots, and whining catapults; the very ground turned red with blood. The gods, enraged, rained down fire and fury upon the city. The gigantic shadows of the invading Greeks were cast against the flaming walls of Troy, until a deathly silence was all that was left. One of Boito’s many additions to the score, it’s a shame this declamatory piece has never been recorded on anyone’s recital disc. It can be quite effective in performance.

Helen of Troy (Angel Joy Blue) relives the terrible night of the sacking of Troy

Just then, Helen’s nymphs turn to see a stranger slowly approaching. Who is this splendid hero? Why, it’s the gallant Faust, decked out in all his finery (he’s dressed, according to the libretto, as a fifteenth-century knight). He prostrates himself before Helen and declares his undying love. Various assorted sirens and fauns, along with Pantalis, Nereus, and the curiously aroused Mefistofele accompany Faust as he pitches his woo at the receptive queen (“Forma ideal purissima” – “Purest and ideal form of beauty”).

Tormented at first by her recollection of that horrible night, Helen opens her heart to this handsome fellow. The two join their voices in a rapturous ensemble, beginning with their mutual declaration of love (“T’amo, t’amo, t’amo, t’amo”) to the same tune as Faust’s earlier repeated entreaties of her name. Together, the couple and the assembled participants engage in a powerful concertato (“Ah! Amore! Misterio, celeste, profondo!” – “Ah, Love, mysterious, heavenly, profound!”), the main melody of which will recur near the end of the Epilogue where Mefistofele urges the dying Faust to once again listen to the song of love (“Odi il canto d’amor!”).

This ensemble, as previously mentioned in Part Six of this series (see the following link: https://josmarlopes.wordpress.com/2017/10/29/mefistofele-ecco-il-mondo-the-devils-in-the-details-of-boitos-opera-part-six-second-intermission/), shares many similarities with a comparable one in Ponchielli’s La Gioconda. The lovers’ voices rise higher and higher, until at the ensemble’s climax the gathering begins to disperse. Helen tells Faust that Arcadia lies just beyond a peaceful valley. And that is where they will live forever, declares the ardent knight. They continue to exchange terms of endearment as the curtain slowly falls to a tremulous theme in the strings, the same one that opened the act.

“Stay, Thou Art Beautiful”: The Death of Faust

A long and languorous postlude sets the scene for the celebrated Epilogue. It is here that librettist and musician Boito finally attained the Olympian heights he had so long desired. As one writer derisively put it, “Attempting too much, he accomplished too little.” That may be a fair analysis of the Mefistofele project as a whole. But whether you agree with this assessment or not, certainly the Epilogue brings the heady drama to a stirring close in a most satisfactory way. Boito has taken the listener on Faust’s journey of enlightenment. “From heaven through earth to hell, and back to heaven,” wrote Goethe. Did Boito achieve his purpose? We think so.

We are back in Faust’s laboratory, where the philosopher and the Devil first struck their fiendish bargain. Faust is old now, having lived his life twice over. He’s tasted both the passion (and the despair) of mortal love, as well as experienced an amorous fling with a legendary figure. Faust sold his soul for an extended period of physical pleasure, yet even in advanced age he has yet to see that vision of loveliness where he must pose that fateful declaration.

And true to form, the observant Mefistofele reminds him of this. “You have lusted,” Satan bellows, “indulged yourself and lusted anew, but still you have not bid the fleeting moment to ‘Stay, thou art so fair!’ ” Faust concurs with this evaluation. Indeed, he’s known the real and the ideal, the love of a fair maiden and the heart of a goddess, but what of them? The real (“il Real fu dolore”) only brought him suffering, and the ideal was but a dream (“e l’Ideal fu sogno”).

‘Mefistofele’ – Baden-Baden 2016 – The Epilogue with Charles Castronovo (Faust)

At this point, Faust launches into one of the most beautiful and dreamlike tenor arias in the entire Italian repertoire: “Giunto sul passo estremo, della più estrema età” (“Having reached the final step of extreme old age”). He awakens from his trance to find a peaceful world, one of an immense expanse; one where life has a purpose, and one where he can give life to a fruitful people. Mefistofele, in an aside, is concerned that his prize is slipping from his grasp. The Devil means to seek out his heart’s desire — a desperation move at best.

The philosopher continues to apostrophize despite the dire situation: his one desire is that his people and their flocks, their houses, fields and cities, will rise up by the thousands to live under a cogent set of laws. Dream on, Herr Faust, dream on! A wary Lucifer urges himself to be on the alert. Seeing that his victim has become obsessed, at this late stage, with doing good works, Mefistofele primes himself for battle with the Heavenly Host.

Unlike the Vale of Tempe section, there are multiple recorded extracts of both “Dai campi,” the first-act tenor aria, and the elegiac “Giunto sul passo.” According to Opera on Record 3, the best of the early acoustic and/or electric batches were those by the Italians Giuseppe Anselmi, Enrico Caruso, Beniamino Gigli, Giacomo Lauri-Volpi, Aureliano Pertile, and Giovanni Zenatello. For those wanting a more modern-sounding style, Luciano Pavarotti’s recitals can’t be beat. And from the complete albums, Plácido Domingo’s two sets (recorded in 1974 for EMI/Angel and 1989 for Sony Classical, respectively) are excellent mementos of the Spanish tenor’s art.

As Faust concludes his reverie, suddenly a radiant glow appears in the distance. Faust hears a heavenly hymn and rejoices in the “august rays of such a dawn.” But the Devil sees through the light. “Good now reveals itself to him!” he spouts. “Tempter, beware! Tempter, beware!”

The “End of Life” sequence from Boito’s ‘Mefistofele’ (Teatro Massimo, Palermo, 2008)

Trumpets sound from every corner of the theater. Their fanfare hails the arrival of the Heavenly Host. Spreading his cloak on the ground, Mefistofele orders Faust to fly through the air with him one last time. Perhaps he can entice the good doctor away for further madcap adventures. But as the trumpets grow louder, the Celestial Choir, the harbinger of the coming Heavenly Host, rises above the din. It too grows louder and louder, repeating a wordless “Ah!”

Now in extreme distress, Mefistofele calls out the doctor’s name in vain: “Faust! Faust! Faust!” Each time he does, it is more desperate and anxious than the previous cry. And the music has taken us back to the start of the opera: “Ave Signor, degli angeli, dei santi, delle sfere…” – “Hail, Lord of the Angels, and All of the Saints, and All of the Spheres ….” It’s a remarkable moment, certainly one of the most invigorating climaxes in all opera. The voices grow noisier and more clamorous, until they drop to barely a whisper for the “Ave Signor.”

In a final outburst of insolence, Mefistofele cries out to Faust: “Hear the song of love! Come drink the blood from the sirens’ breast!” It’s the theme of Faust and Helen of Troy’s amorous declaration. In some productions, signs of a homoerotic relationship between the Tempter and the tempted are openly implied. At New York City Opera’s famed Tito Capobiano production, Mefistofele all-but embraced the hallucinating Faust to prevent him from fleeing his clutches. Topping that, both bass-baritone Norman Treigle and basso Samuel Ramey, his successor in the part, would writhe on the floor in agony over Faust’s impending salvation.

At last, Faust utters the dreaded words: “Stay, thou art beautiful!” (“Arrestati, sei bello!”). “Look away!” Mefistofele roars in disapproval. “Look away!” – “Torci il guardo, torci il guardo!” But it is too late. Clasping the Bible to his bosom, Faust cries out to God and Satan that “The Gospel is my bulwark!” He reaches up to high C. (Note to audience members: Say a silent prayer that the tenor doesn’t crack on that pivotal note!) The cherubim chime in, accompanied by the Celestial Choir. Falling to his knees, Faust, much like the condemned Margherita, prays for his deliverance from this mocking demon. “Lead me not into temptation!”

Repeating his entreaties to “Stay, grant me eternity,” and in the ensuing ruckus of the competing choirs of angels, cherubim, and seraphim, Faust gives up his soul and expires. At the same time, Mefistofele is pelted (according to the original stage instructions) with a shower of roses, which also descend over Faust’s lifeless body. Most productions ignore this directive, but one can imagine the effect it would have if some director had the courage to try it. What we usually get is a patented light show, or, in some productions, a freeze-frame of the action.

Nevertheless, the Celestial Choir hails the Lord’s victory over evil (and Faust’s personal victory over adversity) with a long-sustained final note. The impressive trumpet fanfares, heard at the beginning of the opera, conclude the Epilogue with a stunningly climactic explosion of sound.

The last solo voice to be heard, however, is that of Mefistofele himself. Thrusting an angry fist into the air, the Devil tosses his wrath to the four winds. “The Lord triumphs, but the reprobate whistles! Eh! Eh!” It sounds even stronger in Italian: “Trionfa il Signor, ma il reprobo fischia! Eh! Eh!” Putting his fingers to his lips, Satan blows those ear-piercing screeches at God, but to no avail.

Open to Interpretation

‘Mefistofele’ from Baden-Baden 2016: Erwin Schrott (Mefistofele) tears out the pages of the Holy Bible in the rousing finale

In the Epilogue to the Met Opera’s revival of Mefistofele, Satan is literally carried away on the shoulders of masked choristers. He thrashes and shouts over the cries of the chorus. For a different take, two variants on the standard ending are available online. They can be viewed and enjoyed on YouTube: one, from the 2008 Teatro Massimo of Palermo production, directed by Giancarlo del Monaco (tenor Mario del Monaco’s son), features Ferruccio Furlanetto in the title role, with Giuseppe Filianoti as Faust; the other, a 2016 Philipp Himmelmann production for Munich’s Baden-Baden theater, stars an electric combination of Erwin Schrott as Mefisto and Charles Castronovo as the youngish Faust.

The Teatro Massimo presentation concludes as it began, with an end of life vision of a long, concentric-circled tunnel that leads to a bluish light at its center. In the Prologue, Mefistofele slowly crawls out from this wormhole-like aperture as if it were a birth canal. When he reaches center stage, the Devil picks up an armchair and threatens the light with it. This motion is carried over into the Epilogue, but in reverse order. After Faust’s “Giunto sul passo” air, the doctor retrieves the torn pages of his Bible and clasps them to his chest. This is his salvation. In a last-ditch effort to change Faust’s mind, Mefistofele hungrily embraces the old man but is driven away by the voices of the unseen chorus. As the music reaches its apex, he picks up that same armchair (on which an elderly Faust has sat) and, for the last time, threatens the choir with it in the same manner as before.

Incidentally, Filianoti is especially poignant in his rendering of Faust’s one chance at recovery. The voice, cracking with emotion, mimics that of an aged philosopher, not that of youthful tenor in his prime. How the listener may take this approach, which I find much truer to the drama, is a matter of taste. I, for one, liked it. Not to be outdone, Furlanetto pulls out all the stops. His deep, resonant bass rings out firmly in this scene. Plush is the term I would use to describe his vocal apparatus, if only slightly past its prime. His acting is even better; one can sense the desperation as Mefisto struggles to stay ahead of the game, despite his realization that all is lost.

In the presentation from Baden-Baden, Erwin Schrott’s sturdy bass-baritone, while resounding strongly  on the soundtrack, is not nearly as plush as his colleague’s. His is a leaner, less full-toned instrument than Furlanetto’s true bass grounding. While it fails to plumb the depths of the part, Schrott’s acting is in a different league entirely. This is based on director Himmelmann’s conception of the Devil as a hipster, and on Schrott’s own view of the character as a sexy beast in a butch haircut. The swagger, the self-confidence, and the total identification with the master manipulator fit Schrott’s physical and vocal attributes well.

Contrasting this production’s Epilogue with that of the Teatro Massimo, in Baden-Baden the Devil is the one who tears out the pages of the Holy Bible, not Faust. He ends up ripping the book in two and throwing it to the ground. Faust, sung ever-so-delicately by Castronovo, barely takes notice. Instead, he gives the audience its money’s worth with a gorgeously timed, gently laced rumination on “Giunto sul passo.” He strains at the highest notes, however, which slightly mars and disrupts the vocal line. All in all, his is much tamer and less compelling version of Faust’s vision than Filianoti’s more verismo-based account.

As to the powerful conclusion, I much prefer Furlanetto’s handling of the close. In Schrott’s interpretation, the Devil loses himself in a string of chintzy tinsel strips suspended from the stage’s ceiling. Swishing his arms back and forth along the strips, Schrott appears to be lost backstage while swirling in and out of view. Meanwhile, Castronovo stands front and center as the curtains slowly close in on him. I, too, was lost as to the meaning of all this, but no matter.

Erwin Schrott (as Mefistofele) and Charles Castronovo (as Faust): The Devil gets lost in Tinsel Town

Both performances are available on DVD and Blu-ray Disc. If you’re looking for a change of pace while waiting for the Met Opera’s December revival of Mefistofele; if you’re curious to learn how our mania for old warhorses can be tailored to fit freshly-minted Las Vegas kitsch, either the stylistically challenging Palermo production or the later Baden-Baden version should fill that bill quite nicely. Fortunately, the singing in both productions is top-notch. They can be safely recommended with only minor reservations.

Copyright © 2018 by Josmar F. Lopes

‘They’re BAAAACK!’ — The Return of the Met Opera Saturday Broadcasts

Boito’s “Mefistofele” starts the radio season off on December 1

It’s the 2018-2019 Radio Season

Yes, they’re back. And it’s about time, too! So what does the Met Opera radio and/or Live in HD series have in store for us fans? Anything in the way of bold innovations, newly commissioned works, or plain old favorites?

Looking over the recently received The Metropolitan Opera 2018-2019 Live in HD and Radio Program Guide, I found a lot to admire, but also much to be desired. That’s about par for the course. Since last season’s broadcasts got off to a scandalous start with the revelations concerning former Met Opera music director James Levine, this season the company decided to put a new spin on the series — or, rather, in the orchestra pit.

Taking the podium (and some of the luster) away from maestro Levine will be Jeanette Lerman-Neubauer Music Director Yannick Nézet-Séguin. The Canadian-born conductor will be presiding over three broadcast works: a new Michael Mayer production of Verdi’s La Traviata on December 15, with Diana Damrau as Violetta, Juan Diego Flórez as Alfredo, and Quinn Kelsey as the elder Germont; a revival of Jonathan Miller’s production of Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande a month later, on January 19, 2019, with Isabel Leonard and Paul Appleby in the title roles, along with Kyle Ketelsen as Golaud, and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Arkel; and the final radio broadcast of the season (on May 11) of Poulenc’s Dialogues des Carmélites, in the classic John Dexter production from the 1970s, also starring Isabel Leonard as Blanche, Adrianne Pieczonka as Mme. Lidoine, Erin Morley as Constance, Karen Cargill as Mère Marie, and Karita Mattila as Mme. De Croissy.

Although there’s nothing really earth-shaking to this lineup, I am curious to hear Mayer’s take on Traviata. He made quit a splash a few years ago with that glitzy Las Vegas-style Rat Pack Rigoletto. We may get a surprise or two out of this next Verdi work yet! Pelléas is another tantalizing offering. Despite its strictly Symbolist roots, the only completed opera by Claude Debussy is an orchestral tour de force. I am especially eager to hear Signor Furlanetto’s sepulchral tones as old King Arkel, a surprising character role for the celebrated Italian basso. The work of another Frenchman, Francis Poulenc’s Dialogues had a brief resurgence a few years back in a lone run that many listeners (and live audiences) protested was NOT shown in theaters — a bad mark against the Met’s mismanagement of its schedule.

With that out of the way, the actual broadcast season officially kicks off on December 1^st with a revival of Robert Carsen’s “out there” production of Boito’s Mefistofele. Frequent readers of my blog know that I am quite fond of this pre-verismo work and have written about it extensively. The opera is one I’ve heard on countless complete recordings as well as seen in a plethora of live and/or YouTube performances featuring Samuel Ramey, Justino Diaz, Ildar Abdrazakov, Giulio Neri, Cesare Siepi, Nicolai Ghiaurov, Erwin Schrott, and others. Angela Meade is scheduled to sing Margherita, with Jennifer Check as Helen of Troy, Michael Fabiano as Faust, and relative newcomer Christian Van Horn (now THERE’S a Devil of a name for you) in the title role. Joseph Colaneri conducts.

“Suor Angelica,” the second panel from Puccini’s “Il Trittico”

December 8 promises the long-awaited revival of Puccini’s Il Trittico. This triptych panel of one-act operas, each lasting about an hour in length, remains (for me) the Italian master’s unquestioned masterwork. Chromatics and late-verismo fireworks abound. The three pieces in question are Il Tabarro, Suor Angelica, and Gianni Schicchi, Puccini’s only comedy. There are humorous asides and sly takes on greedy family members in Schicchi which have made it the odds-on favorite. However, in my view both Tabarro and Angelica take top honors as perceptive studies into the human condition. A mixed cast features the well-proportioned Amber Wagner and Stephanie Blythe, Marcelo Álvarez, and George Gagnidze in Tabarro; the stunning Kristine Opolais, Maureen McKay, and Ms. Blythe in Suor Angelica; and veteran tenor-turned-baritone Plácido Domingo as Gianni Schicchi, with Blythe again, and newcomers Kristina Mkhitaryan and Brazilian tenor Atalla Ayan as the lovers. The conductor is Bertrand de Billy and the production is by Jack O’Brien.

Puccini’s ersatz spaghetti Western, La Fanciulla de West, is on tap for December 22 in Giancarlo Del Monaco’s lavish production. If the name Del Monaco is a familiar one to readers, well, that’s because Giancarlo is the dramatic tenor’s son. This revival boasts a powerhouse cast of Eva-Maria Westbroek as Minnie, the return of Jonas Kaufmann as Dick Johnson, alias Ramerrez the Mexican bandit, and the versatile Željko Lučić as Sherriff Rance. Marco Armiliato conducts.

This Tosca retread has never been as popular as Puccini’s earlier trio of works, to wit La Bohème, Madama Butterfly and the aforementioned Tosca. Jointly with Il Trittico, Fanciulla is Puccini’s most ambitious theatrical realization, an Italian variation on an American theme based on David Belasco’s barnstormer of a play, The Girl of the Golden West. Puccini previously used Belasco and John Luther Long’s one-act Madam Butterfly as the basis for his popular opera of the same name. Unfortunately, lightning did not strike twice with The Girl.

Step up to the bar for “La Fanciulla del West”

An abridged version of Mozart’s The Magic Flute, in J.D. McClatchy’s English adaptation, is the featured work on December 29. The by-now overplayed Julie Taymor production stars Erin Morley as Pamina, Kathryn Lewek as the Queen of the Night, Ben Bliss as Tamino, Nathan Gunn (an audience favorite) as Papageno, Alfred Walker (who I remember as Wotan in North Carolina Opera’s semi-staged production of Wagner’s Das Rheingold) as the Speaker, and Morris Robinson as Sarastro. Harry Bicket leads the Met Opera Orchestra and Chorus.

There are two more Mozart works on the agenda: Don Giovanni on February 16, starring Luca Pisaroni as the Don, Ildar Abdrazakov as Leporello (I believe they might even be alternating their respective parts during the opera’s run), Rachel Willis-Sørensen as Donna Anna, Federica Lombardi as Donna Elvira, Stanislas de Barbeyrac as Don Ottavio, and Štefan Kocán as the Commendatore, with Cornelius Meister conducting; and La Clemenza di Tito on April 20, with Ying Fang as Servilia, Matthew Polenzani as Tito, Elza van den Heever as Vitellia, Joyce DiDonato as Sesto, and Christian Van Horn as Publio, in Jean-Pierre Ponnelle’s elaborate production. Maestro Lothar Koenigs is in charge of the orchestra.

The New Year brings forth a revival of Bartlett Sher’s production of Verdi’s Otello (Hint: It’s done with lots and lots of mirrors!). Verdi poured every ounce of skill and passion into this penultimate piece, lauded by critics and musicologists as the epitome of Italian operatic art. Taking over as the Moor will be tenor Stuart Skelton, who made a sensational showing two seasons ago in Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. Desdemona will be taken by Sonya Yoncheva, the only bright spot in this tenor-baritone showcase, along with Alexey Dolgov as Cassio, Željko Lučić as the oleaginous Iago, and James Morris as Lodovico. Gustavo Dudamel will make his Met Opera podium bow leading the combined forces of chorus and orchestra.

Bartlett Sher’s production of “Otello”

Listeners on January 12 will be treated to a rarely performed verismo warhorse in Cilèa’s Adriana Lecouvreur. Not as popular as it once was, the starring role has attracted high-voltage prima donnas from the moment of its 1898 debut — a partial listing of which must include Lina Cavalieri, Claudia Muzio, Magda Olivero, Leyla Gencer, Renata Tebaldi, Raina Kabaivanska, Montserrat Caballé, Renata Scotto, Mirella Freni, and Angela Gheorghiu. But it’s not just a soprano outing! There are juicy morsels for mezzo, tenor and baritone as well. Sparks will surely fly when the scheduled Adriana of Anna Netrebko meets up with Anita Rachvelishvili as the jealous Princess de Bouillon, both of whom are romanced by Piotr Beczala as Count Maurizio, alongside the smitten Michonnet of Ambrogio Maestri. It takes an Italian conductor to pull this piece off to even a modicum of satisfaction. And waiting in the wings is Gianandrea Noseda.

A most offbeat work pops up next on the Met Opera parade of hits, and that work is the January 26 radio premiere of Nico Muhly’s Marnie, based on the Winston Graham novel that also attracted filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock. Marnie was not Hitch’s most-watched film venture, not even with Piper Laurie and Sean Connery as the leads.

I’m not much into our modern-day penchant for bringing motion pictures to the operatic stage. Usually, it’s the other way around, with the order being from stage to film. Film to stage rarely works, but who can tell? Considering how shabbily Mulhy’s previous Met Opera effort, the controversial Two Boys, was treated by the company there might be some hope that Marnie will come off better this time around. Certainly the cast is promising enough, with the ubiquitous Isabel Leonard as Marnie, the dashing Christopher Maltman as Mark Rutland, Janis Kelly as Mrs. Rutland, Denyce Graves as Marnie’s Mother, and Iestyn Davies as Terry Rutland, with Robert Spano presiding. This is another Michael Mayer production, which might give the opera that all-important lift it surely needs to succeed.

Parlez-vous français? Oui, oui, Monsieur!

Bizet’s “Carmen” being wooed by the toreador Escamillo

We then hear Bizet’s ever-popular Carmen on February 2. Starring Clémentine Margaine as Carmen, Roberto Alagna as Don José, Aleksandra Kurzak (Mrs. Alagna) as Micaela, and Alexander Vinogradov as Escamillo, Richard Eyre’s Franco-era production will be conducted by Louis Langrée. With so many French-speaking natives in key roles, one would think the Met management capable of presenting the original opéra-comique production of the work instead of the bowdlerized version (the one with those excruciatingly inappropriate Ernest Guiraud recitatives) currently in use at the house. Not a chance! Not only did Bizet not write this music, but Guiraud eliminated the spoken dialogue after the composer’s untimely death, supplanting them with his own “score.” Guiraud also assisted with the completion of Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffmann. It’s an intriguing premise: which version to present? Perhaps it’s time for the Met to get back to basics and bring about a change in their perspective.

A double bill of Tchaikovsky’s Iolanta and Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle appears on February 9. This hit production, directed by the Polish-born Marius Treliński, is thought-provoking and challenging. It paid off handsomely at the box office, mostly due to the pairing of the Russian Anna Netrebko with Polish tenor Piotr Beczala (see Adriana Lecouvreur above). This revival will see the Met’s newest diva, the Bulgarian Sonya Yoncheva, as the blind Princess Iolanta, to include Matthew Polenzani in the high-lying part of Vaudémont, Alexey Markov as Robert, and Vitalij Kowaljow as King René. In place of the star-power that Russian maestro Valery Gergiev generated when he last performed the piece in 2015, we have the less flamboyant but equally capable Henrik Nánási in charge of the Met Opera Orchestra, which in the brooding Bartók work acts as a principal character in conveying the drama inherent in this intensely probing score.

We’ve already mentioned Mr. Mayer’s production of Rigoletto. And on February 23, it will be heard live, with the stratospheric Nadine Sierra as Gilda, Roberto Frontali as Rigoletto, matinee idol Vittorio Grigolo as the Duke of Mantua, Ramona Zaharia as Maddalena, and Štefan Kocán as the assassin Sparafucile (the one with the bottomless low E). Nicola Luisotti is the conductor. On the heels of Verdi’s middle-period gloom we plunge into the comedic world of Donizetti’s La Fille du Régiment on March 2. This Laurent Pelly production (he also designed last season’s delightful rendering of Massenet’s Cendrillon) will feature Pretty Yende as Marie, Stephanie Blythe as the Marquise of Berkenfield, Mexican tenor Javier Camarena as Tonio (the fellow with the nine, count ‘em, nine high Cs!), and Maurizio Muraro as Sulpice.

Javier Camarena belts those high C’s to the rafters in “La Fille du Regiment”

Two weeks later, more comedy pours forth in the revival of Robert Carsen’s English countryside production of Falstaff, Verdi’s final comment on the state of Italian opera, and on comic opera in general. The all-star lineup includes the gigantic-framed Ambrogio Maestri as Falstaff, Ailyn Pérez as Alice Ford, Jennifer Johnson Cano as Meg Page, Marie-Nicole Lemieux as Mistress Quickly, Golda Schultz as Nannetta, Juan Jesus Rodriguez (who subbed for the late Dmitri Hvorostovsky as the Count di Luna in Il Trovatore) as Master Ford, and Francesco Demuro as Fenton. Trying to keep the orchestral forces in check will be Richard Farnes.

It took Falstaff an inordinate amount of time to be considered an integral part of the standard repertoire. For a late period work from the pen of an acknowledged master such as Verdi, that’s a huge surprise. Such was not the case with Puccini’s Tosca, to be heard on April 6. From the moment of its debut, this once-maligned work has gained in number and variety of performances throughout the years, especially at the Met. This revival, then, of last season’s new David McVicar production stars the up-and-coming Jennifer Rowley as Tosca, Maltese tenor Joseph Calleja, German baritone Wolfgang Koch as Scarpia (an odd choice for this part), and Philip Cokorinos as the Sacristan. Carlo Rizzi will be on the podium. Rowley, you may recall, subbed for an indisposed Patricia Racette in the broadcast of Alfano’s rarely heard Cyrano de Bergerac. She also sang (again, as a last-minute choice) the part of Leonora in Il Trovatore. This promotion to Floria Tosca is a major career step for the budding prima donna. Let’s hope she takes full advantage of the opportunity.

Saint-Saëns’ biblical French pageant Samson et Dalila will debut in a new production by Darko Tresnjak. This version brings back mezzo-soprano Anita Rachvelishvili as Dalila seducing the muscular strongman Samson, sung by Latvian tenor Aleksandrs Antonenko. Laurent Naori, so effective last season as Cendrillon’s father Pandolfe, interprets the High Priest of Dagon, with Tomasz Konieczny as Abimelech (well, it looks and “sounds” like Alberich), and another Wagnerian, Günther Groissböck, portraying the Old Hebrew. Sir Mark Elder presides. Can you say kitsch?

The Met’s flashy new production of “Samson et Dalila”

At the tail end of the season, on May 4, the Met revives the highly successful Penny Woodcock production of Les Pêcheurs de Perles (or The Pearl Fishers) by Bizet. The rematch between Pretty Yende as Leila and Javier Camarena as Nadir is guaranteed to win audiences over to their high-wire act above the staff. They’ll be joined by the retuning Marius Kwiecien as Zurga, the third wheel of the plot. Nicolas Testé also puts in a return appearance as Nourabad. Emmanuel Villaume mounts the podium for this one. While not as well known or as perennially popular as Carmen, The Pearl Fishers draws audiences into its exotic world of tropical palm trees with its captivating vocal airs and that famous duet for tenor and baritone.

Of course, I’ve left the best for last: a compete run, on alternate Saturday afternoons, of Wagner’s monumental Der Ring des Nibelungen. This is only the second re-mounting of Robert Lepage’s critically bashed all-digital, all-mechanical Ring. My biggest complaint with the production is the reduced playing area, which also reduced the span and scope of Wagner’s epic drama of greed and lust for power. The tetralogy, as it is known to fans, begins on March 9 with Das Rheingold, with an impressive roster boasting the powerful bass-baritone of Greer Grimsley as Wotan, Jamie Barton as a womanly Fricka, Norbert Ernst as Loge, Tomasz Konieczny as Alberich, Gerhard Siegel as the sniveling Mime, Günther Groissböck as Fasolt, and Dmitry Belosselsky as Fafner. Two weeks later, on March 30, we’ll hear the most popular portion of the Ring dramas, Die Walküre, starring Christine Goerke in her Met role debut as Brünnhilde, Eva-Maria Westbroek as Sieglinde, Jamie Barton reprising her Fricka, Stuart Skelton as Siegmund (a nice segue from Otello), Greer Grimsley as Wotan, and Günther Groissböck as Hunding.

April 13^th brings the third work in the cycle, Siegfried, starring Stefan Vinke as the titular man-child, Christine Goerke returning as the sleeping Brünnhilde, Gerhard Siegel as Mime, Michael Volle taking over for Greer Grimsley as the Wanderer (Wotan in disguise), Tomasz Konieczny as Alberich, and Dmitry Belosselsky bellowing smoke and fire as Fafner. The Wood Bird will be taken by coloratura Erin Morley. And ending on a high note, Götterdämmerung brings the cycle to a close on April 27. Christine Goerke gets to sing one of the greatest soprano sequences ever composed, the Immolation Scene. Others in the cast include Andreas Schager as Siegfried, Edith Haller as Gutrune, Michaela Schuster as Waltraute, and Evgeny Nikitin as Gunther. A former Alberich, bass-baritone Eric Owens has been promoted to Hagen, while Tomasz Konieczny wraps things up as Alberich. Keeping it all together will be conductor Philippe Jordan.

The “Ring” cycle returns in Robert Lepage’s hi-tech outing

And now, a final word about the passing of a legend: the one and only Montserrat Caballé. I first heard that unmistakable, meltingly beautiful voice in the late 1960s, with the first complete stereo recording of Donizetti’s Lucrezia Borgia. Madame Caballé could be politely termed a “full-figure” girl; in fact, her huge frame was a hindrance to swift movements on the stage. She may have been criticized for being too static in her parts, but once she started to sing that golden throat could move mountains.

In her prime, she was at the very pinnacle of coloratura singing. Not only was she a charming presence, she was most generous to her fans and to her colleagues. She sang all the major soprano parts, including Aida, Tosca, Mimi (a memorable Met radio performance with superstar Franco Corelli as Rodolfo), Liu, Luisa Miller, and Marguerite in Faust (her Met debut in 1965, along with that of baritone Sherrill Milnes as Valentin). Later in life, she experienced poor health and had several life-threatening crises during her career. Many fans will remember her duets with rock star Freddy Mercury of Queen — himself, a former student of opera (vide Bohemian Rhapsody). May this real-life “Fat Lady” rest in peace.

Copyright © 2018 by Josmar F. Lopes