Without a doubt, my most listened to opera is Puccini's Tosca. It is one of the first operas I got to know, and has remained a strong favourite for more than twenty years. Even when I was living away from home without my CD collection, I picked up the 1976 Sir Colin Davis recording ( Carreras, Caballe, Wixell) for a bargain price and played it constantly. The recording I listen to the most today is Victor de Sabata's recording with Callas, di Stefano and Gobbi, but I'm also big on dvds. There are so many great productions out there, but I think the one I enjoy the most is the Zubin Mehta conducted production from 1993, which took place in the real Roman locations in as close to real time as possible. It featured Catherine Malfitano, Placido Domingo and Ruggero Raimondi.
There are lots of reasons why Tosca is my favourite and most listened to opera- I love the drama and the strong emotions and I find all of the characters extremely compelling. Because there are just three key roles, the plot is very easy to become involved in, and the twists and turns keep you on the edge of your seat, even if you've seen the opera many times before. Most importantly, it features some of the most gorgeous and affecting music I've ever heard- the way Puccini merges all the real sounds of Rome into the score is so clever and lends Tosca a sense of realism that you would be hard pressed to find elsewhere. So much of what you hear doesn't even require the suspension of disbelief- the choir are singing a Te Deum in church because that's what choirs do, the shepherd song at dawn is to be expected and the bells that ring out are exactly what you'd hear if you vistied Rome. OK, not everyone condemned to death is going to spontaneously start singing E lucevan le stelle, but it is still, after all, an opera...
Tre sbirri, una carozza. I just have to hear those few words and I come over all faint. There was no question that Scarpia's Te Deum from Puccini's Tosca would be my nomination for 'Most Powerful Aria.' It's probably my most favourite aria ever, to be honest. I'm a sucker for anything dramatic and powerful, and this heady mixture of sex and religion always has me reaching for a fan....
Picture the scene. Baron Scarpia, Chief of Police, could have pretty much anything he wants- 'E avanti a lui tremava tutta Roma!' Tosca says ('All Rome trembled before him!') but it's not enough. He desires Floria Tosca, girlfriend of the revolutionary artist Mario Cavaradossi, and he's determined to go to any lengths to get his hands on her. Having already planted the seed of jealousy in Tosca's mind (he convinces her that Cavaradossi is having an affair with the Marchessa Attavanti) he is left alone in The Church of Sant'Andrea della Valle. Through this aria, he lays out the rest of his plans for Tosca and Cavaradossi ('One to the gallows, the other in my arms!') and his unrequited passion for the opera singer spills over into his religious zeal. He sings 'Tosca, mi fai dimenticare Iddio!' ('Tosca, you make me forget God!') before joinging in the Te Deum of the chorus, who have now entered to begin the prayer.
I have mixed feelings about Scarpia. I know he would be high up on most people's list of operatic villains, but I have to admit to being a little stirred by the power of his sexual attraction to Tosca, and the fact that he's prepared to do anything to have her 'Caught in (his) arms, smouldering with love!' (I know, I know- he would have cast her aside as soon as he'd conquered her...) He's a very compelling character, though- what drives the anger, the lust and the religious fervour, and how to portray a role as complex as this?
There are so many great Scarpia's out there. There's the cold and calculated, the raw animal, and everything in between. I was brought up on Ruggero Raimondi. I love Tito Gobbi. But I adore Bryn Terfel. His delivery of the lines about Tosca smoulder with sensuality, and there's a power to his performance that comes from his acting talent as much as his size. Seeing him perform this aria twice at the Royal Opera House in July was a dream come true, but until clips of that performance become available, we'll have to make do with this.
And now for something completely unexpected- I'm going for Jules Massanet's Cendrillon, specifically the Laurent Pelly production which recently came to the Royal Opera House starring Joyce DiDonato in the title role and Alice Coote as Prince Charmont. I booked to see the opera because I was in London for the two star-studded Toscas and was unable to resist the opportunity to see DiDonato as well. It was a matinee performance, it was chucking it down outside, and Cendrillon was a little bit like walking into a Christmassy wonderland in the middle of a rainy July.
The opera follows the Cinderella story that we're all very familar with, and lends itself perfectly to a spectacular production design. Fiction and reality are blurred with the words of the story enscribed on the walls, and there's a moment when Cendrillon asks if everything she has experienced has been a dream and I wondered if that was going to be the twist. I loved the contrasting colours (pale pastels that twinkle for Cendrillon, regal reds in the royal court) the half-human horses and most of all the wonderful choreography by Laura Scozzi. The moves of the cast had me laughing out loud, and at times it had the feel of a very elegant and sophisticated pantomime (with the addition of some gorgeous music). If the BBC televise this at Christmas (which I'm not sure that they have any plans to do) it will be a lovely treat.
I had never seen a Laurent Pelly production before, but I was absolutely enchanted and would love to experience more of his work, although I suppose it helped that the opera itself was so full of glamour and magic. The matinee I saw was the last performance of the production at the Royal Opera House. That night, I was back in the all-night queue for day tickets for the Sunday Tosca, and during the early hours of the morning, I went on a fruitless search for coffee. As I was walking past the front of the Royal Opera House, I saw the beautiful golden gates featured in the production, folded up and leaning against the glass, ready for transport. I suppose it could have broken the spell, but they were just as impressive close up, and I felt like I'd had a sneaky little nosey at the set. Here's a clip of Joyce taling about Cendrillon on BBC Breakfast, which features a little clip of the dress rehearsal.
Bit of a hiccough yesterday- I was busy as a bee and unable to post, but now I'm back with a double helping of the August Opera Challenge, and it's all about romance... Firstly, I'm nominating Papageno and Papagena from Mozart's Die Zauberflote as opera's happiest romance. I've always loved the characters and their duet is one of the sweetest and funniest pieces of music in the whole repertoire, but my affection for them was strengthened on a visit to Welsh National Opera last year for a production of The Magic Flute. The famous duet brought a tear to me eye, which I think had a lot to do with the staging- when they discussed their future offspring, lots of little babies popped up from holes in the stage and I got a bit overwhelmed... but this clip from the Royal Opera House's production starring Simon Keenlyside and Ailish Tynan is just as lovely. And Simon has a duck on his head. Excellent.
Moving on to something a bit less joyous, I'm nominating Siegmund and Sieglinde from Wagner's Die Walkure as opera's most tragic romance. I can't believe I've got to day eighteen without choosing any Wagner- how has that happened? Die Walkure is one of my favourite operas (maybe my second favourite after Tosca) and it's hard not to get emotionally attached to the Walsung twins and their plight- I mean, she finds him after all those years, gets pregnant and then has to watch him die on the orders of their own father. Obviously by this point you've completely forgotten about the incest... Here's Placido Domingo and Waultrud Meier in the roles in Madrid in 2003.
This was a surprisingly easy choice, as most of opera's great romances are seriously flawed. I adore Tosca, but she's jealous and needy, and he has a penchant for hiding dissidents in his garden with disasterous consequences. Voglieteme bene is one of my favourite love duets in the entire repertoire, but let's face it, Pinkerton's motives are extremely questionable. And I think it's best that I don't even go near any Wagnerian love affairs! When I need cheering up, I ususally reach for some Mozart, and Figaro and Susanna in Le nozze di Figaro always make me smile.
There are a few little mix-ups throughout the course of the action (jealousy gets the better of them both at times) but Figaro and Susanna remain one of the most delightful pairings in all opera. Despite his boss (Count Almaviva) and mother (Marcellina) both attempting to put obstacles in the way of their marriage, they remain true to each other and everything works out happily in the end. I love all the possibilities for great humour, genuine affection and sexual chemistry between them, and Cinque, dieci, venti, trenta which begins Act I is one of my all-time favourite duets.
I find the idea behind Cinque so clever- it introduces the audience to these two principal characters and the nature of their relationship, but at the same time draws perceptively on the comedic differences between men and women (she wants him to look at her in the veil she's made for their impending nuptials, he's far more concerned with measuring up for their new bed..) It has its gorgeous romantic parts, but lots of comedy too and moves effortlessly into their first (very humorous) little domestic. I adore the amazing Jonathan Miller production for the Met (which in 1998 featured Bryn Terfel and Cecilia Bartoli as the love birds) but I can't resist posting a clip with Bryn and Dorothea Roschmann in the roles in Salzburg in 1995. Basically this is because I'd like to live in a box with Bryn Terfel. Lucky Dorothea.
I'm not approaching this academically and providing you with an operatic role embodying all the technical elements of a tragic protagonist (no Macbeth, Hamlet or Otello today..) Instead, I'm simply opting for the character I feel the most sympathy towards- Don Jose in Bizet's Carmen. As I mentioned in an earlier post about Verdi's Otello, there are certain operas I am tempted to watch with my hands in front of my eyes and Carmen is a bit like that, as I find the way that the good-hearted Don Jose is dragged into the feral Carmen's clutches (only to have his life destroyed by her) utterly heartbreaking. Even if he does end up murdering her.
Last Christmas I finally got round to reading Prosper Merimee's novella on which Bizet's opera is based and was bowled over by the desperate situation that Jose Lizarrabengoa (the original Don Jose) gets himself into. OK, he isn't whiter than white like Bizet's doomed hero (Lizarrabengoa has killed a man before even meeting the famous gypsy) but he does get entangled in her web, is forced to become an outlaw and ends up handing himself in to face execution after stabbing her.
But what is it that draws Carmen to the ill-fated soldier, and what attributes make the perfect Don Jose? You have to wonder if she's out for a bit of sport, or if there's a serious sexual dynamic to the whole thing. I think there should be a frisson of something real between the two of them, but Carmen's obviously a girl who likes a bit of a challenge, so maybe it doesn't matter if he's wearing the grey cardigan that Opera North put Peter Auty in for their new production of the opera last season, or the National Health issue spectacles Jonas Kaufmann sported in the role in Zurich in 2008.
I think I want to see an essentially good man unable to resist the temptation, blinded by the gypsy spell and with an increasing air of sadness as things start to go a bit wrong. I want to feel heartbroken that control and reason are sliding away from him, and to cry when he sings Le fleur que tu m'avais jetee. And when JK sings it, I really do. Could he be the best Don Jose of all time? When I first saw him sing the aria in a recording of the 2006 Royal Opera House production, he really took my breath away.
I'm laughing just thinking about it. Falstaff in Verdi's opera of the same name. I suppose it's Shakespeare who is the comedy genius behind the larger than life Sir John, but I'm so glad that for his last ever opera, Verdi abandoned the more tragic Shakespeare plays and created something so hilarious. Just look at the guy's face. You're laughing, aren't you? And I haven't even said anything about the opera yet!
Now despite the fact that Falstaff is a pretty selfish character whose greediness seems to know no bounds, Verdi's opera always makes me feel a strong amount of sympathy for him and unlike most people, I find myself laughing with Falstaff, not at him. It may be due to the fact that, having already been hidden in a laundry basket and thrown into a ditch, the extra punishments in Windsor Park seem a bit unfair. But it probably has more to do with the joyous music and characterisation. It's hard to resist (and even harder not to agree with) Tutto el mondo e burla...Tutta gabbati! and even though it's much more difficult to agree with the sentiments expressed in L'onori! Ladri! Voi state ligi all'onor vostro voi! it has got to be one of the most hilarious arias from any opera, ever. Witness Bryn Terfel (who else) singing it at the 2008 BBC Proms with characteristic zeal...
