THE NEW ZEALAND OPERA SOCIETY

Life goes on. So let us leave Janes aside for now and speak instead of Jane. Parkin, that is. I've been a bit of a Jane Parkin fan ever since she showed up to the McDonald's Aria final last year and sang "O marno to je". I mean, who in the world thinks of singing Rusalka's other aria? Very classy. My esteem increased on seeing this video. But with no other opportunities to hear her, I've had to content myself with declaring her my Favourite Chorus Member. Which is why, when I discovered she was singing Butterfly for Oz Opera, I thought it was high time I faced my fear of outer suburbs, and went.

In my twenty-two months in Sydney, I have been to Parramatta exactly thrice. Once to catch a bus to Kangaroo Valley. Once to be brainwashed by Myer. And then last weekend, for Madama Butterfly. The third trip — the only one which caused me to see more of Parramatta than the station and the Westfield — has proved the most rewarding. There's a press quote for you. "Jane Parkin: she's worth going to Parramatta for."

Jokes aside, she really was. She was even worth the mildly harrowing trip back home again. As was the rest of the production. This is not some ramshackle touring show. It's directed by no less a figure than John Bell, of the Bell Shakespeare Company. He does a pretty gorgeous job of it, too. He's moved the action (as have others before him) to 1940s Nagasaki, which as updates go, is a pretty innocuous and logical one. There's nothing wildly revolutionary in his staging, but there are a few imaginative flourishes. Once married, Cio Cio San, understandably enough, wants to be a Good American Wife, so she dresses like one — until suicide time, she's adorable in a pretty pink dress. She plasters the paper screens with clippings of American ads, movie stars and comic books; and again, they're visible until  her very Japanese suicide, at which point she shuts them away.

Costumes (designed by the late Jennie Tate) are beautiful. After whites and soft pinks, the blood red kimono which Butterfly wears to kill herself has a stunning effect. Tate designed the set too, and it's another little triumph — simple and portable, without looking simple and portable. And since you couldn't possibly tour fifty million towns with an actual toddler in tow, Sorrow takes the form of an exquisitely made puppet by Al Martinez Studios. Initially I wasn't convinced this would work — Butterfly and Suzuki just seemed to be carrying a doll — but the action of this puppet is amazing. When Butterfly sets him down to pray, his little leg slides out all by itself, and he's so skilfully manipulated by the two women that he comes to life.

Jane is a beautiful Butterfly in every sense. It's hard to tell in a small theatre, with reduced orchestra, whether she'd be a big theatre Butterfly. On this scale, though, she's a winner. Bright, shimmery tone, sensitive phrasing and — vital for this role I think — a sense of humour. Butterfly has some really funny lines in the midst of all the trauma, and Jane does a good job of exploring both sides. My programme tells me she has a background in acting as well as music: it shows. And even if her singing wasn't completely seamless, it was memorable and distinctive. She put her own stamp on it, which is more than can be said for some recent performances at the Big House.

But in a way, the revelation of the evening was David Corcoran. I knew what I wanted from Jane. From David, I didn't know what to expect. When he won the McDonald's Aria by unanimous decision last year, I confess I was surprised. But now I get it. He sounded fabulous and sang with such style. No wonder he's a 2009 Young Artist; I just hope that the tenor drought OA is facing doesn't prompt them to force him into anything too early. Given time and space to develop, he could prove to be one of the finest tenors this country has produced in a while. His stage presence is much improved since that Aria final too, thank heavens. I can't believe I'm saying it, but he actually made me sort of like Pinkerton. No mean feat.

Oz Opera casting is all terribly egalitarian. Principal roles are double cast, so it's share and share alike and there's no single prima donna. (Or primo uomo.) This must be a lesson in humility in the case of Butterfly and Pinkerton — when not starring, they're on chorus duty. So theoretically, I suppose, everyone is on an equal footing but I can't help thinking I saw the A cast. Which was the point, of course: I made sure I'd be seeing Jane and David before I went. Casting in the supporting cast, meanwhile, is basically fine. Best of them were the two mezzos, Karen van Spall as Kate Pinkerton and Victoria Lambourn as a very touching Suzuki. Brendon Wickham clearly was having a ball as Goro but I found his voice less than appealing; Ian Cousins is an experienced Sharpless but a little bit dull. Because it's made up of the solo cast, the chorus only consists of six people, which takes a bit of getting used to. The Humming Chorus sounds frankly odd, I think because you can hear each individual voice rather than a single, massed sound. 

And speaking of reduction — this is Butterfly as chamber piece, with a 12 piece orchestra. You do lose a lot of the richness of the score with this arrangement, there's no getting away from that; but once my ear had adjusted, it worked pretty well. I can't say I'd want to hear it like this all the time, but once in a while is interesting.

No surtitles, so this production is sung in English. I'm happy with this. Especially since Peter Hutchinson's translation (which appears to have been done specifically for Oz Opera - can anyone confirm/deny?) is so well done. At many key points I thought it was superior to the one used by Chandos Opera in English for their Butterfly. I did chuckle slightly at what seemed to be a slight PC-ifying, though — Butterfly's age ("quindici netti") became "almost exactly sixteen", which just quietly shifts her up to the age of consent. Perhaps they were afraid of Bill Henson zealots? The only real clumsiness I noted were a few unmetrical contractions: the "chi sara, chi sara?" and "che dira, che dira?" of "Un bel di" were translated as "Who d'you think it will be?" and "What d'you think he will say?", which haven't quite the same ring. Otherwise, though, an excellent translation which managed to retain the depth and wit of the original and, with the help of very good diction from the singers, to be understood pretty much word for word.

I just think it's a shame Oz Opera doesn't venture into the cities. This production has so much to recommend it — especially with the cast configured as it was for me — and I suspect there a lot of people who would love it who will miss out. Too bad for them. Meanwhile, if you're on the Oz Opera circuit or near it, seek this one out. I don't go to Parramatta lightly, but for this show, and for Jane, I'd go again.

Hot on the heels of the season announcement comes a bit of a scandal. Mezzo soprano Fiona Janes has gone public with a lengthy list of complaints about Opera Australia, its treatment of singers and a slide into what she calls "an abyss of mediocrity". According to the Herald article, she'll meet with members of the Opera Australia board next week to discuss her concerns — outlined in a seven page letter first discussed in April. These include:

-young singers cast in roles too big for them
-the neglect of older singers and particularly women
-the importation by Richard Hickox of "second- and third-rate" overseas artists
-"disrespect for a number of established Australian singers"

On the first point, I absolutely agree. The rest is murkier. I am very interested to see what comes of this. In the meantime, I want to throw this open for discussion. Reader, what do you think about Fiona's claims? Speak your mind. (Anonymity is fine.)

...is for Emma, E-reserve and Exhaustion.

For the first time in my life I managed to book the closest thing Opera Australia has to a really cheap seat, one of the balcony box seats that can only be bought on the day of performance. The view is theoretically worse up there even than from D-reserve, but I'm not sure that's actually the case. Certainly it wasn't an issue for this production, wherein nothing very visually interesting happens and all the important bits are centre-stage.

This re-visit did not spring from my usual compulsive tendencies; I just thought it would be interesting to see how it had come on since opening night. The answer was that it hadn't. Now that's not exactly a catastrophe, because opening night was pretty good. I just hoped that maybe, once the jitters of such an important and long-anticipated opening night had calmed down, Emma's Lucia would seem a bit more like a character and less like a concert performance. No such luck. The exception, as on opening night, is the mad scene, where we finally get the sense of a personality other than Emma's own, but even then, it's more like watching Emma playing Joan playing Lucia, if you get my drift. And you can blame the John Copley production, a Joan vehicle if ever you saw one, right down to the big-shouldered frocks, to a certain extent, but not all the way. If this really is THE role of her career, and she seems to consider it as such, then I hope she has both opportunity and capacity to put a personal stamp on it.

As for her singing, there's not a lot I can add to what I've said already. She's what she is, no more or less. You can't say she's not consistent; there are things Emma can always be relied on to provide — precision, sweetness of tone (in the right parts of her voice), solid coloratura and a willingness to take the optional high note. What I suppose bothers me is that while she doesn't sound strained, she also doesn't sound as if she could go any further. Part of the thrill of Joanie's Lucia is the extraordinary vocal reserves on which she draws, the sense that this is a limitless voice. Whereas I feel always aware of Emma's limits. My feeling about Lucia is that it offers two pathways for triumph. There's the drama, and there's the vocal virtuosity. You can be extraordinary in one, or both, or switch between them, but the point is that you need to be somehow extraordinary. Emma is lovely and certainly very talented, she brings gifts to the table which perhaps no other member of the company could currently offer, and her commitment is unquestionable. At her best she can be breathtaking (cf her solos in the Mass in C minor, which left me a blubbering mess) but for me, in this role, she isn't extraordinary. So it's a good thing that I'm a minority up in my cheap seat. Down below, they went nuts for her.

Meanwhile, I have a bone or two to pick with stage management. There are some strange things happening with the curtain. Otello set the precedent, with Dennis, Cheryl and Jonathan taking bows in front of the curtain before it was raised for everyone else to run on for their solo bows. That worked well enough. In Lucia it goes haywire. First of all, Emma takes a solo bow immediately after her mad scene, before Edgardo's final aria and scene. I've no doubt that this is quite a long running Lucia tradition, but I find it jarring to say the least. I suppose in a production so unconcerned with creating dynamic, persuasive theatre, it doesn't really matter if the illusion is so totally shattered, but just the same, it makes the end of the opera even more of an anti-climax than it already is and is no doubt responsible for the number of people I spotted picking up jackets and handbags before the lights went down again. Then, when the opera really is over, the four principals (Lucia, Edgardo, Enrico and Raimondo) and then Bonynge file out in front of the curtain. They bow, and bow again and eventually disappear. The applause continues for a few seconds, then gradually fades. On opening night it had almost stopped when at last, the curtain was raised and the whole of the cast given a chance to take their bows, by which time some of the audience was already on its feet, about to leave. Last night they were too late. The applause stopped. The lights went up. And the chorus, Rosemary Gunn (Alisa), Kanen Breen (Arturo) and Graeme Macfarlane (Normanno) were never seen again. Not nice, Opera Australia!

Coinciding with the 2009 season announcement, Opera Australia has also launched a brand new website. At last. The overhaul was spectacularly overdue. Now the site actually looks like that of a professional opera company, rather than that of an aesthetically impaired teenager. It also boasts such newfangled luxuries as logical navigation, photo galleries and ticketing. (Whether this last works any better than it did when introduced to the old site remains to be seen.)

'Tis done, I am a psychopath. This afternoon I finally saw my last Otello. This, if you have lost count, makes seven. There aren't any more. If there were, I can't say for certain I wouldn't go. Right now I'm just relieved that the Melbourne season has a different Desdemona, because while I can (just) afford to see it a billion times here, I really couldn't be jetting off to Melbourne for more of the same. It hasn't quite broken my record. That's still held by Streetcar, but only because last year I was still a Friend of the Opera and I made to the dress rehearsal as well. In terms of proper performances, it's equal. I expect this record to be broken in January next year, by Madama Butterfly. Cheryl sings 12 performances, Antoinette the other 11, I don't know how many I will see but I think it's safe to say it will be a lot.

What I said after the second performance has proved indeed to be true — that a review written now would be in some ways very different from the one actually published. Not so much in terms of the singers — although were I re-writing, I would probably look in thesaurus for some different words for Cheryl, having noticed the other day that I'd used the same description of her in two consecutive reviews. (What can I do? She is sweet and vivacious!) However, my opening night complaints about the conducting/orchestral playing have more or less evaporated. I'm still not entirely satisfied — there is still something slightly sterile about Simon Hewett's reading, he seems more determined to demonstrate technical facility than to simply give himself up to the music and, in turn, breathe life into the score. But there's no doubt that by the end, the orchestra packed a whole lot more punch than they seemed to on opening night. My feeling is that perhaps we've met in the middle on this: that the conducting and playing have tightened up over the season, and that meanwhile I have stopping wanting something different and agreed to enjoy them on their own terms. However, if Simon Hewett is coming back to this city — and we know that he is — I have just one wish. No more humming along with the score. We can hear you. And it's annoying.

There's more to be said, but as 99% of it concerns Cheryl Barker, I'll save it for another post.

At last, the moment I've been waiting for — OA's 2009 season has been announced. Actually, I should admit that, courtesy of various forms of espionage, I've known the full programme (with one exception) for a couple of months now. However, what I didn't know, apart from the odd gleaning, was who was singing what. And now that I do — and now that the announcement has been made — the fun really begins. You know what comes next. And it's going to be lengthy.

So, here's the short version.

My top picks are Cheryl Barker in Madama Butterfly, obviously, and also Antoinette, who takes over the role mid-season; Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk; Peter Grimes with Stuart Skelton and Susan Gritton; Aldo di Toro's Werther and Tebaldo; and the new Cosi directed by Jim Sharman, of Rocky Horror fame.

I'm happy about Emma Matthews as Pamina; the continued presence of Jonathan Summers; a couple of meaty roles for José Carbo; Lisa Gasteen, here at last!; Milijana Nikolic as Amneris.

I'm perplexed by the continued under-utilisation of Jacqueline Dark; the relative paucity of Antoinette; the prospect (in Melbourne only) of Hye-Seoung Kwon as Fiordligi; the total absence of Carlo Barricelli.

I'm upset that only Melbourne gets Brad Cohen for I Capuleti e I Montecchi; there's no Joshua Bloom; Sydney also misses out on Jennifer Wilson's Aida; Yvonne doesn't get a new production for her Dido.

And I'm a little surprised to see that the Melbourne season of A Streetcar Named Desire will have exactly the same principal cast as Sydney's did.

I'm about to go into a lot more detail. Those who wish to follow may do so.

And now that we're here, let us, like Maria, start at the very beginning.

Dec 30 - Mar 23
Puccini: Madama Butterfly
It's quite a beginning. I'm a happy girl. This is a revival of the beautiful Moffatt Oxenbould production created for Cheryl Barker ten years ago. That performance is available on DVD. Now she's singing it for us again. Can't imagine anything more perfect. She also has to jet off to Paris in the middle of the season to sing Cio-Cio San over there, in the Robert Wilson production. Then she comes back to finish out her season here in March — can't wait to see if she accidentally breaks into Wilsonesque gesture. While she's away, lovely Antoinette Halloran takes over the title role, a prospect almost as mouthwatering as Cheryl herself. Julian Gavin sings Pinkerton for the first nine performances: I look forward finally to hearing him. Unfortunately for me, Rosario La Spina sings the rest of the run. This I don't relish at all, but then again, Pinkerton is probably the ideal role for a tenor one can't abide — not much singing, a long absence, and you're not supposed to like him anyway. Catherine Carby sings Suzuki, but is compensated for it later in the season with something much more interesting. Always nice to see Jud Arthur, even in a tiny role like the Bonze.

Jan 20 - Feb 14
Mascagni/Leoncavallo: Cavalleria Rusticana/Pagliacci
Dennis O'Neill shakes his fist through both tenor roles. My eyes will be on Jonathan Summers, who sings Alfio and Tonio, seeing as I am now His Fan. I have to take my Jacqui Dark fix where I can find it, and savour every moment of her Mamma Lucia. Nicole Youl will be our Santuzza — no surprise there — and Amelia Farrugia ought to be a sweet sort of Nedda. I guess it's about time I saw a Cav/Pag.

Jan 22 - Mar 19
Mozart: Die Zauberflöte
It's a pop hit, of course, but I'm rather pleased with the prospect of a Zauberflöte, my first live one since I was a tiny little child! OA has taken the unconventional step of casting Emma Matthews in a role actually suited to her talents, and I expect she'll be a delightful Pamina. She only sings six performances, though, and then Hye-Seoung Kwon (another appropriate choice! Imagine that!) takes over. I had hoped Lorina Gore would be our Queen of the Night (she was the only sensible Antipodean choice) and lo and behold, sie kommt! Such heavenly security, to know in advance that those Fs (and everything leading up to them) will be in pristine place. More excited about Andrew Goodwin as Tamino than Henry Choo. Has anyone else noticed the disproportionate number of Andrews in the company? There are three in this production alone. 

Mar 3 - 25
Shostakovich: Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk
Oh this will be fantastic. Has to be. My compatriot Simon O'Neill (he was born in Ashburton, home of Jenny Shipley and of New Zealand's first Exeloo) promises to be excellent as Sergei. Susan Bullock, of whom I have read very good things, is Katerina. I note with slight disappointment that it's to be sung in English, however I suspect this will prove a happy decision in practice. Another bit part for Jud Arthur. Our esteemed Musical Director conducts.

Mar 12 - 26
Massenet: Werther
Success! Months and months ago I was thinking up a wishlist, and Werther was on it. I didn't actually expect I'd get it. True, I did have a different mezzo in mind for it, but I shan't look a gift Pamela Helen Stephen in the mouth. However, my prediction for the title role has come true — the lovely, lovely Aldo di Toro. Taryn Fiebig, who is everywhere next year, sings Sophie. Albert is another Andrew, Schroeder this time. The production is by Elijah Moshinsky, revival director is none other than Elke Neidhardt. Intriguing prospect. But evidently Australian audiences can't be trusted to flock to non-Manon Massenet, this must be the shortest season of anything ever.

Jun 27 - Jul 18
Handel / Purcell: Dido & Aeneas / Acis & Galatea
I feel as if I am coming full circle. A baroque double bill was one of the first things I ever saw at Opera Australia, on a visit to Melbourne in 2004. A few nights later I saw Yvonne Kenny as Hanna Glawari and the rest is tragic history. Well, now Yvonne sings Dido. Which was the very first thing I knew about this season. I did sort of hope they would give her a new production; my vague memory of what I saw in 2004 is that it was suitably weird but not wildly attractive — I wanted a nice old-fashioned baroque frock and flowing tresses for her. Never mind. I think Dido will be (well, certainly can be) perfect for her. I hope she channels Janet. I'm a bit unsettled by OA's choice of Aeneas, Luke Gabbedy; he's a perfectly fine singer but I fear he will seem ridiculously young for Yvonne's Dido. Obviously it was always going to be sung by a relatively young singer — it's that sort of role — but I think Angus Wood would have made more sense. But what do I know? Taryn Fiebig is Belinda — told you she was everywhere — and then sings Galatea as well. Her second Galatea in as many years, in a sense. (Yes, I know, Handel's Galatea is not Pygmalion's.) Henry Choo is her Acis. This wil be cute, I guess. But if it's second on the bill, I can't promise to stay for all seven. (Since we can assume I'll see all of Yvonne's Didos.) Very happy to have Antony Walker conducting.

Jul 7 - Sep 19
Verdi: Aida
Is there a Verdi opera I'm less inclined to see? Probably not, although the promise of a new production improves my mood a little. Given the length of the season, most roles are shared. We had some discussion in the comments a while back about the multiple sopranos claiming to be singing Aida here — turns out it's all three. In Sydney we see Tamara Wilson and Claire Rutter. But the most exciting of the three is in Melbourne only: Jennifer Wilson. Damn. Milijana Nikolic as Amneris is another wish granted and may steal the show. (Grace Bumbry would say it's Amneris' show to begin with, of course.) As Radames we hear Dongwon Shin (2006's last minute Calaf, who recently cancelled his Melbourne appearances as Otello) followed by, sigh, Rosario La Spina. Ramfis is Jud Arthur, and wonderful David Parkin makes what I believe is a mainstage debut as the King.

Jul 16 - Aug 13
Puccini: Manon Lescaut
A role debut for the true Prima Donna of Opera Australia, our one and only Cheryl Barker. The thought is too delicious for words. Her Des Grieux is one Jorge Lopez-Yanez, not a name I'm at all familiar with, but at least it's not... who it might have been. As her brother, it's Teddy Tahu Rhodes! Tell me, because it's hard to tell from the picture, but I seem to recall that they use the same production for both Manon and Manon Lescaut (until the desert scene, at least) — am I right? But more importantly — Cheryl! As Manon Lescaut! The fact that I've known this for over a year doesn't make it any less fantastic.

Jul 30 - Aug 29
Beethoven: Fidelio
I always think I'm not so keen on this opera, and then I hear Marzelline's "O wär ich schon mit dir vereint" and I change my tune. I had heard that Janice Watson would sing Leonore, which was fine, but I'm very happy to find that in fact it's Lisa Gasteen we'll hear. About time! Lorina Gore is something of a surprise as Marzelline, but it's nice she'll have a chance to sing something other than a coloratura showpony role. Julian Gavin is back as Florestan, and lovely Peter Coleman-Wright is Don Pizarro. The apparently ageless Conal Coad sings Rocco.

Aug 11 - Sep 9
Bellini: I Capuleti e i Montecchi
Obligatory Emma Matthews Vehicle #2. I don't know this opera well enough to have too much of an attitude about her casting here, but as a rule I still think she's better in pretty Mozart than Joanesque bel canto. As with Pamina, she's replaced partway through by Hye-Seong Kwon, who seems to be OA's Emma-in-training. I think Catherine Carby might make the bigger splash, as Roméo. She too shares the role, with Dominica Matthews. In accordance with my wishes, Aldo di Toro will sing Tebaldo, and will do so beautifully. Sydney performances are conducted by — ho hum — bel canto expert™ Richard Bonynge. Whereas Melbourne gets the far more exciting and charismatic Brad Cohen. Colour me jealous. (Is this payback for the fact that we get all the Cheryl and they get none?)

Aug 27 - Oct 31
Sullivan: The Mikado
Thanks, I think I'll stick to Butterfly. No. I probably will see it. Once. Ubiquitous Taryn Fiebig is Yum-Yum, Jacqueline Dark is Pitti-Sing and some guy called Anthony Warlow who seems to have a bit of a following is in it too. My enthusiasm just bubbles off the page, doesn't it? I don't get Gilbert & Sullivan.

Sep 17 - Oct 29
Mozart: Cosi fan tutte
The dark horse of the season. Seems innocent enough, but plans are afoot. The publicity blurb is full of the same sort of hints/warnings that surrounded Elke Neidhardt's Don Giovanni. "Distinctly modern", "exuberant", "roller-coaster ride". It's directed by Jim Sharman, who directed the film of Rocky Horror and will be sung in new(ish) English translation by Jeremy Sams. So far it all sounds good to me. The "hand-picked cast" (is all the other casting done by machine? and is the machine in need of servicing?) is a promising one. Rachelle Durkin gets to show off her gift for quirky comedy as Fiordiligi, and I'm very happy to see Sian Pendry — whom I've had my eye on for a while — in her first big role, as Dorabella. Henry Choo will presumably be a slightly simple, slightly wooden Ferrando, Shane Lowrencev will be impossibly tall as Guglielmo.

Oct 15 - 30
Britten: Peter Grimes
I cannot wait for this. Stuart Skelton in the title role looks to be one of the most perfect pieces of casting Opera Australia has pulled off in recent years. He's ideal. I loved him in Streetcar, and it will be great to see him take centrestage. Besides which, I love this opera. English soprano Susan Gritton, a Hickox regular, is bound to be a great Ellen Orford I'm very happy with the idea of Elizabeth Campbell as Mrs Sedley. Lorina Gore and, yes, Taryn Fiebig are the two nieces and Andrew Moran finally gets a little something to sink his teeth into as Ned Keene. Peter Coleman-Wright will be in his element as Captain Balstrode. And, thank heavens, Richard Hickox — who knows his way around Britten — conducts the first four performances. New production by Neil Armfield. I have a feeling this might just prove to be amazing.

And the rest
As Adrian Collette hinted last year, there's to be a Melbourne season of A Streetcar Named Desire. Four performances only. I have zero desire ever to hear this opera again and yet it's a safe bet I'll end up seeing one at least. All four Sydney principles are returning. Antoinette Halloran takes her star turn again as Stella, Teddy Tahu Rhodes and his torso swagger through Stanley, lovely Stuart Skelton is Mitch and, yes, Yvonne Kenny is Blanche DuBois. This last does surprise me. If I can be brutally honest — on the understanding that, whatever I say, I do love her completely — Blanche was a questionable role choice for her two years ago. Doing it again, two years later, is even more so. I am unendingly proud of her for making it through Blanche as prettily and as valiantly as she did, but I really did not expect that she'd ever want to do it again. However. That's not for me to say. And I suppose Melbourne would whinge if they got a second-string Blanche.  The next question is whether, somewhere in the revival process, somebody might do something to improve Blanche's horrible, horrible mad scene wig. Just a thought.
One more thing. A concert performance on March 20th, featuring Rossini's Stabat Mater, Respighi's Pini di Roma, and (drum roll, please) Strauss' Four Last Songs sung by Cheryl Barker. I mean, are they actually trying to kill me?

Still crazy about you, Kathy. Last night I found yet another reason why.

That's Kathy just two months ago. This is why I cannot, despite everything, believe that she is a bad person at heart. She couldn't be, and do this. Rationality be damned. She just couldn't.

[Hat tip to YouTube user cctvupload for posting the video.]

You'll forgive me my Opera Chic moment. I've just had this brief, mobile report from opening night of Victorian Opera's L'elisir d'amore.

"Antoinette is teh hawtness"

And really, what else do you need to know?

Don't worry, I am as perplexed by this Otello mania as anyone. Because after all, sopranos aside, this isn't the kind of opera I usually become attached to. And it would be easy enough to say, well, I'm really only going to see Desdemona, and the rest is filler. Easy, but not altogether true. I only occasionally work on that principle; despite Rachelle's presence, for instance, I only saw Don Giovanni twice. Of course it would absolutely be possible to see this opera for its Desdemonic portions only — she is that good — but it has other attractions.

In particular, it has Jonathan Summers. And yes, I will get as repetitive about him as I do about sopranos because the man is a genius. The first gleeful frisson I get from this production is not "Mio superbo guerrier" but Iago's "Se un fragil voto / di femmina non è tropp'arduo nodo / pel genio mio nè per l'inferno". He is such a through-and-through villain I should hate him, but he's so good at it (and sounds so good, too) that I love him. That Desdemona should fall victim to his machinations is indeed unfortunate, but apart from that, I'm on Iago's side. Even at the end I lead this double life: I'm sad for poor, lifeless Desdemona, but when Iago spits defiantly at Otello and runs off, I confess I stifle a little cheer for him. Does this make me a terrible person? Yes? I don't care.

None of which, however, should be read as a claim that I'd still be repeatedly attending this Otello if it had an ordinary Desdemona. You'd never swallow that, and neither would I. But it isn't like Alcina, where by night five it was all about Rachelle, and all that other singing was just what I had to sit through to get to her. (I overstate the case slightly, though to be honest, not by much.)

Repeated viewing has allayed my concerns about Desdemona's costumes, they don't seem as ill-fitting as originally they did, although the hemline of her "Splende in ciel" suit isn't the most flattering. I am, however, steadily falling in love with her Act III frock with all its purple layers. The "Dio ti giocondi" black pant-suit is my favourite, especially the gorgeous black heels that go with it.

Also, it has to be said again — the chorus is doing so well in this production. Singing fabulously and running, jumping and tumbling up and down all those stairs. It can't be easy, and I'm so impressed that in five performances not a single person has tripped on their, or somebody else's, frock. Or if they have, I haven't noticed.

Can you believe that this afternoon, choosing music, the one thing I felt in the mood for was, yes, Otello? I should have had enough by now, but evidently not. Oh, and I still have one more performance booked. Which might become two. This would make seven in total — still one off my record — and I'm tempted to do it, if for no other reason than just to be that weirdo who saw Otello seven times.

Just some things I've been listening to (in those rare moments when I'm not at Otello). None of it very new.

William Christie and Emmanuelle Haïm might be among my favourite pin-ups, but when it   comes to Dido & Aeneas it seems I am an old  fashioned girl after all. This 1961 recording is my third so far and it's by far the closest to my imagined ideal. You would not believe that this was Janet's first ever operatic recording, she's stunning. Patricia Clark is a lovely Belinda. Aeneas is cast as a bass baritone! Massively inauthentic, of course — yawn — but I confess, I like it. If nothing else it makes him sound a bit less whiny. (I have never liked Aeneas. In any incarnation.) And the overall spirit and sound of this Dido is just plain excellent. It sounds like the Dido in my head. Only better, as you'd expect. Besides, though one hates to be chauvinistic — and even though Véronique Gens is divine in every language — I do sort of prefer my Purcell without a French accent. Désolée.

Sticking with early English loveliness, I have finally had a chance to hear this, Mark Padmore's disc of Dowland lute songs. Eat your heart out, Sting*; this is quality. I'm starting to think that wonderful lutenist Elizabeth Kenny might be a good luck charm. She's on Carolyn Sampson's astounding Purcell disc too. I do love these songs, some of which I've known since childhood, courtesy of Kathleen Battle's and Christopher Parkening's Pleasures of their Company. As for Mark, he is his dreamy self. Craig Ogden's guitar solo in the middle (Britten's Nocturnal, variations on Dowland's Come, heavy sleep) is a delight too. And as it's a Hyperion release, there's a nice painting on the cover; rather than a photo of Mark looking like a vagrant, as on his Handel arias.

 Something which has been around for quite a while, but which I only recently acquired, is Jennifer Larmore's L'Etoile, her disc of French arias both familiar and un. Lately Jennifer's been a mixed bag for me but this recital represents the Jennifer I know and love — her stately, shapely tone and impassioned delivery. It is always a good sign if I find myself actually interested in a rendition of "Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix." Her Berlioz is great as well, and she amuses herself greatly in the Chabrier novelty track. She also manages a touching but non-saccharine "Connais-tu le pays", which deserves another pat on the back. I meant to buy this CD years ago and then never did. So pleased I finally have it.

 I've only listened to this pair of Zelenka discs — his Requiem and the oratorio I Penitenti al Sepolcro del Redentore — once each, so have little to say. Obviously they're beautiful. But the main point of interest (for me, at any rate) is that they contain a twenty-one year old Magdalena Kozena. Before she was a star, before she was Lady Rattle (yes, I know she isn't actually Lady Rattle), before she was anything other than a wonderfully promising contralto. She's excellent. Speaking of Magdalena, I've just seen tonight that she has a new one (recital disc, that is) on the way. Songs My Mother Taught Me (oh, come on, she had to do it some time), a collection of Czech songs she's known since childhood. Given that her first disc of Czech songs is still one of the most fantastic things she's ever done, I'm very much looking forward to this. It even has Dorothea Roeschmann on it — how could it go wrong?

*The best line by far in the otherwise underwhelming Jam and Jerusalem was Jennifer Saunders' snobbish character recounting a party at Madonna's. "It was a lovely evening. Until Sting played the lute."

Fourth Otello last night. And I did sort of claim I would stop posting after every performance but oh, what the hell. I'm a completist. Not that I suppose there's very much left to say.

I was in the second last row of the stalls, which makes a change from my usual front loge seats. I can't deny that I'd rather see Cheryl & co at close range, but it's interesting to have wider view. There are aspects of the production which actually come across better from a distance. I hadn't really noticed until last night that the whole set actually tilts slightly, adding to that sense of a world gradually sliding into destruction. Details of blocking — especially all the sinister skulking Iago does — made more of an impression from afar as well. There are some striking tableaux in this production. The end of the Act I duet, as first Otello, and then Desdemona, ascend the stairs and gaze out into that notte densa, is captivating: the glow of the lighting matches that of the music. And I'm noticing patterns. Everyone seems to meet their downfall at the same spot on those fateful steps: it's where Iago takes in both Roderigo and Cassio, Otello collapses with grief there at least once, and it's where Desdemona sings both her Act III "A terra, si" and much of her final scene, including that terrible, beautiful "Amen". Likewise, the affectionate way in which Otello brings Desdemona's hands together as if in prayer is mirrored later in his much more brutal treatment of her. And as exquisite as they are at a distance of mere feet, Cheryl's pianissimo, unaccompanied "salice"s are even more poignant when they come travelling through so much space and darkness.

Meanwhile, I'm starting to think that my tiny taste of a house with a proper pit has spoilt me for good. Now that I know what I'm missing, I'm more frustrated than ever by the appalling conditions in the Opera Theatre. While the thought of a missing or reduced season frightens me, I think I'm willing to face it if it means doing something to make the world's most recognisable opera house into a good venue for opera.

I don't mean dull. I don't even really mean relaxing, certainly not in the insipid compilation sense. Nor do I mean emptily pretty, the charge too often levelled unjustly at bel canto. Assuming you have a love of beautiful singing — which, if you've gone to Lucia and/or are an Emma Matthews fan, is probably a pretty safe assumption — then there's no way you'd be bored or dissatisfied with this production. Her singing and that of her colleagues is lovely and touching, and the orchestra plays well under the guidance of Mr Lucia himself, Richard Bonynge. However, if it's adventure you want — electrifying vocalism, stimulating direction or an actress who takes risks with this floating, disturbed little girl — you'll need to go elsewhere. This is the safest of all possible Lucias.

John Copley's production has been around forever; or at least, since 1980, when it premiered with Our Joan. It's pretty much as traditional as it gets: huge pillars, a kitschy fountain, lots of tartan, and immense frocks designed to make even the tiniest slip of a girl — Emma, for instance — look like she's packing Joan-sized shoulders. The staging is what you might call basic. People stand and sing and clutch their bosoms, or one another, or both. It's hardly thrilling and pretty easy to mock (I can't believe, for instance, that in twenty-eight years, nobody's had the nerve to drop the hilarious Highland dancing at Lucia's wedding) but it has its charms as well. There's something a bit heartwarming about watching proper old fashioned opera — old fashioned in the best sense. Maria Callas and My Natalie aside, Donizetti didn't actually write an opera intended to explore the dark depths of madness, he wrote a showy singers' vehicle, and I think there's room in the world for both approaches, not to mention plenty of middle ground.

Emma sings Lucia absolutely beautifully. I know that I have a history as the lone voice of dissent when it comes to Emma's performances, but even I can't deny how delightful this particular performance is. Her quick vibrato and girlish sweetness don't always work to her advantage — in Arabella they messed with Strauss' long lines and left her frequently inaudible — but they're perfectly in step with the frills and frippery of this music. There's not a note or cadenza out of place; she takes all the optional high notes and aces them. It's true that hers is a small voice, and I'm not sure how her Lucia would fare in a more cavernous space. Even here, she does disappear somewhat when obliged to compete with other voices or big orchestration — but luckily for her, it's the very nature of bel canto that whenever she has something important to sing, the orchestra draws right back and lets her take priority.

What she isn't, however, is exciting. Engaging, yes, because she sounds so lovely. Characterisation, though, is almost non existent: she doesn't really seem to know how she wants to play Lucia, or even to have much sense of the role's dramatic potential. Until the mad scene, she doesn't really do anything except pout and collapse; I felt like I was watching Emma give a Donizetti concert as herself, rather than a convincing portrayal of Lucia. Not that a convincing portrayal is the only path to a thrilling Lucia. Joanie did it through vivid virtuosity — her Lucia mightn't look the part but vocally she's alive and exciting. Emma hasn't quite the bottomless reserves of Joan. Her range and agility are extraordinary but they operate within definite, albeit impressive, limits. For all her many charms, I can't say I consider Emma a great Lucia. I don't know if she'll ever be one, though I've no doubt she'll grow into the role considerably during this season and beyond. But on her own terms, this is an exquisite performance and I really did love it. So much so that I, the eternal naysayer, surprised myself by standing to applaud her, among a sea of mostly seated people. Yes, I had, and still have my reservations; but she did herself proud and the warmth and happiness she radiated at her curtain call were infectious.

After all that — well and truly the most I've ever written about Emma in a single post — you just know the boys are going to get short shrift. This is grossly unfair, because they were both fantastic.

José Carbo impresses me more with every performance. I swooned for his Escamillo in Dunedin and delighted in the elegant exuberance of his Figaro. He was an excellent Almaviva and his Marcello stole the show. Now he's our unsettlingly charismatic Enrico. Within the staid conventionality of this staging, he actually manages to bring some sense of spontaneity to Enrico's stock gestures and sword brandishing. He uses that big, gorgeous voice of his with intelligence and flair, singing the role so appealingly that I, for one, found it very hard to revile him as much as I know I should.

Eric Cutler is just the right kind of Edgardo for Emma's Lucia —a finely-wrought, lyrical partner rather than an expansive Italian macho man who might shout her down. His singing is bright, fluent and graceful. His stage presence is on the subdued side. Like Emma, he doesn't really come to life until his character's dramatic final scene — in this case, the angst and subsequent suicide of "Tombe degli avi miei". His performance is a delight throughout, but this scene is especially impressive, showing off his sunshine timbre, easy legato and a beautifully controlled upper register. It's tough being the tenor in Lucia, required to wait until after the hugely famous mad scene to sing his own big aria. Eric pulls it off, though, moving out of Emma's shadow to cast an indelible impression of his own. Another major highlight was his fiery dueting with José Carbo in the Wolf's Crag scene — that's some combination.

And there are the rest: Alisa, Raimondo, Normanno, Arturo, the Professor and Mary Ann. Alisa seems to be one of those roles that can be played in any way, by any kind of mezzo. In San Francisco she was young. Here she's an elderly duenna, sung with not much voice but plenty of spirit by Elderly Duenna par excellence Rosemary Gunn. Kanen Breen is in his element as Arturo — after playing it straight as Cassio in Otello, he's now allowed to be preposterously camp again. So camp, actually, that I thought: maybe Edgardo isn't the problem, maybe the marriage fails so messily because Lucia's new husband is, well, just like the Earl of Doncaster. Graeme McFarlane is fine as Normanno. Richard Anderson is a nice, solid Raimondo, but for some reason I was convinced we were getting Jud Arthur in this role. Did I just make this up? Unfortunately the Gilligan's Crag scene has been cut.

In the end I liked this Lucia quite a lot more than I expected I would. I laughed, I smiled, I sighed and I shed not one single tear; I basked in enchanting sounds without the slightest risk of devastation. No, I wouldn't want every Lucia to be like this, but once in a while it's nice to see it this way. I'm even planning to go again.

STRAVINSKY: The Rake's Progress, opera in three acts
Trulove................................... René Schirrer
Anne Trulove.......................... Laura Claycomb
Tom Rakewell........................ Toby Spence
Nick Shadow [Old Nic, Tempter] Laurent Naouri
Mother Goose [brothel madam] Hilary Summers
Baba the Turk [bearded lady] Jane Henschel
Sellem [the auctioneer!]....... Ales Briscein
Keeper of the Madhouse........ Ugo Rabec
Paris National Opera Chorus & Orch/Edward Gardner
(recorded at the Opéra Garnier, Paris )

Beautiful Elisabeth Schwarzkopf played the part of Anne Trulove at the first performance, in Venice in 1951. ( I know that, like most Germans, she had trouble widh English "the" [za], but she conquered it eventually.)

First, I just have to share this, from James Waites' overview of the 2008 Helpmann Awards at Australian Stage Online:

"In a tentative move to comment on the realm of opera, I was thrilled to see Cheryl Barker take out the award for Best Female Performer in an Opera. This was for her title role performance in Arabella, which I did not see. But who cares – I saw and heard Barker in Otello last week – and oh my gosh! Here is another perfect candidate to support my theme.

I did happen to be there eighteen years ago on the opening night of Baz Luhrmann/Catherine Martin’s La Boheme – which not only set that mildly talented duo up for all that has since followed; but where Cheryl Barker made us weep as a most tender of Mimi’s. A star was born.

Cheryl Barker - look at you now! Your Desdemona is incandescent. You are in full flight. As the guy who gets to hangs out in the stalls with the punters, I had to stop and pinch myself: how goddam lucky am I?"

Also, a bit of a link drop. You should see...

...wonderful Dunedin mezzo Claire Barton singing the South African national anthem at Carisbrook.
...Anna Leese's debut recital on EMI, which will finally be released next week.
...as much as you can of Anna Moffo in Pergolesi's La serva padrona, now available on YouTube. Forget glossy crossover and barihunks; if this doesn't make you love opera, nothing will.
...Not Another Music Blogger, the brand new blog of one Lady Blogger, who has been providing comprehensive and highly entertaining coverage of the Sydney International Piano Competition. Welcome to the blogosphere, Lady Blogger!

Yes, third time...

Best yet for Cheryl. Call me crazy — you probably already do — but I could see it in her eyes that she'd outdo herself, before she'd sung a note. Fired up, perhaps, by her Helpmann the night before. Her concentration is quite staggering — every moment, every inch of her, is so completely in character. The horror and fear on her face in Act III was hard to watch.

But, as my companion on opening night pointed out — she's doing an awful lot of significant stair climbing this season.

Jonathan Summers could give children nightmares. For one scary moment, he looked up at the monitor directly below my loge seat and that cruel gaze seemed fixed on me. I nearly shuddered. And he was so adorable in Gianni Schicchi...

And (indulge/ignore me, it's my blog) this time when he strangled her beneath the stairs, one arm reached back behind her head, over the top top step. Quivered, then dropped lifeless. It was a nicely macabre touch. I do love it, too, when she drags herself back up — it's like a horror movie.

But Otello's dagger is laughably blunt. I've seen plastic knives that were more convincing.

I keep expecting to start being bored during the boys' scenes but guess what? I like all of it. That's a testament to the opera and the production, of course; and maybe my horizons are broadening after all. (But I still like Desdemona the best.) Two more booked, I may add more besides. I'll try not to follow every single one of them with a content-free post like the above.

2008 Helpmann Awards announced last night. Among the winners

Best Direction of an Opera: John Cox, Arabella, Opera Australia
Best Female Performer in a Supporting Role in an Opera: Emma Matthews, Arabella, Opera Australia
Best Female Performer in an Opera: Cheryl Barker, Arabella, Opera Australia (damn right!!)
Best Opera: (quelle surprise!) Arabella, Opera Australia

And suddenly I feel all's right in the world...although an award for Peter C-W would have been nice.

Does anyone know who's covering Otello? Not that I'm planning to poison Dennis O'Neill. It's just I'm struggling to imagine who in the company it could possibly be; I can only think of one name as even an outside possibility. Any clues?

On a related note, I was browsing the photos at Jonathan Summers' website and something finally dawned on me which I should have realised from the programme cover — when this production premiered in 2003, Otello (Frank Porretta) was in blackface. Now he isn't. I wonder why.

HÉROLD: Zampa, an opera in three acts
Zampa.......................... Richard Troxell
Alphonse de Monza...... Bernard Richter
Camille.......................... Patricia Petitbon
Ritta.............................. Doris Lamprecht
Dandolo........................ Vincent Ordonneau
Les Arts Florissants/William Christie
(recorded in the Opéra Comique, Paris by Radio France)

My second Otello. I like it when opening night is out of the way, reviews done with, and I can stop acting the crritic [sic] and just enjoy the opera in terms of my own peculiar biases. Although I can't help second guessing whatever I wrote the last time. This convention of reviewing opening night has its uses, but just how indicative opening night is of the success of a whole season varies, I suspect. A response written after three or four performances, spread out through a run, would be quite a different creature. It would also defeat most of the purpose of reviewing in the first place, which I guess is why it's not done. That's all by the by, though.

I moaned on opening night about limp and hazy conducting but it had a bit more oomph last night. Sitting a few rows closer might have contributed to that, since you practically have to climb into the pit to hear the orchestra properly. (And even then the listening conditions are apparently far from ideal.) In any case, it was an improvement, though I'm still not quite satisfied. True, I don't help matters by listening to Karajan's Otello in between performances. What got on my nerves especially, probably because it's one of my favourite passages in all of opera, was Desdemona's Willow Song and Ave Maria. Hewett seems a bit too keen to keep everything moving. It's not rushed, exactly; just a bit blunt and insensitive. My feeling is that this scene should be as eerily serene as you can make it. I don't think it's possible to overdo the quiet. Instead we just sort of chug through the prelude. Cheryl helps matter a lot once she starts singing, but she'd be even better served by orchestral playing as haunting as she is.

Also, I am starting to feel there is something missing. I think it's love, or chemistry at least. There isn't a great deal palpable between Otello and Desdemona. I don't like to point the finger, but facts are facts: it ain't Cheryl who's letting down the side. This is cruel of me, because there is so much to admire about Dennis O'Neill's Otello. He does military hero remarkably well but stumbles on romantic hero. There's little to justify Desdemona's affectionate manner, nor is there much evidence of his adoration for her. We ought to sense that their former happiness has been as intense as the violence of their miserable end. Whence could such passionate jealousy spring, if not from equally passionate love and physical attraction? It isn't that Dennis isn't trying. He does his best, I'm sure, but his limits in this department are, I fear, significant. If only Peter Coleman-Wright were a tenor...