Fine Arts

Winspear Opera House, Dallas, Texas October 21, 23, 26, 29, November 6, 2011

Review by Dean M. Cassella, Ph.D.

“She seemed to hear through the mist the sound of the Scotch bagpipes re-echoing over the moors.  .  . She gave herself up to the flow of the melodies, and felt all her being vibrate as if the violin bows were being drawn over her nerves. Her eyes could hardly take in all the costumes, the scenery, the actors, the painted trees that shook whenever someone walked, and the velvet caps, cloaks, swords—all those imaginary things that vibrated in the music as in the atmosphere of another world.”

Thus Flaubert describes Emma Bovary’s experience of hearing Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor in a theater in Rouen. When Madame Bovary was first published in 1856, Donizetti’s greatest work was a mere twenty one years old. Today, it is an opera-house mainstay throughout the world, and a sine qua non of the coloratura soprano repertoire.  Lucia is usually a sure bet with opera goers, and TDO’s current production is no exception. Friday night’s performance was marked by outstanding performances by all principals, and lush, vibrant conducting by Graeme Jenkins.

Gaetano Donizetti (1797-1848) stands as one of the “Big Three” of nineteenth-century Italian opera composers (the others being Rossini and Verdi). The work swells and swoons with beautiful melodies and rich orchestration that drives the plot to its tragic end. If you find yourself attracted to Verdi’s middle operas (Trovatore, Traviata and Rigoletto) you’ll love listening to Lucia. The story has all of the stereotypes of Italian Bel Canto opera: evil villains, obsessive, co-dependent love affairs, a maudlin juxtaposition of suicide and Christian piety, murder. . . the list goes on. This is all a good thing, especially when the music is as beautiful and satisfying as Donizetti’s is here.

Just as Tudor-era Englishmen had a fascination for stories about Italy, Italians were particularly fond of tales hailing from Britain (consider Donizetti’s trio on Elizabeth I). The story of Lucia concerns life of a noble court in Scotland around 1700, and is based on a novel by Sir Walter Scott. Lucia, the sister of Enrico Ashton, of Lammermoor, is deceived into believing that the man she has pledged her love to, Edgardo of Ravenswood, is unfaithful to her. This Enrico does in order to bolster his family’s worldly ambitions by an arranged marriage to Lord Arturo Bucklaw. At the very moment Lucia signs the marriage contract, Edgar appears on the scene to disabuse her of her disillusionment. His rejection of Lucia proves to be just another step on the road to her losing her sanity, wherein she murders her groom on her wedding night, and appears to the members of the court, covered in blood and hallucinating. She subsequently dies in her sorry state. In the final scene, Edgardo kills himself in an attempt to be reunited with Lucia in heaven.

All of the principals in this production are making their TDO debut. Foremost among these is Romanian soprano Elena Mosuc, who does an outstanding job in the role of Lucia. Apart from brief appearances by her companion Alisa (well sung in this production by Charleston mezzo-soprano Cynthia Hanna), Lucia is the sole carrier of the feminine registers for the entire work. Mosuc’s voice is has a soft, hypnotic timbre whose apparent gentleness is deceptive, for it definitively cuts through the orchestra, seemingly without effort.

Lucia’s “mad scene,” in many respects the quintessential exemplar of the genre, was what made Joan Sutherland a superstar at the Metropolitan Opera back in the sixties. The scene is deftly handled by Mosuc, whose intimacy with the role is palpable, and her masterly vocal performance is beautifully matched by her acting. There’s nothing like a petite coloratura to further engender sympathy already established by a sweet, lyric voice.

The voice of New Orleans tenor Bryan Hymel (as Edgardo) has a lot of panache. His voice has a more piercing quality than that of Mosuc, perhaps a reversal of soprano/tenor stereotypes. He and Mosuc sing well together, but Hymel naturally comes into his own in the finale, wherein he kills himself.

San Marino Republic baritone Luca Grassi, who makes his US debut with this production, was in many ways a show stealer. His dark, brooding voice is a perfect match for the role of Enrico. Enrico’s is the first principal role to be heard in Act I, and Grassi convincingly sets the tone for the whole opera. I would love to hear him sing the lead in Don Giovanni. Keep your eyes and ears out for him in future American productions.

Tenor Scott Quinn, who hails from Marshall, Texas, and has been a mainstay at TDO for several years’ running (including two seasons as Young Artist in Residence), performs wonderfully in the role of Raimondo, a court chaplain. To my ear, he is a dramatic tenor. The boldness of his voice (he has no problem filling out the theater) is counterbalanced by a supple smoothness that is reminiscent of Mosuc’s. This makes him an ideal candidate to sing the role of the pastor. After this production, Mr. Quinn will set out to join the Houston Grand Opera Studio.

The sets were designed by the late Henry Bardon, who was commissioned to build them for TDO back in 1972. The central design consists of a group of large, dilapidated gothic pillars, which serve as the foundation for a variety of indoor and outdoor scenes. The story is very dark, and the sets effectively enhance the mood. Garnett Bruce’s stage direction seemed a bit flat, especially in the first two acts. This is all the more noticeable, given the uniformly high caliber of the signing.

On the whole, this is a very strong start for TDO’s 2011-2012 season. It may be a bit much for very young children, but teens will eat it up.

Next up: Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, arguably the most influential work in the opera repertoire, and one not heard at TDO for almost two decades. I, for one, am excited!

Margo and Bill Winspear Opera House, Dallas, March 25, 27, 30, April 2, 7, 10, 2011

Review by Dean Cassella, Ph.D.

The Dallas Opera’s fourth offering this season is a spirited interpretation of one of the Italian repertoire’s most beloved works. Rigoletto stands in the middle of Giuseppe Verdi’s great triad of middle works (the other two being La Traviata and Il Trovatore). The work is remarkable for its extraordinary abundance of melodic invention, and boasts some of the most well-known melodies in the repertoire.

The opera’s namesake, Rigoletto, is a jester in the sixteenth-century court of the Duke of Mantua. It is not an exaggeration to say that the entire court (including Rigoletto) is morally dissolute. The libretto, based on a play by Victor Hugo, originally took place in the royal court of France, but the censors did not warm up to the idea of a head of state behaving so poorly, so Verdi had to change it!. In a nutshell, Rigoletto eggs the Duke on in his seduction of courtiers’ wives while he (Rigoletto) simultaneously tries to protect the virtue of his own daughter. The Duke eventually has his way with said daughter, and the plot is consequently set for a revenge.

Paolo Gavanelli as the dark, brooding Rigoletto

TDO has made an excellent choice in baritone Paolo Gavanelli for the lead role. He is an international star with considerable experience with Rigoletto (even starring in Covent Garden’s recent DVD). His voice is perfectly suited to the character, who flips back and forth between being spiteful and vengeful, and one that evokes tenderness and vulnerability. The character of Rigoletto also demands a high degree of acting from its singer. In this regard, Gavanelli shines equally as well; his waddling, gesticulations, and facial expressions appear contemptible and heart-wrenching in turn. His interpretation is not to be missed. His approach to the role is reminiscent of Cornell MacNeil’s, who can be seen in the classic Met DVD (with Placido Domingo as the Duke).

Texas Soprano Laura Claycomb as Gilda

Texas soprano Laura Claycomb (she’s from Corpus Christi!) is a promising young singer who, in the prima donna role of Gilda, Rigoletto’s daughter, brings grace and charm to the part. She sings well in this production (especially in the second and third acts), but occasionally has trouble keeping up, volume wise, with the orchestra and other singers. In time, her voice no doubt will mature.

Dashing tenor James Valenti, who performed to great accolades in TDO’s 2009 production of La bohème, does a fine job as the infamous Duke. He gives rousing renditions of the perennially crowd pleasing numbers Quest’ o quella and La donna è mobile, arguably the two most readily identified melodies in the Italian repertoire. If you know only one melody from the Italian opera repertoire, it is the latter, so even the most freshly-hatched would be neophyte will get a thrill from hearing it live.

Basso Raymond Aceto and mezzo-soprano Kirsten Chavez make a great pair as the cold, ruthless assassin Sparafucile and his egocentric sister Maddalena. As one expects from a basso, Aceto has a commanding presence, both voice wise as well as physically. Chavez’ signature role is Carmen. This usually makes for an excellent Maddalena in Rigoletto, and Chavez definitely brings all the vocal implications and body language the former into this production. She and Valenti definitely work well together, which was evident in their duet (and the famed quartet) of Act III.

Guest conductor Pietro Rizzo (who, like Valenti, also made his TDO premiere in the aforementioned La bohème) does an especially fine job of bringing out the strings. This is especially evident in the opening scene, which no doubt was meant to sound like a small chamber orchestra at a court ball. Rizzo’s pacing was a bit sluggish in the first Act, but really picked up in Acts II and III.

The sets were designed by Dallas native Michael Yeargan, and center around a huge painting of a countryside on the brink of a storm. The painting breaks up into concentric sections which stretch back into the stage, thus rendering space available for various platforms and props throughout the show. It is a successful design that works to particularly great effect during the prelude to Act I. Here, the smallest center section opens up to a scene of Rigoletto getting dressed in his jester clothes. This is, no doubt, a direct allusion to Canio, the vengeful clown in Leoncavallo’s I pagliacci, whose great solo Vesti la giubba is sung in such a setting.

It is hard to imagine getting too much Rigoletto, and this production is worth seeing. It is also somewhat timely, because Fort Worth Opera is doing Il trovatore this summer, and TDO has La traviata on the docket for next season. So if you have never seen Verdi’s three greatest operas, you now can do so in less than a year’s time, without ever driving more than 45 miles! Next up: Mussorgsky’s Boris Godunov.

Margo and Bill Winspear Opera House, Dallas, February 11, 13, 16, 19, 25, 27, 2011

Review by Dean Cassella, Ph.D.

TDO’s third offering this season is French Romantic Charles Gounod’s popular Romeo and Juliet. This production is well worth seeing and could serve well as an introduction to the world of opera. Although the general advice is to start off opera neophytes with works from the Italian repertoire, a genuinely noteworthy exception would have to be Bizet’s Carmen. Since that work falls squarely in the late-Romantic camp, which includes lush, recognizable melodies and a lurid subject matter, the beginning opera listener can easily warm up to it. Gounod’s Romeo and Juliet could easily stand in for Carmen on this account (sans the lurid subject matter). The music sounds like a cross between Bizet and Verdi, and is extremely accessible and at times the melodies are strikingly memorable. The story, which is drawn from the Shakespeare play, is a perennial favorite with which most high school and college age students are familiar. Consequently, listeners in these categories can follow the libretto without much ado.

Veteran Shakespeare director Michael Kahn made a very smart move in visually presenting, during the Prelude, the moment at which the Capulet and Montague families discover their dead progeny in the Capulet tomb. This creates a tragic overtone to the cheery optimism of the first acts, and also creates an effective ring composition of sorts with the last scene, wherein Romeo and Juliet die together. Since the opera ends at that dramatic high point, the final scene of the Shakespeare play would be otherwise missing. Yet in a sense we have it here.

Without question it is the two lead roles that drive the work, and TDO’s choices are clearly up to the challenge. New York tenor Charles Castronovo and Russian soprano Lyubov Petrova prove to be near ideal as the star-crossed teen lovers.

Castronovo and Petrova shine as Romeo and Juliet

Both possess very powerful and graceful voices that are up to the task of carrying over the exuberant conducting of Marco Zambelli (see below). In addition, they are both youthful and attractive enough not to cause suspicious glances among some members of the audience. This works especially well at the beginning of Act IV, the “morning after” scene in Juliet’s bedroom, wherein the audience is treated to—or subjected to, depending on how one perceives such things (!)—the couple’s post coital bliss that comes close in spirit (if not in technical practice) to naked opera.

Act IV of Gounod's *Romeo and Juliet*

The costumes and sets, staying squarely within an early Italian Renaissance vein, are extremely effective in evoking the period in which the story takes place (i.e., fourteenth-century Verona). The mock-ups could easily pass for fifteenth-century Italian church architecture (especially the work of Brunelleschi in Florence–if you have been there, you will know what I mean). The set for Act II, i.e., the “balcony” scene, has to be one of the most beautiful in recent memory, and richly conveys a romantic ambience, with ivy literally overrunning the walls. Petrova and Castronovo are really at their best in this act, and beautifully interpret the requisite duets.

Genovese conductor Marco Zambelli makes a fabulous debut with TDO here, and brings an assertive power to the orchestra, while still ably handling the light touches that are a characteristic of French Romantic opera (ala Bizet). Let us hope that we see more of him in the future.

All in all, this is a thoroughly decent and all around satisfying production. My eleven year old daughter accompanied me to the show. She enjoyed it a lot, especially the acting ability of the two leads whom, she felt, effectively conveyed the personalities of their characters. She did say, however, that she enjoyed Don Giovanni at the beginning of the season better—but perhaps an eleven year old is bound to say that, isn’t she?

Next up: Verdi’s Rigoletto (one of my personal favorites!)

Roger Waters: The Wall Live
American Airlines Center, Dallas, Texas
November 21, 2010

Review by Dean Cassella, Ph.D.

I must admit, dear readers, that although my aesthetic tastes tend toward the aristocratic, I have a populist streak that rears its head, from time to time.  So when I heard that Roger Waters, the former leader of Pink Floyd, was touring the Americas and Europe with a new version of Floyd’s operatic The Wall, my interest was more than a bit piqued.  I remember well when, as a wee lad growing up in Los Angeles, Pink Floyd unpacked their unprecedentedly huge multi-media live rendition of the massively successful LP in our city.  The staging was so elaborate that performances only occurred in Los Angeles, New York, London, and Dortmund, Germany.  I was not really into latter-day Pink Floyd at the time (my tastes running more towards The Beatles), but one of my friends, under the influence of his older brother and cousin, was, and consequently had the requisite chaperone to see one of the shows.  Years later, as the shows grew in stature in pop music lore, my friend’s happy condition of having been there increased his social cache, while the rest of us, like Tantalus, could only lament having been so near, and yet so far . . . 

Accordingly, Sunday evening’s performance took on the role of filling a small void in my adolescence.  Despite the hype, the show lived up to my expectations, and was arguably the most impressive multi-media musical presentation I have ever seen (and probably ever will). The old Pink Floyd was a pioneer in creating such productions, and accordingly is part of the theatrical trend started by Richard Wagner in the mid-nineteenth century.  This is Gesamptkunstwerk (or Total Art Work) at its grandest.  And although modern opera productions attempt and succeed (often brilliantly) in pulling off such fare (especially with the Ring), none have the resources or audience to pull off something this elaborate, try though the folks at Bayreuth might.

Roger Waters, who recently turned 67, still clearly possesses the energy to perform under touring conditions, and even more importantly, his voice can still carry his songs for over two hours of performance time.  Supporting him was a large backup band of seasoned professional studio musicians who carried the show almost without a hitch.  One could also say that the audience functioned as quasi backup singers, because one could hear the audience singing along with Waters throughout the show. 

The idea for The Wall grew out of Waters’ disaffection with performing live Pink Floyd shows, after the band achieved superstardom.  He says that he felt alienated from the audience members in the big sports stadium venues, and wished that he could build a wall around himself when performing.  Besides that fact that the music counts among the best to come out of the seventies, the concept of literally building a wall around the band during a live performance proved to be a catalyst for some strikingly innovative musical theater.  The lyrics largely concern the interior state of a severely disaffected rock star, named Pink, who psychologically builds a wall around himself. 

Waters was also greatly disturbed by the mass hysteria that inevitably accompanied Pink Floyd stadium shows, which to him vaguely resembled fascist party rallies (in this context, one must keep in mind that Waters’ father died while serving in World War II).  In keeping with previous incarnations of The Wall, this show contains some visuals that resemble fascist-type paraphernalia. The “fascist rally” towards the end is one of the most successful experiments in performance art ever created.  While even the daftest of fans could not help but catch the irony of the lyrics of the anthem In the Flesh (imagine a “one world” rock star type singing about lining up gays, Jews and blacks to be shot!), it is virtually impossible not to get swept up in the excitement generated therein. 

The whole experience amounts to a type of experiment in applied archeology, as one experiences the feelings that many who attended actual Nazi rallies had, even as they intellectually rejected the content of the message.

            One of the highlights of the show was the acoustic ballad Mother. 

Prior to playing it, Waters addressed the audience, telling them that the accompanying visuals were a film of him performing the song at the original shows in 1981.  Other visuals in the song included shots of a video camera playing the role of “Big Mother” with the audience, and slogans in a variety of languages such as “trust us,” and “everything’s going to be ok.” 

A constant theme of the visuals in the performance is the idea that war is the destruction of masses for the benefit of the powerful.  One of the most touching moments was the inclusion of photos, submitted by fans, of soldiers who died while serving.  These created a mosaic on the stage wall, all to great effect.

By the show’s end, Pink is put on trial a condemned to be “exposed before [his] peers,” and hence the wall comes crashing down, quite literally, on the stage.

In sum, this was one of the finest and most satisfying live performances that I have ever seen.  If you are hanging on the fence about going to one of the subsequent performances, take the plunge—you will not regret it.

Margo and Bill Winspear Opera House, Dallas, October 29, 31, November 3, 6, 12, 14

Review by Dean Cassella, Ph.D.

If, Dear Reader, you have not yet seen the Dallas Opera’s current production of Donizetti’s Anna Bolena, it is time to line up in the queue.  For all intents and purposes, this should have been the opening production of the season.  It boasts one of the finest casts assembled in recent years by TDO; the sets are fabulous, the music is sublime, and the story concerns one of the best known and colorful periods of European history.

Italian composer Gaetano Donizetti (1797 – 1848), temporally speaking, falls between Rossini and Verdi.  Like last year’s TDO production of Roberto Devereux, the score comes off sounding like a mid-point between the two.  It is sweet yet powerful melodic music in the early-Romantic tradition.  This production marks the finale of TDO’s trilogy of Donizetti operas on the Tudors, under the stage direction of Stephen Lawless (Maria Stuarda was performed in 2007).  Anna Bolena was a mainstay of the operatic repertoire in the nineteenth century, but fell out of favor in the early twentieth.  It was Maria Callas who revived it, singing (naturally) the title role, and it has been performed regularly ever since.  It is hard to imagine why it stopped being performed, considering the sheer beauty and intensity of the score matched with a perennially popular story.

The libretto focuses on the point at which Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII, is about to fall out of favor with the king, due both to her inability to beget a son, as well as to the king’s amorous infatuation with one of Anna’s handmaidens, Jane Seymour.  The king tries to entice Jane with promises to make her queen.  Jane, in turn, feels considerable guilt about her betrayal to her mistress, although it is clear that Henry isn’t one to take no for an answer.

Did I mention a fabulous cast?  There are really no weak spots in it, and the lead performers not only blow the listener away on their own, but also possess an uncommon chemistry between each other.  At times during the performance I felt as if I were privy to a bygone golden era of opera, where even the bit players could bring delight.

The role Jane Seymour in this production is handled by famed mezzo-soprano Denyce Graves.  From the moment she opens her mouth the listener realizes that he is in the presence of a major operatic force.  Graves’ voice is as powerful as it is complex, and possesses an ornate, undulating vibrato which, judging from old recordings, was more common in the past than it is today.

Armenian soprano Hasmik Papian sings the title role.  She was last seen at TDO in the role of Elisabetta in Roberto Devereux. Where Graves is thunderous, Papian is delicate, and the contrast makes for an interesting juxtaposition, both musically and dramatically, although on occasion Graves’ voice slightly overpowers Papian’s.

American tenor Stephen Costello sings the male lead as Lord Percy, the dashing ex-lover of the queen who, at the beginning of Act I, has just been recalled from exile by Henry.  Costello can be described as a TDO regular, who has recently graced the Dallas stage in the lead tenor roles in the other two Donizetti Tudor operas, as well as in singing Camille in The Merry Widow, and Green Horn in last year’s premiere of Jake Heggie’s Moby Dick. He has a lot of presence on stage and is particularly well matched to Papian’s voice.

American basso Oren Gradus sings the role of Henry VIII.  Gradus is perfectly suited to the role, both vocally and in terms of acting skill.  His voice is particularly well matched with Graves.  Stage director Stephen Lawless has chosen to retain the popular stereotype of Henry VIII as a man of powerful appetites.  In the early scenes in Act I he usually appears consuming large amounts of food.  Later in the production, Oren appears decked out in royal regalia highly reminiscent of the best known portraits of Henry.  If he were a dramatic tenor, one could easily see him performing as the Duke of Mantua in Rigoletto.

Genovese mezzo-soprano Elena Belfiore ably takes on the ‘trouser’ role of the young court musician Smeton, whose puppy love for the queen (a la Cherubino in Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro) proves to be the latter’s foil.

This production is unapologetically traditional in costumes and set design.  As mentioned above, TDO devotees have already seen Benoit Dugardyn’s set, which evokes the ambiance of the Tudor-era Globe Theater.  In an added twist we, the audience, seem to be on stage looking out at the balconies of the theater and watching the comings and goings of the original Tudor audience.  The stage design also wonderfully demonstrates how creatively the simple stage props of the Tudor period could be used to great effect.  This is accomplished by simply moving around large wooden paneling and supplementing it with various articles of furniture.  It is both simple and elegant, but simultaneously appears sumptuous, due to the elegance of the paneling.

To repeat, this is a production not to be missed.  Anna Bolena is very neophyte friendly, so be sure to bring a friend.

Margo and Bill Winspear Opera House, Dallas, October 22, 24, 27, 30, November 5, 7

Review by Dean Cassella

The Dallas Opera kicks off what promises to be a fabulous season with one of the most popular and revered works of the operatic repertoire, Mozart’s Don Giovanni. The work is generally known in Italian as a dramma giocosa, a tragicomedy, and the new TDO production does justice to the complexity implied by the term.

For those unfamiliar with the opera, it concerns the . . . ahem. . . “activities” of the famous Spanish Lothario, Don Juan.  Mozart and librettist Lorenzo da Ponte’s treatment of the story has long captivated the imagination of artists and philosophers (such as Kierkegaard).  This is in part due to the fabulously successful attempt at creating emotional conflict in the viewer.  Almost everybody can see that Don Giovanni is a base, selfish, and (ultimately, self-) destructive individual.  Yet at the same time, one cannot help but vicariously enjoy his purely self-indulgent adventures, and the absolute freedom that they imply.  All men have a Don Giovanni residing deep in their psyche that aches to get unleashed, even as they know that doing so would devastate the lives of others, and perhaps even their own.  This conflict is made explicit in the person of Leporello, Don Giovanni’s footman, who seems to want to indulge in his master’s lifestyle, even as he condemns it.

Stage director and set designer John Pascoe has really done a fabulous job in bringing this conflict out in the open and exploring its implications.  While the tone of the stage direction is comic and light-hearted, as it should be—an attempt at playing the opera straight generally falls on its face—the sets are markedly dark and foreboding.  While the Overture blazes forth from the orchestra pit, we see Don Giovanni in a cemetery, being pulled hither and thither by a coterie of scantily clad admirers.  The scene is reminiscent of Orpheus, the creator of the Greek musical tradition in mythology, who was torn apart by admiring groupies.

These ladies return at the end of Act II, amusingly enough as Don Giovanni’s dinner chamber orchestra.  In retrospect, it’s hard to imagine how he could have wanted it any other way.  (I once heard a rumor that famed Metropolitan Opera conductor James Levine once hosted a party which included naked women playing a string quartet.  I don’t know if it’s true, but after reading Blair Tyndall’s Mozart in the Jungle: Sex, Drugs, and Classical Music, I’ll believe anything.)  Then, in the climax of Act II, when Don Giovanni’s refusal to repent leads to his damnation, the same coterie of women serve as the demons who bring him down to the nether regions, as fitting a case of poetic justice as one can imagine.

Don Giovanni premiered in 1787, only two years shy of the onset of the French Revolution.  The sympathetic treatment servants receive in the hands of Mozart is well-attested.  Throughout his career, Mozart experienced first-hand the whims and caprice of the moribund yet still powerful aristocracy that would be undermined in the decades that followed.  Pascoe seems to be addressing this in his choice of costumes and scenery.  On the one hand, the costumes generally hail from the late Victorian/Edwardian period (think last year’s TDO production of Otello).  Yet Don Giovanni himself frequently appears in attire vaguely reminiscent of the eighteenth century.  This has the effect of making him appear as a kind of relic from the past among the rest of the cast.  This same effect is then re-echoed by the distance we ourselves feel for the costumes of those other characters, who are dressed as did the true last vestiges of European aristocratic society.  Even the columns of Don Giovanni’s home, which would have been baroque or neo-classical in style, seem to be made of steel bolts and beams, a trademark of the industrial age and its proponents who ultimately swept the ailing aristocracy away.

The conducting is ably handled by Romanian Nicolae Moldoveanu, who brings a much-desired briskness to the orchestra.  Brazilian baritone Paulo Szot, has all the dashing star qualities that make for a memorable interpretation, and a fine, large voice, to boot.

In keeping with the theme, most of the male roles are in the lower registers.  This makes the appearances of Don Ottavio, the husband of Donna Anna, one of the Don’s hapless rape victims, important as a kind of harmonic relief.  Jonathon Boyd’s charming, lilting voice, works perfectly in this production, and blends near perfectly with Claire Rutter’s silky yet powerful soprano voice.

Brooklyn soprano Georgia Jarman gives a masterly performance as Donna Elvira, one of Don Giovanni’s former conquests.  Donna Elvira’s stance throughout the opera can best be summed up by the Roman poet Catullus’ simple assessment of his lover Clodia: Odi et amo, “I love and I hate.”  Jarman pulls this off extremely well, and Pascoe’s decision to have her appear on the stage half the time holding an infant (presumably hers by the Don), serves to underscore the desperation of her plight.

Arguably the highlight of the cast is Italian basso Mirco Palazzi’s interpretation of Leporello.  Palazzi poses a comic presence matched by a huge voice, rendered all the more remarkable coming from a person modest physical stature.

Mention must also be made of fabulous soprano Ailyn Pérez, whose sweet, soaring voice made for one of the most convincing interpretations of the country bride Zerlina that I have had the pleasure of seeing.  Let us hope that we’ll be hearing more of her.

This production would work quite well in recruiting the uninitiated into the world of opera.  The work is lighthearted and highly accessible, even for the young, provided that you are prepared for their inevitable snoozing off here and there.

In sum, the performance was an excellent start for the Dallas Opera’s second season in its new house.  We eagerly wait for Donizetti’s Anna Bolena.

An Evening With Ravi Shankar

Myerson Symphony Hall, 17 October 2010

Review by Dean Cassella

There can be little doubt that Ravi Shankar is the greatest living figure in World music and, in terms of name recognition, there is nobody that can even play a close second to him.  He has almost single-handedly raised interest in Northern Indian classical music over the last half century to the level of an international classical genre, a distinction that it shares only with Western classical music.

I am pleased to report that “Raviji” (as his acolytes and admirers call him), despite his advanced age, can still deliver a moving, soulful performance on the concert stage.  This is in sharp contrast to feted celebrity musicians such as Luciano Pavarotti in his sunset days, or even Frank Sinatra, whose performances beginning from the late sixties severely lacked the finesse of his salad days.

At ninety, Ravi can no longer sit in the traditional cross-legged posture, with his instrument supported by the left foot.  Instead, he dangles his feet off the raised stage platform.  He has also retired his formidably sized Nodu Mullick and Rikhi Ram concert sitars for a small electric studio model.  But from the moment he began playing Sunday evening, it was clear that he still retains a deeply ingrained musicality and a surprising degree of technical facility for someone who strikes the viewer as delicate and frail.  It is true that the aggressive fireworks of his younger days are a thing of the past.  At one point during the concert, he bluntly told the audience “I turned ninety eight months ago, and it is difficult for me to keep up with these two,” pointing to his accompanists, “but I am trying.”   His fabulous “meends,” or bends (one of the most characteristic and difficult of sitar techniques) remain as impressive as ever.

Ravi tours these days with his celebrity daughter, the sitarist Anoushka Shankar.  Early in the set, Ravi gleefully announced to the audience that the two of them have not been performing during the last month, because Anoushka just got married to British film director Joe Wright “and she is already pregnant.”  Anoushka plays with her father in what is known in Indian classical music as  jugalbandi, or duets.  The form, although well represented in the West, is something of an anomaly in Indian music, which is very much a soloist affair with tabla percussion accompaniment.  For this reason the general feeling among Indian music aficionados is that jugalbandi are a disappointment.  Ravi and his daughter, however, due to their intimate musical acquaintance with each other, pull off the arrangement extremely well, with each able to play off the other’s phrases with smooth adroitness.

Performing with Ravi and Anoushka was the acclaimed tabla percussionist from Kolkata, Tanmoy Bose.  Bose is a regular performer with the duo, as well as with countless other musicians, both Eastern and Western, around the world.  He did an outstanding job accompanying both, displaying a sophisticated technique while simultaneously steering clear of overwhelming Ravi’s more delicate output.

The set began with a moving exposition of raga Bageshri.  This is a late night raga which aims to depict the longing of a woman awating the return of her lover.  Its creation is traditionally attributed to Tansen, the illustrious court musician in the court of the sixteenth-century Mughal Emperor Akbar the Great.  The second raga of the evening, Manj Khamaj, Ravi performed at the famed Woodstock Festival in 1969.  It appears on his CD of the performance.  The choice of both were very appropriate to Ravi’s current style, very soft and pensive.

The evening’s performance kicked off with a moving performance by Ravichandra Kulur, a noted Bansuri flute player, who specializes in performing ragas from the Carnatic southern Indian tradition.  The Bansuri flute has a haunting sound, rendered all the more attractive by the use of three different sizes and ranges, which we Westerners might describe as tenor, alto, and soprano.

Events like these are also interesting for what one might call the “sociological” elements of theater.  In addition to the usual array of Dallas Symphony subscribers and the more curious and adventurous of Western classical devotees, the Indian community of Dallas was present and in full form, with the ladies decked out in their finest saris.  There was also a small coterie of what one may call the hippie crowd, with one woman even shouting something about saving the ozone layer and eliminating world hunger (I think).  No matter how much things change, the more they stay the same . . .

In all, it was a lovely evening.  We can only hope that Raviji and crew will return to the Metroplex next year.

Pyaar Impossible, 2010

With Uday Chopra and Priyanka Chopra
Not rated but Bollywood films tend to be for all audiences

I noticed while editing the tags on the site this morning that we had never reviewed “Pyaar Impossible.” This movie, watched once by myself, watched again by myself and Pia, and finally by the whole family, also got the kids singing its trademark song, “Alisha.”

It was after I watched “Dhoom 2″ with the famous Hrithik Roshan late last spring that one of the less important characters in that movie, Uday Chopra, caught my attention for his enthusiasm and humor. Although cast as a sidekick, he managed to carry off a significant and funny romantic subplot. “Does this guy have any other movies?” I wondered. That let me to Pyaar Impossible.

“Pyaar” is the Hindi word for love, apparently. The Pyaar Impossible in question is the love that geeky Abhay has for Alisha, the beautiful bad girl he meets at college. Although he rescues her from drowning, he still never even gets to speak to her. Nevertheless, he continues carrying a torch for her for years while he works on his masterpiece software project in an effort to become rich and “be somebody.”

Now for the fun part. On an important business trip to Singapore, Abhay meets the still-beautiful Alisha, but now she’s a divorced, working mother — disgraced, in other words.  He still loves her, so might he have a chance? The problem is — you guessed it — he’s still a socially inept geek. The best way he can get close to her is to work as her nanny, with, as they say, hilarious consequences.

Upon reading the reviews, it seems that native Hindi speakers didn’t always like the dialogue but in translation, it comes across as funny and engaging. At any rate, any movie that I’ve seen three times deserves a review here. I’ve pasted in the trailer below. 

I have been working on polishing my Spanish competence and this led me to Netflix, where I found Rudo y Cursi on the “watch instantly” tab, perhaps put there because of the World Cup is stirring up interest in soccer. What I found was more than a reflection on the lives of soccer players. It is a story about brotherhood and the impermanance of wealth compared with the durability of the family, even a broken and dysfunctional family.

The movie tells the story of two soccer playing brothers, Rudo (“Tough”), a goalie, and Tato (who later is branded “Cursi,” or “Corny,” by the press). The two have grown up in the sticks, and have been working on a banana plantation. But on weekends, they are stars for the local futbol team “Tlachtatlan.”

They are discovered by Baton, a roving talent scout, who recruits them to come to Mexico City to try out for the big leagues. When they get there, they make the cut and become futbolisticos professionales, but they soon find they cannot concentrate on soccer. Each one pursues his own idea of wealth and stardom that he began before he became a paid athlete — Cursi is trying to make a singing career, while Rudo tries to roll up a stake by gambling, with disasterous results.

Over the course of the movie, the brothers fight and make up, fight and make up. It’s hard to say what has fascinated me most about this story — perhaps the tragedy of the brothers’ misunderstandings of their own strengths and weaknesses, perhaps the idea that wealth is just another opportunity for new and bigger problems and sometimes even more dangerous ones.

At the end, I had to admit that the movie had a lot of “heart.”  And it was funny, in a strange, sidewinding way. It did present a kind of view of redemption, a making of peace. It illustrated well that concept of vacillada, the idea that we’re only here for a little while and death is coming so we might as well make the most of it and laugh, that is quinticentially Mexican. I’ve pasted in the trailer below.

Madama Butterfly, by Giacomo Puccini
The Dallas Opera, Winspear Opera House, 7, 9, 12, 15, 20, 23 May 2010
Review by Dean Cassella

It is wonderfully fitting that The Dallas Opera has completed its landmark first season at the Winspear Opera House with the lyric beauty and high tragedy of one of Puccini’s most loved operas. After starting the season with Italian opera’s godfather (Giuseppe Verdi with Otello) we have made our way through opera buffa (Così Fan Tutte and Don Pasquale), and a world premiere (Moby Dick). Butterfly, in a sense, brings us back full circle to opera’s roots, albeit in an early twentieth-century manifestation.

Butterfly is, to a large degree, a vehicle for prima donnas to strut their stuff. Romanian soprano Adina Nitescu, last seen at TDO as Elisabetta in 2006’s Maria Stuarda, delivers a marvelous interpretation of Cio-Cio San, the hapless Japanese teen, who marries Pinkerton, an American sailor who does not regard the marriage as genuinely binding. The role demands a fragile sweetness and meek demeanor that is at odds with the sheer vocal power that is necessary to pull it off successfully. Nitescu’s voice is well-suited to the role, and her rendition of ‘Un bel di vedremo’ (One fine day we shall see), one of the best loved aria’s in the opera repertoire, left nothing to be desired.

American tenor Brandon Javanovich is a natural for the role of Pinkerton, an American sailor who thoughtlessly isolates Cio-Cio San from her own people, only unknowingly to leave her pregnant for three years, while he marries another American. Javanovich, being a tall, dashing American, is naturally adept at capturing all of the pointed mannerisms of an American serviceman. His voice is, if anything, a perfect match for Nitescu, both in timbre and body. For me, the highlight of the performance was their pair’s stunning rendition of ‘Viene la sera’ (The evening comes), the love duet that concludes Act I. The two have an unmistakable chemistry, and their well-matched, powerful voices overwhelm the listener with a sense of bliss mixed with foreboding doom.

Notable in the supporting cast was Mezzo-Soprano Maria Zifchak, whose interpretation of the role of Suzuki, Cio-Cio San’s maid, beautifully complements Nitescu’s title role. One of the highlights of the production is the pair’s duet ‘Scuoti quella fronda di ciliegio’ (Shake that petal of the cherry tree), wherein the two prepare for Pinkerton’s putative return home.

The sets of designer Michael Yeargan are relatively simple but effective. The first is a straightforward recreation of an American consulate office, which could easily have been inspired by period photos. The other sets tend toward the abstract, with hints of Japanese styling, a notable exception being a large statue of the Buddha, which makes a brief appearance when the Bonze, Cio-Cio San’s priest uncle, makes a brief appearance to chastise her for abandoning her ancestral religion for that of her new husband. Cio-Cio San’s suicide scene brings with it a huge silk red curtain that overwhelms the senses at the coup de grace.

As always, Graeme Jenkin’s conducting is superb, and he manages to generate a lot of power from the orchestra, without overwhelming the singers.

All in all, this production is not to be missed, and would make an excellent introduction to opera for a neophyte. So grab a friend or loved one, and be sure to bring along a handkerchief!