How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb?

Tenor Cancels Japan Tour for Medical Check.

UPDATE: Tenor Jonas Kaufmann has cancelled his commitment to sing in an upcoming tour of Japan with the Bavarian State Opera, but will meet New York commitments including Faust and Die Walküre.

Jonas Kaufmann as Siegmund.
Photo by Ken Howard.
© 2010 The Metropolitan Opera.

In a statement, the tenor wrote:

I need to have an operation to remove a node in my thoracic area. I do not wish anyone to become alarmed reading this, but my physicians have ordered me to have the surgery as soon as possible. This will take place after my appearance in Stockholm on September 2. I am pretty sure that the results of the histological examination will come up "benign" but as I said, this procedure could not be further delayed.

Mr. Kaufmann was scheduled to sing the role of Don José, and the title role in Lohengrin. He will be replaced in the latter by South African tenor Johan Botha.

Mr. Kaufmann is scheduled to sing the title role in the Metropolitan Opera's new staging of Faust, which premieres on Nov. 29. This new staging is by Jersey Boys director Dez McAnuff and was first presented at the English National Opera.

 Mr. McAnuff updates Gounod's opera to the 20th century and the birth of the atomic bomb. already seen one cancellation: Angela Gheorghiu nixed her commitment to it earlier this year, citing "artistic differences."

The tenor burned up the stage in 2011 in the role of Siegmund in the company's new production of Die Walküre. Mr. Kaufmann is currently signed to reprise the role of Siegmund in three performances of Walküre, part of the company's complete staging of Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen.

We here at Superconductor would like to wish Mr. Kaufmann a speedy recovery, and we hope that his prognosis is good.

Opera Review: To Insanity, and Beyond!

Lucia di Lammermoor returns to the Met.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Natalie Dessay and Joseph Calleja in the Met's revival of Lucia di Lammermoor
Photo by Ken Howard © 2010 The Metropolitan Opera

Most performances of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor center on the Mad Scene, also known as Act III, Scene 2. This 17-minute series of arias is a musical and dramatic tour de force for the soprano. In the right hands, it is a total show-stopper.

Mary Zimmerman's attractive production of Lucia moves the opera's action to the Victorian era before literally dissolving into the heroine's tortured mind. (Think Jane Austen on acid.) But its greatest strength is that it goes beyond the superficial warbling of the leading lady and explores Lucia as what it really is: a rock-ribbed, full-blooded family drama with as much excitement and stagecraft as the mature works of Giuseppe Verdi. Small wonder: Donizetti's librettist Salvatore Cammarano wrote the book for Il Trovatore.

Opera Review: Tenor Saves Tosca From Flying Leap

 Sondra Radvanovsky as Tosca, Falk Struckmann as Scarpia in Act II of Tosca.
Photo by Ken Howard, © 2011 Metropolitan Opera.

The Metropolitan Opera audience at Monday night's first Tosca of the season got a welcome surprise before the curtain went up. Sondra Radvanovsky was scheduled to make her debut in the title role opposite Argentinean tenor Marcelo Àlvarez. But Mr. Àlvarez was benched with a cold, so Roberto Alagna (currently singing a run of Carmen at the Big House) was summoned to sing his first Cavaradossi at Lincoln Center.

Mr. Alagna's presence and onstage energy gave an unexpected lift to the proceedings. From his first "Recondiata armonia" to the final act, he was a compelling Cavaradossi, focusing on the character's human side and his relationship with La Tosca. He pushed his instrument for "Vittoria" and the heavy, declamatory singing following the torture scene in Act II. He did much better in the third act, singing an emotional, effective "E lucevan le stelle." Mr. Alagna took a smart, conservative approach to this famous aria, stretching out the long note on "Tanto la vita" to exciting effect.

Sondra Radvanovsky has the tools to make a great Tosca in the tradition of Carol Vaness. She walks the role with the proper diva attitude, sailing into Luc Bondy's ugly church set and captivating the audience with her opening trio of "Mario's". She established immediate chemistry with Mr. Alagna as they sang their love music, overcoming slow tempos and dim lighting. And she reacted with proper gelosia to the machinations of Scarpia (the effective, if harsh-voiced German bass Falk Struckmann.)

Ms. Radvanovsky was magnetic in the second act. Confronting the creepy Scarpia of Falk Struckmann (who plays Scarpia as a bad guy left out of Inglourious Basterds) Ms. Radnovovsky made the audience forget about the ugly IKEA furniture and linoleum floor that stood in for the Palazzo Farnese. Her "Vissi d'arte" was sung with emotion, plunging to the depths of despair at her situation.

The murder scene had all the necessary vocal venom, vicious knife-work and some fine physical acting from Mr. Struckmann as a convincing corpse. In the last bars, she tossed off "Scarpia, avanti al dio!" with fire and finesse before taking a flying (or in this production, a falling) leap from Mr. Bondy's giant brick tower.

Speaking of Mr. Bondy, the director returned to the Met to put his stamp back on this production after the disastrous debut last September. Certain bits that were objectionable in the first run of this Tosca were toned down. Scarpia touches the hem and strokes the cheek of the Virgin Mary instead of humping the statue outright. Tosca still thinks about jumping out the window at the end of Act II. And the flying leap from the tower was tweaked yet again, changed to a perfectly acceptable "falling" effect that made a realistic final stage picture before the quick black curtain. This is still a flawed Tosca. But it's getting better. Besides, with a strong cast like this, the focus is on the singers, not the director.

Obituary: Hugues Cuénod, Oldest Singer in Met History, Dies at 108

Hugues Cuénod as the Emperor Altoum.
Photo by Winnie Klotz © 1987 The Metropolitan Opera

Hugues Cuénod, the Swiss tenor whose high, clear voice led to a 70-year career in the world of opera and art song died on Monday, as reported in the New York Times. He was 108.

Mr. Cuénod made headlines in 1987 at the age of 85, when he became the oldest singer to take the stage at the Metropolitan Opera. He sang the key role of the Emperor Altoum in Puccini's opera Turandot. Altoum is the title character's father, an unearthly character who must sound ancient but not weak. This is a small, but difficult part, as it is sung from the Emperor's throne, on a high platform at the very rear of the Met's giant stage.


As evidenced by the live DVD of the telecast (starring Placído Domingo, Leona Mitchell and Eva Marton in the title role), Mr. Cuénod was an admirable Emperor. He went on to sing the role 14 times in the Franco Zeffirelli production, a spectacular staging which is among the Metropolitan Opera's most expensive, excessive productions.

Hugues Cuénod was born in 1902 in Corseaux-sur-Vevey, Switzerland. He made his operatic debut in 1928 in the Ernst Krenek "jazz opera" Jonny Spielt Auf. ("Johnny Plays On.") His singing career included some of the earliest recordings of Monteverdi works under the direction of Nadia Boulanger, and appearances at many of the major opera houses in Europe. Other notable roles included Sellem in the world premiere of Stravinsky's English-language opera The Rake's Progress in 1951.

He spent most of his long career giving concerts, master classes and teaching at the Geneva Conservatory. Mr. Cuénod is survived by his civil partner, Alfred Augustin, who is 40 years his junior. They entered into a civil union in 2007 when Mr. Cuénod was 104 years old.

Five Really Dumb Opera Heroes (All-Tenor Edition)

The world of opera is vast, full of memorable characters, wily villains, and gorgeous damsels in various degrees of distress. (Some, like Brunnhilde or Salome, are in no distress whatsoever!) Here's a tongue-in-cheek look at five tenor roles who probably wouldn't score too high on the SAT's.

Siegfried (Wagner: Siegfried and Götterdämmerung)
Siegfried starts out as a bear-baiting muscle-head in Siegfried. The hero of the second half of the Ring Cycle re-forges his father's sword, kills the dragon, kills his stepfather Mime and then complains, in classic spoiled-brat fashion that he has nobody around to talk to. Then he follows a singing bird (don't ask) and wakes up Brunnhilde (technically his aunt--long story) and clumsily seduces her. By the time Götterdämmerung rolls around, he's learned wisdom from his night with Brunnhilde. Then he promptly drinks the wrong potion, forgets Brunnhilde, kidnaps her and marries her off to Gunther, setting up his own murder at the close of the opera. He even has a chance to avoid that murder by giving the Ring back to the Rhinemaidens. But no, not our hero. He takes a spear in the back instead.

Radames (Verdi: Aida)
Just because you're a great military commander doesn't mean that you're ideal husband material. A newly-minted general in the Egyptian army, Radames is part of a long line of Verdi heroes who coulda, shoulda known better. (See Manrico in Il Trovatore, Don Alvaro in La Forza del Destino and Don Carlo in...Don Carlo.) Our hero is torn between marrying the Pharaoh's daughter and his love for her slavegirl, Aida. Unfortunately, his main squeeze turns out to be the daughter of the Ethiopian king Amonasro, who is at war against Egypt. Aida gets Radames to spill the beans about the Egyptian battle plan. Radames is convicted of treason and sentenced to entombment. He finds Aida in the tomb. They sing together and asphyxiate.



Lieutenant B.F. Pinkerton (Puccini: Madama Butterfly)
A Navy man on leave in Nagasaki, ol' Pinky decides to marry a 15-year-old Japanese geisha (for 999 years, with a monthly option to annul), leases a nice hillside house (on the same terms), and sails off for the next port of call. While he's off on the high seas, Butterfly gives up her family, her faith, her profession, and an attractive "real" husband: the handsome Prince Yamadori. (OK, that last one was her decision.) When Lieutenant Loveypants returns to Nagasak three years later, he brings his "real American bride" Kate, and makes it clear that they are going to take Butterfly's child. Humiliated and desolate, Butterfly kills herself with her father's dagger.

Parsifal (Wagner, Parsifal)
When the swan-hunting Parsifal arrives in the domain of the Holy Grail, he doesn't even know his own name, even though it's the title of his own opera. He doesn't know who his father is, where he came from, or understand the power of the Grail Ceremony that concludes the first act of Wagner's final opera. But after killing a whole bunch of brainwashed knights, learning his name and surviving several attempted seductions, this "holy fool" gains wisdom through pity, and recovers the holy Spear. He gets lost on the way home, but eventually becomes King of the Grail.

Turiddu (Mascagni: Cavalleria Rusticana)
Another winner, folks. The so-called "hero" of Cavalleria Rusticana is your classic callow youth, an arrogant young heel who gets his girlfriend Santuzza pregnant (before the opera starts) and then dumps her for the wife of a local homicidal cart-driver, Alfio. It all ends in tears when Santuzza (who has been excommunicated for deciding to keep the baby) tells Alfio about the affair. Turiddu challenges Alfio to a duel and gets knifed offstage as the curtain rings down. At least the music's great.
top right:Come blow your horn: Siegfried takes a solo. © Arthur Rackham Estate
bottom left: Richard Leech as Pinkerton. © 1991 Metropolitan Opera. Photo by Winnie Klotz

Opera Review: The Big O!

Otello at the Met.

I don't think this will last. Johan Botha and Rene Fleming in Act I of Otello.
Photo © 2008 The Metropolitan Opera.

The title role of Otello is the most challenging role in Italian opera, possibly in the entire repertory. Sure, Wagner's Siegfried has to sing at full blast for nearly eight hours, but Otello has to act with his voice, hitting soft pianissimos, low baritone notes. A good Otello must be able to shift in a heartbeat from tender, quiet lyricism to lung-busting power. And since this is Verdi, you can't shout. You have to sing beautifully over a huge orchestra, even in the opening "Esultate!"

Johan Botha met all of the above requirements on Monday night, and then exceeded them. The South African tenor (last seen at the Met as Walther in Meistersinger) has a fine, strong voice with precise control. He can sing gorgeous lyric notes, long legato lines, and hits the big, stentorian climaxes without wavering off pitch or drowning in wobble. Like many of his fellow tenors, Botha is a good actor, (not a great one) but he can act with his voice, which more than makes up for any lack in physical ability. This was a towering portrayal, from the triumphant opening to total collapse after he murders his wife.

From the opening duet with Mr. Botha, Renée Fleming gave a tragic, sensitive performance as Desdemona, underpinned with a sense of impending doom. Her work in the third act (when she confronts her jealous husband) carried devastating emotional weight married perfectly to gorgeous singing. . The Act IV "Willow Song" and "Ave Maria" featured floating pianissimo moments that left the Family Circle breathless. She fought like a wildcat in the murder scene, a physical performance that climaxed the evening with edge-of-the-seat suspense.


The libretto by Arrigio Boito (composer of Mefistofele) paints Iago as the snarling embodiment of evil. Those words aptly describe Carlo Guelfi's performance. Although he was not as silken-voiced as some interpreters of this role, his "Credo" aria was impressive. His scenes with Cassio (tenor Garrett Sorensen) were razor-sharp, particularly the trio in Act III. As Otello eavesdropped, these two singers made this grim scene ring with comic potential. Wendy White (as Emilia) was excellent in her small but crucial role.

Semyon Bychkov conducted a taut performance, letting the much-heralded Met Orchestra brass rip through the storm scene with gusto. He also summoned beautiful, subtle textures from the band. The English horn solo in Act IV (played by principal Pedro R. Diaz) was as eloquent as any aria. The only hitch: Elijah Moshinsky's production, which looks like a warmed-over version of the Met's staging of Don Carlo.

BadFellas

Or: Five Lousy Dates for Valentine's Day
In honor of this most romantic of holidays, here's a list of five guys who you wouldn't want to be dating on February 14, or any day of the year. This was originally going to be "Five dumbest opera heroes" but I couldn't decide between Siegfried and Parsifal.

Baron Ochs von Lerchnau (Der Rosenkavalier by Richard Strauss)
Ol' Ochs has more experience of the ladies than anyone on this list, but there's a reason this lecherous Austrian nobleman has stayed single. He's a relentless skirt-chaser, outdoing Don Giovanni himself in pursuit of a shapely female. But he's a boor, a coward, and a sufferer of romantic ADD! Witness: Act One of Rosenkavalier. Ochs gropes a crossdressing chambermaid while trying to negotiate his marriage contract (and add on a large emoulument for himself).


Lohengrin (um...Lohengrin by Richard Wagner)
At first glance, the courtly knight in shining armor looks like perfect hubby material. He's even a fan of love at first sight, defending women in single combat, and settling down and getting married. But there's a catch: he'll marry you but you're not allowed to ask him about his name, his lineage, or where he came from. Needless to say, he catches the next swan-drawn boat out of town.

Mustafa, the Bey of Algiers (L'Italiana in Algeri by Gioacchino Rossini)
The Bey has his heart in the right place. Unfortunately it's the harem. This rascally ruler spends most of L'Italiana in Algeri trying to seduce the lovely Isabella. She spends the opera trying to escape. Finally she convinces her would-be Lothario that the only way she'll ever have the Bey is if he joins the sacred order of the Pappitaci, those very Italian men who do nothing all day but eat, sleep, and ignore their women. Who said romance isn't dead?

The Duke of Mantua (Rigoletto by Giuseppe Verdi)
This guy is almost as bad a skirt chaser as Baron Ochs--but with even less morality. At the start of Rigoletto the Duke sends the Count of Monterone to the gallows/. Why? Monterone complained when the Duke deflowered his daughter. Our randy ruler then turns his attentions to Gilda, (the daughter of the titular court jester), claiming to be a poor student named "Gualtier Malde." When the Duke tosses Gilda aside for the slutty sister of a professional hitman, Rigoletto vows revenge. Since this is Verdi, a bloody ending isn't far away.

Wozzeck (Wozzeck by Alban Berg)
This Army private isn't a bad guy. He has a nice kid and a girlfriend named Marie. Wozzeck suffers from instestinal humiliation at the hands of his doctor (who makes him eat nothing but beans) and general abuse from his superior officers. Marie cuckolds him with the sexy Drum Major, who then beats up Wozzeck. He snaps, murders Marie, throws the knife into a lake, and then drowns looking for it. Not the sort you settle down with. (Ironically, about nine years ago, the Met scheduled a V-day performance of Wozzeck.)

The Big Man's Best (And Worst)

Luciano Pavarotti.
Photo by Judy Kovacs.

Pavarotti on Disc: The Good, The Bad, and the Cheesy.

The impact of Luciano Pavarotti's death is still being felt in the operatic world. It's hard to believe he passed away just over five months ago. Yet with all the scandal and weeping, not enough has been written about Pavarotti the recorded artist, who made some truly fine opera recordings before he died. Here's a quick sampling:

Mascagni: L'Amico Fritz (cond. Gianandra Gavazzeni)
This Covent Garden recording of a rarely performed pastoral comedy by Mascagni features the great tenor in full flower. Worth hearing just for the "Cherry Duet" between the young Pavarotti and Mirella Freni. And at 93 minutes, it's over before you know it.

Verdi: Rigoletto, (cond. Richard Bonynge)
A classic Rigoletto that makes up in singing what it lacks in dramatic spark. (I like the Sinopoli and Giulini recordings better.) But it does have the dream cast of Pav, Sutherland and Sherril Milnes in the title role. As in the theater, Pavarotti makes the most out of "Quest o quella" and "La donna e mobile". Both arias sound better in their dramatic context, anyway.

Puccini: Turandot (cond. Zubin Mehta)
This isn't the best Turandot on the market, but Pavarotti and Sutherland's Beijing showdown (with Montserrat Caballe as Liu) is one of their best recordings. This is a thoroughly satisfying Turandot and the best place to hear the great tenor sing "Nessun Dorma". Once again, dramatic context keeps the big tune from becoming a cliché.


Rossini: Gugliemo Tell (cond. Riccardo Chailly)
Rossini's final opera is criminally neglected today, mostly because no tenor can sing the role of Arnold without having an apoplexy. This is a long, slow opera that is tough on the singers. The duets with Caballe are sublime. His solo arias are even better. This gorgeous recording captures Pavarotti towards the end of his prime period, and offers a showcase for some of the best technical singing that he ever did. Great stuff.

Richard Strauss, Der Rosenkavalier, (cond. Sir Georg Solti)
Just a cameo here, as Pavarotti takes the small role of the Italian Tenor from Richard Strauss' most famous opera out for a spin. This single aria, which embodies everything Strauss hated about Italian tenors, shows the listener everything that was good about Pavarotti's remarkable voice.

There are some recordings out there that are for the libraries of completists, apologists, and record company executives. In other words, avoid these:

Verdi: Otello (cond. Sir Georg Solti)
One can only wonder what motivated Pavarotti to tackle the the single most difficult tenor role in the Italian repertory. (Greed? Hubris? Rivalry with Placido Domingo?) No amount of studio trickery can make Pav into Otello. No wonder he ruined his voice.

Bellini: Norma (cond. Richard Bonynge)
Pavarotti is fine on this recording. The culprit is Sutherland, who was way too old to sing the title role in this opera in the 1980s. Get her earlier recording with Marilyn Horne.

Verdi: Don Carlo (cond. Riccardo Muti)
This is from the infamous attempt Pavarotti made on this grandest of Verdi operas at La Scala. He cracked noticeably on the opening aria, "Io lo vidi" and it was downhill from there. A complete and utter mess with a bad supporting cast. Happily, it is also available on DVD--so you can see the overstuffed Zeffirelli production in all its questionable glory.

Verdi: Il Trovatore
Manrico proved to be Pavarotti's Waterloo on CD. Both recordings, one with Bonynge and Sutherland, and a later one with Zubin Mehta, are to be avoided at all cost. If you want to hear this opera properly sung, get the del Monaco recording, or better yet, one with Franco Corelli or Carlo Bergonzi.