Vivaldi's operas are definitely worth exploring. One or two Handelians can be a bit sniffy about them, but the quality can be extremely high.
I've had a request to post a link to my review of Orlando furioso, a concert performance at the Barbican, with a cast containing many soloists from the Naive CD recording and who (almost) all appear on the newish Naive DVD. Opera Britannia is down at the moment (server problems) so I crave your indulgence by posting the full review below:
Vivaldi: Orlando furioso 4½ stars
Barbican, 26th March 2010, Mark Pullinger
Take Handel’s Alcina, throw in a handful of characters from his Orlando, then add a ring with magical properties and the ashes of Merlin and you have something approaching the confusion which is the plot of Vivaldi’s Orlando furioso; overlapping love triangles, power struggles and a character’s descent into madness barely cover it. Written in 1827, halfway through the Red Priest’s operatic career, it’s packed with lovely arias and is generally regarded as among the very best of his works for the stage.
This is the third Vivaldi opera to make the Barbican stage in recent years. Like Tito Manlio and Ottone in Villa, the artists involved largely stemmed from Naïve’s Vivaldi Edition, their monumental attempt to record all the scores buried in the Turin library. The forces were led by Jean-Christophe Spinosi, founder and director of Ensemble Matheus, and featured several big names from their recording.
There’s a particular reviewer in New York (at newolde.com) who hates Spinosi’s recordings with a passion; that of Orlando furioso was met with the warning not to play it in the car else ‘it may provoke road rage’! I think even he would accept that Spinosi toned down the element of attack here. The Sinfonia was less percussive without the col legno slaps and was less extreme in terms of tempo, although he does favour sudden swells in dynamics. Ensemble Matheus are a crack team of Baroquistas – quite a large string band – with superb playing, highly responsive to its director.
What really made this performance come alive were the fizzing recitatives, accompanied by alert continuo playing of the highest standard, such as the rocking cello arpeggios to depict a storm at sea. At one point, Spinosi took up the violin himself to provide a demented version of La Follia to accompany Orlando’s madness.
To attempt to describe the plot would probably take up more space than an appreciation of the performance, so best to focus on the singing (as did many in the audience). As so often at these Barbican Baroquefests, there were some high profile withdrawals; Christianne Stotijn was an early casualty, but Jennifer Larmore and Romino Basso were later victims of illness. In the event, their replacements were extremely able, in one case arguably stronger than the advertised artist. Franziska Gottwald stepped into the role of Alcina, the sorceress who rules over an enchanted island, a role written for Vivaldi’s protégé Anna Girò. Tall and stately, her platform betrayed no nerves. She acted a great deal with just her eyes, an understated performance full of quiet control. Her mezzo is full of dark colours, like rich molasses. Alcina’s closing aria of Act I, ‘Amorose ai rai del sole’ was beautifully poised, while ‘Vorresti amor da me’ which followed (the single interval coming midway through Act II) was her able to display Alcina’s coquettish side as she teases Astolfo, a prince enslaved by love. Her finest aria came in ‘Così potessi anch’io’ as Alcina pines for love that the several of the other characters have already found, Gottwald lavishing her velvety mezzo on the tender vocal line. Only at the end of a tiring evening, in ‘Anderò, chiamerò dal profondo’, did she seem overpowered by the orchestra.
Orlando has arrived on Alcina’s island to pursue Angelica, who has fled there for protection. The third corner of this particular love triangle comes in the form of Medoro, a Moorish soldier and Angelica’s true love. Angelica was sung by the ever reliable Veronica Cangemi, Medoro by Daniela Pini, one of the late stand-ins. Cangemi can sometimes be somewhat underrated and underappreciated on these shores, but I found her performance quite entrancing. She is excellent in recitative, displaying a nice comic touch, acting all the time. Her soprano seems unremarkable on first hearing, light and fresh, but she found a great range of vocal colours in her Act II ‘Chiara al pari di lucida stella’; pure, unaffected singing of crystalline beauty. Medoro’s first aria is the fiendishly difficult ‘Rompo i ceppi’, which Pini dispatched brilliantly; her mezzo is quite light and didn’t always project as strongly as the other singers, but the agility in her coloratura runs was impressive. Sadly, Medoro’s remaining music is rather uninspired and the rest of Pini’s evening passed unremarkably.
Christiann Senn sang the role of Astolfo. His sonorous bass-baritone coped well with the athletic vocal line in ‘Benché nasconda’, Astolfo’s best aria by some distance, although Senn was a bit blustery in his final aria.
The second love triangle concerns Alcina’s desire for Ruggiero, who arrives on her island by hippogriff (according to the Naïve’s synopsis), drawn by the sorceress’ spell. Bradamante, his real love, has already made her way to the island (on a tip-off), armed with a magic ring with which she hopes to defeat Alcina. She was sung by Swedish mezzo Kristina Hammarström, who sang Bradamante in Alcina last autumn, so knows the character well! She is quite small-voiced, but with an agile coloratura, at her best in ‘Taci, non ti lagnar’, snarling like a tigress. She neatly ornamented the da capo sections of her arias, although her voice goes a little wild at the very top. Ruggiero is rather given special instrumental treatment by Vivaldi. Written for the alto castrato Giovanni Andrea Tassi, Ruggiero’s first aria ‘Sol da te, mio dolce amore’, contains a prominent flute solo, while his third, ‘Come l’onda’ is the only number to feature a pair of oboes. We were treated to the fabulous singing of Philippe Jaroussky, whose silvery, high counter-tenor in ‘Sol da te’ was a thing of tremendous beauty, echoing the mellifluous flute-playing of Alexis Kossenko. Jaroussky’s singing throughout the evening was a delight and I can think of no counter-tenor I’d rather listen to, from the insouciant ease with which he threw of ‘Che bel morirti in sen’ to the stormy coloratura of ‘Come l’onda’. Sheer class.
Which leaves us with Orlando. What can one write about Canadian contralto Marie-Nicole Lemieux which does justice to her stonking performance? She commanded the stage (quite literally – moving music stands out of her way so she could communicate directly with her audience) in an over-the-top, eye-rolling tour-de-force. Orlando is in love with Angelica, who manages to dupe him into thinking his love is returned. When he discovers this is not the case, he descends into madness. After this point, Vivaldi sets much of Orlando’s music as accompanied recitative rather than formal arias and this distinction marks out the character’s mental state. ‘Nel profondo’, on Orlando’s first appearance, was fabulous. In many ways, Lemieux was the weakest singer on stage last night, if we only take accuracy of notes and beauty of tone into consideration, but her energy and ability to communicate to the entire audience was, at times, outrageous. Her ebony-coloured low notes are splendid and although the coloratura sprays notes around like a machine-gun, it’s thrilling stuff. I’m not sure what the furry thing round Lemieux’s neck was, but I wouldn’t mind betting she’d throttled it with her bare hands, so terrifying was this portrayal; here’s a contralto that eats counter-tenors for breakfast! It’s worth remembering that Marilyn Horne sang this role on stage and there are similarities in Lemieux’s big-voiced approach. Her recitative as Orlando went mad at the end of Act II was spellbinding, removing the pelt from her shoulders, returning with hair loosened for Act III. It’s brave to put on this big a performance in a concert staging, but it workedand I’d love to see an opera house put on a production for her.
To the Vivaldi doubters, there will always be the argument that, well, it’s not Handel, but although the level of inspiration is not as consistently high, when he hits the peaks, it really soars, especially in a performance as enjoyable as this. Three cheers too for the Barbican taking account of the clocks going forward with a sensible start time of 6:30pm.
I've had a request to post a link to my review of Orlando furioso, a concert performance at the Barbican, with a cast containing many soloists from the Naive CD recording and who (almost) all appear on the newish Naive DVD. Opera Britannia is down at the moment (server problems) so I crave your indulgence by posting the full review below:
Vivaldi: Orlando furioso 4½ stars
Barbican, 26th March 2010, Mark Pullinger
Take Handel’s Alcina, throw in a handful of characters from his Orlando, then add a ring with magical properties and the ashes of Merlin and you have something approaching the confusion which is the plot of Vivaldi’s Orlando furioso; overlapping love triangles, power struggles and a character’s descent into madness barely cover it. Written in 1827, halfway through the Red Priest’s operatic career, it’s packed with lovely arias and is generally regarded as among the very best of his works for the stage.
This is the third Vivaldi opera to make the Barbican stage in recent years. Like Tito Manlio and Ottone in Villa, the artists involved largely stemmed from Naïve’s Vivaldi Edition, their monumental attempt to record all the scores buried in the Turin library. The forces were led by Jean-Christophe Spinosi, founder and director of Ensemble Matheus, and featured several big names from their recording.
There’s a particular reviewer in New York (at newolde.com) who hates Spinosi’s recordings with a passion; that of Orlando furioso was met with the warning not to play it in the car else ‘it may provoke road rage’! I think even he would accept that Spinosi toned down the element of attack here. The Sinfonia was less percussive without the col legno slaps and was less extreme in terms of tempo, although he does favour sudden swells in dynamics. Ensemble Matheus are a crack team of Baroquistas – quite a large string band – with superb playing, highly responsive to its director.
What really made this performance come alive were the fizzing recitatives, accompanied by alert continuo playing of the highest standard, such as the rocking cello arpeggios to depict a storm at sea. At one point, Spinosi took up the violin himself to provide a demented version of La Follia to accompany Orlando’s madness.
To attempt to describe the plot would probably take up more space than an appreciation of the performance, so best to focus on the singing (as did many in the audience). As so often at these Barbican Baroquefests, there were some high profile withdrawals; Christianne Stotijn was an early casualty, but Jennifer Larmore and Romino Basso were later victims of illness. In the event, their replacements were extremely able, in one case arguably stronger than the advertised artist. Franziska Gottwald stepped into the role of Alcina, the sorceress who rules over an enchanted island, a role written for Vivaldi’s protégé Anna Girò. Tall and stately, her platform betrayed no nerves. She acted a great deal with just her eyes, an understated performance full of quiet control. Her mezzo is full of dark colours, like rich molasses. Alcina’s closing aria of Act I, ‘Amorose ai rai del sole’ was beautifully poised, while ‘Vorresti amor da me’ which followed (the single interval coming midway through Act II) was her able to display Alcina’s coquettish side as she teases Astolfo, a prince enslaved by love. Her finest aria came in ‘Così potessi anch’io’ as Alcina pines for love that the several of the other characters have already found, Gottwald lavishing her velvety mezzo on the tender vocal line. Only at the end of a tiring evening, in ‘Anderò, chiamerò dal profondo’, did she seem overpowered by the orchestra.
Orlando has arrived on Alcina’s island to pursue Angelica, who has fled there for protection. The third corner of this particular love triangle comes in the form of Medoro, a Moorish soldier and Angelica’s true love. Angelica was sung by the ever reliable Veronica Cangemi, Medoro by Daniela Pini, one of the late stand-ins. Cangemi can sometimes be somewhat underrated and underappreciated on these shores, but I found her performance quite entrancing. She is excellent in recitative, displaying a nice comic touch, acting all the time. Her soprano seems unremarkable on first hearing, light and fresh, but she found a great range of vocal colours in her Act II ‘Chiara al pari di lucida stella’; pure, unaffected singing of crystalline beauty. Medoro’s first aria is the fiendishly difficult ‘Rompo i ceppi’, which Pini dispatched brilliantly; her mezzo is quite light and didn’t always project as strongly as the other singers, but the agility in her coloratura runs was impressive. Sadly, Medoro’s remaining music is rather uninspired and the rest of Pini’s evening passed unremarkably.
Christiann Senn sang the role of Astolfo. His sonorous bass-baritone coped well with the athletic vocal line in ‘Benché nasconda’, Astolfo’s best aria by some distance, although Senn was a bit blustery in his final aria.
The second love triangle concerns Alcina’s desire for Ruggiero, who arrives on her island by hippogriff (according to the Naïve’s synopsis), drawn by the sorceress’ spell. Bradamante, his real love, has already made her way to the island (on a tip-off), armed with a magic ring with which she hopes to defeat Alcina. She was sung by Swedish mezzo Kristina Hammarström, who sang Bradamante in Alcina last autumn, so knows the character well! She is quite small-voiced, but with an agile coloratura, at her best in ‘Taci, non ti lagnar’, snarling like a tigress. She neatly ornamented the da capo sections of her arias, although her voice goes a little wild at the very top. Ruggiero is rather given special instrumental treatment by Vivaldi. Written for the alto castrato Giovanni Andrea Tassi, Ruggiero’s first aria ‘Sol da te, mio dolce amore’, contains a prominent flute solo, while his third, ‘Come l’onda’ is the only number to feature a pair of oboes. We were treated to the fabulous singing of Philippe Jaroussky, whose silvery, high counter-tenor in ‘Sol da te’ was a thing of tremendous beauty, echoing the mellifluous flute-playing of Alexis Kossenko. Jaroussky’s singing throughout the evening was a delight and I can think of no counter-tenor I’d rather listen to, from the insouciant ease with which he threw of ‘Che bel morirti in sen’ to the stormy coloratura of ‘Come l’onda’. Sheer class.
Which leaves us with Orlando. What can one write about Canadian contralto Marie-Nicole Lemieux which does justice to her stonking performance? She commanded the stage (quite literally – moving music stands out of her way so she could communicate directly with her audience) in an over-the-top, eye-rolling tour-de-force. Orlando is in love with Angelica, who manages to dupe him into thinking his love is returned. When he discovers this is not the case, he descends into madness. After this point, Vivaldi sets much of Orlando’s music as accompanied recitative rather than formal arias and this distinction marks out the character’s mental state. ‘Nel profondo’, on Orlando’s first appearance, was fabulous. In many ways, Lemieux was the weakest singer on stage last night, if we only take accuracy of notes and beauty of tone into consideration, but her energy and ability to communicate to the entire audience was, at times, outrageous. Her ebony-coloured low notes are splendid and although the coloratura sprays notes around like a machine-gun, it’s thrilling stuff. I’m not sure what the furry thing round Lemieux’s neck was, but I wouldn’t mind betting she’d throttled it with her bare hands, so terrifying was this portrayal; here’s a contralto that eats counter-tenors for breakfast! It’s worth remembering that Marilyn Horne sang this role on stage and there are similarities in Lemieux’s big-voiced approach. Her recitative as Orlando went mad at the end of Act II was spellbinding, removing the pelt from her shoulders, returning with hair loosened for Act III. It’s brave to put on this big a performance in a concert staging, but it workedand I’d love to see an opera house put on a production for her.
To the Vivaldi doubters, there will always be the argument that, well, it’s not Handel, but although the level of inspiration is not as consistently high, when he hits the peaks, it really soars, especially in a performance as enjoyable as this. Three cheers too for the Barbican taking account of the clocks going forward with a sensible start time of 6:30pm.
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