#full on Lucia di Lammermoor up in here

[akermanch]

I believe in God but only for bad things…

[theimpossiblescheme]

A Stuff Will Not Endure

(And now on a lighter note for @bombawife‘s OC week, here’s a spotlight on Gus’s theater family back in the days of his old troupe.  I hope everyone enjoys!)

His father wasn’t the only reason Asparagus rarely visited the theater (not that he didn’t love and worry for him, of course he did… he just didn’t know how to handle the bad days quite as well as Jelly did).  The other reason was the place itself.  Intellectually, he knew that theaters tended to sit empty for a long time between productions, and honestly thank goodness for the handful of human staff that kept the place from disappearing into cobwebs and crumbling plaster.  But emotionally?  Seeing it so empty might be more than he could take.  It was his home for so long.  It was where he’d played, where he’d learned to read, where he’d lost one mother and gained another… long before the Junkyard, he’d been spoiled for how warm and full of life it had been.  Seeing the stage cold and barren was one thing, but backstage?  His kittenhood playground, where his family occupied every dressing room, every shortcut corridor, every prop table and empty costume rack?  Unthinkable.  Absolutely not.

Without Iphegenia, the mice would never return.  She had a way with the little creatures only Jenny could match–she loved them all, considered them her friends, treated them with all the respect you’d show to any crew.  They would gossip together over the shop sewing machines, two of them sitting on the arm and another helpfully threading the new bobbins, all giggling over some private joke (“What’s so funny in there?”  “Nothing at all–now shoo before you break my concentration!”).  When Ginny was called on to understudy Andromeda or Lila, she showed Jelly how to help her make alterations to her costumes, their diminutive helpers sitting on their shoulders and reminding them to keep the stitches even, mind where you’re sticking those pins, make sure you tie off the thread good and tight!  And when Ginny left the theater for good, dozens of three-flower bouquets were left on her chair.

Without Cornelius, there’d be no more singing in the dressing rooms.  He was always an early riser, and he apparently needed very little warmup to start belting out some opera or other first thing in the morning.  It wasn’t uncommon to hear a rousing, every so slightly pitchy chorus of “sono il factotum della città, della città, della città, della cittaaaaaaaaaaaaa” right as you walked inside, and it might take him a few seconds to trail off before offering you a bright and cheery “Oh, you’re here early!”  Gus used to grumble about it–”There is such a thing as too early, you know”--but never too loudly because damn it all if that joy and enthusiasm wasn’t contagious.  Even if you woke up in the foulest mood, you still found yourself tapping your paw and humming along; and on a few mornings, the entire backstage boomed with song as everyone joined in.  He was the only cat Asparagus knew who could arrange the entire Lucia di Lammermoor sextet with only a few minutes’ notice and a nail file as a baton.

Without Brighella, there’d be no more crowds on the outside stairs.  With every new poster, every announcement of a new production, cats would come out in droves to drink in the details, and there he’d always be right at the head, waxing poetic about the actors, the sets, even the lighting.  Then with a sudden “Ah, but I’ve said too much already–you must come and judge for yourselves!”, he would flash that great green cape of his and disappear through the nearest side door.  More often than not, Asparagus and his sisters would be waiting inside, and Brighella would scoop them up on his huge shoulders and either admit there’d been a decent turnout or lambast them for not appreciating the classics.  You could never tell when he’d suddenly go from grand gesticulating to surprising bluntness, but it certainly kept you on your toes.  And he saved his greatest and most honest praise for his castmates–”I do love these cats.  I love the way they live.  I love the way I live when I’m with them.”

Without Pumpernickel, the stage manager’s station would be empty.  Worrywart that they were, they often took on that role, convinced that if they left it to anybody else the cues would never be called, the actors would never know their lines, and the whole show would be a complete shambles.  Not that they lacked faith in the cast and crew–it was more to settle their own anxiety and need to be useful to everyone, and they firmly believed in being efficient and gentle at the same time.  Things moved quickly backstage in the weeks before opening, but when you had a moment to chat or share a concern, Pumpernickel would turn around on their stool and listen the way only they could, all wide eyes and soft expression.  If you couldn’t find them in person, their station would always have a note posted–”Be back in just a few minutes, please help yourself!”--below a small wicker basket of bandages, extra pins, tea bags, envelopes of fishmonger scraps, emergency needles and thread, anything you might need in a pinch.  “I swear by that lavender tea for stress,” they mentioned one day as they helped prepare Lila a cup, and Asparagus suddenly figured that the constant scent of lavender around them made sense now.

Without Wiskuscat, there’d be no more quiet evenings in the light booth.  Those were the only sorts of evenings the old tom knew how to have–always a cat of few words, and those few words tended to be rather sardonic.  But he was dependable and steady, precisely where you needed him to be before you’ even thought of it.  When Asparagus first learned his way around the various crew duties (since, unlike his sisters, he had no desire to be onstage himself), the lights were the first thing he learned since, to his surprise, even running spotlights could be rather dull.  “It’s a lot of ‘hurry up and wait,’” Wiskuscat had told him, his low growl of a voice echoing like an out-of-tune bass, “so you’d best learn to get comfortable.”  So in between songs and monologues, the two lounged together behind the glass, sometimes breaking the silence to comment on the goings-on below, but most of the time just letting it be.  And even there was comfort.

There was always comfort behind the scenes with his father’s old troupe.  There was joy and noise and life practically coming out of the floorboards.  There was love and belonging.  There was family.

And Asparagus didn’t want to know a theater without them.  

[opera-ghosts]

February 8. 1921 the portuguese Baritone Francisco d’Andrade died in Berlin.

Here a picture of him as Rigoletto and his portrait.

His brother was the famous tenor Antonio d'Andrade. His full name was Francisco Augusto de Andrade E Silva. In 1881 he studied singing under Manuel Carreira, Luiz da Costa and José Romano in Lisbon, but in  1886 he went to Milan, where he was a pupil of pedagogues Miraglia and Ronconi. In 1882 he made his debut in Sanremo as Amonasro in Verdi’s ‘’Aida’’. During the following years he appeared with success first in Italy, then in Spain and Portugal, performing not only at the Teatro alla Scala, but also at the Teatro Costanzi in Rome. In 1886 he made guest appearance at Covent Garden, London as Renato in Verdi’s ‘’Ballo in maschera’’, in which he had big success till 1890, among other things as Germont ‘’Traviata’’, Enrico in ‘’Lucia di Lammermoor’’ and as Count di Luna in ‘’Trovatore’’. In 1887 he sang in Moscow as Telramund in ‘’Lohengrin’’. In 1889 he went with an opera troupe of the impresario Gardini, the husband of the soprano Etelka Gerster, to Berlin. He was so successful there as Figaro in ‘’Barbiere di Siviglia’’, Rigoletto and as Don Giovanni that he took later here his residence. From 1906 to 1916 he was often to be heard at the Berlin Court Opera. From 1891 to 1910 he was nearly every year appeared at the Opera House of Frankfurt a. M., in 1894, 1896, 1901 and 1909 at the Municipal Theatre of Zurich. He performed also in Germany, Holland, Austria, Russia, England and Scandinavia mainly as a Don Giovanni. In this part he counted as unequalled; his amusing representation of the Don Giovanni was painted by Max Slevogt. Also in Salzburg (1901) he sang the role of Don Giovanni together with Lilli Lehmann, Johanna Gadski and Geraldine Farrar. Up to 1919 he appeared on the stage, last only as Don Giovanni. His other star role was Figaro in Rossini’s ‘’Barbiere di Siviglia’’. He controlled a stage repertoire of 56 roles into six languages, under it numerous parts from the area of the French opera (Nevers in ‘’Les Huguénots’’, Escamillo in ‘’Carmen’’, Hoël in ‘’Dinorah’’ of  Meyerbeer, Zurga in ‘’Pêcheurs de perles’’ of Bizet, Nelusco in ‘’L'Africaine’’, Valentin in ‘’'Faust’’ of Gounod, Scindia in ‘’Le Roi de Lahore’’ of Massenet). When Portugal entered into the First World War, he had to leave in 1916 Germany. Then he lived in Portugal, where in 1918 for the last time he appeared on the stage as Figaro in ‘’Barbiere di Siviglia’’. However, in 1919 he came back again to Berlin, but two years later died suddenly.

[onebizarrekai]

I think that lucia di lammermoor is one of my new favorite operas not just because of the mad scene but because the opera makes no sense whatsoever

there are literally so many plot holes in the libretto. there are so many unexplained facets of the narrative, unresolved arcs, dialogues that mandate copious creative liberties, things that only happen off-stage, and some unsolvable problems that can only be fixed by cutting things or directing things a certain way. there’s so much nonsense it’s actually hilarious. if you read the source story of the bride of lammermoor the opera diverts quite a bit, but the bride of lammermoor is actually even worse, so let’s put that to the side.

let’s just start from the beginning of the opera, paraphrasing as much as possible. lucia’s evil brother, enrico, is the first lead to greet the stage, minutes after his goony normano. normano tells enrico the tale of how enrico’s archenemy, edgardo, saved the life of lucia, and he reluctantly admits that they are now in love with each other and are secretly meeting up all the time. enrico flips his shit and sings about how he’s going to kill edgardo or whatever. bide the bent (aka raimondo, but schirmir really said bide the bent, whatever the hell that means) exists and does priest stuff because he’s a priest. by the way, there’s this whole thing about how the ashton family (aka lucia and enrico) are protestant and edgardo is catholic and that’s why they hate each other and that’s why there’s a priest.

anyway they all leave, and then lucia and alice enter. lucia is, naturally, waiting for her illegal boyfriend: edgardo. she is very scared because enrico is a piece of shit and wants to kill her boyfriend. alice is like “yo man this is a bad idea” and lucia is like “where’s edgardo” but lucia is also perturbed by something else. she has a ghost story to tell about this nondescript fountain and tells alice about the girl who was killed by her lover at this fountain, and then suddenly goes like “by the way the ghost of the dead woman appeared to me” and like wow ok lucia. after singing about all of the water turning to blood in her hallucination, she proceeds to completely change moods and sing about how much she loves edgardo because she is crazy. after all of this, edgardo finally arrives and tells lucia about how he actually has to go to france to do ambassador stuff and disappear for an indefinite period of time. he says that they should finally tell enrico about their relationship. lucia completely shuts him down, and then edgardo cries about how enrico has killed his family and how she’s the only light of his life. they end up deciding to keep their relationship a secret anyway and then vow to marry each other.

act 2, enrico has ordered normano to forge a break-up letter from edgardo to send it to lucia. normano shows up to give it to enrico, enrico summons lucia into wherever he is to tell her that he needs to marry her off to some other guy in order to save their family. lucia is like “but I’m marrying someone else” and enrico is like “oh yeah? read this” and gives her the letter, and lucia naturally breaks down because it’s a big lie about how edgardo has found someone else in france. she cries about it until this big fanfare plays to welcome her new husband, arturo. at this point lucia is singing about nothing except how much death would benefit her right now. enrico leaves after being an asshole for a few more minutes, and then in comes bide the bent to lecture lucia about the invalidity of her previous marital vows. she leaves to change into a wedding gown.

enter arturo, this random loser that enrico wants lucia to marry. his lines are so cliché that he’s probably reading them off a sheet of paper (which is exactly how we staged the production I am currently doing). somehow arturo knows about lucia’s affair with edgardo because those two were actually horrible at being secretive, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to marry a hottie. enrico tells arturo about how lucia’s mother died and that’s why she’s crying about the wedding. lo and behold, lucia enters and she is crying. they hold the wedding right then and there under the Authority™ of bide the bent, enrico forces lucia to sign the wedding documents, and then everyone is like “wait who’s at the door?” and then EDGARDO BREAKS IN and he’s like “EDGAAAAAARDO” and they sing a whole sextet that borders a confusion ensemble except it’s a bel canto tragedy.

edgardo is like “yeah man! it’s my right to be here since I’m engaged to lucia!” and enrico is like “PSH” and bide the bent comes up like “sorry she just signed this Other Marriage Contract” and shows it to edgardo and edgardo is like WHAT and he comes up to lucia like BRUH YOU DONE THIS?? and lucia doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point, she’s just like “yes?? but” and then edgardo takes off his ring and hers and then throws a temper tantrum before he gets kicked out.

behold the wolf’s craig duet, the most stupid and pointless thing in this opera considering what happens later. enrico barges into edgardo’s house and they sing about how they’re going to kill each other and duel at the graveyard. that’s it. there’s probably sexual tension.

after that, there’s a wedding party, except with a Horrifying Twist. lucia goes upstairs with arturo and fucking kills him. having lost her mind, she comes out covered in blood and sings for like twenty minutes in a very impressive manor. she collapses on the floor at the very end.

there’s a random recit right afterwards where enrico, bide the bent and normano briefly talk about lucia losing her mind. while enrico is crying about lucia, bide the bent literally blames normano of all people, who did exactly nothing, for every bad thing that happened to lucia.

the final scene begins at the graveyard. now, I know what you’re thinking. edgardo and enrico promised to duel each other here, right? right! so where the hell is enrico? I dunno, not here. edgardo is here, and he’s crying and stuff about his dead father. he’s very sad and probably wants to perish. a chorus shows up mourning something. edgardo asks about it and no one wants to tell him. bide the bent appears in all his priestliness and tells edgardo that lucia is now in heaven. how did she die? beats me. she died of insanity or something. edgardo has lost the final thing in his life that matters to him, so he decides to “go see her” and stabs himself.

the opera ends.

welcome to lucia di lammermoor. now, some of these plot holes are resolvable through directing. for example, lucia’s insanity is inexplicable in the libretto. nobody is just sad about their boyfriend and commits murder–granted, her first aria had her singing about a ghost and a fountain of blood. why’s she like this, though? she’s probably not ok. so like, some people explain this by making enrico way way worse than just a big liar. in the production that I’m doing, enrico is being depicted as sexually abusive towards lucia, and like, yeah that helps do some explaining. but you know what it doesn’t help? the parts of the opera that normally get cut, like the stupidass wolf’s craig duet that exists for no reason and usually gets cut because it makes no sense. also, the scene right after the mad scene where bide the bent comically blames normano for everything even though it is clearly enrico’s fault and enrico is randomly mourning lucia even though he was horrible to her for the whole opera. unfortunately, when you have companies like the met, which do full operas with no cuts, you get the whole, nonsensical story in its full glory, not to mention the met tends to shy away from taking creative liberties with the directing.

so like, why do I say this opera is a new favorite? well, aside from it being fun to sing, since I’m doing it for the first time, it’s absolutely hilarious to consider who the real mastermind here is, since for some reason, the librettist seems to think that it’s normano. you have to make up so much subtext in this story in order to even make it begin to make sense, so how far can you take it? how much nonsense can you create?

easy mode is assuming the mastermind is enrico. he’s a horrible person. obviously bide the bent accuses normano because he’s trying to divert the blame from enrico, who may or may not kill him if he says the truth. however, enrico does not go to the graveyard to kill edgardo and tie off loose ends (which I personally think he should have). enrico just kind of disappears, honestly, in spite of being the main bad guy.

bide the bent is another viable option. he blames normano to divert attention from himself. he plays the role of the peacemaker between edgardo and enrico during the sextet, but it’s all a sham. the reason bide the bent appears in the final graveyard scene is because he’s the true villain here. he simply took advantage of everyone around him in order to make sure everything went according to plan. enrico’s bs towards lucia, lucia’s insanity, edgardo’s depression, normano loyalty, the whole deal. he wishes to rise in power… perhaps the reason enrico does not show up in the final scene is because bide the bent has already disposed of him.

what if it was edgardo? what if he and lucia devised a plan to create an opening that would allow them to run away? what if arturo was in on it? lucia pretends to murder arturo, pretends to go insane, and the plan was to finally flee with edgardo… but then they were INTERCEPTED. their plan was ruined. lucia was disposed of by the enemy off-stage and it was too late. they claim she died of insanity, but she was killed by normano under enrico’s orders, or whoever else is the designated evil one here.

in the met, for some reason, they decide to have lucia’s ghost come in during the final scene and silently “coerce” edgardo into ending his life, which sounds cool, but it was ridiculous. I just remember the blood bag being in the wrong place so he had to stab himself in the kidney and lucia actually pushed the prop knife in like she wasn’t literally a ghost. there was also a ghost during lucia’s first aria that totally upstaged her. this opens up many stupid doors for directing such as arturo’s ghost returning as well if need be. anyone’s ghost could be there. ghosts canonically exist at the met. arturo could be fortnite dancing during the mad scene.

behold, a terrible take. edgardo is having a secret affair after all, but he’s having an affair with enrico. enrico is enraged when he discovers edgardo’s relationship with his sister because he thought that THEY had a thing. he vengefully tries to break them up by marrying lucia off to arturo. enrico and edgardo sing the wolf’s craig duet as a not-tragic breakup song.

honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this goddamn cast was sleeping with each other. the possibilities are endless

during the staging period of the show, we all came up with so many stupid and hilarious ideas that we could stage an entire comedy version of this opera. maybe one day it could happen. maybe…

anyway it’s like midnight and I’m doing my cast’s performance of this opera in two days, and I just drove home a while ago from performance 1 today talking with my family about all of these stupid possibilities, so it’s all on my mind. at least the mad scene is fun to sing

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Five favorite opera performers and a) what you love about them and b) what made you fall in love with them?

Thank you!!! It’s been a busy day today; sorry I didn’t get around to this sooner..

Five favorites? Hmm...here are five I love:

Lisette Oropesa

What I love about her: DAT VOICE (especially the trills!! HOW?!?!?!). I love the quality and the color of it; it’s just so shimmery and gorgeous. She’s also such a great, versatile actress, extremely adorable, very pretty, and just an absolutely amazing human being. (Watch her YouTube videos. She’s such a wonderful human.)

What made me fall in love with her: I’d seen her in stuff before this, but it was that Teatro Real Madrid OperaVision broadcast of Lucia di Lammermoor back in 2018 that made me fall head over heels for everything about her. BTW, that broadcast is back up on YouTube and I HIGHLY recommend you watch it.

2. Joyce DiDonato

What I love about her: she’s the full package both vocally and dramatically, she can do SO MANY DIFFERENT THINGS and isn’t afraid to step way out of her comfort zone, and once again, such a lovely person and really engaging and fun and energetic. Also I feel a little smidge of hometown pride because she’s actually from less than three hours from my house (I KNOW RIGHT?!)

What made me fall in love with her: Three words: Non più mesta. That is all.

3. Corinne Winters

What I love about her: HIDDEN GEM HIDDEN GEM WHY ISN’T SHE MORE FAMOUS anyway her voice isn’t quite like anything else I’ve ever heard— it’s tough to describe but I LOVE IT. also her acting is always on point, she knows her roles so well and loves them, and yet again, she’s a marvelous human.

What made me fall in love with her: I watched her as Rachel in an Opera Vlaanderen OperaVision (always OperaVision!) broadcast of La juive and...hook, line, and sinker.

4. Juan Diego Flórez

What I love about him: LITERALLY EVERYTHING AHHHHHHHHHHH okay fine I actually have to make coherent thoughts and stuff I guess anyway 1) the voice needs no further explanation, 2) the acting and charisma don’t need it either, 3) he’s just...so adorable and wonderful and Too Good For This World, 4) his mad skills (who else manages to absolutely KILL Rossini at the Met on a Live in HD day just hours after his wife gave birth to their first kid?), and 5) the puppy dog face. I CAN’T.

What made me fall in love with him: if you claim that you didn’t fall in love with him after ‘Ah! mes amis’, then you are wrong and that is all I have to say on that

5. Ferruccio Furlanetto

What I love about him: ALL HAIL THE ONE TRUE KING. okay but seriously he IS Filippo but also owns every other role he does in every possible way. that is all.

What made me fall in love with him: his Filippo, duh.

[monotonous-minutia]

For @notyouraveragejulie :)

Lucia di Lammermoor Act 2 50 lines

Scene 1: Enrico’s office.

Enrico: I really hope my sister likes the guy I have lined up to marry her who she’s never met.

Normanno: Don’t worry, I’m sure the fact that you intercepted Edgardo’s letters so she doesn’t get them and forged this one to make her think he’s in love with someone else will chill her out.

Enrico: I hope you’re right. Well, let’s get this party started. Go and get everyone ready and welcome Arturo.

Normano leaves

Lucia comes in

Enrico: Come on in, Lucia. What is this, the silent treatment? Stop being so dramatic. Come here, I have news for you.

Leonora: I’m still pissed at you for promising me to Arturo. I’m already promised to someone else.

Enrico: What?? How could you do that and not tell me?

Leonora: Well you told Arturo he could marry me without running it by me first so.

Enrico: Unbelievable. Who are you going to marry, then?

Lucia: Edgardo!

Enrico: We’ll see about that. Look at this letter I found from him.

Lucia: WHAT HE’S SEEING ANOTHER WOMAN?? What a heartless man. My life is ruined. It’s not like I could go to him and talk about this.

Enrico: Well, it’s your fault for going behind my back and dating a guy from the other side. Anyway, Arturo will be here soon. Let’s get ready.

Lucia: If I marry him I’ll die!

Enrico: Don’t be so dramatic! It’s not the end of the world.

Lucia: IT’S THE END OF MY WORLD

Enrico: Look, my job is on the line here. If you don’t marry this guy, I will be ruined. And probably dead, because that’s how it works nowadays.

Lucia: Ah let the sweet relief of death just come for me now.

Enrico: Oh for pete’s sake *leaves*

Raimondo comes in

Raimondo: Lucia, your happiness is over.

Lucia: Wow thanks for the encouragement.

Raimondo: You have nothing left to do now than the fulfill the wishes of your brother.

Lucia: OR I COULD DIE BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT SOPRANOS DO WHEN THEY DON’T GET WHAT THEY WANT

Scene 2: The grand hall of the castle

Chorus: Oh what a great day, we love weddings so much, also we love parties. The world is full of love.

Arturo: I’m trying not to be too upset that this marriage is for purely political purposes and has nothing to do with love and also I’ve never even met Lucia and HEY ENRICO HOW’S IT GOING BUD

Enrico: Welcome Arturo! Lucia will be here soon. Just fyi, if she seems down in the dumps, it’s because she’s still grieving the death of her mother. Not like she was my mother too or anything.

Arturo: I totally understand. Now I do have one question. I’ve heard someone named Edgardo was interested in Lucia too? Is that going to be a problem?

Enrico: Yeah, well, you see, he tried to seduce her, but it’s all done and over with now, no worries.

Arturo: Sounds bogus but okay.

Chorus: HERE COMES THE BRIDE

Lucia comes in looking sad

Enrico: See, I told you, she’s all forlorn. Dead mother, remember? Hey, sis, come meet your new hubby.

Lucia: How about nope.

Enrico: Do you want to ruin me???

Arturo: Lucia, I know we barely know each other and this is a really hard time in your life but I do hope you’ll accept my tender love and after all I’m a tenor so it shouldn’t be that hard…

Enrico: Cool cool cool let’s sign the marriage contract.

Arturo: Yeah I’m down

Lucia: OMG this sucks

Raimondo: Lord, have pity on this poor girl…

Enrico: DONE! YES FINALLY I’M OUT OF THE FIRE I mean hey guys congrats

Lucia: RIP me

Edgardo bursts in

Edgardo: LUCIA WTF

Lucia: ???

Enrico: GET OUT OF HERE YOU RUFFIAN

Edgardo: I can’t believe you would betray me like this!!! I thought we were going to get married and yet here I find you signing a contract with another man like seriously what the hell

Lucia: I mean I could ask you why you’re so upset when I read that letter saying you were seeing another woman but I’m a soprano so obviously I’m not going to do the smart thing I’m just going to stand here and cry in an attractive manner.

Enrico: I kinda feel bad for making my sister upset but more than that I really want Edgardo to leave and this marriage means I’m finally out of trouble I guess what I mean is SO LONG SUCKA guards get him out of here

Edgardo: I can’t believe I ever fell for such a faithless woman I never want to see you again

Everyone: FINE THEN GO

Edgardo: FINE I WILL ALSO LUCIA HERE IS THE RING YOU GAVE ME BYE

Chorus: Chill guys this too shall pass

Arturo: idk man. Can we have cake now?

[swisscgny]

MEET MARKUS IMHOOF

Film Director and Recipient of the Honorary Swiss Film Award 2020

Best known for his brilliant documentary More than Honey (2012) about the threat of extinction of bees, Swiss filmmaker Markus Imhoof directed numerous award-winning movies like Eldorado (2018) and The Boat is Full (1981), for which he received an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Language Film. In recognition of his oeuvre, Imhoof recently won the Honorary Swiss Film Award 2020 by the Swiss Federal Office of Culture. We caught up with Markus Imhoof to reflect on his career, discuss his films, the censorship of his early work and how to make an insect a protagonist in a movie. 

You were recently awarded the Swiss Film Honorary Award by the Federal Office of Culture. What does it mean to have your life’s work recognized after being met with censorship and bans in your early career for Rondo (1968) and Ormenis 199+69 (1969)?

Ironically, the bans helped me as much as the awards…

But I never wanted to be dangerous. Both of my early films were banned in 1968 and 1969, a time where our hopes clashed with the certainties of the authorities. In my work, I was posing the question if locking away people would really make them better individuals. And if horses were really so enthusiastic to be in the cavalry as the men sitting on them. Times have changed and maybe artists have contributed to it, even if I keep asking myself, does my work have any effect?

Hopefully I don't have to sit still now and can continue with my new project, dealing with a very sensitive topic.

Both The Boat is Full (1981), which was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film at the Academy Awards, and Eldorado (2018), which won the Zurich Film Prize and the Bavaria Film Prize, bring to the screen the reoccurring topic of migration to and across Europe from the Second World War until now. What can films tell us about migration that other platforms cannot? What is the underlying message that you want to highlight through these movies?

I have been touched by the issue of refugees as a child in a way that determined my life. I did not show this inner core for a long time, but I think, art thrives on this tension between the personal and the general. That is also the unspoken statement of both films: the tension and relation between “I “ and “us”.  No one can live without others – swarm intelligence like in a beehive. The single bee only survives if the whole hive is well. I would never formulate this explicitly in a film: I want to “infect” viewers with empathy and let them find the answer themselves. Films have the chance to touch the viewer emotionally, something you would never reach with pure exchange of information. But how do you bring people into a dark cinema who have already preconceived opinions?

Image: Markus Imhoof receiving the Oscar Nomination for “The Boat is Full” with producer George Reinhart and cameraman Hans Liechti

Watch the trailer of The Boat is Full (1981) here: 

Watch the trailer of Eldorado (2018) here:

Your film, More than Honey (2012), Switzerland’s official entry for Best Foreign Language Film at 86th Academy Awards, is the most successful Swiss documentary ever made. It gained critical acclaim all across the globe through its sensitive combination of the political and the personal. What do you think made it so appealing to such a broad audience? What were the challenges of making a movie where the main character is not human but an insect?

I never really wanted to make documentary films, inventing worlds with actors has fascinated me too much.

But bees don’t want to be actors. First, I had to try to understand them and then I could only watch and let the camera run at the right moment. The maiden flight of the queen was one of the most difficult scenes. We had to breed our queen first and be ready at the right minute after eighteen days for the hatching. Then, the task was to find the place, where the drones are gathering every afternoon at a height of thirty meters, waiting for virgins. There, we built a ten meter tower with a balloon attached with pheromones, the smell of the queen. We lured the drones down to our level and then let the queen fly. It worked out one and a half times in ten days – for thirty seconds of film! It is like witnessing a magical secret. This is in stark contrast to other scenes of the film, where we experience how brutally industrial agriculture is treating this magic. The bees become a metaphor of how we deal with nature. The central question is: Are we humans part of nature or do we stand above it? When everything is ours, we dominate everything else. We are the parasites of nature, but we don't care whether our host dies or not. But only the most stupid parasite would kill its host. A nice contradiction is, that the so-called “killerbees” could be our saviours. The fact that my beekeeping grandfather taught me all of this and that my grandchildren in bee suits are helping my daughter and her husband, the bee researchers, is certainly an emotional bridge to the public.

Image: Shooting with “killerbees” for “More Than Honey” in Arizona

Watch the trailer of More than Honey (2012) here: 

You have also directed various theatre plays like Hamlet (1993) and Lucia di Lammermoor (1999), what are the most translatable skills from narrative stage directing to documentary film directing?

On stage and on screen the strongest entrance is from the right corner in the back - even for bees. Also the dramaturgical “rules of the game” are similar. It's about “fear and compassion” like Aristotle said, or reflecting these emotions like Brecht. In my early films I refused music, it seemed an unfair seduction. The Scala and the Piccolo Theatro of Giorgio Strehler in Italy helped to liberate me from this notion. I realized that singing is the closest to the soul. Music guides my directing of singers on stage, whether they mirror the music in their performance or act in contrast to it. Shakespeare and Verdi are the greatest teachers. And so is the Neorealismo of Italian film.

What are your favourite August 1st activities and how will you be celebrating this year?

I have been asked several times to hold the 1st of August speech in my Swiss place of residence, Seegräben, but I was always engaged somewhere in the world. Most of my life I haven’t lived in Switzerland, that’s why I am particularly concerned with my home country. In my speech, I would talk about swarm intelligence and that we all can only survive if the entire hive, the whole world, is turning towards the right direction. I would use the example of the “corporate responsibility initiative”, a Swiss initiative intended to put a stop to reckless business practices of corporations based in Switzerland at the expense of people and the environment outside of Switzerland. Even we, the Swiss, are part of the world and we have to take responsibility for this gift.

All of the movies mentioned in this interview can be streamed from Markus Imhoof’s website here. 

[mirandagoing4baroque]

Field of Streams: Boston Baroque's Agrippina, While Brushing my Teeth

This is a landmark day for Going For Baroque! It is my first review of a staged opera that I have already reviewed. As you may know, back in March I saw Agrippina at the Met, in what became the final live performance I viewed this season. But luckily for my father and me, Boston Baroque saw fit to put its production of Agrippina from 2015 on its shiny new streaming platform (yes, please, more of this), so I can compare and contrast. Two empresses enter, one empress leaves! 

Just kidding, I don’t want to do an Agrippina cage match between Joyce DiDonato and Susanna Phillips--there is too much pitting ambitious women against each other in both the world generally and in this opera more specifically. I don’t feel the need to pile on. Also, the Boston Baroque production is far more intimate, and has period instruments. It’s really an apples and oranges situation. However, given that I saw them in such close proximity, I’m sure a few comparisons will creep in.

Look, I’m not gonna review the whole plot of Agrippina again here. You can go read it in my last review of Agrippina if you care a lot. Tl;dr: Agrippina wants her son (Nero) on the throne, everyone wants to sleep with Poppea, lots of people are manipulative jerks, and in the end Nero is emperor and Otho ends up with Poppea. And then in the postscript Nero kills everyone including himself.

While the  Met’s production was unusual, this production was far more ‘traditional.’ It wasn’t flashy; it wasn’t extravagant, but it got the job done. This is, to me, a textbook example of a show where the production got out of the way and let the music and acting do their work. Though I did think the two vignettes on either side of the stage that could turn to reveal a new setting were a clever and efficient use of limited space. Too bad I can’t get one for my 400 square foot apartment where I am quarantining!

I have had the privilege of seeing Boston Baroque do Giulio Cesare live (wherein Susanna Phillips practically sang “Se Pieta” in my lap), and I can vouch for the care and thought with which it interprets Handel’s music. That attention to detail was on full display in this performance. Period appropriate, dance rhythms were clear and always played at an appropriate tempo. I hope to see another Boston Baroque production in person someday, and I highly recommend its performances to my Boston-based friends.

Most of this cast (with the exception of the two female leads), was new to me, which is always fun. I love discovering new favorites! The biggest revelation of this cast to me was Kevin Deas, who was a glorious Claudio. He was imperial in voice and stature. What a wonderful full, rich, bass he had. He also had a very charismatic stage presence, and I found his acting both funny and menacing as the situation required. I hope very much to see him again.

I found both of the “thumbheaded henchmen” (which is my term for Pallas and Narcissus) perfectly capable. Pallas (Douglas Williams) found some of the tempos a little fast, but I think he will grow into his voice nicely. I wasn’t sure why Narcissus (Krista River) had a foot fetish that Agrippina exploited. In fact, that detail was the one thing that rang false for me about this production. I’m sure it was supposed to be a joke, but it felt awkward and fell flat. Narcissus had a clear and smooth voice, and I expect that detail was the direction, not her. I’d love to see her in another role someday.

Otho was played adorably and capably by Marie Lenormand, who also was new to me. Her acting was spot on, and I found all of her arias very affecting. Especially in act one she seemed to be channelling a bit of Ned Stark’s endearing earnestness when surrounded by political intrigue. She was winning when she was happy, and her dull, lifeless, soulless affect when her fortunes declined was quite moving. My one complaint was that, especially in slow arias, she seemed to lose some power at the end of long phrases. But she and Amanda Forsythe (her Poppea) had excellent chemistry and I ship it.

I was primarily drawn to this stream for the chance to see Amanda Forsythe again. I saw and loved her in Semele, and she did not disappoint. What a voice! So agile! Such creative ornamentation! I thought her acting of Poppea was quite good, especially in scenes with Otho. She and Marie Lenormand brought out the best in each other. It is not her fault that the character of Poppea is unevenly drawn. 

Nerone, to me, was the one disappointment of the cast. Regular readers will know my “mezzos before bros” attitude about castrati roles, so I was already poised not to love him. (Sorry, sorry.) But beyond that I found his voice to have a whiny, reedy quality that grated. I also found his acting to be lacking in the first act, though in the more slapstick second act, he was much improved. He seems young, so perhaps he will gain power and richness with age.

The first time I saw Susanna Phillips in person was all the way back in 2011 (almost ten years ago), which was really right at the beginning of my opera enthusiasm. It was a production of Lucia di Lammermoor at the Chicago Lyric, and my dorm did a group trip. I was still learning about opera, so I went in pretty cold. I came out an emotional wreck, and it was mostly her fault. I didn’t know the voice could do that. So I have been a Susanna Phillips fan for quite some time, is what I’m trying to say. Since then I’ve seen her do a very notable Cleopatra (also at Boston Baroque). She has a big voice and isn’t afraid to use it. I enjoyed her comedic acting. In places she reminded me of Steve Carell in The Office. The highlight for me was her third act aria “Ogni Venti”. She was killing it, she knew she was killing it, and she was just having a blast. I was also having a blast.

I am so excited that Boston Baroque has started this streaming platform and I cannot wait to see what they do next. No matter what it is, you know I’ll be here having opinions about it on Field of Streams. Stay well, and see you next time.

[andrewtheconqueror-blog]

Blog No. 9

Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini’s Aria (Analysis)

                                        Gioachino Antonio Rossini

                            (February 29, 1792—November 13, 1868)

Gioachino Rossini (1792–1868) was an Italian composer who wrote 39 operas as well as sacred music, chamber music, songs, and some instrumental and piano pieces.

Life and Music 

Having produced a whirlwind series of 38 operas, following the premiere of William Tell in August 1829, and with close on 40 years of life still remaining, he laid down his operatic pen for ever. Perhaps Rossini had finally had enough, as he was once reputed to have remarked: "How wonderful opera would be if there were no singers!"

Rossini was born in Pesaro in 1793, the son of a town trumpeter-cum-inspector of slaughterhouses, ‘Guiseppe Rossini’ whose questionable political sympathies once resulted in a short jail sentence. The family was otherwise constantly on the move, Rossini's mother appearing as a principal singer in a series of comic opera productions, while the budding young composer learned his craft, based in Bologna.

He composed his first opera, Demetrio e Polibio, while still a student at the Liceo Musicale in Bologna, where his love of Mozart led to his being nicknamed, "the German". Such was its success that it led to a series of operatic ventures which initially culminated in the Barber of Seville. When Donizetti heard that Rossini had composed it in a matter of just three weeks, he remarked sardonically: "Rossini always was a lazy fellow."

Rossini's stage output culminated in the premiere of William Tell in Paris in 1829, after which he virtually stopped composing, save for a few songs, piano pieces and two famous large-scale choral works - the Stabat Mater and the Petite Messe Solennelle .

Rossini died at his villa in Passy on 13 November 1868 following a short illness. Having initially been buried in Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris, his remains were subsequently moved to Santa Croce in Florence in 1887.

Did you know?

For Rossini's 70th birthday celebrations in 1862, a number of his friends clubbed together in order to have a statue built in his honour. His reaction was typically boisterous: "Why not give the money to me and I'll stand on the pedestal myself!"

Figaro's “Largo Al Factotum,” From 'The Barber of Seville'

"The Barber of Seville" (Italian: Il barbiere di Siviglia) is a comedic opera by Giachino Rossini. It's based on the first play of of "Le Barbier de Seville," the three-part story of Figaro written by French playwright Pierre Beaumarchais.

"Largo al Factorum," Figaro's opening aria in the opera's first act, is considered one of the most challenging operas for a baritone to perform, due to its brisk time signature and convoluted rhyme structure.

Modern audiences may recognize "Largo al factotum" as a staple of the ​"Looney Tunes" cartoons.

History of 'The Barber of Seville'

The opera premiered at the Teatro Argentina in Rome in 1816. Now considered a masterpiece of musical comedy, "The Barber of Seville" had a difficult first performance, but quickly grew in popularity.

Figaro's Opening Aria 'Largo al Factorum'

In the first act, the audience meets the flamboyant Figaro who introduces himself as the city's top quality factotum, or handyman. Figaro is quite assured of his abilities and describes his popularity and his many talents. He's a jack of all trades. He loves his life, saying that and a more noble life cannot be found.

Italian Lyrics Largo al factotum della citta. Presto a bottega che l'alba e gia. Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere per un barbiere di qualita! Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo! Fortunatissimo per verita! Pronto a far tutto, la notte e il giorno sempre d'intorno in giro sta.

Miglior cuccagna per un barbiere, vita piu nobile, no, non si da. Rasori e pettini lancette e forbici, al mio comando tutto qui sta. V'e la risorsa, poi, de mestiere colla donnetta... col cavaliere... Tutti mi chiedono, tutti mi vogliono, donne, ragazzi, vecchi, fanciulle: Qua la parruca... Presto la barba... Qua la sanguigna...

Presto il biglietto... Qua la parruca, presto la barba, Presto il biglietto, ehi! Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, ecc. Ahime, che furia! Ahime, che folla! Uno alla volta, per carita! Figaro! Son qua. Ehi, Figaro! Son qua. Figaro qua, Figaro la, Figaro su, Figaro giu, Pronto prontissimo son come il fumine: sono il factotum della citta. Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo; a te fortuna non manchera.

English Translation Handyman of the city. Early in the workshop I arrive at dawn. Ah, what a life, what a pleasure For a barber of quality! Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, very good! I am the luckiest, it's the truth! Ready for anything, night and day I'm always on the move. Cushier fate for a barber, A more noble life cannot be found. Razors and combs Lancets and scissors, at my command everything is here. Here are the extra tools then, for business With the ladies... with the gentlemen... Everyone asks me, everyone wants me, women, children, old people, young ones: Here are the wigs... A quick shave of the beard... Here are the leeches for bleeding... The note... Here are the wigs, a quick shave soon, The note, hey! Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, Etc.. Alas, what frenzy! Alas, what a crowd!

One at a time, for goodness sake! Figaro! I'm here. Hey, Figaro! I'm here. Figaro here, Figaro there, Figaro up, Figaro down, Swifter and swifter I'm like a spark: I'm the handyman of the city. Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, very good; Fortunately for you I will not fail.

Musical Analysis:

Written in ABA form, also know as a ternary form or a song form. The flamboyant opening of the orchestra gave preparation to the robust melody of the baritone solo. The bass section opens the music with a masculine one-note pluck, suggesting a dominant chord then suddenly, the orchestra comes in, full blast, with a lot scalar passages, leaps of an octave, and grace notes. The 1st  section revolves in its home key, C major, sometimes sitting to its dominant key, (G)  then transitions to Eb major in the 2nd section by using ascending half step patterns from the note G up to Eb in a syllable ‘Na’. (G-F#-G, Ab-G-Ab-, A-G#-A, Bb-A-Bb, B-A#-B, CBC, D-C#-D---Eb) It goes to its relative minor, (C) then eventually went back to tonic. 

Artist Biography

Gaetano Donizetti was among the most important composers of bel canto opera in both Italian and French in the first half of the nineteenth Century. Many of Donizetti's more than 60 operas are still part of the modern repertoire and continue to challenge singers for their musical and technical demands. Donizetti stands stylistically between Rossini and Verdi; his scenes are usually more expanded in structure than those of Rossini, but he never blurred the lines between set pieces and recitative as Verdidid in his middle-period and late works. Often compared to his contemporary, Bellini, Donizetti produced a wider variety of operas and showed a greater stylistic flexibility, even if he never quite achieved the sheer beauty of Bellini's greatest works.

Donizetti was educated in Bergamo, the town of his birth, studying with the opera composer Simon Mayr from 1806 to 1814. His youthful works include chamber operas, religious works, and some chamber music. Donizetti's first opera of note was La Zingara, which was premiered in Naples in 1822. He continued to work in Naples throughout the 1820's and 1830's, where he was active as both a conductor and composer.

In 1830, Donizetti finally achieved international fame with his opera Anna Bolena; notable for its expressive music and more extended scenes, it established Donizetti as one of the leading contemporary opera composers. The comic opera L'elisir d'amore (1832) and the tragic Lucrezia Borgia (1833) came shortly after. Donizetti's next work was Maria Stuarda, followed the same year by Lucia di Lammermoor (1835), which became an internationally recognized masterpiece. The Elizabethan tragedy Roberto Devereux (1837) completed his trilogy of operas that chronicle the English court from Henry VIII to Elizabeth I.

Donizetti's operas from the late 1830s were unable to match the success of Lucia, and when Donizetti was passed over for the directorship of the Naples Conservatory in 1840, he moved to Paris. There he composed the opera comique La fille du Régiment (1840), which was celebrated immediately for its charm and virtuosity. Later that year he completed La favorite (1840), another major contribution to the French repertoire. In 1842 Donizetti was appointed Kapellmeister of the Austrian court in Vienna, but retained his association with Paris.

Among Donizetti's last operas are Maria di Rohan (1843), an important historic opera, and his French tragedy Dom Sébastian (1843). Caterina Cornaro (1843) is also one of his finest works for its strong dramatic content. These late operas, although rarely performed, are serious works that set the standard for Verdi.

                                                                                             - Steven Coburn

 “Una Furtiva Lagrima” From Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore

Italian Text of 'Una Furtiva Lagrima'

Una furtiva lagrima negli occhi suoi spuntò: Quelle festose giovani invidiar sembrò.

Che più cercando io vo? Che più cercando io vo? M'ama! Sì, m'ama, lo vedo. Lo vedo. Un solo instante i palpiti del suo bel cor sentir! I miei sospir, confondere per poco a' suoi sospir! I palpiti, i palpiti sentir, confondere i miei coi suoi sospir... Cielo! Si può morir! Di più non chiedo, non chiedo. Ah, cielo! Si può! Si, può morir! Di più non chiedo, non chiedo. Si può morire! Si può morir d'amor.

English Translation of 'Una Furtiva Lagrima'

A single secret tear from her eye did spring: as if she envied all the youths that laughingly passed her by. What more searching need I do? What more searching need I do? She loves me! Yes, she loves me, I see it. I see it. For just an instant the beating of her beautiful heart I could feel! As if my sighs were hers, and her sighs were mine! The beating, the beating of her heart I could feel, to merge my sighs with hers... Heavens! Yes, I could die! I could ask for nothing more, nothing more. Oh, heavens! Yes, I could, I could die! I could ask for nothing more, nothing more. Yes, I could die! Yes, I could die of love.

L’elisir d’amore, (Italian: “The Elixir of Love” or “The Love Potion”) comic opera in two acts by the Italian composer Gaetano Donizetti (Italian libretto by Felice Romani, after a French libretto by Eugène Scribe for Daniel-François-Esprit Auber’s Le Philtre, 1831) that premiered in Milanon May 12, 1832. 

Main Characters

Nemorino — a good-hearted but penniless waiter Adina  — a wealthy and beautiful bar owner Belcore — experienced charmer and Nemorino’s rival Dulcamara — a travelling ‘quack’ (medicine man), who touts a dubious cure-all elixir Giannetta — Adina’s friend and town gossip

Music

What separates L’Elisir d’Amore from dozens of charming comedies composed around the same time is not only the superiority of its hit numbers, but the overall consistency of its music. It represents the best of the bel canto tradition that reigned in Italian opera in the early 19th century—from funny patter songs to rich ensembles to wrenching melody in the solos, most notably the tenor’s showstopping aria “Una furtiva lagrima” in Act II. Its variations between major and minor keys in the climaxes are one of opera’s savviest depictions of a character’s dawning consciousness.

Setting And Story Summary

The opera is set in a small village in the early 19th century, rural Italy. Some early editions indicate a location in Basque country. The important fact is that it’s a place where everyone knows everyone and where traveling salesmen provide a major form of public entertainment. 

Act I

Adina’s farm. Adina is sitting beneath a tree on her farm, reading a book. Her friend Giannetta and other peasants are resting nearby. Nemorino watches Adina from a distance, lamenting that he has nothing but love to offer her (“Quànto è bella, quànto è cara”). The peasants ask Adina to read to them, and she reads them the story of how Tristan won Isolde by drinking a magic love potion.

Sergeant Belcore swaggers in with his troop. Adina laughs at his braggadocio, but when he presses her to marry him, she promises to think it over. She invites the whole troop to her house for some wine, and the peasants return to their work. Nemorino intercepts Adina on her way to the house and awkwardly declares his love for her. She tells him that he is a nice fellow but that she is not inclined to fall in love with anyone.

In the village square, the populace eagerly greets the traveling “Doctor” Dulcamara, who proclaims the virtues of his patent cure-all (“Udite, udite, o rustici”). Nemorino asks Dulcamara if he has the Elixir of Love described in Adina’s book. Dulcamara gives Nemorino a bottle of wine, telling him that it is the magical elixir. Nemorino gulps it down and becomes tipsy. When Adina enters, Nemorino, certain that the potion will work, pretends to ignore her. To punish him, Adina flirts with Belcore, who tells her that he must return to his garrison and so must marry her at once. Nemorino, dismayed by this turn of events, urges Adina to wait just one more day, but she spitefully ignores him and invites the entire village to the wedding.

Act II

Adina’s house. Everyone is celebrating at the pre-wedding feast at Adinas house. Adina secretly wishes Nemorino had come so she could enjoy her revenge. Dulcamara sings a flirtatious duet with Adina (“Io son ricco e tu sei bella”), to great applause. Adina, still miffed at Nemorino’s absence, goes off with Belcore and a notary to sign the marriage contract.

Nemorino arrives, fearing that he is too late to prevent the wedding. Seeing Dulcamara, he begs for another bottle of the magic elixir, but Dulcamara will not give it to him until he can pay for it. Nemorino throws himself on a bench in despair. Belcore now returns, annoyed that Adina has postponed the wedding until that evening. Seeing Nemorino, Belcore asks why he is so sad. Nemorino tells him that he is despondent because he has no money. Belcore advises him to join the army, where he can instantly earn 20 scudi. Nemorino is reluctant, but Belcore persuades him with a vision of the glories (and opportunities for winning the ladies) of being a military man. Nemorino enlists and takes the money, thrilled at the prospect of winning Adina. Belcore secretly plumes himself on having recruited his rival and getting him out of the way.

In the village, Giannetta tells her friends the exciting news that Nemorino’s uncle has died and left him a fortune. Nemorino staggers in, having drunk the second bottle of “elixir.” He suddenly finds himself the centre of female attention, and, not knowing that he has become an eligible bachelor, believes that the elixir is finally working. Adina and Dulcamara arrive and are both astonished to see Nemorino surrounded by the village maidens and fully enjoying his newfound popularity. Adina angrily confronts him about joining the army, but Nemorino, enjoying her jealousy, goes off with a gaggle of girls. Dulcamara tells Adina that the magic elixir has made Nemorino popular, and that he joined the army in order to get the money to pay for it. Adina realizes that Nemorino’s love is true. Dulcamara, seeing an opportunity to sell more elixir, tries to rouse her jealousy, but she vows to win him back her own way.

Alone, Nemorino recalls the tear on Adina’s cheek and is convinced that she loves him (“Una furtiva lagrima”). But when she arrives, he pretends to be uninterested, in order to get her to declare her true feelings. She asks him not to leave and tells him that she has bought back his commission (“Prendi, per me sei libero”). But she still will not confess her love, so Nemorino vows to die a soldier. At last, Adina tells him that she loves him and begs his forgiveness. Belcore arrives to find the lovers embracing. But he is confident that there are plenty of fish in the sea—and that Dulcamara and his love potion can help.

-Linda Cantoni

What style is it in?

L’elisir d’amore is written in the bel canto style, which literally means ‘beautiful song’.  Bel canto is all about exhibiting the beauty of the human voice. The orchestra functions to support the singer rather than to compete, and the orchestration is often quite sparse, leaving the voice exposed. This means that the singer’s intonation and vocal technique must be absolutely perfect, making bel canto a challenging style to master.

Donizetti, Bellini, and Rossini were the three leading composers of the bel canto style during the first half of the nineteenth century.

Musical Analyis:

This aria, written in strophic form has a very lovely and moving melody, in bel canto style. Donizetti tried to capture Nemorino’s feelings for Adina through arching melodic lines, opening the aria in an interval of a perfect fifth downward, descending in a minor second, and then going to a minor third upward with a leisurely rhythm. 

Sources: 

“'Torna a Surriento'.” Classic FM, www.classicfm.com/composers/rossini/. 

Green, Aaron. “Translation of ‘Largo Al Factotum’ From ‘The Barber of Seville.’” ThoughtCo, ThoughtCo, www.thoughtco.com/largo-al-factotum-lyrics-and-text-translation-724018. 

Schwarm, Betsy, and Linda Cantoni. “L'elisir D'amore.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., 4 Apr. 2014, www.britannica.com/topic/Lelisir-damore. 

Green, Aaron. “What Does the Famous Aria 'Una Furtiva Lagrima' Mean in English?” ThoughtCo, ThoughtCo, www.thoughtco.com/una-furtiva-lagrima-lyrics-and-translation-724077. 

“L'elisir D'amore in a Nutshell.” Opera North, www.operanorth.co.uk/blogs/l-elisir-d-amore-in-a-nutshell.

[badoperafanfiction]

Captives, Chapter 2.5ish

Work: Lucia di Lammermoor/La Boheme crossover

Vampire!Ashtons, Fairy!Bucklaws.

Notes: Arturo and Lucia both survived their wedding night.

Main character: Marcello

Character guide

After Marcello left the room, a heavy, gloomy silence fell upon it. Rudolfo sat in the chair where he had fallen and stared at the rug. Schaunard paced along the wall. Colline stood for a minute, quietly reflecting, and then left the room without a word, likely to go after Marcello.

It so happened that there was a pianoforte in the corner of this parlor. Maracello ran his hand along it, and then sought solace in its keys.

“What is this ghastly noise you make, Schaunard?” Rudolfo asked, after a minute or two of music.

“The most bland and uninspired piece I could think of,” Maracello said. “It seemed that it would fit well to the aesthetic tastes of our noble host.”

“….Is that Schumann?”

“One of the two. I don’t recall which.”

“But Schaunard, I thought you loved Schumann.”

“I love certain performance pieces. They are well-received.”

“But this is awful.”

“Paying customers have bad taste, Rudolfo.”

“That they do,” Rudolfo said with a laugh. “What do you think– will the one who does not pay us have better taste?”

“He has a respectable flair for the dramatic, certainly,” Schaunard said. “Rudolfo, this cannot possibly be made worse. Perhaps you could lyricize it?”

“A ballad?” Rudolfo walked over to lean against the piano. “In my sleep, provided you don’t intend on wooing any women with it.”

“Rudolfo, nothing could be further from my mind.”

“Oh lovely eye, who gazes down

upon these eyes adoring here,

Toss down a lock of golden hair

that it might banish all my fear–”

“Really, Rudolfo,” Schaurnard cut in, “such a masterwork is fit only for the wealthiest of patrons.”

“And are you to have me at a disadvantage, man? You have the meter, change up the tune!”

Schaunard laughed, and he improvised, taking full advantage of the forte available to him. The old walls resonated. In moments, Rudolfo could not recite, even badly; his body was wracked with laughter.

Schaunard felt as though some order had been returned to his world.

He had always felt responsible for his friends. Responsible for their bellies, their hearths, their laughter. Had he Marcello’s passion, he would have ripped that vampire to shreds with his bare hands, but caution stayed him. He was afraid of what would happen if the beast was further provoked.

The door opened. Rudolfo turned towards it and for a moment grinned, began to improvise with an even bigger voice - then stopped, dread suddenly pulling at his face. Schaunard turned to follow his eyes and his fingers froze on the keys, a quavering dominant 7th hanging in the air.

Ashton was in the doorway. His right hand dug into the neck of Marcello, who was clearly feeling the pain of his fingers; he was twisted at an angle, holding onto Ashton’s arm for support with his own vice-like grip. Behind them was Colline. Something was off about Colline. His expression was vacant and hollow.

“I made it clear that you were to obey my orders,” he said. “You two are a nuisance, but a nuisance I can tolerate. This one,” he said, moving aside and gesturing Colline to enter - Colline whose movement was too stiff, whose back was almost too straight - “has some sense, and will not suffer too harshly for it.”

Schaunard’s heart began to beat so wildly that he could scarcely move his body. Colline walked and knelt beside the hearth. Schaunard tried to run to him, to pull him out of it, every thought in his head screaming for this to stop, but his limbs were too weak.

Colline placed his hand into the fire. Suddenly he was awake and screaming, pulling his hand out and clutching it to his chest.

Schaunard’s lungs caught at the sight, but there was some relief there, too; Colline likely had barely blistered himself. The pain had pulled him out immediately, in no more than a second or two. Still, even as Schaunard’s eyes stayed locked on Colline, behind his vision danced scenes of tearing the vampire to pieces, preferably with a shovel, and scattering them across the yard.

Colline, now awake, pushed himself away as he stared with big, wild eyes at the man who had just a moment ago had him entranced. He scooched across the floor until his back met a rack, which rattled but supported him surprisingly well.

“Now for the other,” said the vampire. He pushed Marcello away, whose breath was heavy with anger and who clutched the bruises that were quickly forming on his neck.

The vampire advanced on him, pushed him back-first against the back of an armchair, stretched out his wrist, and dug in his fangs.

The rest could only watch in horror. Marcello struggled in vain, and slowly, his struggles faded. By the time Ashton dropped him, he fell to the floor, limp. Rudolfo ran to him and embraced him, pulling off his ascot and pressing it to the wounds on his wrist.

“I will send in a servant to tend to him,” Ashton said. “He will need to eat when he awakens, this can be quite exhausting.”

He left them there, Colline still curled against a hatrack, Marcello breathing shallowly in Rudolfo’s arms, and Schaunard feeling completely and utterly helpless in the chair of a pianoforte.

[newssplashy]

Entertainment: The met orchestra offers two perspectives on mahler

(Critic’s Notebook)

Musicians in the Vienna Philharmonic play both operatic and symphonic music throughout the year; the Met Orchestra, however, is limited outside the opera house to only a few concerts at the end of every season.

This raises the question, among audience members and critics alike, of how well the Met players can handle the symphonic repertory. The answer, beyond their ability, can vary by conductor. At Carnegie Hall, Gianandrea Noseda conducted Mahler’s Fifth Symphony on May 30, and Michael Tilson Thomas led Mahler’s Fourth on Tuesday. The level of technical accomplishment was high during both evenings. But Noseda missed some of the Fifth’s unbridled passion, while Thomas folded in the Fourth’s ineffable warmth with a knowing hand.

Noseda, who became music director of the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington this season and is also a maestro of broad experience, kept a tight grip on most of the performance. Did he feel that he needed to do so with players who weren’t seasoned Mahlerians? Still, it was a vast improvement over the chokehold that Jaap van Zweden imposed on Mahler’s Fifth with the New York Philharmonic to start that orchestra’s season in September — and van Zweden had no such excuse.

Occasionally, the brasses seemed like they were about to veer into Wagner. (He and Mahler were little alike.) But at times Noseda eased up beautifully, as in the second theme of the Stürmisch bewegt (“Stormy, with turbulence”) movement, and the beloved Adagietto was expansive without becoming inert.

Thomas — who will leave the San Francisco Symphony in 2020 after 25 years as its conductor, specializing in Mahler in recent decades — was right on the mark through most of the Fourth Symphony, whose simplicity can be deceptive. The performance felt relaxed, even lived-in. If he slightly underplayed the climaxes in the first movement, it may have been to throw attention to the third movement, Ruhevoll (“Restful”), the work’s real center of gravity, with its grand closing climax.

That cathartic moment set the stage nicely for the simple song of the finale, “The Heavenly Life,” as rendered by the rising soprano Pretty Yende. Coming off a triumphant season of Donizetti at the Metropolitan Opera, with starring roles in “L’Elisir d’Amore” and “Lucia di Lammermoor,” she began Mahler’s delightful ditty with natural, childlike tone and sustained an awe-struck, yet restrained mood until the end.

This was in contrast to her stirring account of Mozart’s “Exsultate, Jubilate,” in which she let loose with a wild cadenza at the end of the first movement that threw pitch to the wind in a nosebleed ascent.

A reduced Met Orchestra can be a consummate Mozart instrument, as it shows often at Lincoln Center and as it showed here and in a performance of Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 5 (“Turkish”) led by Noseda. The soloist, James Ehnes, showed ample technique with a full complement of cadenzas but not a lot of warmth or personality, although he partially made up for the deficiency with two encores of unaccompanied Bach.

It might seem that the work that would have carried the orchestra farthest from its comfort zone was Carl Ruggles’ “Evocations” (1937-43), which opened Thomas’ program. (The concert was originally to have been conducted by James Levine before the Met fired him in March over allegations of sexual abuse, and to have included a new work by Charles Wuorinen instead of the Ruggles).

The Met musicians had never played any Ruggles, but few orchestras have. Thomas — who met Ruggles and spoke affectionately of him from the stage, calling him “a seriously cantankerous Yankee” — has long championed his music (a catalog of only a dozen works), especially in American Mavericks concerts in San Francisco.

Thomas led the Met players in taut, energized readings of “Evocations,” a suite of colorful miniatures, to excellent effect.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

JAMES R. OESTREICH © 2018 The New York Times

source https://www.newssplashy.com/2018/06/entertainment-met-orchestra-offers-two_7.html

[mamusiq]

Romancing the Horn: Opera Stars Record Like It’s 1900

By ANTHONY TOMMASINI APRIL 20, 2018

The soprano Susanna Phillips, left, and the tenor Piotr Beczala, right, listen to a recording they made with early-20th-century technology. Credit Emon Hassan for The New York Times

Susanna Phillips, a star soprano at the Metropolitan Opera, was listening to a recording of herself one recent afternoon, as she had done so many times before. This time, though, something wasn’t quite right.

“I can’t tell it’s me,” she said. Her rich tone sounded thin; her usually steady vibrato was strangely shaky.

The difference was the way her voice had been captured: that is, the same way they used to do it more than a century ago. It was a method that offered a pale — if, back then, magical — approximation of opera’s greats.

Whenever Luciano Pavarotti was asked to name the greatest tenor ever, he always answered Enrico Caruso, who became a household name from his recordings, made from 1902 until his death in 1921.

But how did Pavarotti know? Especially on Caruso’s breakthrough records, the sound is scratchy, wiry and wobbly. The same holds true for early recordings of Nellie Melba, Luisa Tetrazzini and other luminaries of that era. While there are entrancing hints of astonishing voices, it’s hard to tell what they were really like. If only we could record a singer today on the equipment used back then and compare the playbacks to modern recordings.

Well, that precise experiment took place earlier this month at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center, thanks to the curiosity of Piotr Beczala, a leading Met tenor.

Touring the Met’s archives a couple of years ago, Mr. Beczala mentioned that his dream was to record some arias under early-20th-century conditions. He wanted to learn firsthand how faithful — or far-off — the results would be.

Peter Clark, the company’s archivist, mentioned Mr. Beczala’s fantasy to Jonathan Hiam, the curator of the performing arts library’s Rodgers and Hammerstein Archives of Recorded Sound; Mr. Hiam then contacted Jerry Fabris, from the Thomas Edison National Historical Park in New Jersey, who knows a collector in Illinois who makes wax cylinders like those Edison once produced.

So on his day off from the Met’s revival of Verdi’s “Luisa Miller,” Mr. Beczala got together with Ms. Phillips and the technical team to try out the vintage operation.

Audio

Verdi, the old way

Verdi, the new way

The library owns Edison cylinder machines, as well as an early Berliner gramophone — a competing technology that used flat discs. In 1912, Mr. Fabris explained, flat-disc phonographs finally outsold the cylinder ones and before long took over the market.

Mr. Fabris had brought similar equipment from New Jersey: an Edison Home Phonograph with a large black bell horn, a rotating holder for the wax cylinders and a hand-crank device to wind up the internal springs; and a similar-looking Edison Fireside Phonograph to play back the recordings. Both machines date from around 1909.

The material surrounding the wax cylinders is not really wax, he said, but something called metallic soap. Before using the cylinders, he had to warm them up under a light to make the material soft enough for the stylus to cut grooves as the disc spun.

“You want it to be like butter,” Mr. Fabris explained.

Audio

Mozart, the old way

Mozart, the new way

The process is better at recording midrange sounds and has trouble with high frequencies. (Ms. Phillips was warned that it tends to favor tenors over sopranos.) Wide dynamic variables also test the machine’s capacity: Not knowing this, Ms. Phillips had prepared “Per pietà,” an aria from Mozart’s “Così Fan Tutte” that moves through extremes of high and low, loud and soft.

But Mr. Beczala was first up, singing “Quando le sere al placido” from “Luisa Miller,” accompanied by Gerald Moore, who played on a small upright piano so as not to compete with the voices. Putting the cylinder in place, Mr. Fabris was careful not to touch the surface: Even a slight thumbprint can create an impression. While Mr. Beczala sang, Mr. Fabris held a small brush in one hand and a little squeezable air bag in the other to disperse the dustlike shards of wax that are created when the stylus cuts into the cylinders.

Since the machine has no meter to check levels, Mr. Beczala tried out the opening of the aria twice, the second time moving closer to the machine. Both times, the ringing, virile quality of his sound came through fairly well, though dynamic variations essentially disappeared. Mr. Beczala was most rattled that his intonation sounded off — though this was a flaw of the equipment, not of his solid technique.

Finally, it was time to record the aria — or at least the first half or so, since each cylinder can hold only a little more than two minutes of music. “It’s like a black hole,” Mr. Beczala said, staring at the bell horn. “It takes you in.”

Listening to the playback, he commented that the resonance was not bad and that the high notes were O.K. But his softer singing sounded faint and distant, and the consonants, he said, “are nonexisting,” though in the room his diction was excellent.

Audio ‘Carmen,’ the old way ‘Carmen,’ the new way

“The Flower Song,” from Bizet’s “Carmen,” came through more clearly. “I tried to sing more crisp than usual,” Mr. Beczala said.

When Ms. Phillips tried out the faster section of “Per pietà,” full of florid runs and roulades, she proved a quick study at the skill of leaning forward for soft passages and way back for louder ones, standard practice during Caruso’s era.

“You have to romance the horn,” she said.

To end the session, the two singers tried out some of the Act I love duet from Donizetti’s “Lucia di Lammermoor.” The machine is “not forgiving,” Ms. Phillips said, adding: “The tone quality changes, but not the dynamic. That’s infuriating to me.”

The contrast between their big, healthy voices and the crackly, thin recorded playbacks was stark. It proved just how difficult — indeed, impossible — it was to capture the sounds of the legendary singers a century ago.

Yet context is everything. For opera lovers in the 1910s, it must have seemed simply miraculous that the great voices could appear at will, however flawed their sound, in your living room.

Related Coverage

The Best Opera Recording Ever Is Maria Callas Singing ‘Tosca.’ Hear Why.  DEC. 29, 2017

Review: Plácido Domingo Takes On a New Role at the Met Opera. (His 149th.)   APRIL 1, 2018

  Soprano Looks to Use a Sport’s Big Stage to Lift Her Stamina    OCT. 27, 2015

Read and Hear the AUDIO HERE:

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/vegan-mac-and-cheese_us_58b4816ee4b060480e0ad831

[lovinganvil]

lucia lucia lucia lu

always with stairs.  always with red.  poor poor lucia.

the first of a series of five opera fine art marionette boxes.

it is truly my labor of love/passion/insanity and tremendous conviction.  an idea that started many years ago and even currently has taken four or five years of more focused work to bring to fruition.  

the piece below is a marionette in a box i made almost 30 years ago.  ...crazy.  must be that new math.  

somewhere - i think in the RISD clipping library - i found a few vague sentences in an article from some obscure european magazine describing marionette boxes created by artists behind the iron curtain.    it electrified my curiosity and imagination.  

prior to that my mom had given my sister and i fairly detailed marionettes one holiday.  my sister's was little red riding hood and mine was a keystone cop character in a dark blue suit.  his mouth could clack open and closed and i loved to unstring and restring him, exploring the mechanics and how things made him work the way he worked.

another childhood memory/feeling/aura is the operas my mom would play.  we had a large stereo system with big speakers and a record player that hooked up to a receiver and double tape deck.  all of my parents albums and cassette tapes were neatly stored around the stereo system.  one of my favorite things to spend time with were the opera boxes - four or five albums per box that you would stack on the record player stem to drop one after another then flip the stack and listen to the other sides.  

one could do that with any five albums really (more than that and the last album would start to sound warpy) - but i loved the operas and the big books they came with and just the whole ceremony of it all.  

we had lucia di lammermoor, faust, carmen, madame butterfly, la boheme, la traviata, aida, and tales of hoffmann.  i know them all by heart.  well.  maybe not tales of hoffmann. she tended to listen to that the least.

then there was this film gil and i saw - i can't remember if it was albuquerque or in portland, oregon.  i'm pretty sure albuquerque.  but not positive.  the sensibilty and visuals - and the armiture used in the animation.  AND the iron curtain again.  i was hooked head over heels in DEEP.   faustas.  faustas.

then lurking around pdx in the mid 90s.  when we weren't bar-flying or slinking around shows at satyricon and la luna, we'd drink scotch and muddle our way through myst and riven (on our perfoma 6400) - i loved the mystery and lack of direction and even grueling, frustrating periods of absolutely no progress.  -  picking up (virtual) objects of no familiarity and having to figure out what they were meant to do.

and much more recently enamored with the room and rivers of alice - the same dreamy, ominous, melancholy submersion.

all of this.  it's all a cumulative influence.  the melancholy and mystery.  small, distant worlds.  bittersweet and not immediately clear.   

ultimately this is an art piece and meant to be explored with contemplation and meditation. the idea being it is a quiet, plain object that does not, at first glance, reveal much of anything about itself.  and if one is so moved, its secrets will unfold with no instruction/guidance provided.     but as one is not able to interact with it virtually, the detailed description is necessary.  please view the listing (here) for the technical description.

lucia herself is quite small, about 4.5in/11.5cm.  you (most likely) will find she requires very slight movements of the strings to make what seems like a large movement within her world.  but.  there are no rules and the viewer's (puppet master's?) mood is what gives life.

i worked with the tremendously talented carpenter Andy Arch to help bring these boxes from the ether to existence in our realm. i am eternally grateful for his ability, patience and ingenuity in decoding my (babble) vision.  

I worked with the tremendously talented musician Emily Hope Price for the heartbreakingly beautiful contemplation on Lucia's famous aria.   her depth and passion leaves me breathless at each listen.

a little insight on the magic of the music - we used the amazing adafruit components.  and i taught myself how to do some pretty fancy things with tiny sound cards, tiny amps and tiny power supplies.  

the aria, and the version i know best is found here - 

https://youtu.be/U3_8wz_xNI0?t=8m30s

 from a 2008 NPR article on Lucia di Lammermoor, a few words on the opera in general and then the aria's scene specifically:

"Of all of opera's unhinged ladies, the title character in Gaetano Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor sets something of a gold standard for going bonkers. Forced into marrying someone she detests, Lucia stumbles into act three, wielding a bloody knife, freshly used to slice up her betrothed, all the while hallucinating and rambling on about the man she really loves."

Back at the Castle, the wedding party is still in full swing. But everyone freezes when they see the look on Raymond's face. He reports that while checking up on the newlyweds in their chamber, he found Lucie, bloody dagger in hand, standing over the body of her new husband, clearly out of her mind.

Lucie herself appears, in a bloodstained nightgown. It's her big mad scene — a 15-minute rollercoaster ride of incredibly florid music — a challenge for even the best sopranos to get right both technically and dramatically. In her delirium, Lucie hallucinates. She imagines herself back with Edgard, about to be married, but she also flashes back to her dream from Act One — a dead woman at the fountain trying to separate them. The wedding guests look on in horror, and Lucie finally faints. Henri returns to find his sister crazed and Arthur murdered.

[badoperafanfiction]

You dare to cross my threshold?

Work: Lucia Di Lammermoor

Premise: Vampire!Ashton family, Hunter!Ravenswood

Edgardo Ravenswood was where he expected him to be, alone in the dark of his parlor; even from outside, Lord Ashton could smell the reek of his despair. Ashton didn’t knock, didn’t bother with butlers or maids, as he slipped through the deep gloom of the house and to his stairs.

The brooding of suicidal self-loathing was banished from Ravenswood’s face at the sight of an Ashton in his home.

“You dare to cross my threshold?” he spat, full of disbelief, even astonishment.

“You entered my home unwelcome, did you not?”

Ravenswood had to smirk at that, and turned away. The despair seemed to creep back as he realized his fatal mistake. “What are you doing here? Your house is celebrating as we speak.”

“Even now, Arturo is taking my sister to their marriage bed.” Another twist of rage. Inwardly, Ashton smiled at the ease with which he could bring pain to his old enemy. “I couldn’t bear the festivities.”

He stepped forward, unimpeded by Ravenswood, who didn’t even look up. Ashton slid his hand silently along the fading velvet of Ravenswood’s chair, and leaned in close to Ravenswood’s ear.

“I came for you.”

Ravenswood scoffed. He was admirably unconcerned at the teeth so close to his throat, but Ashton was an honorable man. Ravenswood was not just some hired man, contracted for feeding, nor was he a common criminal fit for an execution. Ashton didn’t want to kill Ravenswood. He wanted to destroy him.

“What use have you for me, Enrico? Your family has taken everything from me.” Ravenswood stood, spun, met eyes with Ashton - a dangerous move. “My father, my family line, my good name, my bride - you even denied me a just death. You wouldn’t kill me then, what use have you for me now?”

“I wouldn’t kill you then, at my sister’s wedding, before the very eyes of the minister, Sir Ravenswood,” Ashton said, in the calm, even, icy tone he reserved for politics, as he stripped the glove from his hand. “But you - you humiliated me. You intruded on my house, on my sister’s wedding. And so I have come to do things as gentlemen.”

He threw the glove at Ashton’s feet, whose eyes lit up with a fierce delight. “We are agreed.” He pulled his own glove and tossed it, almost casually, to the floor. “With swords at dawn. I will destroy you, or the Ravenswood line will end.“

“In the graveyard. Let your body fall into your family’s tomb, save the undertakers the hassle. I will relish your death, Edgardo.” Ashton grabbed Ravenswood’s arm, who winced with pain but never pulled his eyes away or softened the fierceness of his scowl. “You are mine. MY prey. Anyone else who dares to kill you has me to answer to.”

“Your father orphaned me, your sister betrayed me, and you have insulted me at every turn, Enrico. I’ll enjoy shearing your head from your shoulders.”

Ashton smiled at him, flashed his sharp fangs, before pulling back. He grabbed his cape from the hook and stormed up the stairs. “At dawn, Ravenswood. Don’t be late.”