Latest news with #Verdi
New York Times
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
They're Exquisite. They're Divine. They're Incomprehensible. Why?
I recently had the privilege to receive an honorary degree. The diploma is in Latin. I like that. My Latin is approximate, but even when I can't read the words, the fact that diplomas are written in a different and antique language gives them an air of distinction, distance, gravitas. Pondering that effect reminded me that some people feel the same way about how we encounter opera. I couldn't agree less. The debate over translation in opera is lively and ongoing, but it's more relevant than ever today, when opera companies struggle to attract new audiences and digital distractions lure away even some devoted fans. Like the qwerty keyboard, sitting through a three-or-more-hour performance in a language we don't understand is a peculiar cultural phenomenon we accept only because it's often the only option we're given. It's happenstance. And it's a big part of what keeps opera from reaching more people. In the 1800s and well into the 1900s, it was routine in many countries to present operas in the language of the audience. The music critic Anthony Tommasini wrote, 'Verdi would have found it absurd for a French audience to hear 'Il Trovatore' in Italian. Even in Salzburg and Vienna, Mozart's operas were typically performed in German until World War II.' Wagner expected his works to be translated into French when they were performed in France. I wish I regularly had the chance to experience them in my native language. In Act II of 'Die Walküre' ('The Valkyrie') the god Wotan solemnly recounts the 'Ring' story and reflects on his fate for what can be 20 minutes of rumination. It is a pitiless challenge to theatrical momentum that wears me to a nubbin. (I once watched it sitting next to a very famous singer I will refrain from naming, who was so underwhelmed that he spent the whole section canoodling with the woman he had brought.) If the performance had been in English, at least the audience members would have been able to comprehend what they were struggling through. America used to cherish opera in translation. An English version of Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' was a big hit in New York for season after season between 1819 and 1824 and played in French in New Orleans in 1823. But in the Gilded Age, opera caught on with the wealthy as a symbol of European sophistication, conditioning an idea that to really count, it had to be performed in the original language. In 1961 the classical music critic Harold Schonberg sniffed, 'The fact that the Paris Opera does Verdi in French, or the Berlin Staatsoper does Puccini in German, does not necessarily mean the procedure is right.' The arguments for these translations have 'immoral aspects,' he wrote. 'Instead of wanting to bring people up to the level of music, they are demanding that music be brought down to the level of the people. Their idea is to get people into the opera houses by offering inducements and bribery.' Nevertheless, in the mid-20th century, European opera in English experienced a certain fashion on these shores. Especially cherished were the fresh and singable lyrics of Ruth and Thomas Martin. In their version of Mozart's 'Così Fan Tutte,' instead of the early passage that begins with 'La mia Dorabella capace non è,' we got 'To doubt Dorabella is simply absurd. Completely absurd. She'll always be faithful and true to her word.'' That may not be identical to what its Italian librettist, Lorenzo Da Ponte, wrote, but it's exquisite. To the extent that opera in translation acquired real traction here, the advent of supertitles, the simultaneous translations projected above the stage or on the backs of seats, wiped it out in the 1980s. They did spare singers from having to learn the same opera in more than one language. But with supertitles, you're always peeking away from the action, reading when you're supposed to be hearing and never — at least in my experience — feeling truly satisfied. Puccini didn't write 'Madama Butterfly' to be read. Many opera fans object to translation on the grounds that composers set the music to the words carefully, according to the accent patterns and vowel colors of the language in question, in a way that translation can't hope to reproduce. Others note, in particular, how ideally suited Italian, with its open vowels and buttery consonant clusters, happens to be for singing. But the composers of yore had their works translated, despite both of these concerns, because they wanted audiences to understand what they were hearing. I'm with them. It's hard to imagine any English translation of 'La Bohème' that would allow Mimi to introduce herself — on the seven opening notes of 'Sì, mi chiamano Mimi' — as perfectly as she does in the Italian original. Yet to know what Mimi is saying line by line (and she says a good deal; she is deep) is a richer experience than hearing her singing mere syllables, no matter how pretty. As the conductor Mark Wigglesworth wrote in response to this question, 'Few artistic experiences are more complete than understanding singers' words at exactly the moment they are sung.' Of course, operatic diction can make it difficult to understand even in your native language — but not harder than it is to understand a language you don't speak. Plus I find that Anglophone singers can be quite good at getting English across in an operatic voice. My first opera was the Houston Grand Opera's production of 'Porgy and Bess' when it came to Philadelphia when I was 10. I'm sure I missed the occasional word or sentence, but the singers did their job with the diction, and I had no trouble overall. (I will never forget Clamma Dale's fierce and eternal Bess and Wilma Shakesnider's Serena, who made me realize in one song that life is complicated.) Singing in a language that you speak as a native and that the audience understands also makes for better acting. In Vienna in the 1950s, performances of Mozart's operas shifted from German to the original Italian, largely because of the influence of the maestro Herbert von Karajan. The famed soprano Phyllis Curtin recounted the effect on two seasoned German-speaking actors: 'After we switched to Italian, all of a sudden, because the Viennese audience didn't understand them in the same way, these two consummate artists started acting like the Marx Brothers.' As they used to say, I'm hip. A quarter-century ago, I flirted with becoming an opera singer, and in a summer program I played Antonio the gardener in 'The Marriage of Figaro.' A friend who had seen me doing my yeomanly thing in some local productions of musicals and plays said that as Antonio, I hadn't really connected. I said, 'Yeah, he speaks Italian.' Around the same time, I used 'O Isis und Osiris' from 'The Magic Flute' as an audition and performance song, alternating between the English (by Andrew Porter) and the German. The German version was in no way superior. After a while, I let go of singing opera. The main reason was that despite my exposure to foreign languages, I never could truly understand why we were singing in Italian, French and German. It seemed like something we wouldn't do if we could roll the tape back and start again. The lyricist and librettist Oscar Hammerstein II said he wrote a Black English version of Georges Bizet's 'Carmen,' 'Carmen Jones,' because 'listening to people sing words you didn't understand wasn't much fun.' I highly recommend 'Carmen Jones' as a starter. Try the film and then the EMI recording with Wilhelmenia Fernandez for a more complete version of the score. The Metropolitan Opera is seriously ailing financially, and its attempts to shift to more contemporary programming do not seem to be solving the problem. A suggestion: It should try having all foreign-language operas performed in English and advertising the change. This season 'Aida,' 'Fidelio,' 'Tosca,' 'La Bohème,' 'The Barber of Seville,' 'Tales of Hoffmann,' 'Rigoletto' and 'Salome' all should have been in the language that the greatest portion of the audience in New York speaks and understands. The Opera Theater of St. Louis and the English National Opera are among the companies that saw the light on this long ago. If the Met gets on board, it will surely encounter Schonberg-type naysayers. But a little controversy would only stir up curiosity — and ticket sales. Tradition is fine but should never be an end in its own right. And even the greatest composers agreed: Opera is better when you can understand it.
Daily Maverick
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Maverick
Not your grandmother's Aida — Verdi's great work gets a science fiction spin
Cape Town Opera delivers a superb production of one of opera's true classics, Aida. This production reimagines the setting in an African futurist time and landscape. The Cape Town Opera's production of Giuseppe Verdi's classic opera Aida, now on at the Artscape Theatre until 31 May, receives a dramatic, modern spin, even as it stays faithful to the music and story of this great work. Sometimes operas can be overly fancy with the plots and subplots (and the music to go with such wrinkles and complications). But as conductor Kamal Khan explained to me, Aida is, at its heart, a simple story of a love triangle that goes way off track — but embedded in a struggle between two warring nations, along with espionage and international betrayals thrown in to give the storyline extra energy. Aida's origin story begins in the 1860s as the Egyptian khedive Isma'il Pasha was determined to make his heretofore recumbent nation, which had been an Ottoman satrapy for hundreds of years — but one with an extraordinarily long history of its civilisation — into an avatar of modernisation and a model for Africa and Asia. This was taking place just before the explosion of European colonisation in Africa and Asia that occurred from the 1880s onward. As the fates would have it, Egypt was becoming increasingly prosperous from its exports of fine quality cotton to European mills because of the American Civil War and the blockade of Confederate ports by the Union Navy that prevented cotton from being exported. Moreover, the French were constructing the Suez Canal on the edges of Egyptian territory, linking the Mediterranean and Red seas. This canal promised to give rise to faster, safer sea transport between Europe and South and East Asia — once ships began transiting the canal from 1870. And so, what's a khedive to do in the face of all of this excitement and progress? The right answer is to commission an opera from one of the world's finest composers, someone whose music would highlight Egypt's vast historical panorama and glorious past, and simultaneously mark Egypt's emergence as a wannabe modern power. Why not! Initially somewhat reluctant, Verdi eventually accepted the commission and produced one of the grandest of 19th-century grand operas. The work almost instantly became part of the repertoires of opera companies around the world. Productions have taken place somewhere around the globe every year since it premiered in 1871 in Cairo in Egypt's new opera house, and then in its European premiere in Milan, Italy. The Cairo production had been held up by the Franco-Prussian War as the costumes and sets were being fabricated in France. The Egypt of Aida is remarkably different from Mozart's Egypt in The Magic Flute. The latter is all about philosophical mysteries and Masonic symbols in an imaginary Egypt. By contrast, Verdi's Egypt came 70 years after Napoleon's Egyptian campaign, the discovery and successful translation of hieroglyphics via the Rosetta Stone, and the beginnings of serious archaeology. Verdi's Egypt was based, at least in part, on those early discoveries and interpretations of the culture of Egypt, transposed into the 19th-century operatic form. Of course, there are more recent operas situated in Africa, such as Philip Glass' Akhnaten and his Satyagraha, both John Adams' and Samuel Barber's Antony and Cleopatra, and one of the earliest operas, Dido and Aeneas, which takes place in Carthage in North Africa. South African composers, meanwhile, have created several operas about Nelson Mandela and one about Winnie Mandela, the precedent-setting 'Princess Magogo', as well as a clutch of short, one-act works ranging from the recording of Khoi-san legends to the death of Chris Hani. There certainly are a couple of seasons' worth of operas connected to Africa in this mix. The plot Aida's plot is pretty straightforward. Amneris, the princess of Egypt, is in love with Radames, a general. Meanwhile, Radames is head-over-heels in love with Aida, an Ethiopian princess, captured in a previous war, who is now a slave to Amneris. The Egyptians and Ethiopians are soon at war with each other yet again, and Radames is eventually selected as the general to lead the Egyptian army. He is a success, and the pharaoh promises him anything he desires. To the pharaoh's surprise, Radames' wish is to allow the Ethiopian POWs to go free, including, it turns out, Aida's father. This is not going to end well. Soon enough, Radames is trapped into betraying state secrets to the Ethiopian leader, who is waiting to meet his daughter, Aida, by the banks of the Nile. The Ethiopian's goal is to use his daughter's love for Radames to get him to compromise himself. Sure enough, Radames accidentally discloses the direction of the march by the Egyptian forces in their next attack — a security breach that lands him in enormous trouble (unlike US Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth), given that it is a treasonous offence to betray military secrets. Then, when the secrets are compromised, Amneris attempts to get Radames' sentence commuted if he will marry her, but to no avail since he will not renounce his love for Aida. Thus, it is off to the tomb below the temple for him for a gruesome death, as there will be no escape from his incarceration. Astonishingly, though, Aida has hidden herself in that same tomb, and so they die together, professing a hopeless love for each other. Amneris, meanwhile, is left to bewail the reality that the man she loves is about to die. Along the way, the opera has two of the greatest marches in operatic history. Listen to the Triumphal March from Act 2: It includes some big dance moments, and great arias like Celeste Aida — which pretty much describes what the title says the opera is supposed to be about. Listen to Luciano Pavarotti singing this famous aria: There is also Leontyne Price's famous performance of O Patria Mia: Science fiction Almost every production of Aida has monumental, ancient Egyptian sets filled with pyramids and costumes to match. Some productions have even had live elephants, cheetahs and lions on stage — especially when they have been done in outdoor arenas. But this production is different. Artistic director Magdalene Minnaar has elected to turn this Aida into a production based on 'African futurism'. The sets have uncanny echoes of some signature science fiction films and television serials — Fritz Lang's trailblazing film Metropolis, but also Dune, The Time Tunnel, those Dwayne Johnson Scorpion films, and Luc Besson's The Fifth Element, among others. If you watch closely, there is a moment that echoes the denizens of the Star Wars cantina. The Egyptian soldiers owe something of their style to Star Trek's Borg or, perhaps, the clone warriors of the Star Wars universe — with their glowing red-laser pointer eyes. Minnaar admits she had a love of science fiction as a teen and still has a fascination with Dune — and her animation designers are said to share the same feelings. In this Aida there are no pyramids, temples, massive statues or sphinxes, but there is a mysterious ascending and descending, glowing triangle floating in space — perhaps a subtle reference to that Masonic business Mozart used in his Egyptian opera, maybe the pyramids, or perhaps a reachback to the idea that Aida is really about a love triangle gone really, really bad. The priests, to give Radames the edge in fighting the Ethiopians, offer him their blessings, and then hand him a magical weapon for the upcoming battle with the Ethiopians that is almost certainly meant to be some kind of nuclear device. Moreover, the backdrop often features stylised representations of atomic nuclei and mathematical equations, as well as planets in orbit around the Sun. This production is not your grandmother's Aida with the elephants and Egyptian symbols. This is a reimagining with a vengeance, even if, amazingly, none of this re-situating does damage to score, story or Antonio Ghislanzoni's libretto. Precision and dynamism In this production, conductor Kamal Khan brought precision and a dynamism to the entire performance, while the chorus, trained by Antoinette Huyssen, was uniformly excellent. The leads on opening night — Nobulumko Mngxekeza as Aida, Nonhlanhla Yende as Amneris, and Lukhanyo Moyake as Radames, and supporting cast members Conroy Scott as Amonasro, Garth Delport as the Egyptian king, Lonwabo Mose as Ramfis, Van Wyk Venter as the royal messenger and Khayakazi Madlala as the high priestess — all sang beautifully. Offering any criticisms seems almost churlish. While most of the costuming was exciting, Aida's was the least effective from among the leads, especially in comparison to Amneris' unorthodox make-up and costumes (with a possible reachback to Grace Jones). While Mngxekeza's singing was superb, her and Radames' love for each other seemed a bit pallid in its physical expression, in contrast to Amneris' clear obsession with her hero and would-be husband. Finally, choreographer Gregory Maqoma's innovative movements for the dancers from the Jazzart Dance Theatre could serve the opera's action even better if their entrances integrated them more smoothly into the ongoing action, as opposed to almost separate set pieces. Maqoma is well known for his precision of movement in his works, but his decision to allow the dancers to act more individually and naturally might be refined still further. On the whole, these are small criticisms of an ambitious, beautifully sung production. Verdi is said to have responded to a newspaper reporter's question about what his theory of opera was, with the words, 'The seats should be filled.' Artscape's seats for this opera should be filled by anyone who wants to stretch their musical experiences — or just enjoy a really fine production. One final word about Verdi. He was not just a first-tier composer. He was a politician and served as a senator in the new Italian state, post-1870. One of his lasting contributions was to spearhead musical education for everyone — in part, at least, to ensure concert seats were full. His efforts should be echoed in contemporary South Africa — this is a country in which music plays such an important part in so many people's lives, after all. DM
NZ Herald
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- NZ Herald
Auckland Choral captivates with magnificent Verdi's Requiem performance
Mezzo Katie Trigg 's Liber scriptus was graced with a shapeliness and intelligence that would mark all her contributions, joining in harmonious duet with soprano Morag Atchison for the Recordare. Atchison, in solo flight, was a force to be reckoned with, right through to the triumph of her Libera Me. Despite Jared Holt's musicianly phrasing, one longed for more Italianate robustness and less strain in his Ingemisco, in which Verdi's repeated directives of 'very sweetly' were not achieved. Teddy Tahu Rhodes was a disappointment, especially when memories remain from nine years ago of Joel Amosa's quiet dignity and beautifully turned lines in this work and venue. Rhodes' vibrato-laden voice, combined with a coarseness of tone, perpetrated major damage on Verdi's lines; the generally well-handled quartet offerings were occasionally marred by it, with a particularly serious lapse in the Offertorio. Verdi's Requiem is one of the big sings of the choral world and rank upon rank of fired-up choristers realised every inflection that conductor Grodd dealt out to them, splitting into two choirs for an impressive Sanctus.
The Guardian
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Simon Boccanegra review – Opera North's staging of Verdi's knotty score is a brooding triumph
'I had to read this libretto six times before I understood any of it,' fumed the great Italian opera scholar Abramo Basevi in 1859. The work that had defeated him? Verdi's opera Simon Boccanegra, based on a play by the same Spanish writer as Il trovatore, the longstanding sitting duck for potshots at contorted opera plots. Even the composer diagnosed Boccanegra as 'too depressing'. Yet he was persuaded to return to his poorly received score, overhauling it with the help of Arrigo Boito (subsequently the librettist of his final operas, Otello and Falstaff). That revised version was a roaring success in 1881 and is staged quite regularly today – although marshalling its heavyweight lineup of principal basses and baritones, with only a single tenor and soprano to leaven the texture, remains a serious challenge. No stranger to those, Opera North has taken Boccanegra as the latest candidate for 'concert staging' treatment, after its success with Wagner in recent years. This performance at Royal Festival Hall was the finale of a tour that has already stopped off at concert halls across the north and midlands. Directed by PJ Harris, the opera's dark doings in Genoa played out across the three 'rooms' of a subtly lit metal frame stretching across the front of the stage, with marble columns, plinths and benches for a touch of civic pomp and banners for rival political factions hanging overhead. In a gesture Basevi would presumably have appreciated, characters wore election-style rosettes to show which side they were on. The 25 years that elapse between the opera's lengthy prologue and its first act saw one character's parka switched for a different vintage anorak and Simon Boccanegra's sailor peacoat swapped for a political leader's shirt and tie. But we were otherwise rooted in a historical no man's land of ill-fitting suits. Some principals inevitably fared better in this bare-bones set-up than others and the opera's tell-don't-show approach demands real singing actors even in a full staging. Alongside energetic vocal performances from baritones Mandla Mndebele and Opera North stalwart Richard Mosley Evans as the tireless plotters Paolo Albiani and Pietro and Andrés Presno's hefty, heartfelt tenor contributions as political rebel turned romantic Gabriele Adorno, the scenes between Roland Wood's sensitive Boccanegra and his long-lost daughter Maria (Sara Cortolezzis, in a promising Opera North debut) stood out as compelling and poignant. They were amply supported by the other stars of this show: Opera North's excellent chorus – which poured down the aisles of the auditorium for an inspired, immersive take on the ever-powerful council chamber scene – and, above all, the orchestra. Onstage throughout with principal guest conductor Antony Hermus, the musicians served up a vivid and intensely committed performance, the strings a gripping, vital dramatic motor.
Observer
21-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Observer
New opportunities bloom for young Omani designers at ROHM
Imagine the excitement of being asked to create something for a major international event. For emerging designers in Oman, participating in The Violetta Project at the Royal Opera House Muscat offers a chance to showcase their talent and gain valuable experience. It's not just about designing costumes; it's about taking part in a cultural event that can open doors to new opportunities. For young creative minds, this experience can be inspiring and motivating, giving them a taste of what it's like to work on a global stage. The project focused on reimagining the character of Violetta from Verdi's La Traviata, encouraging students to interpret her emotional journey through fashion. Participants explored her story, transforming her character's complexities into visual designs. For many of these young designers, it was their first encounter with a project of this scale and significance. They had the chance to learn new skills, collaborate with professionals, and imagine how their work could contribute to storytelling in the performing arts. It was an opportunity to see how fashion can help bring a dramatic character to life, marrying design with narrative. Oman's fashion scene has been growing steadily over recent years. Designers like Amal Al Raisi have made a name for themselves by creating modest clothing that appeals across the Middle East. Her designs blend traditional styles with modern influences, helping to define a unique contemporary identity. Amal has built a brand that resonates with many, becoming a symbol of how local talent can influence regional fashion and expand its reach. Another prominent figure in Oman's fashion industry is Atelier Zuhra. Known for its high-end gowns, the brand has attracted international attention and has dressed some of the world's biggest artists and celebrities. This success story shows how Oman's creative industry is developing rapidly, with local brands gaining recognition on the global stage. It proves that with talent and dedication, Oman can compete in the international fashion market. These achievements are happening alongside initiatives like those at the Royal Opera House Muscat, which actively supports young talent and cultural exchange. The partnership with the Scientific College of Design is a good example. It offers students a rare chance to work on projects that connect fashion, theatre, and music — broadening their experience and exposing them to international standards. Such collaborations help bring fresh ideas into Oman's creative industries and encourage dialogue between local and international artists. Recent performances of La Traviata featured acclaimed singers and a renowned conductor, Plácido Domingo. But it's programmes like The Violetta Project that tap into the real potential of Oman's growing arts scene. When young designers get involved in projects like this, they gain not just skills but confidence. They see that their work can reach wider audiences and have a real impact. By supporting these kinds of initiatives, Oman is building a stronger arts and fashion scene. These opportunities help young talent gain exposure, learn from experts, and prepare for future success. They also demonstrate Oman's commitment to developing its creative industries — creating a space where new ideas thrive and cultural stories are told through many forms of art. For these young designers, participating in such projects isn't just a chance to learn; it's a step towards a brighter future for Oman's cultural landscape.
