Opera 101—Pretty Fallen Woman

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Adaptations, Ballet, French Literature, Opera, Verdi

“If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight.”

I wish I could have been as excited as Vivian to see San Francisco Opera’s production of La traviata, but I’m afraid this one felt rather flat for me. Perhaps that is why, even though I wrote most of this right after seeing it in June, I never bothered to publish it until now.

The ensemble of La traviata. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Don’t get me wrong, I like this opera; it was one of the first I ever saw live, and I was looking forward to this production. While there was nothing particularly wrong with it, after the energy of Show Boat, it just seemed dull.

Of course, the story of La Dame aux Camélias (which La traviata is based on) is a bit dull; although I must say that the novel by Alexandre Dumas (fils) is a far better rendition of the plot then what Verdi relates here. However, Verdi’s music is brilliant and I think it was done a disservice in this production. The costumes and sets also seemed far too somber and muddied for a depiction of the life of a courtesan in nineteenth-century Paris.

Nicole Cabell (Violetta) and Saimir Pirgu (Alfredo). Photo by Cory Weaver.

I remember Nicole Cabell favorably from I Capuleti e i Montecchi, but she didn’t impress me here as Violetta. Reviewers seemed particularly down on the male leads, but I thought Saimir Pirgu (Alfredo) and Vladmir Stoyanov (Germont) both had a lovely tone and sounded solid, as did La Maratonista. She was also impressed by the flamenco dancers in Act II. As was I, but I trust her more on all things Spanish. As we all know, I’m a bit biased when it comes to Spain.

Speaking of dancing, this production made me long to revisit a different version of La Dame aux Camélias, which I saw last fall in Paris: the ballet of the same name by John Neumeier. With gorgeous piano music by Frédéric Chopin, in this case played live on stage, this adaptation is absolutely stunning. Neumeier’s work keeps the original framing of the Dumas novel while weaving into the story the tale of the other fallen woman of French literature who Dumas references, Manon Lescaut. San Francisco Ballet needs to put on a production of this gem stat. It would certainly be a welcome change from their constant repetition of Giselle, Romeo and Juliet, and Swan Lake. Of course, I’d also be down for Sylvia or Le Corsaire before seeing those again. Even Coppélia and The Sleeping Beauty come this way all too rarely. But, really, with its incredible roster of ballerinas, San Francisco Ballet would do a great job with the strong female roles in Neumeier’s piece.

Dude, Where’s My Box? Or, Seating at the Palais Garnier

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Ballet, Opera, Paris

Some time ago, I wrote on my travel blog about my first visit to the Palais Garnier, including buying a scalped ticket to the sold-out Coppélia. While that was an adventure all its own, even when tickets are available on the Opéra de Paris website, it is not always obvious what you are, or should, be getting. The seating and pricing chart is very complicated and advice on where to sit can be hard to find on the Internet. So, because I recently visited once again to see La Dame aux camélias and took the time to get the full lay of the land, I thought it might be valuable to have a separate post on this topic since I have quite a few readers who seem to find their way here via my ballet posts.

If there are tickets available, you can reserve online and print out your ticket at home well in advance. Unfortunately, to even check availability, you have to first register on the site, which is annoying. However, it was handy to have already done this when I found myself trying to plan a trip quickly and could easily access the site and see what was available.

Once you have selected your desired performance and ticket price level, the reservation system picks the “best” seat for your price range, but there is no corresponding chart with numbered seats to let you know where it’s located. Before you actually purchase your ticket, you see a photo of the view from your exact seat, so you eventually see precisely what you are buying. If you know what you are doing, there are great deals to be had in the loges, which are by far the best cheap seats I’ve ever been in.

Seriously, dude, where’s my box?

Boxes are numbered starting at the stage with even numbers to the right (stage left) and odd numbers to the left (stage right). So, the lower your number, the closer you are to the stage, and the more cut off one side of the stage will be. On all three levels, the box numbered 39 is dead center, facing the stage. I would caution against boxes #1-18, unless you can get seats at the front of the box. Even then, depending on the blocking, it can be frustrating. Kátia Kabanová (where I was seated in the 2ème loge, box #12, seat #1) would have been a nightmare had I been seated in the equivalent spot on the “odd” side.

Ideally, in each box, you want seats #1 and/or #2, which are at the front.*
On the sides (boxes numbered up to 24), seat #3 is a far, far better than seat number #4—both are in the second row but the seat farther away from the stage will give you a better angle, while the seat closer to the stage may be blocked by the person in seat #1 in the next box over. At La Dame aux camélias, I was behind someone who constantly moved their head (despite having an unobstructed view!) so I eventually moved to stand behind seat #3, which was a much better view of the whole stage. This was only possible because no one was in seats #5 or #6, but I think in the future I might consider seat #5 over seat #4 so that I can have the possibility of standing at the back. In general, unless there are no other options, I would avoid seats #4-6 in boxes 1-24.

The View from the 3ème Loge, Box 19

As for cheap seating at the Bastille, it is much more clear-cut, with modern balconies. Because of the steep stadium seating in the second balcony, I felt like I had “nosebleed” seats, but the sound was good and it was great to have a completely unobstructed view, if far away.

One final note: I abhor the fact that there are no real programs handed out at Opéra de Paris performances. Much like at The Nutcracker at San Francisco Ballet, one receives only a slip of paper with the bare bones of casting information and basic credits. A full program must be purchased separately at the obscene rate of 12€ (at writing, about $16). At a minimum, I think the synopsis of the action should be freely available, especially since it is not necessarily available on the website.

If you have any further questions about seating at the Palais Garnier, please feel free to contact me via email at the address given on the contact page. (Si vous avez encore des questions à propos des places au Palais Garnier, n’hésitez pas à me contacter à l’adresse donnée sur la page “contact”.)

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*Boxes 1-4 are a bit bigger and have more than two seats in the front row.

Opera 101—Can You Do the Cancan?

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Ballet, Gilbert and Sullivan, Myth and Legend, Opera

Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880) is perhaps best known for his “cancan” music, the “galop infernal” from Orphée aux enfers (1858). But his most popular operettas (such as La Belle Hélène, La Vie parisienne, and La Périchole) are lyrical gems that satirized contemporary Parisian society under the Second Empire, much as Gilbert and Sullivan would do a few years later in Victorian England. In fact, Gilbert and Sullivan’s first extant operetta, the one-act Trial by Jury, was commissioned by Richard D’Oyly Carte to accompany performances of Offenbach’s La Périchole.

While Offenbach enjoyed tremendous popularity in France and abroad with these operettas, today it is probably Les Contes d’Hoffmann, his only opera, which is considered his masterwork. Left unfinished at his death (at the time, it was in rehearsals), it can appear in many different incarnations. The current production by San Francisco Opera is based on the integral edition of the opera by Michael Kaye and Jean-Christophe Keck.

The opera is based on the stories of E.T.A. Hoffmann, from whence come both The Nutcracker and Coppélia. It follows a fictionalized Hoffmann who recounts the stories of his three great loves (Olympia, Antonia, Giuletta) as he awaits the arrival of a fourth, Stella. Originally, Natalie Dessay was to sing all four soprano roles, but instead she sings only that of Antonia. Hye Jung Lee takes on Olympia, Irene Roberts sings Giuletta, and Jacqueline Piccolino takes on Stella. Rounding out the cast is Matthew Polenzani as Hoffmann, Angela Brower as The Muse/Nicklausse, Christian Van Horn as the devil in various guises, and Thomas Glenn as Spalanzani.

Although not one of the standard war horses, this opera would be good for a newbie because of its fantastical elements and approachable music. In Act I especially you can see the influence of Offenbach’s years of operetta, notably with “Glou! Glou! Glou!” and “Il était une fois à la cour d’Eisenach” (aka “The Legend of Kleinzach”).

Steven Cole, Hye Jung Lee, and Thomas Glenn in Les Contes d’Hoffmann. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Act II, which focuses on the life-like doll, Olympia, is especially appealing in this production (but I won’t ruin the surprise for anyone that might want to see it). Hye Jung Lee, who we last saw as the brilliant Madame Mao in Nixon in China, was clearly an audience favorite, and deservedly so, as she was absolutely delightful singing “Les oiseaux dans la charmille” as the doll. As anyone who follows this blog religiously knows, I love a mechanical doll.

Act III, the story of Antonia, is less showy musically, although there is a beautiful violin solo. While the plot here is as weak as Antonia (If she sings, she’ll die!), I thought that Natalie Dessay sounded superb on these tender numbers. Also, Steven Cole did a great job as Frantz, the hard-of-hearing butler who serves as comic relief—one of four secondary roles he brought to life. Matthew Polenzani and Christian Van Horn, who were strong throughout, came off particularly well in this act.

Matthew Polenzani and Natalie Dessay in Les Contes d’Hoffmann. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Act IV begins with the most famous song in the opera, a barcarolle (gondolier’s song) called “Belle nuit, ô nuit d’amour.” While Irene Roberts and Angela Brower sang beautifully, the set did them no service, as I found it completely distracting. In fact, although this act has a few key numbers, I don’t think it came off very well overall and seemed a let-down after the first three. I’m not sure why, as the basic story (the stealing of Hoffmann’s soul by a heartless courtesan in exchange for a diamond) should work. I think perhaps the direction made it hard to follow the intricacies of the plot or understand the motivations for the actions of the various characters. The epilogue is mostly notable for the incredibly quick costume change as Nicklausse once again becomes The Muse.

Irene Roberts in Les Contes d’Hoffmann. Photo by Cory Weaver.

On a final note, I was happy to be able to understand most of the French in this production. Of course, Natalie Dessay is French (Lyon represent!), but, after my experience with Carmen, it was nice to see most of the cast come up to scratch as well. Special props to Thomas Glenn, I don’t know if it’s your Canadian origins or what, but bless you. I was also happy to see that the repeated mentions of “the Jew” in the sung lyrics of Act II were translated as “the banker” in the supertitles, although a number of great plays on words in the spoken text (such as “la physique” meaning both “physics” and “body/figure”) were lost to the non-French speakers in the audience.

Christian Van Horn works his magic in Les Contes d’Hoffmann. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Les Contes d’Hoffmann is at the War Memorial Opera House through July 6. Performances begin at 8 p.m. on June 14 and July 6, 7:30 p.m. on June 20, June 27 and July 3, and 2 p.m. on June 23 and June 30.

Ballet 101—Cinderella

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Ballet

This past Saturday, I went with La Belle Chantal (or Chanterella as she decided to refer to herself for the evening) to the final program of the San Francisco Ballet’s 2013 Season. This production of Prokofiev’s Cinderella was a new one, a joint venture with the Dutch National Ballet choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon, who recently created Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for The Royal Ballet in London. The plot departed in a number of ways from the traditional ballet, taking inspiration from both the Perrault and Grimm versions of the tale, as well as Rossini’s opera, La Cenerentola. So, while the basic story is quite familiar, I was happy I had read the synopsis ahead of time since some of the details were easy to miss: such as the fact that the prince and his childhood friend (the valet’s son) change places to deliver the ball invitations, or that they both arrive drunk at the ball. Also, one of the sisters is nicer than the other, but that doesn’t come across very clearly either, especially if you come in already thinking they are both mean.

While the overall production was impressive, at times the choreography seemed uninspired and the plot rather muddled, as if they threw all of their fantastic ideas together onto the stage and forgot about the dancing. I loved the humor of the piece, especially from Hortensia, the evil stepmother (Marie-Claire D’Lyse), and the two stepsisters, Edwina (Vanessa Zahorian) and Clementine (Dores Andre), but, like last year’s Don Quixote, I felt it spent too much time on laughs, especially to the detriment of Cinderella’s part, which (let’s face it) should be front and center. It’s sad when the sublime Yuan Yuan Tan is not given very much to do, especially when I just saw her as Tatiana in Onegin and know she can kill it.

Cinderella’s slipper. Neither glass nor ruby, but gold.

In sum, when it worked, it really worked, but I spent the night going back and forth in my assessment and left thinking it could have been so much better.

I Loved It: The opening scene, a sort of prologue that relates the death of Cinderella’s mother and introduces the tree that sprouts from her grave, watered by Cinderella’s tears. The mother was beautifully danced by corps member Charlene Cohen, who so impressed me in Ibsen’s House.

I Loved It Not: The seven (yes, seven!) scenes in Act I. Traditionally, the first act jumps right into the preparations for the ball, first by Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters, and then with the Fairy Godmother. While I liked the first scene showing the death of Cinderella’s mother, I found the secondary prologue, showing the rambunctious nature of the young prince and his friend Benjamin, superfluous, although the staging sets us up for a mirror image of Cinderella fleeing the ball years later. The third scene, showing the introduction of Cinderella to her new stepmother is also unnecessary. The fourth scene, where the King explains to his son the importance of who he chooses to marry and his friend mocks the prospective brides (whose portraits on the walls become animated), was humorous, but again, not particularly necessary.

I Loved It: The fifth scene brings us to the proper start of the story, with Cinderella serving and being bullied by her family. When the Prince (Luke Ingham) arrives disguised as a beggar, he receives shoddy treatment by the stepmother and kindness from Cinderella; meanwhile, Benjamin (Taras Domitro), who is disguised as the Prince, gets the royal treatment from the stepsisters. Here, there is a lovely bit of choreography between Cinderella and the Prince that I quite liked.

I Loved It Not: Scenes six and seven involve Cinderella’s family leaving for the ball without her and the Fates, who have watched over her since her mother died, bringing her to the tree by her mother’s grave. Here is where things get a bit muddled. Four spirits emerge one after the other, each one representing a season from the original ballet: Lightness is spring, Generosity is summer, Mystery is autumn, and Fluidity is winter. The spirits teach Cinderella the steps she will need for the ball. However, you would never get that if you hadn’t read the program. And this is one place where I would have loved to see more creative choreography.

I Loved It: The tree. The tree during this whole section was extremely cool, changing with the seasons and at times enveloping the dancers. Eventually, wheels evolve from the branches and the Fates transform into horses to pull the chariot that emerges. From a visual perspective, this sequence was amazing.

The Fates lead Cinderella to the ball. Photo by Erik Tomasson.

I Loved It: The ball! The ball occupies the entirety of Act II and I loved it. When the curtain came down, I turned to Chanterella and said, “I take it all back!” The costumes of most of the guests were very lush—not quite pure jewel tones, but rather warm versions of dark green, blue, and purple. The soloists here, in the form of prospective brides from Bali, Russia, and Spain, came off quite well, but the real stars of this ball were the “clumsy” stepsisters—I can’t even imagine the technique it must require to dance badly well—and Cinderella’s stepmother, who ends up getting drunk and has a hilarious solo, before ripping off Cinderella’s mask and forcing her to flee the ball.

Couples dance at the ball in Cinderella. Photo by Erik Tomasson.

I Loved It Not: The ball was not without its problems. For one, neither Cinderella’s nor the Prince’s solo was particularly creative, nor was their pas de deux. The Prince’s solo was especially odd since he was dancing for at least four counts before his music began. Also, he looked like he was dancing in The Nutcracker. For all that the costumes in this act were pitch perfect, the tomato red color of the Prince’s outfit was one of two false notes, the other being the magenta dress of the Spanish dancer. They both looked cheap in comparison to everyone else.

The Prince considers potential brides. Photo by Erik Tomasson.

I Loved It: The first scene of Act III and the line dance of musical chairs across the front of the stage as the Prince tries to fit the gold slipper on a motley crew of wanna-be princesses.

I Loved It Not: At the end of the first scene, the chairs rise slowly up to form an arch back in Cinderella’s home. Like many of the production elements, this seemed a little too complicated, and more fitting for an opera production. It didn’t work for me at all, but Chanterella thought it looked cool. And again, in the final wedding scene back at the tree, there was too much going on. Courtiers dressed as shepherdesses, really? It’s like they needed to use up leftover money in the costume budget or something.

I Loved It: The final pas de deux between Cinderella and the Prince. This is the type of fairytale romance we should have seen during the ball.

Cinderella runs through May 12 at the War Memorial Opera House; however, the entire run is sold out with only limited Standing Room tickets available for each performance.

San Francisco Ballet Blues

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Ballet

Sasha DeSola in Ibsen’s House. Photo by Erik Tomasson.

I bought tickets to Program 6 of the San Francisco Ballet for two reasons: one, because I’m a huge fan of story ballet and so wanted to see at least part of Raymonda, and two, because the program originally included a new work by Yuri Possokhov. However, between buying my subscription and finally receiving the tickets, this got changed around and Possokhov’s interpretation of Igor Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du printemps became part of Program 3. No real apologies were made for this change, which is yet another reason for me not to fully embrace this company’s subscription policies and practices. Don’t even get me started on their limited subscription options.

Of course, they are repeating the Stravinsky next year, along with Firebird, so I could try to see it then. However, I’m not sure I’ll be subscribing as there are only two full-length classic ballets on the menu: Giselle, performed just two years ago, and Cinderella, a holdover from this year (which is fine, except perhaps they should have either waited until after it was performed to announce this, or not have said “back by popular demand”).

I know doing the classics is expensive, and there aren’t that many full-length story ballets in the repertoire to begin with, but, is this it? Looking at the last ten seasons, Giselle, Romeo and Juliet, and Swan Lake represent almost half of the 22 ballets programmed. Besides those three, and the annual warhorse The Nutcracker each December, they have had repeat performances of the aforementioned Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, and Onegin. Don Quixote has also shown up twice. Coppélia and The Sleeping Beauty, both favorites of mine, have only appeared once, which is perhaps the most surprising of all. They did feature Sylvia back in 2006, so I’m hoping to have a chance one day to see the likes of Le Corsaire or La Fille mal gardée. However, the fact that they are presenting only Act II of La Bayadère next year does not bode well, especially after experiencing a partial Raymonda this weekend.

Nureyev’s Raymonda Act III. Photo by Erik Tomasson.

Raymonda, composed by Alexander Glazunov and originally choreographed by Marius Petipa, is a three-act ballet set in medieval Hungary. You can see the Kirov’s full version starting here, but it is often performed only partially, usually with Act III, which tells the tale of the nuptials of Raymonda and Jean de Brienne. Nureyev created the one-act version performed this weekend for the Royal Opera House in London in 1966. This act includes the most celebrated passage of the ballet, the Pas classique hongrois.

While this work is clearly technically challenging, it is often rather inelegant. La Belle Chantal felt many of the group dances could have been in Oklahoma, proclaiming them hoedown-y. She’s not wrong. Furthermore, while unusual and interesting, the folkloric elements seemed mismatched with the beautiful, lush set and costumes, creating an enormous disconnect for me. And, of course, jumping into the third act like this, there is no story to grasp onto.

And therein lies the problem with presenting partial ballets. I think I would have appreciated this ballet far more if I had been able to experience the full progression of the story, music, and choreography. Instead, it just didn’t have the impact I had hoped. Which is a shame because the technique on display was magnificent. Especially the pointe work—my god, the pointe work. Courtney Elizabeth stood out among the soloists, and both Frances Chung as Raymonda and Taras Domitro as Jean de Brienne were fantastic, particularly in their own challenging solos.

Lorena Feijóo and Vitor Luiz in Ibsen’s House. Photo by Erik Tomasson.

The next piece on the program was Ibsen’s House, first created by Val Caniparoli for the New Works Festival in 2008. Although the concept sounded interesting, this work was the replacement piece for the new Possokhov, so I was a little wary. Naturally, I loved it. Even the woman in the row in front of me hacking up a lung through much of the second half (thankfully she did not return after intermission) couldn’t ruin this.

Ibsen’s House highlights five female characters out of the works of Henrik Ibsen, notably the eponymous Hedda Gabler and Nora from A Doll’s House, and showcases what I feel is the strength of this company—the depth in the field of female principals and soloists. Even corps member Charlene Cohen performed admirably as Mrs. Alving in the introduction to the Ghosts section, which had particularly unusual and interesting movements. Lorena Feijóo, a new-to-me principal who recently returned from maternity leave, was a revelation as Hedda Gabler.

The stark set, which consisted primarily of a huge full-length window upstage (house left), highlighted the modernist, Scandinavian-ness of Ibsen’s plays. I thought this window, which was covered by a sheer curtain, was used effectively as dancers occasionally appeared behind it in the background, emphasizing the frustration and distance expressed by the couples downstage. Finally, the music was gorgeous—three movements from Antonín Dvořák’s Piano Quintet No. 2 in A major. I must get a recording of this soon.

Courtney Elizabeth in Ibsen’s House. Photo by Erik Tomasson.

The last section of the program, Edwaard Liang’s Symphonic Dances, was a repeat from last season, although I hadn’t seen it before personally. For all that Ibsen’s House made me willing and eager to see more mixed programs, this piece reminded me why I usually don’t enjoy them. Even with both Yuan Yuan Tan and Maria Kochetkova as featured dancers, I just couldn’t get into this one. Partly it was the music (Rachmaninov), but mostly it was because it just didn’t go anywhere, and yet took far too long to do it.

So this mixed bill had very mixed results. Here’s hoping Cinderella lives up to the hype and the promise of Prokofiev’s score.