Opera 101—Bang a Gong, Get It On

Tags

Fashion, Opera, Puccini

Calaf contemplates risking it all in Turandot. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Giacomo Puccini, Turandot (1921–1926)
Based on: the plays Turandot by Carlo Gozzi and Turandot, Prinzessin von China by Friedrich Schiller
Notable Cultural Reference: Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation; Paul Potts audition for Britain’s Got Talent
Setting: Peking, Imperial China

Plot in 101 words or less: A used and abused ancestor has turned the beautiful Princess Turandot against all men. [Insert obligatory #notallmen reference here.] Any man seeking her hand must answer three riddles correctly or lose his head. Never a gender to lack confidence, plenty have rung the challenge gong and failed, but Calaf is sure he’ll succeed despite all advice to the contrary. Meanwhile, ministers Ping, Pang, and Pong wish Turandot were more “likeable” because of course. SPOILER ALERT: Calaf guesses the riddles! Unsatisfied, he manages to create a situation whereby slave girl Liù sacrifices herself because he once smiled at her. Because of course.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “Nessun dorma”

Martina Serafin as Princess Turandot in Turandot. Photo by Cory Weaver.

I was a bit disappointed when I realized that opening night of the 2017–2018 San Francisco Opera season was going to be Turandot—since I had already seen this production back in 2011 and I remember hating the sets and costumes. Well, the good news is that the sets weren’t as bad as I remembered (though, after four uses they are probably ready for retirement), but the bad news is that the costumes were still mostly god-awful. I mean really…

Raymond Aceto as Timur, Toni Marie Palmertree as Liù, and Brian Jagde as Calaf in Turandot. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Musically speaking, I think this was a stronger production than in 2011 and, what’s more, I could better appreciate it this time because I’ve seen so many other operas in between. Brian Jagde, the former Adler Fellow who so impressed me in Tosca, and, more recently, Carmen, delivered an excellent “Nessun dorma” and Martina Serafin was very convincing as Turandot, particularly when she had her change of heart in Act III. While it is hard to beat Leah Crocetto’s excellent Liù, last-minute replacement Adler Fellow Toni Marie Palmertree did a respectable job, especially in her final number. Raymond Aceto made more of an impression as Timor this time around.

Ping, Pang, Pong contemplate Turandot’s bloody reign in Turandot. Photo by Cory Weaver.

That little one sure can sing!

—my neighbor upon Toni Marie Palmertree’s curtain call

As for those other costumes, I have to say, I didn’t love many of the dresses that made the Chronicle‘s opening night society wrap-up, but two beautiful items that I thought were also on point thematically are below.

Left: Yuka Uehara of Tokyo Gamine in her own creation. Right: Sara Griffith’s inspired modification of her grandmother’s jewelry box. Photos by Gabrielle Lurie for the Chronicle.

Luckily, I managed to surreptitiously snap a few pics of my own for posterity.

  

  

  

There are five more performances of Turandot at the War Memorial Opera House this month, on September 12, 15, 21, 24, and 30. Then it comes back again at the end of the season on November 18, 25, and 28 and December 3, 6, and 9. So there’s no excuse for missing this one. Tickets can be purchased here.

Riddle me this: All’s well that ends well? Photo by Cory Weaver.

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Opera Plots in 101 Words or Less, Act II

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Bel Canto, Mozart, Opera, Puccini, Verdi

Today, we continue with the plots of opera “warhorses”—those repertoire standards most likely to be referenced in pop culture. Again, despite any snark below, I love all of these works and heartily recommended them to anyone considering exploring the world of opera. The operas below represent the second half of the top ten most-performed operas in the world: Madama Butterfly, The Barber of Seville, The Marriage of Figaro, Rigoletto, and Don Giovanni. For the first half, please see the previous post in this series: Opera 101—Plots in 101 Words or Less.*

So, if you don’t want to be like the hapless border guard in Hopscotch above, read on and learn how to distinguish the “Figaro!” of The Barber of Seville from the Figaro of The Marriage of Figaro.

SPOILER ALERT: Lots of weddings. And, of course, death. Circle of life don’t you know.

Giacomo Puccini, Madama Butterfly (1904)
Based on: a short story by John Luther Long and a novel by Pierre Loti
Notable Cultural Reference: Fatal Attraction
Setting: Nagasaki, 1904

American naval officer Pinkerton rents a house for his Japanese child-bride, Cio-Cio San (aka Butterfly). Renting should’ve been a clue he wasn’t playing for keepsies—always get the deed, ladies. To make matters worse, her uncle turns the wedding guests against her for converting to Christianity. Pinkerton’s not good for much but manages to knock her up before skipping town. Fast forward three years: Butterfly waits patiently while maid Suzuki knows the score. But, wait, Pinkerton comes back! Unfortunately, he and his new American wife just want the kid. Butterfly celebrates by slicing her throat. Drama queen.
TL;DR: Miss Saigon

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “Un bel dì vedremo” and “Coro a bocca chiusa” (aka the Humming Chorus)

Gioachino Rossini, Il barbiere di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville) (1816)
Based on: a play by Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais
Notable Cultural Reference: Bugs Bunny: “The Rabbit of Seville”
Setting: Seville, 18th century

Pretty and rich Rosina is the ward of elderly Dr. Bartolo. Bartolo hopes to marry her once she’s of age, and schemes with music master Don Basilio to keep her secluded until then. Nevertheless, Count Almaviva has managed to woo her with some righteous balcony singing and enlists Figaro(!), Bartolo’s barber, to help him gain access to the house. Letter upon letter makes the rounds—sometimes even turning into laundry lists. Figaro(!) tries to distract Bartolo with a shave, but Bartolo is having none of it. He fails to stop the inevitable wedding, and seems mollified with promises of money, but…

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “Largo al factotum della città” (aka “Figaro!”)

Lucas Meachem is Figaro, the barber of Seville. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Le nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro) (1786)
Based on: a play by Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais
Notable Cultural Reference: The Shawshank Redemption, Trading Places
Setting: Seville, 18th century

The Marriage of Figaro is (surprise!) about the marriage of Figaro, former Sevillano barber, now valet to Count Almaviva. Although not really because it’s mostly about how the once-smitten count is now a cheating cheater who cheats. The countess (young Rosina all growed up) and her maid Susanna (Figaro’s fiancée) plot to catch him in action. Hijinks ensue, especially when old Dr. Bartolo arrives seeking payback from Figaro for screwing up his plans to screw Rosina. His secret weapon is Marcellina, who turns out to be Figaro’s long-lost mother, so that sort of backfires on him. Or does it? Double wedding!

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: Overture, “Non più andrai”

Giuseppe Verdi, Rigoletto (1851)
Based on: a play by Victor Hugo
Notable Cultural Reference: Frasier: “Out with Dad”
Setting: Mantua, 16th century

Rigoletto, a hunchbacked court jester, keeps his beautiful daughter secluded lest she catch the duke’s roving eye. Too late! Gilda has secretly been making googly eyes at him in church. Furious over the jester’s endless mockery, cuckolded noblemen kidnap his “mistress” (i.e., Gilda), bringing her to the duke so he can have his way with her. Rigoletto vows revenge and hires an assassin. Despite knowing the duke’s a no-good scoundrel, Gilda sacrifices herself to save him. Idiot. As Rigoletto dumps the wrapped corpse in the river, he hears the duke singing and discovers it’s Gilda who’s dead. Aw, sad, frowny clown.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “La donna è mobile”

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Don Giovanni (1787)
Based on: the legends of Don Juan
Notable Cultural Reference: Amadeus, Screamers
Setting: Seville, 17th century

Don Giovanni is a piece of work and serial rapist to boot. Fleeing his latest victim, Anna, he kills the Commendatore, her father. Anna and fiancé Ottavio swear vengeance against this unknown assailant. One of over 2000 (!!) abandoned conquests, Elvira is also looking for vengeance. When Giovanni tries to sex up bride Zerlina, Elvira reveals all and teams up with Anna and Ottavio. Sadly, this hapless trio lets Giovanni escape. But, never fear, the cold dish of revenge is served by the Commendatore, whose statue comes alive to attend a fabulous banquet where demons drag Giovanni down to hell. Well played.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “Batti, batti, o bel Masetto”, “Madamina, il catalogo è questo”

Tune in next time for Germans, Germans, Germans. Also, a ring. And a dwarf. Or maybe it’s a hobbit. I don’t know, I get them confused.

For the next post in this series: Opera Plots in 101 Words or Less, Act III.

*If you are thinking of commenting that this should be “fewer” instead, please read this first.

Opera 101—Plots in 101 Words or Less*

Tags

Mozart, Opera, Puccini, Verdi

In honor of my late mother, who always wanted to teach a class in what she called “cocktail party culture” (this was before the heyday of “cultural literacy”) and because the subject came up recently on Twitter, I present the first in a series on the plots of well-known operas. So, when the next Marvel movie drops in that obscure opera reference (shout-out to @daisy_razor), you will be prepared.

Summarizing an opera plot is no mean feat, but I’ve tried my best to give you the major plot points and/or themes while keeping each description at or under my self-imposed 101-word limit. While at times this may seem to render the plot nonsensical, believe me, knowing more about it would probably not change that fact.

We start with the top ten most-performed operas in the world (as ranked by Operabase). Opera fans call these the warhorses, that is, popular staples that are used to lure the casual operagoers or newbies into the opera house. Besides Wagner (more on him later), these are the operas most likely to be referenced in pop culture. Despite my snarky attitude below, I love all of these works. They have great music and, if you are so inclined, any one would be a good introduction to the world of opera.

Today I’ll focus on the top five: La traviata, Carmen, La bohème, The Magic Flute, and Tosca. In my next post, I’ll take on Madama Butterfly, The Barber of Seville, The Marriage of Figaro, Rigoletto, and Don Giovanni.

SPOILER ALERT: Someone almost always dies!

Giuseppe Verdi, La traviata (1853)
Based on: a play by Alexandre Dumas (no, not that one, the other one)
Notable Cultural Reference: Pretty Woman
Setting: Paris, ca. 1850

Courtesan and all-around party girl Violetta is doomed (TB, natch), but she’s a hottie so Alfredo loves her anyway. She decides to take a chance on love and retire to the country. All is well until Alfredo’s father comes poking around and, behind his son’s back, convinces this “fallen woman” to leave Alfredo for the sake of his family’s reputation. And she does! She goes to Paris to celebrate with gypsies and matadors, because why not, and throws her new lover in Alfredo’s face. Stupid. Alfredo fights a duel but Violetta is the one who dies in the end.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: “Libiamo ne’ lieti calici” (aka the drinking song)

Georges Bizet, Carmen (1875)
Based on: a novella by Prosper Mérimée
Notable Cultural Reference: The Bad News Bears
Setting: Seville, ca. 1820

Carmen works hard for the money in a cigarette factory. When she cuts a bitch during a fight, head dragoon Zuniga orders minion Don José to arrest her. Carmen uses her wily ways to free herself and José pays the piper with a month’s detention. In the meantime, sexy matador Escamillo comes to town. Oh, and there are smugglers, because why not? After all, José has to flee with someone after fighting Zuniga. Stupid. These life choices eventually bore Carmen, who runs off with Escamillo. Naturally, José then stalks and stabs Carmen during a bullfight. But he’s very sad about it.

Sung in: French
Memorable Music: “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” (aka the Habanera) and “Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre” (aka Toréador)

Giacomo Puccini, La bohème (1896)
Based on: a collection of short stories by Henri Murger
Notable Cultural Reference: Moonstruck
Setting: Paris, ca. 1830

It’s cold. Guys, it’s so cold, best buds Marcello and Rodolfo burn their “art” to keep warm. But, never fear, musician Schaunard is here, and they all decide to squander his temporary good fortune out on the town with “philosopher” Colline. Sure the rent’s due, but whatevs. Before leaving, Rodolfo encounters Mimì and somehow woos her with tales of life as a poet. Proto–Carrie Bradshaw Musetta joins their party, sending current sugar daddy Alcindoro off to the shoemaker. Later, they stick him with the bill. Flash forward to Mimì with TB. Being poor sucks, y’all, medicine costs money. Mimì dies.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: the duet “O soave fanciulla”

In La bohème, Musetta gets rid of Alcindoro by claiming her shoe needs to be fixed. Sucker. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) (1791)
Based on: the drug-induced fever dream of a Freemason (I’m guessing)
Notable Cultural Reference: Gossip Girl: “You’ve Got Yale!”
Setting: Egypt? Dune? (Again, I’m guessing)

Tamino is chased by a giant snake, faints, and is saved by three ladies-in-waiting. Typical. Lonely bird-catcher Papageno arrives and takes credit for their work. Typical. Nevertheless, these two “heroes” are enlisted to save Pamina, the Queen of the Night’s daughter, from Sarastro, reinforcer of the patriarchy. Magical musical instruments are distributed willy-nilly. Women are promised as prizes left and right. The Queen of the Night sings about hell’s vengeance boiling in her heart, because, of course. Tamino faces many trials but skates by on male privilege. The sun triumphs over the night because men know best and women are evil.

Sung in: German
Memorable Music: “Der Hölle Rache” (aka the one with the high F)

Giacomo Puccini, Tosca (1900)
Based on: a play by Victorien Sardou
Notable Cultural Reference: Quantum of Solace
Setting: Rome, June 1800

Cesare, an escaped political prisoner, seeks refuge in a church where his sister has hidden supplies. Sympathizer Mario, who is painting there, agrees to hide him. Mario loves Tosca but his portrait of Mary Magdalene looks suspiciously like Cesare’s sister. Tosca is mad jealous and Chief of Police Scarpia milks this fact to capture both men and have Tosca for himself. After hearing Mario tortured, Tosca tells all and agrees to submit to Scarpia. However, once he arranges the “mock” execution to save Mario, Tosca stabs him. But, snap! The execution is real, yo! Devastated, Tosca leaps to her death.

Sung in: Italian
Memorable Music: Tosca’s aria “Vissi d’arte”

Holy flying leap, Batman! I didn’t see that coming. Photo by Cory Weaver.

And on that happy note, tune in next time for summaries of Madama Butterfly, The Barber of Seville, The Marriage of Figaro, Rigoletto, and Don Giovanni.

For the next post in this series: Opera Plots in 101 Words or Less, Act II.

*If you are thinking of commenting that this should be “fewer” instead, please read this first.

Opera 101—Jump For My Love

Tags

Opera, Puccini

The final opera of the fall season was Tosca. This was the last one of the top ten most-performed operas* that I hadn’t ever seen and the one I knew least about. This is probably a good thing, as the closing scene is quite the dramatic shocker and I was glad not to be spoiled for it. But I guess now you kind of are, given the title of this post. [Side note: The Pointer Sisters are so much fun, aren’t they? They represent the cheesy side of the 80s in all its glory.]

I’m not sure why it took me so long to write this one up since overall it was my favorite of the season. I blame overconsumption of turkey. Yeah, that’s it. [By the way, shout-out to my Pasadena peeps for another lovely Thanksgiving. I couldn’t dream up a better chosen family if I tried, cats included!]

Although not my favorite musically (that would surely be Rigoletto), the complete package here was phenomenal, from the cast, to the set, to the costumes. Tosca just seemed to represent what I thought an opera was when I started this crazy adventure in 2010. Kudos to Thierry Bosquet, the production designer, for his fabulous sets and costumes.

The incredible cathedral setting for Act I of Tosca. Supernumeraries and choristers galore! Photo by Cory Weaver.

Note: This opera was double cast, and we saw the version with Patricia Racette as Floria Tosca, Brian Jagde as Mario Cavaradossi, and Mark Delavan as Baron Scarpia. I know that people definitely had their preferences for the two Toscas, but I loved Racette and was happy to learn that she would be returning in the Summer 2014 season.

Tosca is the story of a renowned opera singer, Floria Tosca, who loves an artist, Mario Cavaradossi. When Cavaradossi decides to help an escaped political prisoner who is being pursued by the chief of police, Scarpia, he seals his fate as well as Tosca’s. Scarpia uses Tosca’s jealousy and love against her to get her to reveal where the prisoner is hiding. Somehow, Napoléon is involved, but it doesn’t really matter, because Cavaradossi is dragged off to prison after having been tortured offstage for most of the second act. Scarpia barters for Cavaradossi’s life in exchange for having his way with Tosca, but is secretly planning to betray his word. Naturally, because this is opera, Tosca has her own plans and stabs Scarpia before he can claim his prize. She steals the safe-conduct pass he has written and flees to find Cavaradossi.

Patricia Racette as Tosca. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Brian Jagde as Cavaradossi. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Just when I’m thinking, how can they top that? We find ourselves on the terrace of Castel Sant’Angelo, as Cavaradossi is brought in for his execution. He bribes his jailers to allow him to write a farewell letter to Tosca where he sings a beautiful aria (“E lucevan le stelle”) reminiscing about their past. And, really? They had me at the clarinet solo. Anyway, when Tosca arrives, she explains how they will escape by playing along with a mock execution. Sadly, this is not merely the mock, but rather the good turtle soup.** When Tosca discovers that Cavaradossi is really dead, she leaps to her death off of the castle tower. Damn, I did not see that coming. I mean I knew she would die (it’s opera), but not how. It was awesome.

Holy flying leap, Batman! The conclusion of Act III. Photo by Cory Weaver.

*For the record, according to the most recent figures in Operabase, the top ten most-performed operas are:
1. La traviata (Verdi)
2. La bohème (Puccini)
3. Carmen (Bizet)
4. Die Zauberflöte (Mozart)
5. Tosca (Puccini)
6. Le nozze di Figaro (Mozart)
7. Madama Butterfly (Puccini)
8. Il barbiere di Siviglia (Rossini)
9. Rigoletto (Verdi)
10. Don Giovanni (Mozart)

**Cole Porter = mad lyricist skillz

Opera 101—No Sleep Till…

Tags

Opera, Puccini

Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!
Tu pure, o, Principessa, nella tua fredda stanza,
guardi le stelle che tremano d’amore e di speranza.
Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,
il nome mio nessun saprà!
No, no, sulla tua bocca lo dirò quando la luce splenderà!
Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio che ti fa mia!
(Il nome suo nessun saprà!… e noi dovrem, ahime, morir!)
Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle! Tramontate, stelle!
All’alba vincerò! Vincerò! Vincerò!

SFO Program Cover (original Turandot artwork)

Turandot, by Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924), is best known for “Nessun Dorma” (“No One Shall Sleep”), one of the most famous tenor arias in the history of opera, achieving pop status after its performance by Luciano Pavarotti at the opening of the 1990 FIFA World Cup in Italy and then again in 2007 when future YouTube sensation Paul Potts sang it for his Britain’s Got Talent audition. Therefore, although the opera is less commonly performed than Puccini’s other masterworks (La Bohème, Tosca, and Madama Butterfly), this one part is extremely well known. So much so that, on Tuesday night, you could hear whispers throughout the hall as people recognized the opening notes. Unfortunately, confirming what I read when this production was first reviewed, Marco Berti, the tenor who played Calaf, cuts off that last glorious note—I don’t know why, because he otherwise sang quite beautifully and seemed to have the requisite power to really nail it.

Photo by Cory Weaver.

However, while that one bit was therefore somewhat disappointing, one of the things I really like about this opera is that it is fairly balanced and provides many moments for the cast to shine, with a key aria sung by a different character in each act. Even the chorus, which plays a larger role here than in most operas I’ve seen, has a number of standout moments, particularly when they egg on the executioner in Act I.

Because, unlike Puccini other successes, which are very much grounded in a modern reality, Turandot is pure, dark fairy tale. Princess Turandot, influenced by the sufferings of a royal ancestor, has turned against all men and is determined that no one shall ever possess her. Any prince seeking to marry her must first answer three riddles; if he fails, he is executed. Upon viewing the princess, Calaf instantly falls for her and strikes the fatal gong announcing his candidacy.

Bang a gong. Get it on. Calaf with Ping, Pang, Pong. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Naturally, he answers all three riddles (“What is born each night and dies each dawn?” “Hope.” “What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not fire?” “Blood.” “What is like ice but burns?” “Turandot!”). But, despite this success, the princess begs her father not to honor the challenge. Calaf, hoping to win her love, offers Turandot a challenge of his own: if she can learn his name by dawn, he will forfeit his life. And that brings us back to “Nessun Dorma.”

Although Berti delivered a fine Calaf, and Iréne Theorin a Turandot who convincingly moves from ice queen to vulnerable lover, it’s safe to say that Adler Fellow Leah Crocetto stole the show as Liù, the servant girl who makes the ultimate sacrifice out of her love for Calaf. Her “Signore, ascolta!” in Act I earned one of the few moments of spontaneous applause of the night. Of course, this didn’t help the often-pointed-out flaw in this opera, which is that Turandot is not a particularly sympathetic heroine and that it’s hard not to root for Liù. However, Theorin’s strong performance in the third act, along with her excellent costumes, which helped convey her difficult transition, mostly allowed the opera to recover from this plot handicap.

Adler Fellow Leah Crocetto killing it as Liù. Photo by Cory Weaver.

Sadly, I didn’t love most of the costumes as much as Turandot’s. Some of them looked quite dated and cheap (Ping, Pang, Pong, I’m looking at you), others just seemed ridiculous. Timur looked like Gandalf in a bad production of Lord of the Rings and the chorus at the end resembled Violet Beauregard (post-blueberrification) in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. That was a shame because the chorus looked great in the first act.

Gandalf? Dumbledore? Why no, it’s Timur, the deposed Tartar king! Photo by Cory Weaver.

I plan to keep my eye on Adler Fellow Ryan Kuster, here in his SFO debut. Photo by Cory Weaver.

But, really, these are minor quibbles, I thoroughly enjoyed this production.