Oberon's Grove

Dialogues des Carmélites @ The Met

Above: Christine Goerke as Mme. Lidoine with Eve Gigliotti as Mother Jeanne, and their sister-nuns; photo by Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera

Saturday January 28th, 2023 matinee - An incredibly powerful performance of Francis Poulenc's masterpiece, Dialogues des Carmélites, at The Met this afternoon. The John Dexter production, one of the treasures of the Company's repertoire, never fails to move me with its utter simplicity and the clarity of its story-telling. It was lovely to see several small groups of nuns among the audience this afternoon.

The performance was somewhat compromised by the conducting of Bertrand de Billy; though his tempi and feel for the music were spot-on, he too often allowed the orchestra to cover the voices. This seems to be a trend at the Met these days, for the recent RIGOLETTO(s) and TRAVIATA I saw, conducted by Speranza Scapucci and Marco Armiliato respectively, suffered from the same problem. As there are no huge voices around nowadays - no Nilsson, nor even a Grob-Prandl, and no Cossotto, del Monaco, or Norman Treigle either - such waves of sound rising from the pit cause singers to either force or simply be drowned out. The Met's huge space is hard enough fill in and of itself; having to compete with mega-decibels of orchestral sound must be daunting indeed. Perhaps some people feel that a high-volume orchestra makes opera more "exciting"...? Well, it doesn't.

The cast today was peopled by expressive singing-actors, down to the smallest roles. Benjamin Taylor (Thierry), Paul Corona (Dr. Javelinot), Siphokazi Molteno (Sister Mathlde), and Jeongcheol Cha (Jailer) did well, though the last-named's task - reading the names of the nuns condemned to death - was lessened in impact by the orchestra's loudness; it's an affecting moment, deserving to be better-handled.

Above: Piotr Buszewski as Chevalier de la Force, Ailyn Perez as his sister Blanche, and Jamie Barton as Mother Marie; photo by Marty Sohl/MET Opera

The Polish tenor Piotr Buszewski, in his Met debut role, displayed a handsome timbre and fine sense of nuance as the Chevalier de la Force. Laurent Nouri made his mark as the Marquis de la Force. Tony Stevenson was excellent as the Chaplain, and Eve Gigliotti made much of the moving role of Mother Jeanne. It is Mother Jeanne who brings forth the figurine of the Christ Child, the breakage of which seems to signify the breakup of the convent. In the end, Mother Jeanne, using her cane, walks with great dignity to the guillotine. Ms. Gigliotti made the character seem essential, and her warm, plush mezzo timbre is always appealing. Tenor Scott Scully and basso Richard Bernstein are the Commissioners who come to shut down the convent; Mr. Bernstein, ever the effective stage creature, eyed each nun with suspicion; his voice is strong and steady.

As Blanche de la Force, the opera's central character, Ailyn Pérez (above, in a Marty Sohl photo) brought gleaming lyricism with a sense of fragility to her music. She forms a bond with the naive, optimistic young Sister Constance (Sabine Devieilhe); in their prayer following the death of the Old Prioress, their timbres meshed to magical effect. And in the scene where her brother visits her and asks her to return home, Ms. Pérez and Mr. Buszewski did some of the loveliest singing of the afternoon. Having fled the convert, Blanche seeks refuge, working as a maid in her old family home; but Mother Marie tracks her down and urges her to return to the fold. Here Ms. Pérez's desperation becomes palpable. But at the end, stepping from the crowd to bid farewell to sister Constance and to face her own death calmly, Blanche finds release. 

Above: Alice Coote as Madame de Croissy and Jamie Barton as Mère Marie; photo by Marty Sohl

During the pandemic, I often turned to YouTube to keep music vividly in my life whilst live performances ceased, and I came upon a film of Alice Coote singing Mahler's "Ich bin der welt abhanden gekommen" which moved so deeply. Watch and listen here.

Today, as Madame de Croissy, Ms. Coote held the House under a spell as the character's horrific death scene was played out. For a woman whose faith was always deep and seemingly unshakable, the Old Prioress finds herself terrified as she faces her end, wracked with pain. Ms. Coote, a wonderfully word-conscious singer, made the scene the centerpiece of the performance. Both vocally and dramatically, she was living the role: a riveting singer and personality. Rapturous applause greeted her at her solo bow at the opera's end.

Jamie Barton has a perfect role in Mother Marie, and she made a splendid vocal impression. Her wide- ranging voice, from dusky chest tones to searing top notes, was in peak form. She held the stage with authority, and finely captured the character's desperation and guilt on having been separated from her sisters during their final hours on Earth.

Above: Sabine Devieilhe, photo by Caroline Doutre

How wonderful to see the French soprano Sabine Devieilhe on the Met stage! Having attended her Weill Hall recital in 2019, I have been hoping to see and hear her again...and now she is with us. As Sister Constance, the petite and lovely Ms. Devieilhe was ideally cast. Her silvery, shimmering tones gleamed in the House, a contrast to the opera's deepening darkness and sense of impending doom. In the end, her hope of seeing Blanche again gives her the courage to walk to the guillotine, her lone voice the expression of innocence and human fragility. Then the voice of Blanche is heard: she has stepped from the crowd to join her sisters in death. The two girls have a last moment together before fate overtakes them. Incredibly touching.  

Above: Christine Goerke as Madame Lidoine and Jamie Barton as Mother Marie

Towering, literally, over the sisterhood, Christine Goerke made a splendid impression as Madame Lidoine. If some of the highest notes did not bloom as one might wish, Ms. Goerke's presence - and her vocal authority - gave the afternoon its center. Her portrayal, so dignified and so lovingly maternal, so...human...was touching to experience. It is Madame Lidoine who leads the procession to the guillotine, by which time I was already weeping.

The audience, the quietest and most attentive to have been part of in recent seasons, hailed the singers with great affection and admiration at the end. I felt a desire to go to the stage door, where a large crowd had gathered; I particularly wanted to greet Ms. Coote, Mlle. Devieilhe. and Ms. Gigliotti.

The French soprano was in a rush, probably to catch a flight, but was very gracious and charming; she told me she is already booked for a return to The Met. Ms. Gigiotti signed my program in a distinctive way, matching her distinctive personality; I thanked her for some unique videos she has made (watch here) and for her past performances in works of Nico Muhly and Sergei Taneyev. Ms. Coote walked briskly thru the crowd; undoubtedly she had someplace she needed be.

The story of the martyrdom of the Carmelite nuns becomes even more poignant when one realizes that their execution took place just ten days before the end of the Reign of Terror. The women were beatified in 1906; this plaque commemorates their deaths:

It is always difficult to return to the real world after a performance like this; there was so much to think about after experiencing this opera about man's inhumanity to man. What harm had these nuns done that merited a death sentence? Why is cruelty so rampant in the history of mankind?  Why do people feel a need to control the beliefs and lifestyles of others?

~ Oberon

Ronnita Miller

Above: mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller; photo by Fadi Kheir

I was bowled over by Ronnita Miller's singing as the 1st Norn in Wagner's GOTTERDAMMERUNG at The Met in 2019. Soon I'll have a chance to see Ms. Miller onstage again: she will sing the role of Gaea in a concert performance of Richard Strauss's DAPHNE with the American Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall on March 23, 2023. Details here.

Sample Ms. Miller's singing here.

Consolation

Alim Beisembayev, winner of the 2021 Leeds International Piano Competition, plays Franz Liszt's Consolation III. The young pianist was born in Kazakhstan and trained primarily in the UK.

Watch and listen here.

CMS Winter Festival: All-Schubert Evening

Tuesday January 24th, 2023 - This year, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center's annual Winter Festival is centered on the works of Franz Schubert. Tonight's program featured the eminent pianist Gilbert Kalish and my beloved Escher String Quartet in three masterworks from the composer's brilliant - but all too brief - career.

The single-movement Quartettsatz in C-minor for Strings, D. 703, was composed in 1820. It seems to have been intended to be the first movement of a full quartet, but the composer never composed additional movements.

From its scurrying start, the Escher Quartet's performance of the Quartettsatz was a complete delight; their rhythmic attentiveness and tonal appeal were amply on display, their playing full of both vitality and nuance. The silken sheen of Adam Barnett-Hart's violin made its distinctive mark in solo passages, the music flowing onward to a sudden tempest. This is soon calmed, but Brook Speltz's restless cello figurations keep things lively. There is a da capo, a sort of coda, which draws on to a full-toned chordal passage; here, the classic Escher blend could be deeply savoured.

Gilbert Kalish then took the stage for Schubert's Sonata in B-flat major for Piano, D. 960, composed in 1828. This long and demanding work begins with an Allegro Moderato. Mr. Kalish delivers the theme with a sense of serenity; then a low trill sounds, seeming rather ominous - a trill which later brings music of great tenderness. As things become more intense, so does the playing: modulations are beautifully handled by the pianist. The low trill returns before a final recapitulation.

Mr. Kalish brought forth the austere calm - and the poignant colours - of the ensuing Andante sostenuto; the music's steady rhythmic pulse puts us in a trance. The movement's ending feels like a benediction.

In a striking volte face, the pianist takes up the boundless animation of the Scherzo. The music breezes along, pausing only for a courtly interlude. The sonata's concluding Allegro ma non troppo is filled with an uplifting sense of buoyancy and good humor. Passing shadowy clouds momentarily blot out the sun, but by the end, all is bright and fair.

Mr. Kalish was hugely applauded by the packed house at Alice Tully Hall. If Wikipedia is correct, the pianist is 88 years young...simply remarkable! 

Above, the players of the Escher String Quartet: Adam Barnett-Hart, violin; Brendan Speltz, violin; Brook Speltz, cello; and Pierre Lapointe, viola.

The gentlemen of the Escher Quartet returned after the interval for the G-major quartet, Opus 161, dating from 1826. From the work's striking beginning, this music - which I first heard ions ago in the Woody Allen film CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS - always casts a deep spell over me. Incredibly rich and vividly detailed, the opening movement features tremelo effects - introduced  by the Escher's stellar violist Pierre Lapointe - and achingly beautiful, ethereal themes for Mr. Bernett-Hart's violin. The music becomes triumphant, reaching a passionate end.

As the sonata moves on, cellist Brook Speltz's role takes on increasing prominence. In the Andante, his sublime cello melody sets the tone, with his colleagues providing gorgeous harmonies. The music becomes intensely poignant, and Mr. Speltz's playing has me thoroughly engrossed...hypnotized, really.

But suddenly the music stopped; at first, I thought someone had broken a string, but apparently it was a tuning issue; corrections were made, and, after a few moments, the players resumed. It took a while to re-establish the mood; the music becomes hushed, with 2nd violinist Brendan Speltz and Mr. Lapointe sharing a duet passage. Then tremelos again are heard, and the music draws us on to an elegant finish.

Things had been set to rights following the interruption, and the final Allegro assai should have been the frosting on this delicious cake: a deftly Mendelssohnian affair wherein the cellist has more opportunities to enchant us...which he did. But, a jingling cellphone began to sound. The musicians played on, the music so reminiscent of Mendelssohn's Italian Symphony. The phone ceased for a bit, then rang again. Could the timing have been any worse?

The players persevered, and the audience hailed them with a boisterous standing ovation at the end. While the intense connection to the music I was experiencing prior to the unexpected lull was never re-established, it was still a wonderful evening.

~ Oberon

Oberlin Orchestra & Choral Ensembles/Carnegie Hall

Above: Maestro Raphael Jiménez with the Oberlin Orchestra at Carnegie Hall; photo by Fadi Kheir

Author: Brad S Ross

Friday January 20th, 2023 - On Friday evening, New York audiences were once again treated to a fine performance by the Oberlin Orchestra and Choral Ensembles as they returned to Carnegie Hall for the first time (publicly, anyway) since January 19, 2019. They were conducted by Oberlin Orchestras Director Raphael Jiménez, who led the performers in a unique program that included one repertory standard, one New York City premiere, and one buried gem.

The evening began with long—very long—opening remarks by Oberlin College and Conservatory President Carmen Twillie Ambar and Oberlin Conservatory Dean William Quillen.

Ambar’s remarks focused on two of the evening’s headlining pieces having been written by minority composers and therefore made all the requisite extollations about the need for representing historically marginalized groups. As important as this message is, it would be nice to hear the music of under-appreciated composers like Will Marion Cook, William Dawson, Florence Price, George Walker, etc., without this ever-obligatory preamble. My continued hope is that someday we will be able to let their music simply speak for itself.

Quillen’s remarks, while less political, were a seemingly endless list of “thank you”s, not unlike an Oscar acceptance speech—only this time, there was no hope of the music playing him off. All the parents and staff in attendance no doubt appreciated the acknowledgements, but after a full quarter hour of talking I was getting pretty antsy for things to move along.

Nevertheless, once the opening remarks concluded, the Oberlin musicians were finally able to grace the Isaac Stern Auditorium with their abilities—and what a pleasure they were to hear!

First on the program was Johannes Brahms’s Tragic Overture, Op. 81, from 1880. There’s not much one can say about this work that hasn’t already been expressed over the last one hundred and forty years, so I won’t labor on it here. It’s a pleasant and undemanding symphonic poem, lasting about fourteen minutes and chock-full of the lyrical gestures typical of that Romantic master. Needless to say, the Oberlin musicians tackled the piece expertly, but it did leave me wanting to hear more of their technical skills.

I was not left wanting for long, however, as the second work of the evening—the New York premiere of Iván Enrique Rodríguez’s A Metaphor for Power—immediately livened up the proceedings.

Written in 2018, A Metaphor for Power is a single-movement essay for orchestra lasting about thirteen minutes. Rodríguez—a 32-year-old Puerto Rican native—composed the piece as a comment on the turbulence and inequalities of contemporary life in the United States, despite the promise of its founding (the title, indeed, comes from a quote by James Baldwin). His use of social commentary through music was much more subtle than that of other recent protest works, however (Anthony Davis's quite overt You Have the Right to Remain Silent comes to mind), making for a composition that was both cleverly referential and electrifying to hear.

The music opened with a bang before quickly diminuendoing into dream-like textures, complete with harp, mallets, and woodwind writing that sounded as though they had descended straight from Maurice Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé. A contemplative middle section featured, among other memorable effects, distorted quotations from “America the Beautiful” and unsettling vocalizations from the orchestra as they recited overlapping lines from the Declaration of Independence. A great crescendo announced the beginning of the third, final section, which was marked by dramatic gestures that were almost filmic in execution. It all came to an energetic and wickedly engaging ending that lit up the room with excitement.

Above: Maestro Jiménez and composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez take a bow; photo by Fadi Kheir

The composer practically leapt from his seat and ran to the stage to share an emotional embrace with Jiménez before they took their bows together. The moment was as touching as it was well-earned. The composer having been unknown to me until that evening, I must say that I look forward to hearing much more from him in the future.

Above: the vocal soloists for the Dett oratorio: Chabrelle Williams, Ronnita Miller, Limmie Pulliam, and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The final and most substantial work of the evening was Robert Nathaniel Dett’s oratorio The Ordering of Moses. Dett, a Canadian-born American composer of the early 20th century, became the first black man to graduate with a double major from the Oberlin Conservatory in 1908. He initially wrote The Ordering of Moses as a thesis project while completing his Masters of Music from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester in 1932. Dett later revised and expanded the work, however, and it was premiered in its final form by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra under Eugene Goosens in 1937.

Clocking just under an hour, the oratorio is divided into nine sections and is cast for orchestra, chorus, and four vocal soloists. Joining the Oberlin musicians for this performance were soprano Chabrelle Williams, mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller, tenor Limmie Pulliam, and baritone Eric Greene.

Above: soloists Ronnita Miller and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The first section opened on warm instrumentation that favored the lower voices of the orchestra. A lone cello voice emerged for an occasional solo before Greene’s sonorous tones took center stage as “The Word,” describing the bondage of the Israelites under the Pharaoh. He was joined briefly by Miller, who cried out for mercy as the voice of the Israelites. The music was rather languid here, until a great exclamation of “Mercy, Lord” announced an upbeat transition into the second section, “Go Down Moses.”

A recent last-minute Metropolitan Opera debutant, tenor Limmie Pulliam (above, in a Fadu Kheir photo) then entered as the voice of the reluctant Moses, who is given the famous command by God, “Go down Moses, way down in Egypt’s land; tell Pharaoh: ‘Let my people go!’” (this section featured a particularly cheeky musical joke where Moses sings “I am slow of tongue!” at the most sluggish pace imaginable). The drama then moved fairly seamlessly into the third section “Is it not I, Jehovah!” as God affirms his edicts to Moses.

This was followed by a mostly uneventful instrumental interlude as the story was transported forward to Moses’s parting of the Red Sea (“And When Moses Smote the Water”). This exuberant, celebratory section was followed by two more instrumental interludes: “The March of the Israelites through the Red Sea” and “The Egyptians Pursue.” The former was an almost jaunty affair, complete with military snare and wordless chorus, while the latter featured brassy blasts and dramatic descending runs as the crashing waters swept away the pursuers.

Above: soprano Chabrelle Williams; photo by Fadi Kheir

Ms. Williams’s soaring vocals finally entered the proceedings in the waltz-like “The Word,” as the Israelites jovially sang praises to Jehovah. All forces joined for the triumphant finale “Sing Ye to Jehovah,” as the oratorio built to a final satisfying tutti instrumental blast.

Everyone performed splendidly throughout and the piece was met with one of the most enthusiastic standing ovations I’ve seen in a while, yet I couldn’t help feeling slightly underwhelmed by the music itself. Considering the scale of forces at work, the writing was not terribly economical. The instrumentation was often sparse and seldom were all of the elements brought together for fuller effect. The solo parts also heavily favored the male voices, leaving Williams and Miller very little to do for most of its duration.

This isn’t to say it was bad—far from it—, but it did leave me wanting a little bit more. Had Dett not died of a heart attack at the relatively young age of 60 in 1943, one cannot help but wonder what other and more exciting large scale works he might have brought to the concert hall. Nevertheless, it was exciting as always to hear a buried musical gem such as this get dusted off and given new life. It was a grand conclusion to another memorable concert by the Oberlin Conservatory musicians, who will hopefully return again soon to grace New York City audiences with another memorable program.

All performance photos by Fadi Kheir.

~ Brad S Ross