Above: Elina Garanča and Roberto Alagna star in the Met's new SAMSON ET DALILA, a Vincent Peters/Met Opera photo
~ Author: Oberon
Saturday October 13th, 2018 matinee - There was absolutely no need for a new production of Camille Saint-Saëns' SAMSON ET DALILA at The Met: the intriguing 'old' production by Elijah Moshinsky, though dating from 2000, still looked fresh when I last saw it a few seasons ago, and was far more visually striking and dramatically alive than the new incarnation could ever hope to be.
Entering the auditorium (which opened ten minutes late) we see onstage a large red-lined "nightclub" arch with a lattice-work screen. Once the lattice screen gets out of its own way, the Act I set is serviceable; the Act II set is hideous plastic structure devoid of atmosphere. In Act I, there's hardly any action: the chorus members stand blandly about. With the High Priest's discovery of the murder of Abimelech, things perk up for a bit, thanks in large part to the vivid portrayal of the cleric by Laurent Naouri. The dance of Dalila's handmaidens is a feast of kitsch, with pink lighting, gauzy veils, pink feather fans on longs poles, and women writhing invitingly on their backs. Clearly we are pre-MeToo.
Sir Mark Elder led a rather foursquare performance. Tony Stevenson and Bradley Garvin were the two Philistines, Elchin Azizov a really impressive-sounding Abimelech, and Dmitry Belosselskiy a sonorous Old Hebrew. Mr. Naouri, who sounded quite pallid and elderly as the HOFFMANN villains here in 2017, seemed re-invigorated today: big-scale singing to match his commanding theatrical presence.
Above: Laurent Naouri as the High Priest, a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo
Elina Garanča and Roberto Alagna took on the title roles of the opera for the opening night presentation of the current season. The general consensus from reports I read was that Ms. Garanča did not have an authentic 'Dalila' voice, and that Mr. Alagna was struggling with the music, reportedly due to a heavy cold.
This afternoon, Mr. Alagna sounded throaty at first, but as the opera progressed he sang more freely. Signs of vocal fatigue sometimes cropped up, offset by passionate passages where he sounded more like himself; his prolonged B-flat at the end of Dalila's seduction aria took off like a rocket.
Ms. Garanča has beefed up her chest register for this music, but it doesn't have an ideal, natural contralto resonance; her lowest phrases were sometimes covered by the orchestra. Her Act I 'Spring' aria was attractively sung, and "Amour, viens aider ma faiblesse" came off to even better advantage. Spurred on by Mr. Naouri, the mezzo impressed in the 'hate' duet, then gave her finest singing in the classic "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix" the voice in plushy lyric mode. Throughout all of this, though, the lowest notes just failed to evoke a sexual reaction, which they should. But as her argument with Samson reached its climax, Ms. Garanča let fly with a spectacular "Lâche! Coeur sans amour!", sustaining the top-note thrillingly.
We considered staying on to the end, but the thought of another long intermission sent us packing. As with TRISTAN UND ISOLDE and EUGEN ONEGIN, the Met has traded in a striking SAMSON production for something far less compelling.
~ Oberon