Opera Chic

Robert Carsen's Kewlest Salome Locks it Down in Torino

(above: Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils @ Torino's Teatro Regio. Photo: Ramella and Giannese/Piva) 

ok, there are 2 versions of Salome: the kewl one (Carsen) adn the boring one (every1 elses) and we must unite teh two salomes so there can be a final showdown of level bosses with Carsen 4 the win! OC was treated to the kewl one on Sunday afternoon in Torino, where director Robert Carsen wowed the audience like clearing 4x4x4x4x4x Tetris rows with Korobeiniki blasting on the stereo.

The curtain rose on Herod’s palace, which was meticulously visualized as a sterile and commanding Las Vegas casino vault, excellently realized via floor to ceiling safety deposit boxes, and a gigantic, thick circular vault door on the right wall. Imposing walls covered in a grid of safes, and polished marble slabs covered the floor like a Manhattan mecha office lobby. On the left was a floor-to-ceiling escalator bank (but sadly, non-mechanized stairs). In front of the escalator was a security station, which consisted of a brushed metal banquette with nine plasma screens broadcasting eye-in-the-sky transmissions from around Herod’s casino. As Narraboth (sang by an excellent, light, and emotive Jörg Dürmüller) waxed poetic on the beauty and paleness of the princess, he simultaneously stared at her visage reclining on a lounge, unbeknownst to the security camera that was transmitting her every action to the plasma screen display.

Soldiers were updated as security personnel. Extras disguised as lounge waitresses were in 70s disco Egyptian garb, gold wedge sandals and short sparkling Cleopatra skirts wrapped around their hips, while the men went topless in Roman battle costume and the occasional helmet.

   

(above: Robert Carsen's Salome @ Torino's Teatro Regio. Photo: Ramella and Giannese/Piva) 

Enter Salome, sung by German soprano Nicola Beller Carbone, who again, was physically and vocally on point, but was lacking an overall charisma. Dressed in black Reeboks, black spandex capris, and a long black tank, she appeared to have just cruised in from a low-intensity workout at the gym. She was the perfect bored teen -- stormy, emo, and petulant, lounging carelessly on the security banquette.

It was when Mark S. Doss's plastic Jochanaan was summoned from the depths of the bank vault (via the vault door) that conductor of the evening, Roberto Fores Veses, really p00ped his frac, and his weakness was almost offensive. There was no attention paid to the leitmotifs or corresponding orchestral cues. There was no suspense, terror, or fire. Only big noise via the exaggerated gestures of a young conductor who flung his arms for a wall of sound. No shape, no dynamic, and forte to piano was managed by pure circumstance rather than technique. Overall the timbre of the orchestra was overbearing and effectively drowned-out all nuance of singing. The only goose bumps of the night were powered by Carsen's spot-on direction and vision.

After Jochanaan retreated back into his hidey-hole, Carsen's Jews appear in the guise of Herod & Herodias’ guests, dressed in cocktail party mode...rich silk dresses on the trophy wives and tuxedos on the retired lawyers and bankers. It was so refreshing not to have the stereotypical rabbinical Jews rushing around in circles mashing their spiny fingers together, tallit and payis flying about.

We met Herod, sleazy nouveaux riches and casino owner, who orders refreshments served by topless waitresses. Herodias was a washed-up Las Vegas showgirl, sporting an auburn wig, a gold sheath dress, and gold stiletto heels, while Herod was a slumlord dressed in a gaudy grey salesman suit and pink shirt.

(above: Robert Carsen's Salome @ Torino's Teatro Regio. Photo: Ramella and Giannese/Piva)

Tanz für mich was the apex of brilliance. We will always have a love/hate relationship with Robert Carsen. He is bursting full with such original ideas and revolutionary concepts, but sometimes goes astray in a heavy-handed, rebellious approach, slamming down genius with such forceful hammyfists that it becomes derivative, eye rolling drama...like a sullen teen who thrives on negative attention. We saw it in his Scala Candide last year as a prime example, and he went astray again in his Vienna Manon Lescaut (we did however love his Scala Kát'a Kabanová, but we saw that before we started blogging sucks 4 u!).

When obstinate, moody Salome finally agreed to dance her famous "Dance of the Seven Veils", she strutted out on stage dressed as a xerox copy of her washed-up, attention-whore  mother (sung by a screeching, trashy, but excellent Dagmar Pecková) in the same red wig, golden cocktail dress, and too-high heels, looking just as ill fit and age-inappropriate as her mother.

Manfred Voss's innovative lighting killed the stage floods and bathed the entire scene in gorgeous glittering gold, warm and sensuous, a pulsating, dynamic backdrop for the sickest Dot7Vs that OC ever saw. Salome strutted over and confronted her shocked mother doppleganger, jauntily mocking her and threatening her with overt sexuality.

(above: curtain call, the party guests)

Salome began dancing a cabaret-style seduction, plucking the retirees from the audience of her parent's party guests and grinding against them, pulling away the cashmere scarves of old men and leaving them stunned and breathless on the floor. Herod and Herodias were seated apart, stage front, and while her mother looked away uncomfortably, Herod was gleefully tantalized. Salome began a chair dance, and the retirees got up and danced around her, their clothes beginning to molt off their gyrating bodies. They took their handkerchiefs from their pockets and placed them over their faces, twirling around the oversexed Salome in anonymous frenzy. The whole dance built to a literally climatic finish, and Herod followed his stepdaughter's every erotic thrust with a large video camera, simultaneously broadcasting the action on the nine plasma screens at the security desk. wtf? Taking incest to a whole new level, this generation to be broadcast on YouTube or released for profit.

(above: curtain call, Jochanaan)

The dance is so unforgiving, so sexual -- she mimes fellatio on one of the men (old enough to be her grandfather), mimes sodomy from another, and even fellates her gold stiletto when her secksual appetite cannot be sated by the men. Salome dropped her dress to her ankles and finished the seduction in a cream silk slip. The men were literally rolling around on the floor at her feet in pure secksal ecstacy, air humping and pulling off their layers as quickly as their feverish hands could manage.

The end scene, and the men have shed all their clothes, all writhing around stark naked on the stage, white old man butts polarized as the gold lighting faded away and became an intense, harsh wash of white light. The plasma screens recorded all the action, close-ups of Salome's thrill of seduction, interplayed with x-rated shots of a women’s naked bits. At the end, she attacked her mother, grinding her lips against hers in a victorious struggle for matriarchal power. The Dance of the Seven Veils never gets me hawt, like not even close *yawn yawn* but this one was insanely suffused with raw eroticism and over stimulated incestuous taboo between father and daughter. It was off the higgety. ok pls dont start the rapture before i lose my virginity yae gawds.

(above: curtain call, Nicola Beller Carbone)

As the audience settled down and everyone tried to imagine garbage men on the toilet, nuns baking cookies, and homeless men playing chess, the scene segued into Ich verlange von dir den Kopf des Jochanaan, Salome turned haughty and absolutely unyielding, a girl suddenly aware of the powerful wield of blooming sexuality, and the manipulation over her father. Herod, still holding the video recorder, zoomed in on her face when she asked for Jochanaan's head. When he offered to bribe her with jewels, he plucked safety deposit keys from a ring, which his shallow party guests snatched and rushed off to capitalize on. Gold sand and glitter spontaneously poured from half a dozen of the uppermost boxes, raining down the background for a glorious effect.

(above: Robert Carsen's Salome @ Torino's Teatro Regio. Photo: Ramella and Giannese/Piva) 

As the head of Jochanaan is brought to Salome via the revelers who entered the vault door, it was brought to her bloodless and rubbery. Before the final kiss, the revelers, unable to feign pity or reflect on the severity of the beheaded saint, play a round of kickball with the rubber head. As Salome slinked off into the vault wall that broke apart to reveal a desert landscape, with the head of the prophet raised over her shoulders in outstretched arms, Herod instead called for his wife Herodias to be killed, to which the bloodthirsty revelers gleefully and instantly agreed.

Lights slammed shut, and this was the best direction of Salome OC could ever imagine. For the first time, OC can visualize why the 20th century opera was banned and criticized at its inception. The juxtaposition of the Dot7Vs and Herod's final blame raised the discourse to a conceptual level that worked in so many ways. I'm gonna go start a facebook group for this...brb.

(above: Teatro Regio Torino)

(above: exterior of Teatro Regio Torino)

(above: exterior front of Teatro Regio Torino)

(above: Downtown Torino)

(above: interior of Teatro Regio Torino)

Nicola Beller Carbone Will Cut Your Head Off And Get Away With It

(Above: Dance of the Seven Veils from Robert Carsen's Salome @ Teatro Regio di Torino, photo credit Ramella & Giannese/Piva.)

*~*OC*~* passed this foggy, overcast Sunday afternoon in the borders of Torino, 1.5 hours northwest of Milan by car (depending on your respect for speed limits and your car's HP powah), to catch the last showing of director Robert Carsen's Salome at Teatro Regio. Lots of pictures and a review coming tomorrow (although we already previewed it here and here), but for now reports that Carsen was omg sick! Totally on point, his interpretation of Salome was insane, erotic, and merciless. His direction was so intense that even my seat broke out in a sweat of pure genius. The magic day has arrived and I'm carving "Carsen" into my arm with a raz0r.

As weird as it looked on preview photos, and as afraid as we were that boy genius Carsen had made another big mistake (such as his very lame modern-costume Manon Lescaut @ Rodeo Drive we endured last year in Vienna), we have to say this Salome's insane parts, when put together, worked like clockwork, like a super secksay Vacheron. A small preview before the full review: the girl gets away with murder -- the "kill that woman" order is meant to have her mother, not Salome, killed. And Herodias bites the dust as Salome disappears in the desert clutching her boyfriend's head as lovingly as OC holds her LV Speedy bag.

We'll just name check very quickly the great (Carsen's direction, Manfred Voss's genius lighting that ricocheted in priceless ways and with laser precision all over the stainless-steel walls of the vault where the one-act opera takes place -- honorary mention to the idea of bathing in a creepy, milky golden light the rain of gold dust from the highest safety deposit boxes), the really good (Dagmar Peckova's washed-up jealous monster of a Herodias -- with leZbian incestuous kiss bonus), the good (Nicola Beller Carbone's vocally correct if overall uninspiring, but dramatically and physically perfect Salome), the bad (Mark. S. Doss's uncharismatic, wooden, vocally uninteresting Jochanaan -- when his character reappears as a decapitated rubber head, the charisma factor remains basically the same), the atrociously bad conducting (Roberto Fores Veses, picking up Gianandrea Noseda's baton for the last two performances, offered a flat, heavy, tin-eared reading of the score without layers, without shaping, drowning out -- to add the proverbial insult to injury -- the poor singer's voices for most of the show under a deluge of harsh flattened strings and heavy-metal sounding brass; it is frankly a reading unbecoming a major international production in an important, if second-tier, opera house. This may very well have been the worst performance from a conductor OC has witnessed in a professional venue so far).    

While your waiting for the firsthand account, German soprano Nicola Beller Carbone, who sang the lead and seduced the theater, had a small write-up in a recent edition of Io Donna. The Carsen/Teatro Regio run of Salome marked her first time on the Italian stage, but she has been singing the troubled teen since 2003, where she premiered the role in Germany. Since Carsen had her kissing the decapitated saint's head set in a Las Vegas casino's pristine, sterile vault, the only kewl thing she said was that he copied almost exactly a famous Las Vegas casino vault, but doesn't name names. wtf? Ted Binion's? Who hangs out in Las Vegas vaults? Carsen's been watching too much Ocean's Eleven, but this time his muse paid off.

Bi Bi Baby: Carsen's Salome, Lipstick Thespian

Moah images from Robert Carsen's Salome in Turin.

Also, below, the dance of the seven veils -- she stays dressed while the rich h0rny dirty old men (a classic Carsen touch, with the usual subtle political undertones) who warship her, literally lose their pants.

Ocean's Salome: Robert Carsen Locks Strauss In A Vault

Robert Carsen, nowhere to be seen these days around Milan since his problematic Candide last season (the one with George W. Bush, Silvio Berlusconi and other world leaders dancing in their underwares that underwent a bit of a rewrite before it was introduced to la Scala audience's delicate sensibilities), is about to introduce his Salome (his second, actually, since he already did one in the early 1990s with Kent Nagano using the French language libretto) to audiences in Turin.

One week from now the Teatro Regio di Torino will be turned, Ocean's 11 style, into a luxury casino's vault, complete with big screens with the "live" footage of security cameras around the casino's floor, for Carsen's Salome.   

Among Carsen's ideas, besides the Ocean's 11 casino thing, the fact that Salome won't get n4ked but a bunch of lewd onlookers will -- Nicola Beller Carbone will stay clothed, random old fat maen will drop trou. Grammy winner Mark S. Doss, as Jokanaan, in a rare concession to orthodoxy, will indeed lose his head.

Gianandrea Noseda is conducting; he has already introduced his Salome, in concert form, with the Turin cast, in Manchester. Audio of the performance is still here, for another 48 hours courtesy of the BBC

"How Salome Strips Bare The Soul Of A Singer": Nadja Michael Scares Covent Garden, Stabs Jokanaan With A N'pple

In the rehearsal room a part can be so different. Before you sing it on stage you don't know what it does to your voice or how you can support it. Success doesn't just fall out of the sky, you have to do a huge amount of work on it

Nadja Michael gets ready to rok the ROH in David McVicar's Salome

Hush Hush Sweet Klytemnestra

Agnes Baltsa (Klytemnestra) tries to arm wrestle Nadine Secunde (Elektra) in Richard Strauss's Elektra; rehearsals at the State Opera House in Budapest, premieres Nov. 24. Murder, obviously, starts in the heart. (ph. EPA)

suck it h8rz lol

"... Ms. Voigt’s splendid portrayal".

Teh New York Times

Air Voigt: Helen of Egypt

 

“I think a lot about air. Singing in opera you look for safety, something to hang onto. Some singers try to hold onto notes, but you need to let the air swell and release, swell and release the way it does in a bellows, so that the tone can swell that way too.”

Our Debbie Voigt talks about her forthcoming Ägyptische Helena (“Helen of Egypt”, premieres Friday at the Met), Richard Strauss rarely-staged (the last time at the Met, only 79 years ago) opera. The New York Times page holds some .mp3s, too.

It's a shame that Strauss' Helena doesn't seem to get teh love from opera houses and conductors, because it's so clearly a masterpiece that it isn't even funnay -- only Guntram is more forgotten, among Strauss' works. That funny Clemens Krauss even reported that Strauss himself cosidered his Helena kinda a$$y, but the reasons for its lack of success in recent years, Opera Chic is afraid, lies in the very complicated nature of the orchestration -- and the totally unforgiving vocal parts.

It's a deceptively simple -- and shockingly modern -- work. OC is very happy that Voigt is attacking -- just another Debbie's revenge against those st00pid fatty-h8rs. Yay for Voigt!

Salome: It pretty much rawked.

From last night’s la prima of Strauss’ Salome at Teatro alla Scala, the staging is basically the same as this DVD from a few years ago, which is the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden BBC filming that was conducted by Christoph von Dohnányi, and starred Catherine Malfitano as Salome, and Jochanaan as Bryn Terfel. It is also somewhat the same as the Salzburg Festival production from 1992, with a few modifications.

For those who are thinking of going: if you sit anywhere stage right for this production, you won’t see anything. I mean nothing. Bondy has implemented a very user-unfriendly, deep staging that left a few of OC’s friends from last night (who had very expensive palchi) very dissatisfied.

(Image of Bondy-directed Salome from the 15 euro production catalog.)

The scenery resembled an underground utility space evocative of the maze-like concrete structures that stretch under many USA colleges. Jochanaan’s cistern was a cavernous, menacing trench in the ground (heh: he was a cave troll), which was flanked by an angled ramp, where much of the action and flitting of Salome took place (she took a full roll down it during the Dance of the Seven Veils, wrapped like a mummy in a silver scarf, and shedding the layers as she tumbled downwards).

Nadja Michael's Salome adhered to her latest quotes and description from La Repubblica. She came across as an immature, annoying, spoiled sixteen-year old girl. Her swimmer’s form gave her an agile, toned, athletic edge, and she leapt around the stage as lithely as a gymnast. She commanded a full voice, with deafening passages that somehow even soared above Harding’s super-thunderous conducting. She rose to the demand of the incredibly difficult music, and was petit enough to be somatically-convincing of the part (at thirty-seven years, she is nevertheless petite and fresh-faced enough to pull-off a teenager). La Danza dei Sette Veli was choreographed by a ballerina, and retained that signature. The dance was difficult (and was lauded more for technique/skill rather than interpretation), and had so many opportunities for the soprano to stumble or falter, but she pulled it off wonderfully.

Jochanaan was Falk Struckmann, with a powerful voice, and a towering presence. The one thing lacking in this Salome was the complete absence of sexy. It just wasn’t there. The combination of cold blue lighting, with the rawk-hard body of Nadja Michael, and the fact that she remained covered in her diaphanous layers just didn’t bring tha passion. She had stated in that La Repubblica article, “La mia danza e' si piena di erotismo...” But I saw more erotic behavior on that C-SPAN Senate hearing on School Food Nutrition.

Harding was fluent, and purveyed a huge, distressing sound. The loggionisti lost their pewp during his curtain call, but he was well-deserving. Chilling at parts, especially during "Ah! Ich habe deinen Mund gekusst, Jochanann." He proficiently suffused the score with full expression during Salome’s delirious moments of joy, and then turned the sound absolutely chilly during moments of insanity. He was amazingly proficient.

And those “few egregious moments” yesterday?: As Herod's Jewish guests arrived in full white beards and tallitot, there were a few grumblings from the loggione, mine included. They were clearly arguing theology in an exaggerated debate, one even wielding a scrolled torah. Ok fine. whatevs. But what I don’t understand is this: at one point, there were a dozen Hassidim lined-up stage left, two rows deep, pressed against the wall, and praying/davening to mimic the Western Wall. F-wording F, what the hell was that all about?

The worst transgression? Later in action, when Salome demands the head of Jochanaan from Herodes, and he tries to placate her desire with the hidden jewels and riches of her mother, six of the Hassidum come out of the wings, acting in the background. They stand together, rending their hands in greedy desire, jostling each other, pointing insanely at the jewelry, and holding each other back from rushing to steal the tempting pile of jewels that Herodes slowly displays. lol greedy jews omg they want those emeralds so bad. I normally like Bondy, but in this production he came across as an a$$h0le, and I have no idea what would make anyone think different.

Nicely, the gore-factor wasn’t there either (OC isn’t a big fan), with Jochanaan’s head wrapped in a sparsely bloody white cloth. At the finale, Salome was squished to death by four riot gear cops with full-blown shields that crowded her. Like she stole a new dvd player in a riot or something and they caught her.

Oh noes. Opera Chic has just wandered into a wireless blindspo

Initial Report: March 6, 2007 La Scala Salome la prima

(OC is teh suck at using the new camera. Here is a blurry, over-exposed curtain call for your enjoyment! yay!)

I went to Salome at La Scala tonight because I constantly crave the brief flicker of warmth that only La Scala can provide me. heh. just playin.

I actually went because thanks to Harding (thou art that of questionable popularity & following), la prima wasn’t sold-out, and tickets were abundant. I also went because of rumors that the loggionisti would find Luc Bondy’s direction so dreadful, that hearty booing would possibly ensue during curtain call.

Well, apparently everyone was feeling civilized tonight, and the only disapproval heard was a smattering of jeers for Iris Vermillion's Herodias. Harding’s conducting was full of pathos, frantic and visceral, and completely adept, that he was treated to waves of apropos cheers. Nadja Michael's Salome was immense (more on her lithe dancing tomorrow), and she was appropriately commended. Falk Struckmann's Jochanaan was yummy.

Despite a few egregious moments (mostly concerning really horribly exaggerated stereotyping), it was a pretty banging night -- regardless of the fact that it had been rendered completely devoid of sexiness, and was overall pretty damn sterile.

...and btw, a kind reader sent OC a recording of the finale, which can be found via a YouSendIt link here.

Luc Bondy: "Salome = Paris Hilton" aka Losing Your Head For Paris

 

As Opera Chic was getting ready for her night at la Scala -- OMG
the Daniel Harding-conducted Salome premiere OMG!!! -- she opened her copy of la Repubblica and she went all like, dude wtf?????

Because (Former East) German soprano Nadja Michael tells the newspaper that director Luc Bondy -- responsible for many stark, elegant, minimalist opera stagings that Opera Chic really really liked -- instructed her so:

"Salome is not truly evil. She's a 16 year old girl: egotistical, too rich, too spoiled, always getting what she wants. Think of Paris Hilton: a woman who's almost beautiful (ed: zing!) who says I want this, I want that, without thinking of the consequences".

The Bondy goes on to pontificate -- frankly, quite weirdly -- about his ideas for the staging

"centered around the clash between the sacred and the earthly in a changing world, the religious disputes between Judeans and Nazarenes, whom I imagined as hippies form the 1960s, as pacifist flower children: it reminds me of the current clash between Shias and Sunnis in Iraq (ed: ?)".

The staging had its début in Salzburg, 1992, but since then the sets got damaged, so the ones we'll see at la Scala tonight are spanking (heh) new. Anyway, Opera Chic will be there, to report later.

Nadja Michael: N3kkid Salome? Hells Naw! Steroids? Hells Nein!

German soprano Nadja Michael talks: today's la Repubblica carries a big interview with la Scala's latest Salome (premiere next tuesday -- it's the beautiful if chilly Salzburg staging by Luc "I Am So Minimal I Am Almost Disappearing" Bondy).

Interesting bits from the (East) German lady:

"I was a swimmer, since I was a child, for the East Germany team. Then in the juniores team my coaches began talking about steroids, and my parents pulled me out of the team. Winning was everything for the DDR, it was a political thing".

The 37 year old glacial Hitchcock blonde discovered singing at 18 but didn't take professional lessons until she was 21. She started as a mezzo but then switched to soprano  ("I had to learn 14 parts for soprano in 2 years").

Of course what everybody's wondering about is, will she bare it all like the Francesca Patané / Maruska Albertazzi team in Rome's Brazilian-waxed Salome?

No such luck.

In closing, Michael tells the story of the worst night of her life, seven years ago: when, during Aida in Berlin, Giuseppe Sinopoli died on the podium.

"I was on stage, right in front of Sinopoli when he fell to the ground. It was horrifying. He had such clarity of vision, so many projects. He was so inspired, and then he left us".

Dang. We really wanted to make fun of this Puritanical, all-dressed-up Salome, but now we miss the great Maestro Sinopoli so much.

Ciao Maestro and thanks for all the great recordings that you left us.

Maruska Albertazzi's Lucky Day

For those of you who hate when things go unresolved, an update:

From Opera di Roma's buff-Salome-actress Maruska Albertazzi's blog comes a new entry regarding the status of her missing briefcase and the accompanying media.

As of this past Monday, Albertazzi's cabbie, "Mr. Roma 31", returned her bag with the documents and her "special" autographed photograph is quite the happy ending.

WANTED: MARUSKA ALBERTAZZI'S CABBIE

Actress Maruska Albertazzi, one of the two Salomes in the barenaked, nude, naked, Brazilian-waxed, scandalous, pant-pant Salome at Opera di Roma (the other Salome is hawt soprano Francesca Patané), has a (NSFW) blog.

And a few minutes ago she has posted an entry explaining that after tonight's show, she took a cab to go to dinner with her family. And she left a small briefcase in the taxi's trunk. Inside an envelope, there were "personal documents of great importance" and an 8x10 glossy of the actress, naked. Nuda.

Maruska is asking the cabbie to kindly bring back the documents.

He can keep the photo.

If said, hopefully non-horny taxi driver reads Opera Chic, we are happy to join the kind Miss Albertazzi in requesting he please brings back the documents.

And if he does keep the photo, would he please scan it and send a nice hi-res file to Opera Chic's e-mail addy? THX

Even More Francesca Patané Hawtness

As promised (and btw, a shoutout to all the thousands of opera lovers who come here daily googling and yahooing and AOLing for "Francesca Patané nuda"), here is a NSFW set of new, nude Francesca Patané images from Rome's naked Salome.

Critics pan Salome; the audience boos; the Internets ogle

Today's Corriere della Sera (story not online, see photo below) reports that last night, la prima in Rome of Giorgio Albertazzi's superhawt staging of the Strauss opera (barenaked Francesca Patané is Salome, NSFW gallery is here) has not gone well: director Albertazzi -- a legend of Italian theatre and cinema, unforgettable in Last Year At Marienbad -- has been booed by the (not nearly as snarky as La Scala's) audience.

The audience and the critics have been kinder with Patanè's performance. And reporters guarantee that Maruska Albertazzi (the actress who plays Salome in a tacked-on, non-musical prologue), as promised was completely naked. And her crotch, as promised by the director and anticipated by Opera Chic, was completely hairless.

The question remains, though: Brazilian wax or simple razor?

PS: Opera Chic promises her kind readers who are Salome fans, Patané fans, or just horny, that she'll post more hi-res pictures of Salome tomorrow. Today has just been very, very busy.

More Francesca Patané / Albertazzi pictures

Corriere della Sera's website links a NSFW gallery of the Rome Salome: the NSFW images are here.

Tanz für mich, Salome!!

Remember this post where I reported on Teatro dell'Opera di Roma's super erotic Salome with the late Giuseppe Patanè's daughter Francesca and her "Never Say Never" nude on-stage appearance?

Well, Opera Chic ensures that you don't have to haul yourself over to Rome just to get a glimpse of the action. Patanè certainly bared-it-all (aside from ultra-thin pasties and some fake henna tattoos).

The edited images (with strategically-placed kawaii ^__^) appear below...

However, if you are *still* aching to see Patanè's unedited assets, follow the download links below for the NSFW untinkered, scintillating, smoking-hawt jpegs NSFW:

Download patanesalome01.jpg (NSFW)

Download patanesalome02.jpg (NSFW)

vvvvUPDATEvvvv

As dear reader fignaz pointed-out, Patanè is rawkin' teh stockin'.

 

Sexy time @ Rome Opera with Salome x2

Teatro dell'Opera di Roma opens their season on January 16, 2007 with a bang, that promises to be supple, silky and smooth, and last 1-2 months. What?!? Okay, let's try this again:

Corriere della Sera has reported that Opera di Roma is presenting a new production of Strauss' Salome, conducted by Alain Lombard and directed by Giorgio Albertazzi, which is sending everyone clamoring for tickets. The reason?

In addition to promising sex, violence, and eroticism, and boasting the lead role of Salome as the cult-favorite soprano, Francesca Patanè, daughter of famous Italian conductor Giuseppe Patanè (who tragically died in 1989 while conducting Il Barbiere di Siviglia at the Bavarian State Opera), there has been scripted a fifteen-minute prologue which will display, "due Salome al prezzo di una. E tutt'e due nude," which reads, "Two Salomes for the price of one, and both are nude."

OMG things like this don't happen at the opera!!! Two naked Salomes, you say?! Now, if that isn't enough nudity in the name of l'art pour l'art, this Salome offers a bit more:

The counterpart Salome for Francesca Patanè's soprano will be played by actress Maruska Albertazzi (no relation to the producer), who will portray the non-singing Salome in the prologue.

In adition to the usual perk of nudity (albeit usually wrapped in a flesh-colored body-stocking), Maruska Albertazzi has vowed to make her nubile appearance "sara nuda, completamente depilata," which translates, "I will be naked, completely hairless." [ed: shaved or waxed, whatevs -- there isn't really anything lost in translation here...because the point is, she will be appearing (down there) "bald as an eagle."]

Apparently, this isn't such a bold leap for Maruska Albertazzi (LINK NOT SAFE FOR WORK), who had previously appeared in 2003 in an extremely trashy/erotic movie "Fallo!", followed by a handful of naked on-stage performances. Hay, LAY OFF! She's an exotic DANCER. What she does is ART! ^____^

This performance will also mark the first time that Francesca Patanè has agreed to appear on stage naked. Not so shocking, as we've already seen tons of sopranos embrace semi-nudity for the sake of Salome. But Patanè was once quoted in an interview in 1995 saying, "non mi sarei mai spogliata in scene," or, that she would never appear naked on stage. When questioned about her former stance, she utters three simple words, "mai dire mai" (translation: "Never say never"). Okay Patanè, time to dust-off the backpeddle bike and start peddling!

Francesca Patanè has always been the undisputed princess of contention among Opera Chic's closest circle of friends, and none of us can particularly agree on our approval; although those who admire her, tend to laud her for her spotless technique. As I favor the delicate little doves of coloratura, you can imagine my take on the hearty, red-haired sauciness of Patanè. Well, you can be the judge, too...if you are lucky enough to sample Patanè's voice on this incredibly bootleg recording (found at the very discerning Buscemi Dischi on Corso Magenta) released from Kicco Classic.

$$$ sex apparently doesn't sell $$$

William Friedkin, best known for his films The Exorcist and 12 Angry Men, recently made a mess out of Bavarian Staatsoper's early November production of Richard Strauss's Salome. Andante's Shirley Apthorp gleefully tears it apart, calling it (in one of her nicer sentiments) both "inept and ugly".

Unfortunately, this Salome had big expectations, with Kent Nagano at the helm, and situated as the second half of a double bill, preceded by the world premiere of Wolfgang Rihm's Das Gehege. But Friedkin's production apparently suffused too much nudity and eroticism into the screenplay, and it appeared quite lazy, unimaginative, and unwatchable.

"Unable to create any plausible erotic tension between Alan Titus's musty, uncharismatic Jochanaan and Angela Denoke's neurotic Salome, Friedkin had his soprano simply strip. She danced her own Dance of the Seven Veils, just as embarrassingly as any less slender and lissome singer might have done, and then let Herodes (sung like a Disney caricature by Wolfgang Schmidt) tear off her top and lick her nipples."

...and of Angela Denoke's singing? Even more brutal, "She swoops up to her high notes and hoots when the going gets tough. The range of expressive color is narrow, and the basic sound is unlovely." MEE-OW.

Anyway, get your butts over to the Opera Chic flickr stream, where I uploaded four Hi-Resolution photos from the production. With less nipple-licking.