Opera Chic

Riccardo Chailly’s “The DaVerdi Code”

Maestro Riccardo Chailly may be having a full-out panic attack during this last frantic week before the monumental La Prima of the refurbished Verdi's Aida at Teatro alla Scala …or, he may be onto something quite innovative. An article from Monday’s Corriere della Sera has published an interview with il Maestro, regarding what he believes is the esoteric and secretive nature that Aida actually shrouds.

The article explains that a new reading inside Verdi’s score for Aida reveals something disquieting and sublime. Nor is it something that exists in any other of Verdi’s twenty-seven other operas. There is a musical formula that exists in three parts, a "code" based on the number three, which is repeated in the score twenty-seven times (with twenty-seven being the end equation of 3x9). It’s an obsessive sequence that is just like the destiny that leads the lovers of Aida to death, buried alive inside a tomb.

Three is also a sacred number in Masonic rites, which had been previously highlighted and used by Mozart in Die Zauberflöte. Mozart turned the number three into a pillar of his annoyingly esoteric Die Zauberflöte, which is overtly suffused with Egyptian symbolism: the overture itself is opened by a three-note chord, and we see the three ladies, the three spirits, and three slaves of Sarastro.

Chailly says directly on Aida, "And here are the three lead characters of the story: Aida, Radames, and Amneris, and this is not a coincidence. This didn't happen by chance. It’s a true Verdi enigma. It's an enigma, just like the world of the Pharoes still presents an enigma to us."

Chailly continues: “So we can assume that Verdi was a freemason. I don't know that as an absolute truth, but it would be very interesting to study more this obscure side of Verdi’s life."

Chailly is onto a popular theory, as many scholars think that Verdi was a member of “The Great Orient Lodge”, which had a prominent presence in Milan during the active years of Verdi's life. In fact, in a handful of Masonic texts during Verdi’s livelihood, Verdi’s name is part of the list of Freemason composers together with other notables such as Gluck, Boito, Liszt, and Puccini.

Chailly goes on to say, "In the last ten years, I often had clashes with directors because they wanted to dominate a show. With Zeffirelli, it's the opposite: we have the ideal relationship. Zeffirelli can sing the entire opera from memory. (!!!) He keeps a very overt presence at the rehearsals. And at eighty-three, it’s a surprise! He works in a very professional and aggressive manner, but sometimes he’s almost mean with the singers." The thrust of Zeffirelli’s direction will underscore the dreamy dimensions of this masterpiece.

Chailly has some very cool advice for those who have been lucky enough to have scored tickets to La Prima of Aida on December 7, 2006. He says to pay close attention to the start of the Third Act. It’s the revelation of a glimpse of genius that shows Verdi was already looking towards the twentieth century.

Chailly concludes: “The first time that I heard Aida, I was a boy. Maestro Abbado was conducting and it had such an impression on me that it felt like I had been struck by lightning. I asked myself, ‘Is this Verdi?’ Maybe Mahler had the same thought. Mahler conducted Aida three times. And certainly his “Das Lied von der Erde” was influenced by Aida.

By the way, Decca has announced that they will be at La Prima to record Chailly’s Aida for a later DVD release.

Like buttah: Shlomo Mintz at Conservatorio

(You can view seven photos taken from the Shlomo Mintz performance last night here.)

Last night had me representing 20122 at the Sala Verdi del Conservatorio (the same venue as the Evgenij Kissin concerto from a few weeks ago) to hear violinista Shlomo Mintz interpret Mozart and Šostakovič, sponsored by Società del Quartetto di Milano.

Following a very enthusiastic article on Mintz in the Monday, November 27, 2006 print edition of Corriere della Sera, where the subline read: "Concerto: Il grande musicista russo domani in Conservatorio" (Translation: "The great Russian musician tomorrow at the Conservatorio"), I was determined to have myself a listen.

The article was somewhat intriguing, and briefly explored the fetish that Mintz had aquired of linking Mozart + butter. The headline reads, "Mintz: 'Per me Mozart e' un violino di burro'" (Translation: "Mintz says that to him, Mozart is a violin of butter"). hmmmm.

In the article, Mintz says that when playing Mozart, the tone is akin to the sensation of audio butter (if butter could replicate a sound). He says that when he was five-years-old, it was the first time he fell in love with Mozart, because it made his house sound like it was filled with butter. Mozart’s violins, to him, are the most round, full, and buttery sounds of all composers. (Ok Shlomo, I'm not sure where you're going with this one, but I'm willing to give it a try.) So I was off to search for some buttery-goodness...you know, winter is coming, and we've all got to stock-up on our precious oils.

Unfortunately, an ailing Dmitri Alexeev inexplicably cancelled accompaniment on piano, and they instead brought in a petit Hungarian pianista, Adrienne Krausz. Because of Alexeev’s absence, the dynamic was a bit strained, and Mintz played a quick, rather standard performance. Again I dressed basic, as the major contingent of audience at Conservatorio is 70+, and therefore donned a Jil Sander grey cashmere sweater set and shell, my Paper, Demin & Cloth indigo rinse jeans, a pair of modest Tods gommini chukkas, and my Aspesi black windbreaker with a Vuitton black cashmere scarf. Rainy, drab weather deserves a gray, drab pallet.

The program consisted of two segments: The first interval was two Mozart sonatas for piano and violin, K.378 in B-flat major, and K.526 in A major, which Mintz played with fluency, depth, and dexterity. But I did not hear teh buttah! Whar ist buttar?

At the end of the two sonatas, during the curtain call, Mintz took an encore. He spoke to the audience in his practiced Italian, and said rather robustly, “Ho deciso a suonare un 'piece' adesso.” (heh...translation: "I decided to play a 'piece' now"), which isn’t really the most concordant construction, but endearing nonetheless. He then played a Mendelssohn piece for violin and piano, but I am not terribly familiar with the composer, so I don’t know what it was. 

The second half began with Šostakovič’s Sonata opus 147, inherent to Šostakovič style. Mintz played with controlled movement and calmness to counteract the turbulent, discordant notes of the sonata.

And that was it. No encore for his admirers. I spoke to my mother after the concert, and lamented that I was unable to isolate the buttery-goodness of Mintz's sawing. She, an accomplished violinist who played her first “G” before she even knew how to write, replied quite flippantly that my inexperienced ear was incapable of discerning such values. Great. My evening wasted. Next time I swear I’m going instead to Rosticceria Leoni on Corso Venzia when I need a fix of buttery love.

F**K Shakespeare. help me find my bush baby

This past weekend in Milan, the weather continued to cover the city in a grey, rainy and cold pall, which found me inside, snuggled next to our lovely plasma.

During my fervent channel-flipping, I stumbled onto a few illuminating programs, including an interview with Franco Zeffirelli (a.k.a “frengo”) and a sweet documentary on Claudio Abbado.

First up was Rai Tre's "Che tempo che fa", with host Fabio Fazio, where he conducted an interview with Franco Zeffirelli, in order to draw hype for his new autobiography, which will be available from Mondadori later this week.

Fazio simply asked for reiteration of the previous anecdotes that Franco divulged in last Sunday’s Corriere della Sera article. Franco obliged, but this time with a bit more detail: For instance, do you remember the story about when Visconti sent Franco to Paris, and upon meeting Mademoiselle Coco Chanel, she gave to him twelve original, signed Matisse drawings? Well, Zeffirelli divulged to Fazio that he sold eight of the twelve, and the other four were stolen. um, okay, frengo...i believe you.

However, new to the anecdotes was a narration about Franco visiting Dublin with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton for the filming of “The Taming of the Shrew", when pandemonium erupted, and Franco played the hero during a very tense, but comical standoff between the culprit of Liz Taylor’s penchant for exotic rodents and the incompetence of drunken husbands. The story, which involves Franco, Liz, Richard Burton, and Liz's mutinous bush baby escaping from its cage, can only be retold with the true authority of Mr. Zeffirelli himself. My favorite part?:

"Liz's maid had withdrawn with a scratched face, Richard was angrily trying to get everybody to shut up, and Liz could clearly think of nothing but the rescue of the poor little animal."

Zeffirelli retold the magnificent story with a sense of mischievous wonder and vibrancy, with his eyes sparkling in an affable manner. He was a true pleasure to watch during the interview, and at eighty-three, he still has loads of charisma and charm.

Next up was a lovely one-hour documentary on Rai Due with the Milan-born Maestro Claudio Abbado and his youthful brigade of Bologna's Orchestra Mozart. The documentary from 2006 shows interviews with the frail Abbado and his robust youth orchestra, and details the lasting impressions of Abbado that have been left with the young musicians. The documentary "Allegro con Spirito: Claudio Abbado e l’Orchestra Mozart" provided to be a nice reward for staying-in during a totally un-fab weekend. /not a loser.

(I made a photo album of a few select screen-shots, which you can find here.)

Chenoweth

   

chenoweth /that is all.

J’ai deux amours, mon pays et Paris

Jérôme Savary's current show at the Opéra Comique in Paris, "A la recherche de Joséphine - à La Nouvelle-Orléans" (Looking for Joséphine - New Orleans), celebrates the ubiquitous allure of Josephine Baker, the evolution of jazz as an inherently African American art form, and commemorates the devastation of Hurricane Katrina into one big, raunchy fable.

Jérôme Savary’s previous work as a stage director should be familiar to opera fans, as this master of mise-en-scène was responsible for Muti's 1991 Attila at Teatro alla Scala with Ramey and Studer, as well as the Théâtre Antique's Carmen from 2004 with Roberto Alagna and Béatrice Uria-Monzon.

Jérôme Savary's new show on Baker, running until January 14, 2007, stars Nicolle Rochelle, or better known quite ambitiously on myspace as, "Nicolle Rochelle -AKA- 'La Nouvelle Josephine'" (let’s hope her myspace webpage design is supposed to be “ironic”). Apparently girl got it together, as a review of a dance recital from last year stated, "Rochelle stood out more for her heavy bangs and bright-red hair than for her dancing", and her last credits I found online were from Chappelle’s Show.

Although I can't read French language very well, (gazes long and hard in the direction adelynlee) it's worth the ticket, as the show includes reenactments of Baker's famous Danse Sauvage from La Revue Nègre. With bananas, feathers, and Eiffel Tower pasties (NSFW), of course. Viva La Baker!

(You can find three images from the current production on the Opera Chic flickr photostream here.)

Valerij Gergiev is all up in Shostakovich’s business

(In recognition of the Shoshtakovich Festival in Rome, here’s a picture of Valery Gergiev and Nikolaj Znaider during their recent appearances at Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia)

As the "Dmitrijevič Šostakovič Festival" a.k.a "Shostakovich Festival" closes its Italian segment of the “Shostakovich World Tour: Shostapalooza!” this weekend (at Rome’s Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia),...has anyone else been wondering how Gergiev has been holding-up?!

Following his flagrant infatuation with Shostakovich these past two years, Valery Gergiev launched an ambitious festival, "From Rome to St. Petersberg: A Tribute to Shostakovich" in remembrance of the Russian composer’s centennial year. On September 25, 2006 Gergiev marked the true 100th anniversary of the birth date of Shostakovich at The Mariinsky Theatre with the revival of three of the composer’s one-act ballets. He is also currently spearheading two prominent programs, the “Shostakovich Symphonies”, and “Shostakovich on Stage”, which have already traveled around the world, and have drafted other outstanding conductors into the mix, such as Essa Pekka-Salonen and Shostakovich’s son, Maxim. Gergiev also recently recorded Shostakovich’s symphonies four through nine with the Mariinsky Theater Orchestra.

Next up for Gergiev are two more happenings, already in the making: a festival for the 125th birth date of Igor Stravinsky in 2007; and in 2008, the 100th year passing of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. My god, when does this man sleep?! He makes me feel so...inadequate!! *runs away while crying*

Al Jolson called. he wants his blackface back.

This Saturday night marks the premiere of Komische Oper Berlin's staging of Die Zauberflöte by that sassy little scamp, Hans Neuenfels, who last made international news in September, 2006, with the Berlin Deutsche Oper cancellation of his Idomeneo, when the holy wrath of Islamic activists ruthlessly served his ass.

The man cannot be stopped! He is robot + man! This Saturday, he unapologetically presents a rescripted production of Die Zauberflöte, with Peter Renz as an unmistakably blackened Monostatos. We previously saw hilarious blackface under Neuenfels' direction of Zemlinsky's Der König Kandaules at the Wiener Volksoper in September 2002, and now it makes a triumphant return.

Although Neuenfels isn't the first director to depict Monostatos in blackface (Norbert Orth also appeared in blackface in Wolfgang Sawallisch's 1983 Munich Opera version with Popp, Gruberova, and Moll), I personally don't see the necessity or the allure. Call me myopic.

Aside from his use of the oldest racist caricature in the entire book, this production actually doesn't look so bad. O_O @ teh three ladies! ^.^ I mean, this image alone is worth like a dozen jokes about magnifying glasses + man-crotch.

Nevertheless, please address all complaints and grievances directly to Hans Neuenfels.

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

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.

More Cantelli Goodness

I’m all over the brand-spanking-new Teatro alla Scala-released Cantelli Così fan Tutte that I mentioned a few posts back.

It’s heartbreakingly-awesome.

Lucky for the non-Italian speakers, it comes in both an English version and an Italian version which is available at the Teatro alla Scala book store; I decided to buy the Italian version, although I’m admittedly reeling over all the BIG ITALIAN WORDS that I just can’t wrap my little brain around :(

The box set features packaging akin to a DVD. BUT WHARS THE LIBRETTO? It is nowhere to be found. It is a mystery. What is included: two CDs of the live recording of the Cantelli-conducted Così fan Tutte from Teatro alla Scala on January 27, 1956. We have Elisabeth Schwarzkopf as Fiordiligi, Nana Merriman as Dorabella, Rolando Panerai as Guglielmo, Luigi Alva as Ferrando, Graziella Sciutti as Despina, and Franco Calabrese as Don Alfonso.

There is a six-page insert displaying the letters relevant to Così fan Tutte between Walter Toscanini and Guido Cantelli (with Toscanini's letterhead from 655 West 254th Street, dating from October 19, 1955), as well as a telegram from October 30, 1955.

There is also included a paperback written by Guido's wife, Iris Cantelli, Un Mucchio di Mani (Translation: "A Bunch of Hands"), which is a substantial 174-page memoir, and includes anecdotes of their life together. The last few pages are very touching, where she reflects on the death of her husband.

If that wasn’t enough, we have Cantelli remembrance-weekend-overload. At Cantelli’s hometown opera theater,
Fondazion Teatro Carlo Coccia di Novara (warning: loud, embedded music), a commemoration has been scheduled. Novara is boasting a limited-edition, printed envelope and matching postcard (sponsored by Poste Italiane), bearing the seal of Comune di Novara, which can only be procured at the theater this Saturday.

But Sunday is pretty much the kewlest day, with a 9:00 pm concert of Orchestra Cherubini, directed by Riccardo Muti (a symbolic choice, as he was the first winner in 1967 of the “Premio Cantelli per Giovani Direttori d’Orchestra”, an award that was given for superb direction of the Orchestra Cherubini). The program is Schumann’s Concerto for Cello and orchestra in A minor (opus 129), Schubert’s Overature from “Die Zauberharfe”, and Beethoven’s 7th. LUCKY!

My critic of Cantelli’s Così fan Tutte? It’s so sweet and light, and pretty good quality for a live recording. I’m listening to it rite now and it is da bomb.

Slowly step away from the Osso Buco, Violeta.

Ohhhh, this is a good one! A small blurb from today's Corriere della Sera (I know, I know, enough with the Corriere-love...but it's the best paper we have in Italy), about how Zeffirelli wanted Violeta Urmana to drop weight for her upcoming role of Aida for La Prima at Teatro alla Scala, but she wasn't able to do it! (btw, you can't find this article on the Corriere website today, as it was print-only.) Here it is, briefly:

Superline: The Soprano Violeta Urmana confesses during the rehearsals of La Scala

Headline: [Urmana says,] "Zeffirelli wanted a skinnier Aida, but it was torture; I couldn't do it"

Violeta Urmana confessed today to Corriere della Sera that Franco Zeffirelli had begged her to drop some weight during the past few months of dress rehearsal for the upcoming December 7, 2006 premiere of Aida. Zeffirelli’s reasoning was that he was extremely eager to make believable his revitalized vision of Aida, which is an updated, modernized, fiery temptress...one that would encompass all the ideals of beauty, sex, and the power of youth.

Urmana says that she isn't able to torture herself in a gym. She also says that she loves Italian cooking and cuisine, and is spoiled by her Italian husband (tenor Alfredo Negri) (hay guys, I can't even find a link on google for her husband...he's apparently pretty lame). And she says her mother-in-law spoils her. She particularly has a weakness for the fatty Osso Buco. bleh. I will forever envision Urmana from this moment forward sucking on the marrow of a hollowed-out veal bone. Osso Buco is a special dish here, but can be pretty slimy and greasy (“So I’ve been told”, says I, the red-meat-phobic), and it's popular to serve the meat stuffed back inside the hollowed-out bone. eat teh ham tina.

Urmana goes on to say that she had many conversations with Zeffirelli about the success of his BFF Maria Callas after Callas dropped her weight, and how important it was to her career, and how important it is to have a beautiful stage presence in today’s "Top Model" mentality. She gushes about how she loves Callas, and how she has read at least fifty books about the Diva's life. (Fifty, Urmana? Exaggerating a bit, don’t you think?)

She also says that she is incredibly excited for La Prima of Aida, especially since it hasn't been staged at Teatro alla Scala in twenty-one years. Thanks again, Maestro Muti, for your obscure leniencies towards Salieri and Cherubini.

Urmana says she will return to Teatro alla Scala in 2008 with Macbeth. She says that she enjoys being back at La Scala, but is stricken by the absence of Muti. She worked a lot with him in the past, and has fond memories of his tenure, as it was during the rehearsals of Muti’s Iphigénie that she met her husband. But she is eager to work again with Muti, which she will accomplish in 2010 at the MET in Attila.

Awesome.

Viva La Diva: Anna Netrebko Get Defaced!

In continuing with today's Callas theme, here is something to make you rofl: From the flagship Ricordi store in Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, where I go to buy the latest opera and symphony releases (and piano sheet-music), you can find something to brighten the dark and rainy, late-Fall days in Milan.

Upstairs among the opera selection stands a promotional cardboard cut-out of Anna Netrebko/Rolando Villazón (btw, don't ever forget to check-out Villazón's personal, hilarious sketches here), which I'm sure has been there since the DVD release of La Traviata from the Vienna State Opera.

An intrepid Netrebko-defector has made their opinion known, defacing the life-sized cardboard with whiskers and a cry of dissatisfaction of Netrebko's reading of Violetta. In addition to the whiskers, "W Callas" is scribbled in ball-point on the soprano's arm, signifying the "W" for "Viva"...as in, "Long Live Callas", and, "Callas Forever".

It always makes me loalz. What kills me is that I've been in this city for almost a year, and I have been to Ricordi over a dozen times, and the staff just doesn't care, leaving the poster in plain sight. I consider myself lucky to live in a city that is so passionate about opera…

Homage to La Diva, or...(Lacombe, I see what you did there!)

So...what teh fack? I was browsing the November 9, 2006 edition of Corriere della Sera Magazine, and saw the Sofia Coppola story, “Icone, ‘La dominatrice di Versailles’: ‘Niente sesso / Sono Sofia Coppola’"...but something between the pages struck me as oddly familiar. Take a look for yourselves:

As the owner of this huge photo-book on Callas, and with my sparkling visual memory, I recalled a former Garofalo/Callas portrait taken in Paris.

The photograph of Sofia Coppola in Corriere is by Brigitte Lacombe, and was posed almost identically as Garofalo’s photo of Callas in the early 1960s from the Hotel Ritz in Paris.

I mean, c'mon...Sofia's pretty cool, but she ain’t no Diva.

STAY 4 A WHILE TELL US ABOTU YOURSEFL FRANCO

From yesterday's Corriere della Sera we were treated to a brilliant and entertaining discussion between a Corriere journalista and the quintessentially talented and radiant Franco Zeffirelli.

Zeffirelli has been making big news in Milan the past month for two reasons: The revitalized La Prima of his newly directed and staged Aida (see my prior post here), which will premiere at Teatro alla Scala on December 7, 2006; and also for his anticipated autobiografia, which will be available (in Italian language only) on November 28, 2006, and weights-in at a modest five-hundred pages.

Written below is my loosely-translated version of the story, starting with the headline:

“Zeffirelli: When I was a little boy, I was molested by a Friar.”

Here we go: Five times already throughout his career, Franco Zeffirelli has revitalized Verdi’s Aida, and you would think that a man of eighty-three-years would be finished with such a task. But no. When Lissner (GM and Artistic Director of Teatro alla Scala) asked him to return [to La Scala] after a fourteen-year absence, his heart leaped with joy and acceptance of the task. At first, he was terrified that no new ideas would come, but the inspiration quickly returned. Therefore, on December 7th, we anticipate his new production at Teatro alla Scala (directed by Chailly, with Violeta Urmana and Roberto Alagna). Zeffirelli says that the new version will be the culmination of all the previous Aidas; basically, the "l'Aida delle Aide".

Zeffirelli was born illegitimately out of scandal, to a woman named Adelaide Garosi, who had no man to claim a last name. Garosi loved Mozart terribly, and therefore chose for her baby a last name from Idomeneo, "Zeffiretti". However, due to a transcription error, his name was written in official records as “Zeffirelli” ("un errore di trascrizione lo trasforma in Zeffirelli"), and it stuck. (And apparently there exists no other "Zeffirelli" in the entire world: “Un nome unico al mondo, da non barattare con nessun altro".)

Tragedy followed, and Zeffirelli’s mother passed away when he only was six-years-old, but he was then raised by a group of snappy women who gave him a love of Shakespeare. He went to school in Firenze, and it was there that a friar molested him. His first man-crush was in high school, and although he was discreet about his sexuality, all the other kids knew of his homosexual orientation. Zeffirelli calls himself a homosexual, but despises the word, "gay", finding it offensive and obscene.

Because of his light features and his gentile nature, many people find Zeffirelli lovely. One person that especially found him appealing was Luchino Visconti. Zeffirelli went to work with him, and became his lover, as well as his housemate. One event that Zeffirelli will never forget is when an item went missing from the Visconti villa, and Visconti ordered all of the servants banned from the house to be questioned by the authorities. Visconti included Zeffirelli in the list of suspects, and the distrust burned such deep scar into Zeffirelli, that he never forgot.   

But staying with Visconti opened many doors for Zeffirelli. One time, Visconti sent him to Paris with three letters in his pocket: one for Cocteau, one for Marais, and one for Coco Chanel. Mademoiselle Chanel was so impressed with Visconti's colleague, that she gave him twelve original, signed Matisse drawings. Zeffirelli hinted that he sold quite a few of the drawings for profit during moments of financial duress.

Zeffirelli soon become friends of Liz Taylor, Laurence Olivier, Hillary Clinton, and Bob Kennedy. The most treasured of his friends was La Diva Maria Callas, who he declares was the only woman he ever fell in love with. He knew her when she was fat and bloated, but when she quickly lost more than 60 lbs, she suddenly became a woman of great beauty and fascination.

Zeffirelli then leaves us with the story that he will forever insist is real. He states that this one time (lol in band camp lol), when he was on Aristotle Onassis's boat to Skorpios, with Callas, "that horrible Onassis" made sexual advances at him. Zeffirelli was angered, but believes it was to stress the friendship between him and Callas. THE END.

I personally can’t wait to read Zeffirelli's autobiography. I don’t doubt for a minute that there will be a dull moment between the pages, as Zeffirelli has had a life full of pure awesomeness. He's all like, "I spent most of my life hanging-out with Visconti and Callas, so y'all can ----------> queue here to suck it!"

(btw, recently added to the Opera Chic flickr photostream are eight photos of Zeffirelli)

Here is a personalized mix-tape. For your wedding.

From today's edition of Corriere della Sera, we have confirmaiton that Bocelli served the Cruise-Holmes with a little dose of Catholic dogma, as well as a very, um, special wedding gift.

The translation reads:

"Bocelli: I am a Catholic"

"Here I won't sing Ave Maria"

"No Schubert's Ave Maria for Tom and Katie, but instead [he sang] celebrated pieces from his own repertoire: "I am a Catholic, and their ceremony follows the rites of Scientology", said Andrea Boceli to Sky Tg24. And his gift to the wedding couple: a little gold box that contained a special compilation CD."

heh. good lord. Tom and Katie got a cheap-ass CD compilation from Bocelli! I am so not inviting Bocelli to my wedding evar.

Bocelli shows TomKat what’s what!!

SUP4R EXCLUSIVE NEWS! As Opera Chic is privy to inside gossip sources, it has been revealed to her that Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli snubbed TomKat earlier this evening during their wedding reception at Castello Odescalchi di Bracciano by absolutely refusing to sing, "Ave Maria".

Bocelli, a very devout Catholic who has performed many times for the late Pope John Paul II, backpedaled furiously upon realization that the TomKat wedding was to be conducted by a Scientology minister. Instead of singing religiously-based arias, Bocelli decided upon a medley of secular arias.

I'll bet you that Tom was all screaming at Bocelli like, "WTF SING AVE MARIA, B*TCH", and they were all like, "HAY TOM, HAY TOM, HE'S BLIND not DEAF."

News that no one cares about: TomKat Wedding

Just a quick note to all those who are curious (as every single one of my friends and family back in the US have been relentlessly asking me about the hype of the TomKat wedding here) but the answer is, unfortunately, “No!”: we in the elucidated North have better things to discuss with our free time…like omg did you see the new pix of omg omg OotP HAIRY POTT4R MAKING-OUT W/ CHOW CHANG?! +20 in my pants.

heh. j/k. but seriously, okay, the news of the wedding is on telegiornale…but if this was back in the USA, we’d be throwing like TomKat parties, and bars would be having special TomKat shots, and TomKat menus at restaurants, and someone would totally create a special breed of TomKat cats...and everything. Here we’re all like *yawn* l4merz whatevs...marriage is so passé.

Cantelli's Legacy

Presidente del Consiglio comunale Milano, Manfredi Palmeri, announced yesterday in City Hall (Palazzo Marino) that in recognition of the 50th anniversary of the passing of Maestro Guido Cantelli, a commemorative program will be initiated. The most exciting aspect of this commemoration is a brand-new box set containing the 1956 Cantelli recording of  "Così fan Tutte" at Teatro alla Scala, as well as an original booklet displaying letters written between Cantelli and Toscanini's son, Walter. (For a glimpse of Cantelli's handwriting, it was preserved on The Bakaleinikoff Tablecloth, located at The Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, which was signed by most of the performers and conductors that appeared with the Pittsburgh Symphony between 1946 and 1953.) (And for another bonus, click here for a photo of Cantelli's son with his grandson.) The Cantelli box set is manufactured by the Teatro alla Scala bookstore, and will therefore be exclusively sold at their store within Teatro alla Scala.

Maestro Guido Cantelli was born on April 7, 1920 in Novara, Italy, and started his musical career at age fourteen as the organist at the local church. His directorial debut came at age twenty-one, as director of Theater Coccia (started in 1888 by Toscanini). Only two years later, Cantelli was drafted into the Italian army, and interned in a German labor camp until 1944. He returned triumphantly to Milan later that year to conduct the opening season of Teatro alla Scala (which took place at Castello Sforzesco because of the heavy bombing that Teatro alla Scala endured during the war).

Cantelli's career quickly developed under the nurturing embrace of Arturo Toscanini, who regarded him as a son. Teatro alla Scala officially named Cantelli musical director on November 16, 1956 to succeed Carlo Maria Giulini. But only eight days later, on November 24, 1956, as Cantelli was traveling from Milan to New York City, his plane crashed outside of Orly Airport in France, leaving the musical world in shock. Toscanini, who treasured Cantelli as his family, passed away only two months later without ever being told that Cantelli had died in his thirty-sixth-year.

Despite the recent rush of social engagements this weekend, Opera Chic will try desperately to get to il teatro as soon as possible, to witness the coveted box set (stay tuned)...

:(

American Soprano Dawn Upshaw has been diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer, and has pulled-out of upcoming performances through January 2007 to begin chemotherapy. After recovery, she plans to make a full return to singing.

The biggest cancellation of her November preformances is in the world premiere of Kaija Saariaho's new opera, "La Passion de Simone", at the New Crowned Hope Festival in Vienna, Austria. Replacing Upshaw will be Pia Freund.

Scoring really high points is Maestro Esa-Pekka Salonen, who was slated to conduct Upshaw in "La Passion de Simone" for the United States premiere on January 12, 2007. Instead of enlisting a new soprano in the part of Upshaw, Salonen has opted to postpone the entire US premiere at least one season until Upshaw has recovered.

Best of luck to our lovely Dawn, and wishing her a quick recovery.

i'm in ur dollz killin all ur bewbz

Tonner Doll Company and the New York City Ballet have launched "The New York City Ballet Collection", which introduces a line of ballerina dolls that have been created with an automatic inferiority complex, as they feature:

“a smaller bustline than traditional Tyler-style 16" fashion dolls. Please note that not all Tyler-style 16-inch outfits will fit the Ballet-style doll at the bustline.”

OMGWTF?!! Even better, the Tonner Doll Company proclaims, "This bustline is also used in the Geisha dolls and Cinderella's Wicked Stepsister, Euphemia." Okay Tonner, so let me get this straight: You're trying to tell me something, aren't you? You're trying to say that the smaller bustlines are pandemic among ballerinas, Asian prostitutes, and abusive stepsisters?!
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The new line features flat-chested characters taken from George Balanchine's, "The Nutcracker", and outfits derived from the Karinska costumes. From November 2006, "The New York City Ballet Collection" can be found at toy stores nationwide, as well as the NYCB gift shops. They are priced from $109.99 - $149.99 (plus additional, unspecified costs for miniature push-up wonderbras, cognitive behavioral therapist fees, Zoloft, and self-help books).

But we all know the truth: behind that cool, aloof, haughty pose of NYCB Rehearsal Emilie is a mind racing with insecurity, anxiety, and fear that her man will dump her for buxom and bubbly Peppermint Candy Cane Barbie.

Rehearsal Emilie, ur beatuiful teh eway GOD made u ;__;

I’M SORRY I BET ON FLÓREZ

   

"It's time to clean the slate, it's time to take responsibility. I'm seven months too late. I understand that I made a mistake, and there's not a damn thing I can do about that mistake. We can re-hash it all we want. If Flórez would ever give me a second chance, there's no way I can let him down. Flórez doesn't owe me a damn thing. I owe Flórez."

Things to do at Teatro alla Scala (aside from falling asleep in the nice cushy, private palchi during the intermissions.)

Teatro alla Scala has announced today a new exhibition at the Museo (alla Scala), which opens to the public on December 15, 2006. But since you are all lucky enough, blessed enough, and special enough to know the elusive, extraordinary, well-connected-to-Milanese-insider-happenings Miss Opera Chic, I am privileged to let you all have a wee-sneak-peak and a clandestine preview of what’s going-on behind the heavy velvet curtains of Teatro alla Scala.

For one month, the opera house will host a new exhibit, “Aida, l'invenzione del vero (1871-1933).” (For you English-only speakers, it is translated as, “The Invention of the Truth”.) Unfortunately, the official press release is, at this time, in Italian-language only. You can run it through Bablefish for a very mixed-up version…but remember that, “Verdi” translates literally in English as, “Greens”. lol the greatest Italian composer of the 19th century is named like American baggies of frozen veggies lol.

The occasion for this exhibition collaborates with official, trademarked omg LA PRIMA omg, which is the legitimate inauguration of the Teatro alla Scala season beginning every year on December 7 (which is also Milan’s Festa di Sant'Ambrogio). And guess what? La Prima this year is Verdi’s Aida, with a brand-new, spiffily re-designed version by our favorite fave sweetheart Franco Zeffirelli (YAY FRENGO!), who last designed the Aida run in Milan from 1976 – 1985. Also awesome is that we have Violeta Urmana as Aida, and Roberto Alagna as Radames. (btw, when I was at the salon a few days ago, I picked-up the Italian Vogue, which had a feature on Urmana.)

Also significant of this event is that Casa Ricordi will use the exhibit to publicize and celebrate their bicentennial, as they had originally published Verdi’s scores (and later his records, and later his 8-tracks, and later his tapes, infinity infinity forever: JINX) two-hundred years ago.

The press release goes onto explain that the Museum of Teatro alla Scala will be hosting various autographs and manuscripts of Verdi. Also part of the exhibition will be loads of sketches, figurines, and photos that he used to study his first representation of Aida in 1872, because he became quite a collector of Egyptian archeological relics to aid his research for visualizing Aida. But the most super-sexy part of the exhibit will be a virtual reality time-machine (1.21 gigawatts!!), where you can go back in time to Cairo, 1872, and wander around the antiques and archeological findings of ancient Egypt. The significance of the time-machine is that Verdi never actually went to Egypt to study the staging and direction for Aida; instead, he used his imagination to, "inventare il vero" (to invent the true).

And then, the press release goes on and on and on about all the kewl things you'll be able to do in the time machine. I personally think someone’s flux capacitor is wound a little too tight. Time-machines make me think of some smelly, stale, outdated Natural Science Museum, and god knows that anyone under the age of sixteen is just not allowed inside Teatro alla Scala anyway.

(btw, click here for the Opera Chic flickr photostream set of “Aida, l'invenzione del vero 1871-1933".)

Furtwängler's Last and Most Favorite Beethoven’s Ninth

I’m going to pimp one of the best recordings of Wilhelm Furtwängler’s conducting of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony ev4r.

Get ready for it...it's...it's...it's a hard-to-find Furtwängler recording of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony ("Choral", Opus 125), played by the Philharmonia Orchestra, and taped live during the Lucerne Festival on August 22, 1954, only available from Tahra Records, with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, soprano; Elsa Cavelti, contralto; Ernst Häfliger, tenor; and Otto Edelmann, bass. If you aren't familiar with the recording, it is worthwhile for various reasons. Aside from the historical significance, it is one of the most beautiful, poignant, and transcendent Ninths that I have ever heard.

But first we must know the context of this Ninth, which was just one version of the ninety-six (!omfg wtf!) that Furtwängler conducted during his career. Of those ninety-six, there are only nine complete, live recordings that have survived, and the best sound quality resides in the Lucerne 1954 version.

What makes this Ninth so significant is that it managed to polarize a significant moment of meditation and acceptance during the long span of Furtwängler's life. He told his wife, Elisabeth, that of this particular session: "This time I had one foot in the other world." (To read the excerpt, you'll have to scroll all the way down to the bottom of the page under the description of, "Beethoven: Symphony # 9 Choral)". We also know that Furtwängler was in fragile health, nearing death, and that he passed away just three months later on November 30, 1954.

René Trémine (co-founder of Tahra Records) commented that, “The Lucerne concert is moving on more than one count; it can be considered to be Furtwängler’s legacy, his swan song…in fact he was to die three months later.” Furtwängler appeared in a concert hall five additional times before his death: the 25th of August in Lucerne for Bruckner’s Seventh, the 30th of August at the Salzburg Festival, the 6th of September in Besançon for Beethoven concerts (also the location of Dini Lipatti's last recital on September 16, 1950), and the 19th and 20th of September in Berlin for his Second Symphony and Beethoven’s First.

So it is in this recording that we find a man stripped bare and left to examine his own life of regret, indecision, and guilt. There is a sense of the ethereal, the superlative, and a chilling premonition about something much more sublime that flows throughout this recording; a reckoning of his own mortality.

“Dear Myriam Scherchen, Dear René Trémine,”

“I am very happy to give you my authorization ot publish Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony with my husband Wilhelm Furtwängler conducting the Philharmonia Orchestra. It is his last performance of this work at Lucerne on 21st August, 1954. Furtwängler was in excellent condition since that same evening, after the concert, he took the night train to Salzburg where he was expected for the filming of Don Giovanni. Furtwängler dedicated all his life to the exploration and interpretation of the Ninth Symphony.”

By contrast, when you listen to the handful of Furtwänglers' 1942 Ninths (April 19, 1942, and the March 22-24, 1942, which are similar in force and interpretation), you can’t believe that something so deep, layered, and sweet as the Lucerne Ninth was drawn from the same mind that produced such a terrible, thundering, crystalline version like his 1942 Ninths, and that a conductor is capable of such diverse readings of the same composition.

You can watch an excerpt of Furtwängler conducting the Berlin Philharmonic at the AEG factory in 1942, and witness his characteristic "spastic puppet on crack", as Furtwängler had the ugliest conducting idiosyncrasies like for ev4r. The film excerpt comes from the Bel Canto Society's cult DVD, "Great Conductors of the Third Reich", which includes newsreels and archived footage of conductors such as Böhm, Furtwängler, and Karajan amid lots of disgusting Nazi propaganda...as well as a performance during Hitler's birthday party! yay! clowns and cotton-candy and ponies and moon-walks!

Okay, for all you Furtwängler fetishists, I uploaded a few hi-res, rare pictures to the Opera Chic flickr photostream, which you can find here.

Bring in da dudamel!

I know that NYC has been all-a-titter at the recent reappearance of the universally-acknowledged-Peruvian hottie JDF in recent days for his much anticipated Count Almaviva …

...but here in Milan, there has been a brand new hawtness that is setting everyone’s nether-regions ablaze.

Yes, we have our very own latin lover, and he’s got more hair, more sparkle, and more pull than your ballet-dancing, guitar-strumming, lamby-voiced, inca kola-chugging Peruvian fairy-prince.

Who dat?
Let me hear you say G.D.

Tonight in Milan marks the finale of il maestro giovincello Gustavo Dudamel’s Teatro alla Scala premiere, which began last month with la prima of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Don Giovanni on October 10, 2006.
 
There was so much anticipation at the beginning of October for this young director’s debut at Teatro alla Scala. Pretty awesome for me is that I know his wife, Eloísa, in a vague social capacity, as last month we shared certain morning activities together, and the excitement leading-up to la prima was palpable among our group. And let me just tell you that homegirl is as effervescent, witty, and bright as she appears...and I was duly impressed, because she was so committed to our daily activities, that she was in attendance the very morning of her husband’s premiere. Listen, if my husband was to premiere at Teatro alla Scala, I’d be laid-up in the gorgeous Hotel Sacher Spa in Vienna for a week-straight, making sure that my pores were scrubbed clean, and my hair laid brilliant and shiny. Damn straight. 

The reaction to Dudamel's la prima was mixed, but they all followed the same general principal that although Dudamel is provocative and precocious, he needs many more seasons to properly mature. He has a problem with capturing and presenting the cohesive theme of an overall work, and therefore conducts somewhat erratically. When he has his heart into a passage, it is gorgeous and breath-taking...but when he's distracted, he's lost.

The critics’ lamentations were quantified this morning, when I saw Dudamel conduct Mahler’s 3rd for the inauguration (you can find the official Filarmonica announcement as a Word Document here: Download comunicato stampa.doc) of the Filarmonica della Scala season. La 7 (channel 7 here in Milan) was carrying a broadcast of his performance from this past Monday, November 6th concerto at Teatro alla Scala, and I was able to discern his conducting.

Dudamel had a fairly loose grasp of the first movement, and it sounded chaotic, like it could slip away from him at any moment. The Menuetto was gorgeous however, suffused with paramount control and sentiment. (btw, the most worn-out version of Mahler's 3rd in our house is the 1969 Barbirolli Berliner, which is truely a masterpiece, and I can't recommend it enough.) He captured well Mahler's 3rd, but there were a few glitches that clashed with his overall proficiency. But no one really cares about his conducting right now; because unless he develops a crippling crystal meth addiction, or gets caught indulging in a shoplifting fix at Saks, they know he will eventually pull his sh*t together, and become the 'Next Big Thing".

In the meantime, Dudamel and his bubbly Venezuelan wife have been making the social rounds in Milan, and fashionably strutted between the covers of Corriere della Sera Magazine’s (edition #39 from September 29, 2006) flippant “Benvestiti/Malvestiti” (Best & Worst Dressed List) photo layout as two gorgeous benvestiti, alongside the likes of Cate Blanchett, Gisele Bündchen, and Prince Charles. (Although one of my favorite celebrity websites trashed the benvestito of Cate Blanchett, saying of the very same dress that, “the absurdly ethereal collar that makes it look like her head is the centerpiece in a macabre gift basket.”) heh.

Interestingly enough, the Dudamel picture chosen for the Corriere layout was cribbed directly from this webpage, which curated recent pictures of the Dudamels’ among the random company of a past event in Rome for the Orquesta Sinfónica Juvenil de Venezuela "Simón Bolívar", (Youth Orchestra Simón Bolívar that Dudamel has been conducting since he was sixteen-years-old), which hosted such magically random couples as Claudio and Daniele Abbado, Paolo and Matie Bulgari, and Roberto Benigni and Nicoletta Braschi. But why the hell in the name of holy god would you put on a public website a picture with his mouth all agape like that? Somebody please tell his agent before nasty photoshoppers like me get our agile little hands on it...

Btw, if you go to Dudamel’s website, and go to his personal favorites section, you’ll find gems such as this:

♥Historical personalities whom I despise most: Hitler (Right on, my Sephardic brother!)

♥Favorite name: Eloísa (awwwwwwwww!!)

Gustavo and Eloísa Dudamel rawk my socks.

I ain’t dissin’ on the Kissin

This past Friday night, November 10, 2006 at 9:00 pm, found me at Conservatorio “G. Verdi” for thirty-five-year-old Pianista Evgenij Kissin’s recital, organized by Fondazione La Società dei Concerti. Venue Conservatorio is fairly informal, with open seating, so people start queuing immediately. This demanded a comfortable and austere wardrobe, so I went in a basic white miu miu cotton t-shirt, a pair of Paper, Demin & Cloth indigo rinse jeans, a pair of miu miu black wedge boots, an Aspesi black windbreaker over it all, and my Chloe Paddington black bag. 

Since I arrived a bit late, I was in full bum-rushing mode, and started pushing over old ladies left and right for the best seat to ogle “teh Kissin”. The auditorium is a bit intimidating, shaped with maximum acoustic delivery in mind, and therefore you feel like you are trapped inside a giant, gilled whale. After the PR director made an announcement of the details of the entire program (which he did because they had apparently run-out of issues) Kissin appeared instantly in white tie, and a matching pallid face. His demeanor was very curt, distant, and professional…and I was all like, “In Soviet Russia, piano plays YOU!”

The first piece was Franz Schubert’s four movements of Sonata in E Flat Major D.568 (Op. 122). Kissin played it sweetly, but still retained a bit of coldness beneath. Beautiful but cold, he is seriously the ice prince. His interpretation of Ludwig van Beethoven’s 32 Variation (Eroica) in C Minor W.o.O 80 was tumultuous and thunderous, quick and light, and it was definitely the highlight of the first half. Kissin kept me entertained throughout with something I came to recognize as “goldfishing”: As he progressed through the movements, he involuntary snapped at the air with his mouth - about once every ten minutes - which reminded me of a goldfish coming up for food during feeding-time; it was quite endearing. 

Overall, I found the Kissin-style to be a bit sterile, a bit too perfect, too cool and too distant for me. But I recognize that this is because of my own shortcomings (which I discussed with my companion after the performance) that I continue to hold everyone up to the paradigm of Dinu Lipatti, who resonates epochs. As a former pianista myself (for twenty years), Lipatti is my voice, my timbre, and my mood. I can appreciate the others, but it is with Lipatti that all of my desires echo. But hey, comparing Lipatti to other pianists is like comparing your boyfriend to John Holmes. It’s just not done…

After the pause, Kissin returned from backstage, strode to the piano in his characteristic gait, and I swear this to you: his fingers connected with the keys like a heat-seeking missile to a warm target; and he began playing Brahms before his ass even touched that piano bench. That boy got mad money $kill$. For him, placing his hands on the keys is inherently more natural than placing his butt on the bench. I’ve never seen anyone launch into the pieces quicker than Kissin, and it was actually pretty hawt. Unfortunately for me, I find Brahms piano composition intolerable, especially Friday night’s selection of Brahms, his Klavierstücke opus 118. Brahms on piano to me is the boringest bore that ever bored, and I was fantasizing through this one, imagining that I was running my fingers through Kissin’s silky ‘fro. heh. kek. j/k. Clearly the sentiment was universal, as the “cough-to-silence ratio” must have tripled during the subsequent twenty-two minutes of the composition. Frédéric Chopin’s Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise brillante, Opus 22 was the highlight of the entire performance, and Kissin demonstrated his litheness and complete competence of the piano. Chopin is my most favorite piano composer like ev4r, and Kissin interpreted it much to my liking.

So there we have it: applause, applause, yay, yay, bravo, complimenti! Of course, Kissin arrives for his first encore, and we are all eager for his small gifts. Again: applause, applause, bows, flowers, bows, applause, and then another encore. This pattern continued for one hour and a half, as Kissin returned continuously for eleven more encores to play Mozart, Debussy, Liszt, Bach, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Joplin…it was an eruption of “Piano Gold” all over that stage. Personally, I was hoping that in all this time, Kissin was stalling so that BFF Levine could show-up for a guest performance and/or duet [insert tapemeasure + afro circumference jokes here]. One of the more curious of his encores was an interpretive rendition of the Chanson Bohemienne, "Les tringles des sistres tintaient” from the beginning of Act II of Bizet's Carmen.

I don’t know why someone didn’t stop him...his agent, the musical director, the ushers…it was insanity! OMG Kissin iz da greatest. You’d betta believe dat 'cause it’s true, baby!

Kissin for three hours, and my lips are chapped...

And I need you to remember one thing:
I came, I saw, I conquered
From record sales, to sold-out concerts
So motherf**ker if you want this encore
I need you to scream ‘til your lungs get sore
(Jay-Z, The Black Album, Encore)

I just returned home after a three-hour concerto from Evgeny Kissin (we know him as “Evgenij” in Italy) at Conservatorio "G. Verdi" on Via Conservatorio, Milan.

But when I say, “three-hour concerto”, I really mean a one-and-a-half-hour concerto, followed by a one-and-a-half-hour encore. I. Am. Not. Kidding.

Guess how many encores?  Guess.
Go on…I’m waiting.... 
Five encores?  heh.  Not even close.
Eight? Hardly there. Give up?
Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Here you go:

T to the W to the E to the L to the V to the E

Fo’ reals, fo’ reals.

Highlights?

There are too many to list, but I’ll leave you with a non sequitur before I return tomorrow with a full review and tons of media: Joplin, afro, Bizet, goldfish, Rondo alla turca, and bis.