Opera Chic

The Lady of the Whaaaaaa?: La Traviata Season Opener at La Scala

(Corriere della Sera has excellent screenshots here)

Who: Diana Damrau, soprano. Piotr Beczala, tenor. Daniele Gatti, conductor. Dmitri Tcherniakov, director + extras, an orchestra, journalists, media crews, security, police and impeccably-groomed spectators.

What: Opening night of Teatro alla Scala's 2013-14 Season, La Traviata

When: December 7, the traditional Sant'ambrogio feast day of Milan's patron saint.

Where: Milan, Italy.

How: Euros & couture, fake tans & kiwi-sized jewels.

Why: Dmitri Tcherniakov, why do you hate Giuseppe Verdi so much?

(Corriere della Sera's breakdown)

The aftermath: After all was booed and politely applauded in ten minutes of thanks for months of labor, another war erupted as the VIPs filed out of the theater to check-out minks from the coat check while companions checked-out legs over peach marble floors. Loggionisti who hadn't hightailed out of the upper decks cried 'buffone', eager to lure Gatti et al. for additional curtain call flogging. On the platea floor, the response from a passionate white tie was 'Vai a casa'. Go home.

A few hours earlier, the usual suspects arrived at Scala's marbled, mirrored foyer -- debonaire Robeto Bolle, sprightly Carla Fracci and dignified Giorgio Napolitano -- navigating deep décolletage, architectural up-dos, angry video crews and anxious security apes. Longtime Scala patron Marta Marzotto, reliably dripping in Pucci and Bulgari was MIA with Amazonian sidekick Valeria Marini and her vintage Braccialini purses. We could have used the humor. 

The evening began optimistically. After a moment of silence for Mandela, before the curtain rolled back and the opening notes of Traviata swept forward, 'Viva Verdi' was shouted from the galleries. In the month leading-up to opening night, nary a whisper escaped from Scala's backstage about last minute cast changes or stranger-than-fiction conspiracies. The most scandelous rumor encircled Violetta's death, surmised by overdose or atop a washing machine (freak hausfrau accident?) Don’t exhale just yet.

For all of the Italian media press clippings that exited this week detailing Dmitri Tcherniakov's deep respect and meticulously-scoured pages of La Traviata's manuscript, and for all of Daniele Gatti's intelligent remarks on characterization and his restoration of all things Verdi-sacred, the final product was baffling at best. Neither Italian nor French, Tcherniakov borrowed the whitewashed 19th century continental chic that giftwraps dozens of modern stages and trimmed it with dissonant costumes, like his woman in full Native American headdress. Was the Josephine Baker banana skirt costume on loan? Isn't Traviata supposed to be the height of haute bourgeois elegance?

There was technically-solid music making from everyone, including Damrau, although she was as close to Marilyn Monroe as Christina Aguilera's rose-lensed pipe dreams. Misfires here and there in a score marked with affectation apnea, Damrau/Barone flubbed the Act II 'Ah perché qui venni incauta' with a late cue. With eyes wide open, Beczala took the most serious hits for an unintelligent, charmless Alfredo, preparing pasta and chopping vegetables as Germont served trauma and then bringing Violetta sweets and flowers as she lay dying, everyone preoccupied with a vase. If Tcherniakov had a point, he didn’t quite make it.

The most critical held Gatti responsible -- the Milanese maestro who spent his junior years watching the podium from afar in La Scala's loggione -- for allowing such a misguided production. Or maybe it was his in-joke. Outside of Milan, Tcherniakov's shortcoming has been shifted to the public. Boys will be boys, whores will be whores, but dogs usually bark for good reason.

After so many years of non-Italian opening nights -- Wagner, Bizet and more Wagner -- and especially after Lohengrin greeted Verdi's bicentennial birth year at last year's opening, Scala finally welcomed its native son back to the fold, with arms wide open, regardless of Wagner transgressions. But when they rolled back the rock, it was a Frankenstein monster. Seal it back up! 

Native Italian opera risks extinction, domestic talent gone fair-weather for Europe and America, although blameless, we've all gotta pay the bills (or find bankrolled Swiss lovers). The public isn't angry, they're afraid.

Paolo Isotta, in a teaser column signed "persona non grata" in today's Corriere, called the whole thing ridiculous and totally unrealistic. He titled his piece "Quelle Camelie sbagliate" (not online), those befuddled camellias, citing the red camellia placed in Damrau's hair during the first and second acts. As everyone knows, says Isotta, the courtesan protagonist of Alexandre Dumas, fils' La Dame aux camélias wore a white camellia at her chest when she was accessible to her lovers and a red one when she wasn't.

He's critical of Gatti, whose Verdi is almost always correct, respectful, informed and enlightened. But Isotta accuses Gatti of playing to the director’s/singers' whims by allowing ridiculous giggles and pauses that sacrificed tempi and for affecting a big band sound, comparing it, at times, to Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado (like the Lucic/Damrau 'Ah non udrai rimproveri').

Beczala, aside from an incredible cadenza before "O mio rimorso, infamia" was given over to sobbing, bleating and braying throughout the remainder of the opera. Damrau, undeniably an amazing coloratura, made an uneven first act full of vocal and acting ticks that simply weren't in the manuscript, seeming not to know when she should cry or laugh. Her 'addio del passato' was solid, but 'Prendi quet'e' immagine' was impeded by bad direction. Isotta also cites her 'amnesia' on flubbed entrances.

Still, for anyone who's been to opening night at La Scala, there's no such thing as a bad night. After all, who could complain? We hope not the singers who garner small fortunes nor the audience whose (admitedly expensive) tickets guarantee equally savagery and delight in a setting that's a tone poem of elegance. What's to hate?

Armani (in Armani)

Bolle

Fracci

Pereira and his wife

La Scala Traviata Teasers, Violetta Echoes Monroe

La prima della Scala fever spikes and the only medicine is Verdi (and more cowbell). Last night, La Scala opened its doors to an under-30 neophyte litmus in the final La Traviata dress rehearsal before Saturday's official season opener. Applause pounded for Daniele Gatti's Verdi, Diana Damrau's Violetta and Piotr Beczala's Alfredo, with less enthusiasm for Željko Lučić's Germont.

The new production, signed by Dmitri Tcherniakov, places less emphasis on the scenery (scrubbed-up, modernized, mid-19th century throwback) and more 'fantasy' into modern day costumes -- notably Damrau who's been capped with a platinum blond wig of Marilyn Monroe curls (like that Aix-en-Provence Mireille Delunsch Violetta) and wrapped in a costume that oozes glamor (a low-cut blue dress, decolletage dripping with Swarovskyish ice), sexy but naive. In Act II, when Germont comes to tell Violetta that he's got 99 problems but she ain't 1, she's preparing homemade pasta in a well appointed kitchen.

The big shocker, from today's Corriere della Sera by journalist Pierluigi Panza, is that Violetta dies in a wooden chair, in a bare room with one window -- at her side an empty bottle, a telephone (lol landline) and a winter comforter. Austere, Ikea death. The death chair echoes (intentionally or not) the iconic, now-exemplar 1955/56 Scala-Visconti Traviata with Giulini, Di Stefano and Callas, when the world's most stylish diva died in a chair, at the time, very controversial. 

Tchernaikov spoke to Corriere della Sera's Giuseppina Manin and explained that his conception of Traviata was inspired by Ingmar Bergman and the psychological games of the protagonists, represented by an intimate, claustrophobic world of closed spaces where nothing is seen beyond the windows. He said:

The social context stays in the shadows. Since Traivata was first staged, 160 years have passed. Everything's changed from then to now.  First and foremost, morals. Words like 'reputation', 'honor' and 'sacrifice' sound very different than they did in the mid-19th century. Today no one's without sin and therefore who can judge a prostitute? Violetta of today could totally resemble a movie star. A seductive Marilyn Monroe, a bit irrational, beyond any kind of moral judgement.

Tchernaikov analyzed every page of the score with Gatti and said of the collaboration, "His observations were very useful. What was the trend in the 19th century is no longer the trend today [...] It's better to seek the deep motivations of everyone. You will find that even the terrible Germont has his reasons and justificatons."

While we wait for Saturday night, there's an excellent interview in Corriere della Sera's ViviMilano between Milanese conductor Daniele Gatti and journalist Gian Mario Benzing. This will be Daniele Gatti's second Traviata at La Scala and his second Scala season opener. Gatti's professional Verdi roots were planted when he was 20 with Giovanna d'Arco, then a Rigoletto in Bologna with Nucci and June Anderson. As a former La Scala loggionisti, the Milanese maestro grew up with Verdi in his blood and studied Falstaff often with his composition teacher.

Gatti says that Verdi's Traviata isn't necessarily an Italianate opera as it speaks of the influence of European cultures, notably Parisian, like the opening brindisi with a touch of 'folies bergères' and the waltzes and dances have overtones of French gaiety. The waltzer steps are intertwined with Greek meter -- two short and one long with the accent on the third syllable -- and the Greek tragedy manifests itself in the passage of time, especially towards the finale of anguish/death.

On his particular interpretation, Gatti said:

Everyone has their own ideal Traviata and it's difficult to be convincing. I however will not be a conductor who pulls the chariot of tradition: if you come to hear me, don't expect tradition. I feel pure in front of such a work of art -- when I re-study a score, I push myself to interpret it just like as if I had picked it up fresh from delivery.

[...]

La traviata is an opera that's been most performed and most abused. It's difficult to scrape off all the cliches that have famously accompanied it. Instead, cliches need to be avoided. I'm looking for a style that's dry. Expressive, but dry, and less redundant. I wrote out some mini-variations in the 'ripresa' of some of the cabalettas. For example, the one for the baritone, "No, non udrai rimproveri," you sing it two times and I'll make it much quicker, like a song that's anxious and throbbing -- Germont wants to be an affectionate father, but in reality he believes as an instrument in the hands of gawd and knows only how to put on a sense of guilt.

Gatti doesn't believe that Traviata is verismo and considers it more as realism and he wants none of his singers to use an excessive vocality. "It's a tragedy, but intimate and dignified." He continues: "Violetta is Rigoletto in a skirt who also has this 'hump' -- but her hump is a social deformity that sings about love."

This is Tchernaikov's first Verdi production for La Scala -- he's only exhibited Russian titles for Piermarini in the past -- Prokofiev's The Gambler, Tchaikovsky's Onegin and in March 2014 he's signed to a Rimsky-Korsakov The Tsar's Bride.

Coverboy Gatti

Milan Supersizes Verdi: Would You Like Traviata With That?

(Image from the 'Verdi e Milano' app)

Better late than never. In the runup to Teatro alla Scala's Traviata 235th season opener on December 7th, Milan's in full rally to celebrate the bicentennial birth year of its opera superhero, Giuseppe Verdi. The new Dmitri Tcherniakov production stars Gatti on the podium, Damrau as La dame aux camélias and Beczala as the dude. ”

Notable exhibitions around Milan include 'Veni, Vidi, Verdi, La Donna e' Mobile' at Palazzo Morando, 'L’impresa opera – Verdi. Boito. Ricordi' at Palazzo Moriggia and the WOW Museum of Comics presents 'Sempre Verdi', a collection of vintage, Verdi-themed comics in titles such as Mickey Mouse, Dago and Donald Duck.

Giuseppe Verdi's Milan haunts have been tracked, thanks to an app, 'Verdi e Milano', like the Via San Marco church where his Requiem Mass premiered, the Hotel et de Milan where he died and the Casa di Risposo G. Verdi retirement home that he founded.

Violetta in città: Around the city, strains of Traviata are being pumped in the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, some of the city's subway stations and at the Linate airport.

If you're not one of the lucky 3k in-house spectators on opening night, you can catch a live stream on Rai5 or in seven movie theaters and a handful of museum auditoriums (including the la Casa di riposo per musicisti Giuseppe Verdi).

Next door, the Trussardi alla Scala restaurant offers a special post-Scala menu at €180.00 per person, offering goose broth, cuttlefish, steamed lobster, duck and dessert, with an option for white truffles at an additional cost.

Daniele Gatti on Scala Traviata: Looking for Salvation

Not Gatti. Violetta. Although up against La Scala's grizzly loggionisti, only the foolhardy (or arrogant) would shun redemption. Think buoyant. Calm & confident, 007 in Brioni, a martini in one hand and a baton in the other.

As the Milanese maestro dusts off his Traviata white tie for his second Sant'Ambrogio Teatro alla Scala season opener, let's take a moment to remember that spectacular 2008 Don Carlos meltdown when Filianoti was replaced overnight and Gatti was turned into a piñata. Want to kill/time/travel? Linkage here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

Gatti knows what he's up against and he's seen firsthand an opera house soured and bitter as Campari. Yesterday he spoke to Il Giornale and said that he was up to the challenge of Traviata, notoriously sacred to the loggionisti: "Lots of people have asked me, why the hell would you do something like this? My morality makes me do it. It seems like it's impossible to pull off, but instead I consider it a gift from the heavens [...] I'm going to conduct it like 'Mr.Gatti' would, end-of-story. It'll be an intimate Traviata, both in setting and in the numbers of onstage characters."

On Violetta (to be sung by Damrau), he sees her as someone who's suffered an injustice and is looking for salvation. Although she chooses to frequent a certain type of environment, she still wants to save herself and has aspirations to have a husband and kids. He thinks that Alfredo (to be sung by Beczala) is honest, sincere, a bit naive, provincial and doesn't know how to keep his promises.

Meanwhile, deep in the heart of Italy, Riccardo Muti's had his hands full as Teatro dell'Opera di Roma peacekeeper. Strikes and grumbles was last week's news, but tomorrow his Ernani will bow the new season, as originally scheduled, in a Hugo de Ana production with Francesco Meli in the title role.

Starlight Starbright, Carmen Giannattasio Straight Outta Napoli

(Giannattasio in Alberta Ferretti dress and shoes. Hair/Make-up Mariano Sabbatelli. Photo Alessandro Sarno in Naples, Campania.)

Last night, La Traviata at Naples' Teatro di San Carlo ended its run, but we're still (sliiiightly) obsessed after checking it out. Turkish-Italian film director/screenwriter Ferzan Özpetek's new production (think: if Violetta kept an opulent mansion in Istanbul, parquet layered in rich Turkish carpets) was honored in opening the storied Neapolitan opera house's 2012-13 season on December 5.

Maestrino Michele Mariotti restored manuscript cuts (*wink* uncut *wink*) and presented an insanely-intricate score full of swing and butt-shaking rhythm. Insanity, really, to hear such ballsy flow in a traditional, historical setting. Give this kid a turntable and he'll do damage. 

Spotlight diva Carmen Giannattasio shook plaster from the walls and gold-leaf from the ceiling as an outrageously-juicy Violetta. Hurricane Carmen, a force of nature. Nevermind the fact that the opera house announced she was fighging a flu but would sing anyway. Hometown hero Carmen, born and raised in the mountains of Avellino (now living in London), returned to her native theater after the past year of singing at The Met (Leonora in Trovatore) and Covent Garden (Mimi in Bohème) to wide open arms. We discovered her in 2009, in Erminoe (just like Ceci, she attaches herself to rarer, unconventional compositions) and we wrote about her sultry, smoky, sexy, sassy presence and unique voice, blessedly more talented than hyped, for once, slamming back Rossini and Verdi in a way that makes us cross our fingers and hope that we've found the "proverbial precious truffle."

As a byproduct of Milan's Accadmia del Teatro alla Scala (1999 - 2001), an Operalia winner (in 2002) and racking a Gramophone Opera Award, sure, on paper, it seems like victories come easy for the Mediterranean firecracker.

But Giannattasio spoke candidly to Corriere del Mezzogiorno (not online) a few days before her high-profile season opening Violetta and shared a deeply personal struggle with her fans. Here it is in OC's translation:

"Thanks to a recent article that was written about my combination of vocal skill coupled with my charisma, I've been compared to a top pop idol. But in reality, I really don't think that I match the standards of a pop model. Actually, I'd define myself as a "trop model", size 38 [that's a "medium" size 4-6 in USA conversions], a person who likes fashion, likes to have an original look, but who is also careful of my physical form, especially considering my weakness for salty foods like "salsicce e friarielli" [sausages fried with a type of green vegetable, similar to broccoli rabe, that you find in Naples], pizza and sfogliatelle [insanely-delicious ricotta-filled, shell-shaped fried pastries typical to the region, which OC ate a’plenty].

The problem, unfortunately, is that on stage, they always want you to be forever young, lean, agile and beautiful. Therefore, there are many sacrifices, but the key is that you must do it without arriving at a fevered pitch, a paroxysm, like the same kind that unfortunately often grips the world of fashion.

I have to be sincerely honest -- in fact, it's the first time that I’ve ever come out publically -- starting in my 20s, and up until about 4-5 years ago, right in the middle of my career's big trajectory, I struggled with bulimia, which at times, relapsed. Singing and my voice waere the only things that saved me: Aside from the weight loss, I was losing my voice. It was then that I realized that I risked to lose everything.

And this is why I'm outing it. I want to make an appeal to all the girls and women out there: To stay fit is, of course, important, but like everything, you need to find equilibrium. Balance. It's better to cut out the junk food from your diet and walk a little bit more. Listen, it's not a coincidence that fashion designer Alberta Ferretti thought of me to model the dresses that she designs for curvier women. I mean, these are the kind of dresses that you can wear without worrying about indulging in a tasty sfogliatella! [seriously, sfogliatella straight outta Naples are to die for]."

Courageous, really, to speak about something that doesn't get any airtime in Italy. Easting disorders aren't as rampant here as they are in the USA, but it's simply not talked about.

By the way, those photos above and below come from a recent photoshoot that Giannattasio did with Italian fashion icon, Alberta Ferretti. Giannattasio modeled the collections in the San Carlo opera house,, found on OC's computer here: C:\Users\Opera Chic\Documents\My Pictures\Opera Divas\Divas That Will Cut You\Carmen_Giannattasio.jpg. Personally, we think of Giannattasio as a young Charlotte Rampling photographed by Peter Lindbergh.

And what about that Violetta in San Carlo? Slammed it! The Financial Times was there and said: "Carmen Giannattasio is singing with such well-judged phrasing, such a melting tone, such a compelling build-up of tension."  

Italian critics raved, too, including Corriere della Sera's notoriously cranky classical music/opera legend, Isotta, who can cut down your entire career in a single sentence, usually written in Latin. Isotta, upon hearing Giannattasio, recalls divas past, just as Rupert Christiansen did, comparing her to actress Anna Magnani.

Isotta paragoned her to, honor of all honors, Magda Olivero. He writes:

"The protagonist is the girl from Avellino, Carmen Giannattasio. She's got good pronunciation, a beautiful voice and grand technique. She has, like I wrote a few days ago about Jonas Kauffman [in his Teatro alla Scala Lohengrin review], a foundation of singing "sul fiato" and "messe di voce" that gives you goose bumps. Her "Ah! dite alla giovine" burns out your eyeballs. In my opinion, she's a model sourced and inspired like one of the greatest "Grand Dames" of operatic arts, Magda Olivero."

So really, what more is there to say?

(Giannattasio in Alberta Ferretti dress and shoes. Hair/Make-up Mariano Sabbatelli. Photo Alessandro Sarno in Naples, Campania.)

Time Marches On: Willy Decker's La Traviata

 

Marina Poplavskaya as Violetta © Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

How sassy is it to inaugurate an opera production whose silent protagonist is a menacing clock on the holiday where it's all about ~the countdown~? Willy Decker's 5-year-old La Traviata takes its premiere tomorrow night (New Year's Eve!) at The Metropolitan Opera, his minimalist concept that features a large clock on a stark, Richard Serra curve, monopolizing the pulse of Verdi's score (and tragic heroine's demise) that starts the countdown from the first, loaded bars of the overture.

Everyone on stage in clean blacks, whites and reds, Decker's Traviata premiered in 2005 at the Salzburger Festspiele and starred La Netrebko as Violetta, Thomas Hampson as Germont and Rolando Villazón as Alfredo (with Carlo Rizzi conducting the Wiener Philharmoniker). It was lauded for its streamlined approach which allowed the characters to shed the often-overbearing architecture of hyper-realistic stagings.

Decker's new vision was cheered in Europe, but will his giant clock become a metaphor of NYC's collective cultural phobia of time marching on? Get with it or get lost in it! Are you ready? 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 -- Operapocalypse!

La Traviata for The Met stars Marina Poplavskaya as Violetta, Matthew Polenzani as Alfredo, and Andrzej Dobber as Germont with Gianandrea Noseda representing Verdi's twinkling score.

Preview it (with Salzburger's original cast) on YouTube. All photos copyright of The Met's go-to photographer, Ken Howard

Marina Poplavskaya as Violetta © Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

Marina Poplavskaya as Violetta © Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

Matthew Polenzani as Alfredo © Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

Marina Poplavskaya as Violetta © Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

© Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

D-Day in Santa Fe: Dessay Steps Up her Game with Traviata's Violetta

She's sung almost everything from Morgana in Handel's Alcina to Ophélie in Thomas's Hamlet, but tonight, the bomb drops on Dessay-Day, and Natalie unveils her first Violetta exclusively for the Santa Fe Opera. The new Verdi Traviata production is from the Laurent Pelly/Chantal Thomas wonder-twin power team, and the highly-anticipated production has everyone clamoring for tickets. OC regrets she can't be in Santa Fe for the opening night, but wishes the entire Santa Fe Opera a giant in bocca al lupo!

Rome's Traviata (2007) With Gheorghiu, Vittorio Grigolo, Bruson: Good Times

A few clips from that memorable drama-llama "Traviata" in Rome, 2007, when Angela Gheorghiu first got pwnd by Renato Bruson (who, as Germont, brought the house down and gave an encore  -- she, Violetta didn't because the audience didn't seem to want one from her); then Angela, badly dissed by critics, promptly left town (more here).

Anna Netrebko's Iced-Out, Blinged-Out Appearance at Opernhaus Zürich

Opera Chic is lucky to have so many well-connected friends from all around Europe who keep her in-the-loop of so many wonderful, operatic happenings. So it is from a lovely friend from Switzerland that OC heard the first report of Anna Netrebko's Violetta premiere for Opernhaus Zürich, and she is gracious to pass on the report. Pictures above and below also provided by her thoughtful friend.

Anna's return to the Opernhaus Zürich was "a gathering of local and international celebrities", and our source tells us that, inevitably, spotted among the crowds were retired bank magnates & moguls, and well-heeled (and well-plastic-surgeried) socialites. And continuing:

"In a performance more mature than her 2005 Salzburg Violetta, there were high expectations, and those expectations were fully met. Anna Netrebko's immaculate singing paired with fine acting made her Violetta very natural and convincing."

"Piotr Beczala as Alfredo also was very fine , although a bit tense in the top notes. He has a wonderful vocal tone which matches very well with Anna's, hence their duets were nothing short of gorgeous."

"Marco Armiliato led a rousing (if here and there a bit wobbly) orchestra with ample pace and fervor."

But the best bit:

"The evening was sponsored by Chopard where Anna Netrebko, as we know, is under contract. So in the lounge you could admire the latest jewelery collection presented in glass showcases guarded by security men, and in Act II Scene 2 Violetta showed off a six figure necklace and matching earrings - recognizably one of the pieces on display in the lounge."

Brand ambassador!

Anna Netrebko Shows Up for Traviata Rehearsals in Fashion

Here's a behind-the-scenes clip of a giggling Anna Netrebko rehearsing with Piotr Beczala shot by SF1, Switzerland's national TV. The two took the stage last night as Violetta & Alfredo in Anna's Opernhaus Zürich Traviata premiere.

Anna talks, rocking a pair of Gucci sunglasses and a beaded Escada top. And we're mentally making out with the camerman for zooming in on her iced-out, Swarovski-covered BlackBerry flip on top of her Traviata manuscript. ~Living the dream~ Someone needs to introduce her to Christian Audigier/Ed Hardy already.

Anna Netrebko's Traviata in Zürich

Netrebko madness has descended on Switzerland, as tomorrow evening she'll take the Opernhaus Zürich stage for the first time as Violetta in Verdi's La Traviata. The three performances (April 22, 26 & 29) of Jürgen Flimm's production have been sold-out for ages. She's like the wii of opera singers.

After Zürich, she's off to Wiener Staatsoper in May for three more performances of Violetta, and then stateside at the San Francisco Opera in June for five more Violettas.

Tomorrow night in Zürich, Anna will be lead by Marco Armiliato on the podium, Piotr Beczala as Alfredo, and Juan Pons as Germont.

Zürich released a few pictures:

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Opera For The People: La Traviata In Zurich's Central Train Station, Live on ARTE TV

Only in Switzerland you can orderly stage an opera in the middle of the city's central station the way Opernhaus Zurich did tonight. Eva Mei, Vittorio Grigolo, the Zurich Opera Orchestra conducted by Paolo Carignani have brought Traviata to the people, using various parts of the station as sets, while in an example of controlled chaos people walked by, stared at the madness of it all, took the singers' photos (the orchestra -- obviously the only static element of the production -- was placed on a platform in the middle of the center hall, while singers and the chorus moved around).

The audience/travelers reaction at the end of the show? Massive, unabashed enthusiasm and a never ending ovation that was still going on many minutes after the last note, when the broadcast ended -- each and every one of those people in the train station blissfully unaware of the much-discussed death of classical music, difficulty to understand opera, and general aloofness of nineteenth century musical theater.

Arte TV, probably the best TV station in the world, broadcast it live.

Opera Chic watched it, and you didn't.

More later, by0tches.

~*~

Plasma screenshots:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tergermi da tanta macchia bramo! la Traviata Chaos @ la Scala

[**Update**: The strike, which was to cancel Saturday & Monday's Traviata, as well as Barenboim's la prima of Prokofiev's The Gambler on June 16 has been called off last-minute by one of the unions.]

La Scala's cross to bear this season comes in the form of the popular Verdi opera, La Traviata, and it just goes from bad to worse. Unbelievable fallout continues to spin-off from the January 2008 cancellation of the highly-anticipated Terry Gilliam-directed Andrea Chenier. Scala decided to replace Chenier with the uber-boring & ultra-heavy 1990s Liliana Cavani-directed production of Traviata, which they had also dusted-off last July and put into the rotation, hoping to distract from the banality by offering Angela Gheorghiu in the lead role. We were there at la Scala for opening night, witnessed the horror with Angela Gheorghiu in tow, and let's just say that it wasn't pretty.

This time around it doesn't get much better: First came Devia's last-minute cancellation of the rehashed production, then came Corriere della Sera's slam in the form of a wicked, trashing review (see more below), and now comes the inevitable Scala orchestra strike.

To further dismantle the slighted Traviata production currently running at la Scala, the orchestra, once again, will strike tomorrow night (Saturday) leaving Traviata ticket-holders in the lurch. a strike has been called off at the last minute by one of the many unions that basically run the opera house. It has been a grand total of six months that the Scala orchestra last pulled the whole strike drama, at the time even risking the prestigious, much anticipated December 2007 season opening of the Barenboim-conducted Tristan und Isolde.

The current Traviata was slammed by Milan's music critic, who titled his review, "Monatanaro in Debut, Traviata Doesn't Fly." For the singers, he had nothing too offensive to recall, offering lukewarm praise to the adequate Violetta (Irina Lungu, the replacement of Mariella Devia), the technically-sound but charismatically-lacking Alfredo (José Bros), and Germont's always on-point Renato Bruson. It was the 39-year-old, Italian born conductor Carlo Montanaro who bled-out the dying production. The review relayed:

"Ma ad ascoltare questa Traviata pare un azzardo, un investimento spericolato. Il problema non sono i tempi lenti ma il fatto che non veicolano un suono conseguente; il suono, anzi, arriva stanco: cantabili sgonfi e impalpabili, cabalette pesanti. Non c'e' scatto, scarsa l'energia, non l'ombra di un guizzo. La temperatura drammatica non lievita, si resta ancorati a un passo faticoso."

Translation?:"But listening to this Traviata, it (ed: in reference to hiring Carlo Montanaro as the conductor) appears to be a reckless gamble. The problems are not the slow tempi, but lies in the fact that they don’t create a sound; the sound, in fact, is limp...with deflated and nonexistent cantabile and heavy cabalette. There is no pulse, very little energy, not even the shadow of a spark. The dramatic temperature does not grow, it remains anchored to a weary pace."

Ouch! We're actually quite happy for those strike-stricken Saturday-night ticket holders, who can instead of rushing to the theater only to have a night of mediocrity and boredom, can instead enjoy their weekend sensibly.

The Skank Who Came In From The Cold: The Herrmanns Don't Rape Traviata, Temirkanov Translates Verdi Into Russian

Very few things in life one cannot refuse no matter how tired one feels -- a trip through a Manhattan snowstorm to get to the FedEx office to pick up that pristine vintage scarf from Balenciaga one's friend in Paris has found at the Puces in Saint Ouen, a daytrip to the Prada Outlet in Tuscany no matter how hellish the traffic back to Milan on the Autostrada Del Sole will be, crashing a NFL Madden-style line of defense made up of tourists to get to see for the 114th time the Cenacolo @ Santa Maria delle Grazie (or, as an American tourist enlightened us once, "the Dan Brown painting").

A Traviata in Parma's Teatro Regio is one of those things you just cannot miss.

No matter if the Goyard vintage luggage lies still untouched in the hallway, and the crushing jetlag is the kind stylish Oscar-winning films set in Japan are made of: we're so there.

We'll write about the gigantic lunch @ signora Miriam in Trattoria La Buca next week -- we get fat just thinking about it, we need a break -- so here's the play-by-play account of our night at the opera.

Back in April, we got excited by the idea of that subtle, most elegant of conductors,  Yuri Temirkanov , in charge of Traviata, possibly OC's most beloved opera. We got worried instead by the thought of the Herrmann team (not Bernard, that major American composer of the 20th Century), Karl-Ernst and his wife Ursel, directing the piece. Because after bleeding all the Mozart awesomeness out of too many masterpieces (a sterile Così Fan Tutte, a lamely wacky Clemenza Di Tito that had Riccardo Muti rightly appalled, and he ended leaving the Salzburg production in the early 1990s, a geometrically boring Idomeneo) they got us all like, wtf.

(^^^^^^THE DIREKTORS)

We were obviously worried about the German couple's treatment of the piece -- not that we like our Traviata to be necessarily oldskool like the b0ringest Traviata we saw last July in Milan, mind you, we love that wonderful man of Graham Vick's amazing take on it and we're eagerly waiting for an opera house to hire Nigel Lowery to tackle Traviata -- but we were afraid of seeing just another punk Violetta OD with a huge needle in her arm as a Rocky Horrorrific procession of space trannies danced some weird tribal dance.

Instead the Herrmanns gave a very beautiful -- if sometimes pleasantly, slightly kitschy -- account of that greatest of love stories: the big fat dining room painted a Barneyish throbbing shade of purple, the huge oval table in the first act with a Madonna-circa-1985-ultraskanky-Material Girl-Violetta (tho' a really skanky-secksy Svetla Vassileva showing off some really nice legs) dancing on it, straddling -- long legs akimbo -- various lucky guests, their top hats flying everywhere, sparklers planted inside big pineapples, plates happily crashing on the floor. The vista of frozen lake out of the huge floor to ceiling windows in Act II, ice and snow enveloping the action -- the frostiness of separation, of the interruption of love, of paternal deceit. And the genius touch of Germont (a very solid Vladimir Stoyanov, with the right degree of the scared bourgeois' cold blood and with a very very good clear cut Italian diction) singing the heartbreaking "Di Provenza" as Alfredo noisily bawls his out in a fetal position on the floor, unable to even move or to stop crying -- a not so small touch, with a really strong effect on the audience.

And then the crazy party with the gypsies on a stage within the stage, a guy in a lobster mask (don't ask), the croupier cheerfully dealing bad cards, money flying again, Violetta falling down on the floor and her beautiful virginal white dress becomes a broken flower seen from above, her torso its stem; and she sings, "Alfredo, Alfredo di questo core" while lying face down on the floor, basically singing into the floor -- a difficult feat Svetla accomplished beautifully.

The third act, the most conventional part of the staging, had one thing that had poor ol' romantic Opera Chic (Traviata turns us into mush, deal wit it) in stitches: "Parigi, o cara" was sung with Alfredo and Violetta giving their backs to each other -- a lie that you're uncapable of delivering while looking at the loved one in the face. A small idea, but a very good one.

THE SINGERS

Vassileva started out bad in the first -- not because she missed any notes, she was spot-on all night -- but because she employed that huge voice of hers with really good centri but with the tops really really ugly, a voice that's too harsh up there and the more she pushes the more she gets it out of control -- not my thang at all. She got better and better, more confident, pushing less, and reaching into those beautiful middles she has, and even the lack of chemistry with Alfredo in act I, a perfectly correct if somewhat uninspiring Massimo Giordano, was replaced by a nice warmth as the opera progressed. It just didn't work at the party -- I mean, he's already smitten, OK;  but she was just being a bYotch, not REALLY giving away one inch, and her interest for the boi totally approached zero; unhelped by really heavy makeup and those legs in black tights very visible all the time, she just looked like a very nasty skank, not one of the most complex heroines in the history of everything.

She thankfully recovered, stealing the show from the boi. We have already said that Stoyanov as Germont gave a really dignified appearence to that awful man's hypocrisy, and his Di Provenza was really good.

 
TEH UNCLE SOLLY

Yuri Temirkanov, our dear Uncle Solly, did something very special and unique (and was cheered as a hero by the Parma Verdi ultrasnobs): as we wrote last night, in Act I a few times the voices, and in one instance the orchestra, couldn't really match his intentions and the voices lagged slightly behind and the orchestra ran the risk of giving that appalling ooompah-ooompah beat that Verdi gets whenever things in the pit collapse on themselves -- Temirkanov's quicksilver tempi were the fastest we've heard this side of young Muti (still our fave conducting in any Traviata), the pacing that required lighting-fast change of colors -- then the production really took off, and it all made sense: the understated lean/mean Traviata  of the first act was in fact as flirtatious with the listeners as Violetta's own attitude -- became in Act II, with the separation of the lovers, a brooding race toward their frantic reunion; then the horrible sadness of Act III, Violetta's death hitting you as hard as a slap across the face, the dark colors of Act II having become very clear and delicate in Act III -- Temirkanov conducting with a merciless eye toward the text, toward what's happening onstage -- a stroke of genius that made the audience perplexed at first, then when it became clear what he was doing, well, somebody even screamed "Bravo Maestro!" right after the preludio of Act III, igniting more applause from the audience, and you should have been there to hear the cheering, the "Grazie Maestro!" screamed from the usually cruel loggionisti, and Temirkanov shyly climbing onstage as the orchestra happily stomped their feet on the pit's wooden floor, beating their bows on their music stands, and Temirkanov was kissed twice by his Violetta and he shyly pointed his index finger toward his cheek -- requesting a third kiss, Russian style, bringing down teh haus even more.

PS:: A quick note to fans of the too-famous Violettas who think that it's all about them, period: whenever Vassileva came out on stage to enjoy her many calls, she pointed to the orchestra pit, and clapped her hands, asking the audience to give it up for the kids who had played so well such an unusual reading of Traviata. She knew that without their great work, and had the grace to share the massive cheering with them.

Yuri Temirkanov's "Traviata" In Parma: The Dying Of The Light

Verdi Festival is raging in Parma and so, KungFu-Fighting a serious case of teh jetlags in the name of Verdi, Opera Chic earlier today had her sassy corpse driven to Parma where (after a revitalizing lunch at Trattoria La Buca in Zibello, the place where Bill Buford fell in love with Italian handmade pasta, and you would too, and his life was changed forever, and yours would be too) she witnessed a stunning metamorphosis: her sweet Uncle Solly, better known by the general public as Yuri Temirkanov, walked on the podium as the greatest Tchaikovsky conductor in the world and as one of the most prominent Mahler conductors, and two and a half hours later walked on stage to gather the thunder of applause from the all-knowing Verdi gourmets of Parma who officially elected him as one of the greatest Verdi conductors working today.

Because most people would not think of hiring Temirkanov as a conductor to stage a Traviata a few miles from Verdi's hometown during Verdi's own festival -- instead he showed everybody how for all the talk about the "Italianate sound", the "Russian sensibility", and all that, a Russian conductor can work with an orchestra of young Italians in front of what could possibly be the audience made up of the most snobbish Verdi lovers in the world, and give a lesson in, ahem, "Italianate sound".

A full review w/pix is coming later tomorrow because Opera Chic needs Japanese green tea and organic minestrone di verdure and a good night's sleep under Pratesi's bedsheets, but Temirkanov -- in the Herrmann's production that already was introduced in Germany and at La Monnaie, more about the Herrmanns tomorrow -- really accomplished something very major: after a first act where a few times the voices, and in one instance the orchestra, couldn't really match his intentions -- the quicksilver tempi, the sudden, delicious sense of pacing that required lighting-fast change of colors -- the production really took off, and it all made sense: the lean, mean understatement of the first act was in fact as flirtatious with the listeners as Violetta's own attitude -- it then became in the second act a dark, brooding run heading toward the frantic excitement and devastating sadness of the third, at Violetta's deathbed.   

What a joy to see uncle Solly conduct in his trademark batonless manner -- "When in doubt, just look into my eyes" he tells his orchestras -- using as always his left hand to beautifully shape his dynamics and tickle the music with his fingers whenever he needs more from a section, lowering his shoulders as if exhaling in sadness whenever he needs less, and how often he does. In the second act, a window on the set reflected, from our vantage point, the LCD screen placed stage right with the live feed of the YuriCam, the video feed of the conductor's cues for the benefit of the singers placed deeper onto the stage, and Opera Chic just thought, wow, one day a smart opera house will broadcast these feeds live over the Internet, and music companies will add them as extra content in their overpriced DVDs.

And we'll all take conducting lessons from our favorite maestri.

Why Angela Will Leave

Anyway. Full disclosure: Opera Chic is a known Nucci fangirl. Ok thx.

Having said that, Maestro Nucci is scheduled to appear at la Scala tomorrow night (alongside Vargas and Lungu) and on the 17. On the 17 Alfredo will be that hottie Jonas Kaufmann; Violetta will be la Gheorghiu.

What does it mean? The consensus here -- oh the txt messages & emails we've received today from our well-informed friends and neighbors -- is that putting la Gheorghiu on the same night as Nucci (beloved by so many here at la Scala) is very likely a recipe for disaster.

Because:

a) it's realistic to assume that Maestro Maazel will from now on concentrate more on the job at hand, thus avoiding more unpleasant reactions from the loggione (he's not their favorite but he had a pretty civil relationship with them until last night, and he had even received from the loggionisti WILD cheering for his conducting a beautifully fierce and elegantly tense Tosca last year -- ed. Opera Chic was also mightily impressed by Tosca/Dessì's beWbs)

b) Kaufmann has recently sung here in a recital and has left a very good impression. And frankly, he's sexier and more confident than his colleague Vargas.

c) unless Nucci drops the ball and has one of his (very) infrequent not-so-good nights, we can assume he'll get A LOT of cheering. They won't clamor for an encore, OK, the way they did in Rome with Renato Bruson.

But why would Angela's Violetta risk being upstaged by Giorgio Germont? Why would a global secksystar risk having a 65-year-old gentleman steal the show, and maybe get the boos while Nucci gets flowers and bunnies and standing ovations and jus primae noctis over nubile young women?

We've seen Nucci drive la Scala insane with joy -- we've heard the wild cheering, the screams of "Sei come Cappuccilli" -- la Scala's greatest compliment for a baritone --, we've seen the usually stern gentlemen in bespoke suits all misty-eyed after Nucci's "Il Balen del Suo Sorriso". We've heard the thundering noise of the happy feet of the overjoyed gallerie audiences going all thudthudthudthud on the gallerie's glorious wooden floors, sending little echoes all around the hall for Nucci.

Now, Angela has given the cameras here already enough material between the prova generale and last night's show to compose a decent DVD that will come out next year. Why would anyone -- any soprano, not just Angela -- risk being a spectator of somebody else's success like that? Why should she be there getting the occasional boo while impotently watching Nucci bring teh haus down?

Why?

That's why so many of the good ones here are betting against Gheorghiu being still here on the 17th. Fool me once (in Rome), OK.

Twice? No way, Leo.

Irina Lungu: Who's That Girl?

Tired of trying to project enough power to reach the deeper regions of the cavernous opera house last night, Angela Gheorghiu will rest her tonsils tomorrow night and Violetta, as scheduled, will be Irina Lungu. La Gheorghiu -- who, as we have already written, has to thank the heavens that Maestro Maazel sucked so bad that he distracted the loggionisti from Angela's limitations and took by far the most part of the boos -- la Gheorghiu  is supposed to be back on stage Saturday night, at 8PM sharp, hair and makeup and costume ready. Possibly. But more of that later.

Anyway: Angela's understudy (the third soprano booked for this already unfortunate production is Elena Mosuc) has already appeared at la Scala in 2004 and she rawked Rome this past April with her Violetta. She's been apparently so good during rehersals that Irina really surprised many people around Scala, we have been told, with fine acting, clear diction, good power and a beautiful intonazione -- a tasty 27-year old brunette from Moldova, she is 15 years younger than Angela (or even 17, if you listen to the gossip that indicates a little of creative PR tinkering with Gheorghiu's actual birthdate.

She is scheduled to appear alongside Ramon Vargas (again) and Germont pére will be the awesome Leo Nucci, replacing last night's Roberto Frontali, a seasoned pro who has all of Opera Chic rezpect but whose baritone, last night, came across as simply too flat  -- on the stony side especially when more warmth was needed, for example in "Di Provenza" -- and we really hope it was simply a bit of fatigue.

Critics Go Nuclear On "Useless" Maazel, "Capricious" Gheorghiu

Oh Lordy Lordy.

Where to begin?

OK, Italy's leading newspaper, Corriere della Sera, goes nuclear in so many ways on the Scala production of Traviata that Opera Chic  had the misfortune to attend last night (and she missed a very nice Southampton 4th of July barbecue for this!).

The first attack is, well, a subtle but lethal stab -- the paper's lead classical music critic, the one who declined to review Gheorghiu's Traviata in Rome last April and went to a performance of the understudies instead (best diss evar), declined to review the Scala's show, and opted to write a beautiful hommage to the late Beverly Sills (taking care to point out how, among her many accomplishments, the usually very stern Corriere lead critic writes, Sills has been "one of the greatest Violettas" in history).

Among the praise for Sills, "queen of technique and of pathos", kudos to her "unique vibrato technique", "a musicality of the highest order", her chilling death scenes, and she "will forever have a unique place in music history". Then the critic admits that in her arias of deepest sorrow, she had the power to literally move to tears.

What a beautiful hommage.

And the duty to review the Traviata fell on the shoulders of the other Corriere critic, a urbane scholar who's usually polite and moderate in his pans. But he made an exception last night.

Let's see, and remember that we're talking about the review of a usually quiet musicologist and college professor who's on the record as being that rare creature, a critic who usually likes Maazel:

... Angela Gheorghiu, Romanian soprano who has the habit of acting as a ridiculous diva in an era that does not allow such behavior anymore...

... to see today this 1990 staging means to see all the dust, all the wear and tear, all the  problems  that make it much weaker than its actual age suggests. It's a Traviata completely without ideas, a staging that does not say anything on the mystery of this woman, one of the most fascinating creatures ever imagined by an artist's mind...

(Maazel), formidable French-American musician, is a capricious man: can conduct divinely, as in the recent Rachmaninov concert here at la Scala and can give useless and lazy performances such as this one... the music sticks to the skin like humidity in these clammy Milan days, heavy, dead, unless Maazel occasionally remembers to be the artist he is... slow tempi, washed-out sound...

(Gheorghiu) the "diva" is truly an average soprano, small-voiced,  wrong diction, but she does have colors, intonazione, and even beautiful expressive moments. The problem? She acts on stage like the diva she believes herself to be, with hysteria... not even young Pavarotti could get away with this stuff... 

Wow.

Wowzykins.

The critic for il Giornale goes nuclear as well. Just read his first two words:

"Ouch. Ouch." ("Ahi. Ahi" in Italian).

And then the barrage  begins, mentioning how "Gheorghiu sings the way they used to sing in provincial opera houses a long time ago... irregular emissione... the shabby vowels of her Italian diction... the speed changes meant to create cheap effects. If she hadn't announced her presence here as some sort of Messiah the audience would have greeted her cordially, because she's a singer who deserves respect in her repertoire... Maazel's inertia is very different from his great days on the podium... the booing upset him in the finale... only rarely a conductor abandons his singer they way Maazel did by refusing the curtain calls".

Ahia!

hOh Noes Look What You've Done Angiola The Drama Llama Is Back!

Critics savage last night's Traviata at La Scala, question the management's judgement, cut Gheorghiu down to size, scold Maazel and zero in on director Cavani; show-stealing Leo Nucci lurks in the wings; an All About Eve scenario begins to develop; the "when is Angela leaving Milan" countdown begins among Scala insiders; and more.

Much More.

Teh Drama Llama is back in full force at la Scala; Opera Chic has delayed her flight home indefinitely; stay tuned for wall-to-wall coverage according to this website's shameful tradition when it comes to classical music drama developing at la Scala.

Stay tuned for more juicyness...

Angela Gheorghiu Gets A Loggionisti Pardon, Survives Almost Unscathed; Lorin Maazel Almost Pulls An Alagna, Refuses To Show Up For Curtain Calls *~>UPDATED<~*

BREAKING

This just in: Opera Chic has just come home from la Scala's Traviata, Angela Gheorghiu's opera debut in the theatre where her husband Roberto Alagna got booed off the stage last December in Aida.

More later, very soon, but for now: Angela Gheorghiu got sporadically booed by loggionisti but was lucky enough to be saved by the lameness of Maestro Maazel's conducting -- it was poor Maazel who ended up taking one for the team, a bit like the dude who went hunting with Dick Cheney and got shot in the face and then apologized to the VP.

Anyway: in the audience we were all bracing for a skewering of la Gheorghiu but we got instead an anti-Maazel torrent of boos right before the start of the third act. Maazel actually had to wait a full 90 seconds until all the booing had died down, because it would have drowned out the pianissimo of the Scala orchestra.

It went downhill from there. And Angela was home free.

Stay tuned for more...Opera Chic needs to showah

VVVV UPDATE VVVV

The drama llama that is the Alagna-Gheorghiu couple keeps on giving, but sometimes in a weird way: as I said, everybody thought Gheorghiu was going to get a brisk a$$kicking by loggionisti tonight (the sad truth is that they mostly hate her for having uttered some slightly flippant remarks about Callas -- something like "I don't imitate any other sopranos, Callas included", or words to that effect -- more than for her, frankly, too-small voice).

OC had only heard Gheorghiu live once before tonight's trainwreck -- a recital at la Scala, and it's unfair to judge a soprano's power from a recital like that one. But in that big house, tonight, Gheorghiu's voice REALLY sounded small. And her acting, well, she has charisma but not really tons of it.

Instead, she did get some booing -- mostly concentrated on the left side of the second galleria where a small team of loud Angela-haterz vocalized some nasty BOOOOOOOOOOOs after her big arias of the first and second act. They were clearly there, but they were kinda drowned-out with the general applause anyways.

The surprise, though, was Lorin Maazel's conducting: OC is on the record as being a fan of the maestro's knowledge and his competence, but this is the night where he embodied all the limitations his haterz keep talking about -- that he just goes thru the motions like a high-priced hack.

It was a very bad night for the maestro, a night that smelled of lack of preparation with the orchestra (because come on, these people have been subjected to Muti's Verdi drills for 20 years, and in the last two years they have delivered two perfectly fine Verdi performances for Maestro Chailly, a muscularly hot Rigoletto and a correct if uninspiring Aida, it can't be the orchestra's fault; and Maazel is a man who knows his scores. Tonight's debacle just reeked of laziness on the maestro's part).

What happened? Well, he tried to flesh out the first act doing that "elegantly aloof" thing that he sometimes does very well, only it collapsed on him: very stilted phrasing, overlong tempi, a sense of shallowness. Act II is where things really fell apart, never to recover.

And the loggionisti's impatience cost him a nice round of boos and nasty catcalls ("Poor Verdi", "Poor Italy", "Conduct a band of amateurs instead" among the finest examples).

He had to wait for the insults to stop coming, he just couldn''t give the downbeat to begin Act III, they'd have drowned the music out.

This is a small clip taken from the Rai radio feed, keep in mind the applause has been pumped up by the mics, at la Scala the boos and catcalls sounded much stronger than you hear in the clip below -- but they came from up on high in the second Galleria, basically from the roof, and the performance was being filmed for a DVD and broadcast live on radio and via Internet. The file's here:

http://download.yousendit.com/AD76100013D382A1

Irritated by the sneering loggionisti (his Italian is amazing, so he understood every nuance of sarcasm), Maazel refused to join the rest of the cast for the curtain calls (very sporadic boos, mostly applause for the cast, even an attempt of a standing ovation in the middle of the platea). Not an Alagna-style tantrum, OK, but Maazel's a big boy, he can take the abuse. Just show up and face the loggione, your career speaks for itself -- to OC he demonstrated lack of sportsmanship. If you show up for the cheeering you have to show up for the abuse too -- to show leadership.

Gheorghiu started a bit tentative, but got better in Act II and finished pretty strong even if I could have cared less for the OMFGLOOKATMEMYLUNGZARECOLLAPSING shtick, that gets old really quick. Her voice is small, even for la Scala. Her acting -- bah. She looked great, tho -- she has lost weight and she is now a tall(ish) really slender (think Atkins-style, with arms even too thin for her frame) 40-something with big b00bs. Not enuff to make OC go gay (Netrebko is our honorary "Soprano I'd Go Gay For") but not bad ma'am, not bad at all.

Ramon Vargas instead started pretty strong and ran out of steam pretty quick, and by the time he slapped her around throwing cash all over the stage like a drunken sailor who just won a poker game in a Thai bordello, poor Ramon was really gasping for air, his lungs more damaged than the TBC lady's. His diction is also pretty bad when it comes to Cs and Zs -- it's easy to fix for a Spanish speaker and OC is surprised he hasn't done that already. But we like Ramon so we're biased.

Wanna know more: (like, how sucky was Liliana Cavani's staging? We liked the Pescucci costumes tho, exquisite)?

Wait until tomorrow. OC haz spaken.

A Bewtleg Traviata: Carlito's Way

Among the many paradoxes of Carlos Kleiber's not-particularly-happy life -- chief among them the horrible, crippling inferiority complex towards a conductor, his father, whose talent was actually inferior to Carlos's -- is that the only Traviata he recorded officially -- with Cotrubas as Violetta -- is also his worst. It's by far his worst record, and it's a pretty bad Traviata even compared to other not-so-stellar versions by other conductors.

Luckily, there have always been alternate versions, bewtleg recordings of Traviata conducted by CK that not only don't suXor but are actually beautiful, Kleiberian wonders of phrasing and clarity.

Among them -- the P2P networks (OperaShare too) are lousy with'em, may Zeus bless'em -- there's this delicious 1985 version @ Munich, Gruberova/Shicoff rawking the haus, Carlos conducting.

http://rapidshare.com/files/16487594/Traviata_Munich85.7.rar.001

http://rapidshare.com/files/16490817/Traviata_Munich85.7.rar.002

Now, is tonight's Traviata going to be this good? We wish, and even if we so don't carry the Maazel-Hata-Society card, we doubt it.

But if Angela's voice doesn't sound as small as it apparently did during rehearsals (la Scala is a huge theatre esp. after the renovations that enlarged the backstage area ginormously, and maybe she wasn't completely singing in voce to save her vocal chords for the big night, who knows) and nobody boos her -- the loggionisti don't seem to have a beef with her, just with her hubby, but you never know -- OC should be in for a nice night.

We'll report back, deep in the Milanese night (late afternoon for you East Coast types, teatime in San Francisco).

Aaaaand Traviata It Is: It'd Better Be Good, Angela!

Opera Chic has decided to postpone her (long-overdue) Summer trip back to the USA to catch Angela Gheorghiu in Traviata at la Scala, Lorin Maazel conductor tomorrow night.

Nevermind that OC has thus given up her invitation to Katy and Andy Spade's Fourth of July barbecue in Southampton, with pastel-colored veg hawt dogs and pinwheels galore. Angela's behavior has so far been reasonably manageable, even if director Liliana Cavani has quite loudly complained with la Scala -- and also thru the press this morning -- that "she hasn't shown up a lot for the rehearsals".

But despite some Maazel choice cuts to the score, and despite some apparent truce declared by the loggione, tension remains high. Violetta here is "Maria's role", and bigger singers than Gheorghiu (for example, Mirella Freni) have been savagely booed in the past.

We'll see, and hear, soon.

Violetta = Edith Piaf? Maybe Zeffirelli Has A Point After All

Yesterday we were left a bit cold by Franco Zeffirelli's rant against every other director alive except himself (and three other survivors to his wrath).

Because, really, Frengo slapped around even our dear Graham Vick and that just doesn't fly at OC's headquarters.

But then, today we heard that the Traviata that just premiered at the Opera Garnier in Paris -- conducted by the appalling Sylvain Cambreling -- has been designed by the director, Swiss professional provocateur (*yawn*) Christophe Marthaler, as a twisted hommage to Edith Piaf, with a pinch of hip-hop dance numbers sprinkled all over the party scene, too, just to be, you know, hip or something.

In an orgy of golden lamé dinner jackets and Cabaret-style neon signs, the gloomy progression of Verdi's opera is marked by Marthaler's concept -- "Violetta could be a pop-star, or a model... she belongs to the world of the VIPs", had explained Marthaler, betraying his fundamental confusion, or ignorance, about the actual heart of the opera, which is the relationship of the démi-monde with the power structure of the day -- and then the kicker: "She resembles Edith Piaf, a small woman with a great voice, who had many men but wasn't a prostitute. I've been inspired by Piaf's affair with Theo Sarapo". k.

Gerard Mortier, on his way to New York City Opera, said: "This is the best show of my career".

La Traviata Sold Out, Nobody Finds The Darn Tickets: This Is Our Surprised Face

Unsurprisingly, the tkts for Angela Gheorghiu's (well, if she shows up, if she doesn't it will be Elena Mosuc's and Irina Lungu's) La Traviata at La Scala have sold out in less than an hour this morning, starting 9AM Milan time. Even worse, the Teatro alla Scala website crashed horribly and was unreachable, making it impossible for opera lovers who wanted a ticket to even purchase one.

Who's riding the lollerskates then? The infamous La Scala ticket scalpers -- they have unsurprisingly and gleefully made a killing -- their 204 euro tickets will now be sold for much more than that, even double. If Angela is there, of course.

Note to our dear readers who are stuffing Opera Chic's email box with anti-Scala flames: if you really want to see the show, either accept the scalpers murderous prices or book your visit to Milan with one of the city's 5-star hotels -- the concierge desks are always able to find tickets. Not really mysteriously, either -- they enjoy a very good relationship with the theater, after all.

You think this sucks? We wish we could help, but you're better-off telling la Scala what you think.

Just to make this clearer to our non-Milanese readers: it's interesting to see how so many scalpers -- we could already recognize them all after a couple months of La Scala-going... it's always the same middle aged gentlemen...funny how la Scala still doesn't recognize them -- whip out of their pockets the infamous "accordion". The accordion being the strange strips of 12 or 15 tickets all still attached to each other. What makes this sight very strange is that you and I (where "you and I" means "regular, non-scalper person") can only buy 2 tickets maximum during a single transaction. How these gentlemen manage to get an entire "accordion" is, frankly beyond Opera Chic.

Well, no, not beyond us, but it'd be unwise to point that out here, since our legal fund's resources are somewhat limited.

Anyway: the dubious legality of it all does not seem to bother La Scala's management much, alas.

After all, it's only the non-bloated-with-cash serious opera lovers who -- ahem -- pay the price. Minor local politicians and their friends, corporate sponsors, unknown "VIPs", TV skanks, and silicon-injected escorts always have their nice platea -- or excellent center palchi -- tickets anyway. And, you know, for free.

The good news is, Candide tickets are still there -- all of them, as we predicted. Gawd, what a terrible, terrible box office bomb -- after all that free worldwide publicity to boot!

Poor Lenny.

Angela's Claws: Gheorghiu's Body & Soul

(ooops! Wrong Angela! sry)

omg Angela is in London and for the first time after leaving Rome's Traviata in a huff she SPAKE (to the Times). Here, fresh off of the internets, are some choice quotes:

“Jonathan Miller? I barely know him. He just used my name to promote himself, that’s all.”

“There’s really nowhere to escape in a solo concert. Really, to make my debut at La Scala with a recital . . . I think it was very courageous.”

“I have a problem with many opera directors because they often don’t serve the music but just make productions about themselves. Either that, or they listen to me sing and just sit with tears in their eyes and don’t challenge me. I need to have help, and I don’t always get it.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t read the critics.”

“Pop music is for the body, but opera is for the soul.”

But, then, the best part comes when she's asked if, because of her husband being loudly booed off the stage at la Scala she intends to retaliate -- as he had threatened -- by not singing there again:

“I won’t pay for anyone else’s scandals,” she says pragmatically. “Are you kidding? I have enough of my own.” Yes, but was he right to leave? “I don’t know, but I think it’s much more healthy for everybody to avoid these matters. I’m very sorry for Roberto and the public, but life must go on. You have to move on to the next stage.”

That's our girl!

If she doesn't run, she'll sing at the Barbican on Tuesday night. That's, of course, for "uneducated palates", etc.