Seattle Opera Blog

Seattle Opera's 2012 Gala: "A Perfect Pairing"

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 19:45:00 +0000

A great voice is to the ears what a fine wine is to the palate—which is why Seattle Opera’s 2012 Gala, “A Perfect Pairing,” is at the lovely Chateau Ste. Michelle in Woodinville (pictured above). We’re all looking forward to this black-tie evening, on Saturday, February 11, and not just for the delicious wines.

A benefit event for Seattle Opera’s education and community engagement programs and our Young Artists Program, “A Perfect Pairing” will feature a gourmet dinner, dancing to the music of the Dudley Manlove Quartet, and performances by celebrated tenor William Burden and promising Young Artist Joseph Lattanzi.

William Burden as Edgardo in Seattle Opera's 2010 Lucia di Lammermoor.

© Rozarii Lynch photo

You may recognize Burden from a number of recent Seattle Opera productions, including his moving portrayal of Edgardo in last season’s Lucia di Lammermoor. Next month, he’ll sing the role of Orphée in our upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice, Gluck’s take on the Greek myth of Orpheus. Baritone and current Young Artist Joseph Lattanzi recently made his mainstage debut as Moralès in Carmen, and he’ll join Burden for the duet “Au fond du temple saint” from Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers, accompanied by YAP Pianist Christopher Lade. And as for the dancing? The Dudley Manlove Quartet has been called “the quintessential party band” by the Seattle PI.

For more info on our 2012 gala—only two weeks away!—visit www.seattleopera.org/gala/. The different ticket levels come with a variety of great benefits, including an exclusive winery tour, tickets to an Orphée et Eurydice dress rehearsal, meet-and-greets, and more.

Meet Our Singers: MIKA KARES, Attila

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 17:30:00 +0000

Finnish bass Mika Kares is not only making his Seattle Opera debut as Attila on January 22, he’s also making his American debut following several years performing primarily in Germany. We recently chatted with Kares about the opera scene in Finland, how Seattle compares to his homeland, and what direction his promising career is taking now that he’s traveling the world and taking on heftier roles.

Welcome to Seattle Opera! This is your company debut, so can you tell us where you’re from and how you began in opera?
I’m from Finland, which is far away from Seattle! It was a long way to get here, but it’s nice to be here; this is actually my American debut. I’ve been mainly singing in Europe. I sang in Germany for five years and now I’ve been traveling for roles. I sing in Spain, France, and even in China. I hope, now, I can sing more frequently in North America. I would love to be here more.

I started singing when I was 22, so I started late. I was an actor before I started to sing; I started acting when I was 15. All of a sudden I was on stage, and no one could get me off! After one show, I was singing in the shower and another actor overheard and said, “You know, you have a voice.” And I said, “OK…” and then he said, “You should get some lessons,” and I thought, “Well, why not?” So I tried, and everything went pretty fast after that. After four years of studying I was already in Germany working. I worked there for five years and now I have done this work as a freelancer for three years. So it all started pretty fast.

What is the opera scene like in Finland?
Well, we only have one opera house, the National Opera in Helsinki, and we have one big festival, in Savonlinna, so we don’t have too many singers but the ones we have are of good quality. We have some big stars who are giving us youngsters an example of how to do this work. So it’s nice, and we have a good spirit. We have Finnish operas, too, and Finnish National Opera does maybe one or two per year.

Mika Kares as Attila in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Is the Finnish language a difficult one for singers?
Well, if you don’t know it already, it’s a really difficult language. In a way it’s pretty close to Russian, so if you know that, it can help a bit. But for me, it’s my mother tongue and I can really get to those special colors. It’s always so painful when I’m singing Italian or something, and I just want to get specific colors, and then I see an Italian singer do it amazingly.

Do you still make your home in Finland?
At the moment I have an apartment in Helsinki but I’m travelling a lot. This season, I’m spending nine months away from Finland, so I only sort of live in Finland. I pay my taxes to Finland! But that’s normal for an artist.

This is your American debut, but have you ever visited the United States before?
Actually, this is my first time in America. I’ve never been here, never even for a holiday. I’m a little bit surprised by Seattle; it has so many Scandinavian roots, and it shows! People are really friendly here, and the weather is pretty much the same as it is in Finland. It’s different, but not as different as I expected.

Have you had any experience with Attila prior to this production?
No, this is my role debut. Before this, I’d not even seen a performance. I’ve only seen the DVD, the famous Samuel Ramey one. But I’ve been singing Attila’s aria for a long time already, it’s a really great aria for a bass. It’s sort of bass-baritone, but you also have to give it this dark sound, too.

What’s also interesting is I went through the whole history of Attila, and every history book says he was a small man, but John Relyea and I are both big—I think I’m 6’5” or something; in Europe I’d say I’m 196 centimeters.

Odabella (Susan Neves) takes her revenge on Attila (Mika Kares) in this scene from Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Do you have a favorite moment in Attila? Attila’s big aria is great but I just love right after that, when the bishop arrives and Attila is thinking, “Is this a dream, is this reality?” The music is so beautiful, and Attila is oddly fragile, and then strong again, and then fragile. I really like that.

Do you ever feel limited in the kind of roles you can take on as a bass? Are there any roles you dream of one day doing?
That’s a tough one, but I would love to do Don Giovanni once in my life. It’s not so often done with a bass, but it could be done with a bass, and I would love to do that. And also Scarpia in Tosca. Most of the time, though, I’m just “King.” I was looking through my calendar recently and it was like, OK, last year I was the kings of Scotland and Egypt, and now I have King of the Huns, and the King of Spain next season. So that’s pretty normal for a bass. You’re the king, a priest, or a bad guy. But I sing all kind of repertoire at the moment because I’m only 33, and everyone calls me Baby Bass. I’m getting there, I’m Teenage Bass now. So I sing lots of Wagner right now, because the celebration year is coming, in 2013. I’ve done the whole Ring like 6 times already. And I sing lots of Verdi—mostly the priest in Aida, or the King of Spain in Don Carlo, but I also sing Handel and early music. So I’m now deciding what direction to take in my career, because the next four or five years are pretty important for me. I’m jumping into the big roles and seeing what happens.

Meet Our Singers: RUSSELL THOMAS, Foresto

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 19:33:00 +0000

It’s been nearly a decade since tenor Russell Thomas was last in Seattle—as a Seattle Opera Young Artist. Now he returns to sing Foresto in the alternate Attila cast, performing on Sunday, January 22. We talk to Thomas about his character, his experience with the Metropolitan Opera’s 2010 production of Attila, and how young artists programs have helped him kick off his career.

You were a Young Artist in the 2002/03 season. Where has your career taken you since?
When I left Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program in 2003, I was invited by the Metropolitan Opera to join the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program. I was there for three seasons, made my debut, and had a great meeting with the director Peter Sellers. He invited to do a production with him, and then he introduced me to John Adams, the American composer. After that, John Adams invited me to do a world premiere with him, and those things sort of kicked off my career.

What’s it like to return to Seattle after all this time?
A lot has changed in the South Lake Union neighborhood [where Seattle Opera’s offices and rehearsal space are located] since 2003! There are a lot more buildings and new construction and restaurants that weren’t here before. But even though it’s been nine years, the city is still very familiar to me. I can get myself around.

Russell Thomas as Foresto in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Let’s talk about Foresto, your character in Attila. On a positive note, he’s an inspirational leader to his people—but he also has a jealous, angry streak when it comes to Odabella. Our opening night Foresto, Antonello Palombi, says Foresto is just confused by her actions, and not really a jealous guy. What do you think?
I think it’s a bit of both. Without the jealousy, he becomes Don Ottavio, and not a person who really is a hero and is about to start the city of Venice. He also has this whole other issue, where he's afraid Odabella is being held captive—but when he finally sees her among the Huns, it looks like she’s just there of free will, like she wants to be there with Attila. So he is confused, yes, but at the same time, once she explains herself, he doesn’t buy it, because in the next scene when he’s ready to poison Attila, she stops him. So there is some confusion. There’s an angle of jealousy as well.

What was your involvement with the Met’s recent production of Attila? What was your experience like?
I sang Foresto in a couple performances, but I also sang the role of Uldino, the other tenor role in the opera. The production was a bit difficult to grasp, but the best part of it and the experience was having Riccardo Muti there. He was amazing, and he was so nice to me. He gave me so much of his time, because Ramón Vargas, the first cast Foresto, got sick, so I had to do a lot of the singing in rehearsals. He really tried to help me sing this role in a healthy way, in an Italian way, because who knows that better than Riccardo Muti? So now I get to try to bring that expertise here.

Another reason everyone put so much hype on the Met production was the costumes designed by Prada, but the only things that really looked like the Prada style were the coats and the boots and shoes, which were admittedly pretty cool. I actually prefer the costumes here in Seattle, because you can more easily tell by how each character is dressed and their color scheme which group of people in the story—the refugees, the Romans, the Huns—they belong to.

Susan Neves (Odabella) and Russell Thomas (Foresto) in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

How seriously should we take this opera? The plight of the refugees feels extremely real; but as in a lot of bel canto operas, the grim story inspired lots of peppy, jolly music.
The music being peppy and jolly was just a style; this is where they were musically. This is a transition from Donizetti and Rossini to the Verdi style that we get to know later down the line, in Don Carlo and Otello and so on. This is sort of in-between, like Verdi’s trying to stick to those traditional bel canto roots but at the same time build his own signature sound. That’s why the music is the boom-cha-cha that people know, and it’s up to the singer to make something happen beyond that. That was the point of bel canto: the orchestra stayed out of their way so the singers could show off what they could do technically.

As for the story, it is very serious. Especially the first few scenes when they’re starting Venice, that’s a very big deal. And when Ezio’s character talks about saving Rome, maybe he’s trying to being a traitor to his people—that’s what Attila calls him—but I feel like he’s trying to save his people while getting something for himself at the same time.

As a former Young Artist, have you had the opportunity to interact with any of our current Young Artists?
Only Jason Slayden, who sings Uldino in Attila, and only in terms of our interactions on stage, but not much.

It’s a recent development that our Young Artists have the opportunity to perform in mainstage productions.
The year that Seattle Opera did Norma, us YAP tenors thought, “Why aren’t we doing Flavio, instead of hiring an outside singer?” [Laughs] It probably would have saved a little money! But the whole point of young artists programs is to get young artists familiar with a company and its tradition, so when they get older, you can perhaps bring them back.

Meet Our Singers: SUSAN NEVES, Odabella

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Soprano Susan Neves’ turn as Odabella on January 22 is her Seattle Opera debut, but she’s been with the company before, covering in the 1995 Ring. Since then, she’s made the switch from Wagner to Verdi and we ask her about her past experience with Attila, and find out why she thinks sword-wielding Odabella is secretly a big softie.

Welcome back to Seattle Opera! You were last here covering Marilyn Zschau as Brünnhilde in our ’95 Ring. Have you been singing much Wagner since then?
No, actually not. I was doing Wagner then because at that point that’s what the Met had offered me. But I’ve been singing all Italian opera, basically, since then. My specialty is Verdi; I’ve been singing Attila, Nabucco, Macbeth, Aida, and Un ballo in maschera.

What is it about Verdi that appeals to you so much?
Everything. I love the music, and I love the fact that Verdi gives the singer a beautiful line and makes it each individual character’s own creation. The orchestra does its oom-cha-cha and you have the beautiful melodies on top, so each artist gets to put in their own special sound—within the bounds of the musical line of course. I love it, I love it.

Odabella (Susan Neves in Seattle Opera's production of Attila) vows to use her father's sword to avenge his death.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

What about Attila in particular?
There are some incredibly beautiful arias. Odabella’s second aria is like “Casta diva” from Norma, with these long beautiful phrases. The opera is relatively short, there are really only four principles, so we each get an aria or an aria and a half to show our stuff, and then we just sing duets or trios or quartets, and it’s just lovely. I’m thrilled I’m getting to do this here.

You were involved with the Metropolitan Opera’s buzzed-about 2010 production of Attila. What was that experience like?
I was covering Odabella, so I was there from Day 1, when it was created and then during the creation. It was extremely modern, and we’re doing a modern production here, too, but at the Met it was more about the set and the production then the actual characters and the music.

We’ve heard a lot about the Met’s use of Prada-designed costumes. What was it like wearing couture on stage?
It was odd, to say the least. Odabella looked like Marge Simpson. We had this gold costume for the banquet scene that kind of looked like a big Ferrero Rocher chocolate, but then we had this big long Marge Simpson wig that, instead of being blue, was grayish-blonde, but it looked exactly like her style. Here in Seattle, it’s a totally different look, a modern look. And I don’t mind doing things modern, but you become an opera singer so you can play dress up and wear pretty gowns ! [Laughs] But that’s not this production, and that’s fine. I’ll wear a pretty gown next time.

Susan Neves as Odabella in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

Odabella, like Abigaille and Lady Macbeth, is reputed to be a fearsome role to sing. Do you find it very challenging?
Well, her first aria is extremely difficult; it’s a coloratura showpiece, and you walk out and have got to show what you’ve got in the first 10 minutes on stage. But my specialty is Nabucco, and Abigaille is a much longer part and much more difficult. So, I love singing Odabella because once I get the first aria over with, I can just have fun and enjoy singing the rest of it.

We see Odabella in many moods: in the opening she’s proud and ferocious, then in her aria she’s sad and nostalgic, then religious, then devious, and finally driven to desperation. Which side of her character comes easiest to you?
The loving side of Odabella, which is what every reaction she has in the whole opera is based on—love for either her country, her father, or her boyfriend. Her anger that her father has been killed is because she loves her father. She gets upset with Foresto because she loves him and he thinks she’s betrayed him. At the end, even before she kills Attila, she says, “Father, I’m making this sacrifice for you.” Whereas, for example, Abigaille in Nabucco is very conniving and she’s looking out for herself. But in Odabella, I don’t see that. She’s not a mean person, and I don’t think she’s a violent person at all.

What other roles have you sung where you get to kill someone?
Well, I do sing Turandot. So I’ve had several tenors who have not given me the right answers and who have therefore lost their heads. I’ve sung Tosca and she kills Scarpia. More often, I’ve killed myself, in Il trovatore and Norma. But I don’t play murderesses too much.

Odabella (Susan Neves) takes her revenge on Attila (Mika Kares) in this scene from Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun

What about other roles where you’ve wielded a sword?
Abigaille. And when I did Valkyries, we didn’t so much carry swords, but we had spears and shields. But I’ve carried lots of swords as Abigaille. In one of our staging rehearsals here for Attila, I was waving around the sword and director Bernard Uzan said, “Uh uh uh! This is not Nabucco, sweetie!” Because the Abigaille and warrior woman in me came out. But Odabella is not, I think, a warrior woman, so I’ve got to watch it. I like to play her softer. I want the feminine part to come out. Everything about her character is the fact that she’s a woman and she loves deeply, and I really like that.

The Show Must Go On! Performance Will Take Place Tonight As Scheduled

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 20:09:00 +0000

Seattle Opera’s performance of Verdi’s Attila will happen tonight as scheduled. Curtain is at 7:30 p.m.

$40 rush tickets for tonight’s performance will be available at the McCaw Hall Box Office beginning at 5:30 p.m. Seattle Opera encourages those who can get to the theater safely to take advantage of this opportunity to hear what OperaWarhorses.com describes as “an accomplished Verdian quartet that would be welcomed on any operatic stage in the world.”

Exchange privileges are available for subscribers as always, and (because of the weather) for holders of single tickets to the 1/18 performance as well. Please go to our Inclement Weather Policy for more information.

THIS JUST IN: Free parking tonight at the Mercer St. Garage (between Roy and Mercer, 3rd and 4th) if you are driving.

Updated at 3:54 pm.

Meet Our Singers: JASON SLAYDEN, Uldino

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 19:35:00 +0000

Uldino (Jason Slayden) presents Odabella as a gift to Attila in the first scene of Verdi's opera.

© Elise Bakketun photo

Today we speak with Jason Slayden, a tenor in Seattle Opera's Young Artists Program. Jason, who will sing the role of Ernesto in the YAP Don Pasquale coming up this spring at UW's Meany Hall, was kind enough to share with us his behind-the-scenes photos from the YAP Fall Tour a couple of months ago. He sang the title role of Werther in that tour; for a clip of him singing "Pourquoi me réveiller," check out his online bio. I spoke with him last week about singing Verdi, about performing in Attila, and about the busy travel schedule of an up-and-coming opera singer.

Let's start with your character, Attila’s Breton slave Uldino. Like most of the characters in this opera, his loyalty seems to be suspect.
Well, it’s interesting because the score doesn’t really give us a lot of information about him. The cast list says he’s a Breton slave, so at some point you know Attila came in and conquered Brittany and took slaves. And for some reason Uldino has become a high-ranking official in Attila’s army and is trusted by Attila. But we don’t know exactly why Uldino betrays Attila--

Yes, I noticed the other night that he's loyal in the first half of the opera. He only turns traitor in the second half.
So that’s been my challenge.

Must be a missing scene in there someplace. Maybe you'll get to sing it for the "Deleted Scenes" on the deluxe edition DVD.
It's possible that Foresto bribed Uldino into joining his uprising. Or maybe seeing Foresto stand up to Attila was just the final straw, and Uldino thought, “Ok, I have the cojones to do this now--“

You mean, seeing Foresto confront Attila in the banquet scene?
Well, no, Uldino has probably made his decision by then. That's when Foresto gives Uldino the poison, to poison Attila's goblet. And Odabella stops him. At that point everyone kind of knows what’s going on, except Attila.

Uldino (Jason Slayden) poisons Attila's ceremonial goblet at the banquet scene when Attila (John Relyea) isn't looking (Alan Alabastro, photo)

So did you have to make your own backstory, for all the stuff that's not in the libretto?
Absolutely. I think maybe he’s planned this all along. He’s gotten into a position of trust, because he wants vengeance for being a slave...

Vengeance for all those killed when the Huns sacked Brittany. Yes. Let's talk about this great composer, have you sung any Verdi before?
Sure, I’ve studied Alfredo, and the Duke in Rigoletto. I love Verdi.

Are you learning to sing the tenor role in this opera, Foresto?
No, that’s usually cast as a dramatic tenor or spinto tenor. I’m more on the lyric side.

How does your preparation for a brief role, like this one, differ from your prep for a long role like Werther or Ernesto?
Right, the performances aren't until April and we’ve already started rehearsals for Don Pasquale. Learning Uldino, the music maybe took a week. But I still have to go in and translate the entire opera. I have to know what everybody else is saying in the scenes I'm in. But it doesn't take as long to memorize the music, because there's not as much of it.

Jason Slayden as Werther (Bill Mohn, photo)

Does Uldino sing his own lines in the ensembles? Or do you add your voice to the tenors in the chorus?
It's interesting, it's sort of half and half. In Act One, I sing with the chorus. But in Act Two I sing all my own lines. Same melody as the first tenors, but my own words. There’s somewhere in the story where he thinks, “Ok, now I’m no longer just a guy in Attila's army.”

An opera singer’s life is often an itinerant one, with all sorts of comings and goings. What’s your travel schedule like this fall and winter?
In the fall I moved up here from Texas, and then I left two or three times for auditions during our season in October and November--went to San Francisco, went to Vancouver once. Then during our Thanksgiving break I was in New York for a couple of weeks, before Attila rehearsals began, doing auditions. And from New York I went to Boston and Philadelphia for more auditions. And now I’m basically here until April. I think most of the Young Artists have a similar schedule. Depends on what they’re doing outside Seattle Opera...Andrew Stenson, for instance, was in New York last week, making his debut at the Met.

And the singers in the Attila cast? Seems like some of them are coming from overseas.
Yeah...even the ones who don't live in Europe, they were coming from Europe because they were singing something there before.

Uldino (Jason Slayden) sleeps at the foot of Attila's (John Relyea)'s couch in the nightmare scene (Elise Bakketun, photo)

Why should people come hear y'all sing Attila?
It's got something for everybody! It’s got murder, intrigue, vengeance, drama, a little bit of romance...it’s a fun show, it’s quirky, it’s great music--you can see the beginnings of Verdi’s maturity. How he became such a great composer.

Had you ever heard it before?
No, I hadn’t, I think I'd seen the name on a list on Verdi’s Wikipedia page, but I’d never heard it! No one does it. It’s neat to see it coming to fruition.

I hear that, in addition to Attila and Don Pasquale, you're putting together a recital with some of the other Young Artists.
Yes, I’m doing 3 Duparc songs in French and 5 Tosti songs in Italian. Michael Uloth and Sarah Larsen are also preparing songs for this recital.

These songs are new to you?
I’ve done some of the Duparc before, I’ve never done the Tosti. They’re very upbeat, sort of tenor heaven! (Laughs.)

Extra credit: listen for the Cimbasso in ATTILA!

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 00:50:00 +0000

Those of you who like to look deep into the orchestra pit from your box seats may spot an unusual instrument at our performances of Attila: the cimbasso, played by Chris Olka, Principal Tuba for Seattle Symphony and Seattle Opera (photo of Chris, right, holding the instrument). Up until his final operas, Verdi wrote his lowest brass parts for cimbasso, which tends to blend more seamlessly with the trombones than a tuba. It makes a difference with a score like Attila, which--although chock-full of that toe-tapping, red-blooded Verdian vigor that we love from this composer--is technically a bel canto opera, and requires elegance and beauty in addition to sheer power.

Although many opera companies use a tuba to play Verdi's lowest brass lines, thanks to one of our donors Seattle Opera was able to invest in a cimbasso some years ago, and we're lucky that Chris is an expert with the instrument. In fact, his example has led other companies to follow suit.

Attila - Preview Trailer

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 17:42:00 +0000

Featuring the Huns versus the Romans and Odabella’s unstoppable path towards avenging her father’s death, our Attila trailer video is full of action. Most impressive though, is the showcase of star-powered voices that command the music and remind us why Verdi is the master of Italian opera.

Learn more about Attila on the Seattle Opera Website

Meet Our Singers: MARCO VRATOGNA, Ezio

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 20:43:00 +0000

Italian baritone Marco Vratogna makes his Seattle Opera debut Saturday night as Ezio in Attila. I stopped him the other night, between rehearsals of his big duet with Attila and his aria, and asked him about being a Verdi baritone, what this opera means to an Italian, and what it was like to sing this role at La Scala. (Some of his remarks here are translated from Italian.)

You’re new to Seattle Opera...welcome! But this performance is not your U.S. debut.
No, I sang in the U.S. for the first time in 2001 in Philadelphia, it was Escamillo in Carmen. My first and only Escamillo.

But that’s sometimes considered a bass-baritone part. Are you…
I’ve sung some bass-baritone roles: Scarpia, Iago. My second appearance in the U.S. was a couple of years ago, Iago, in San Francisco with Nicola Luisotti. And I sang Amonasro there, as well. After this production in Seattle, I will go to San Francisco to sing Rigoletto, my first time with that role.

Where did you grow up?
In La Spezia. I live there now, in a beautiful little village nearby, Vezzano Ligure.

La Spezia, wonderful! That’s where Wagner had the famous “Vision of La Spezia,” when he dreamed he was drowning in an overwhelming Eb major chord. Or at least that’s what he said, the inspiration for the opening of Das Rheingold.
Yeah, I don’t know if it’s true!

La Spezia was a spa, in those days…?
There used to be a great opera theater, with many important singers, Di Stefano, Callas, Tebaldi, Del Monaco. But it was destroyed…today there’s a cinema.

The town is near Genoa, is that right?
About 100 kilometers from Genoa. A bit farther to Florence.

What’s your favorite place to sing in Italy?
La Scala, I sang Attila there last summer and Tosca this year.

Do you sing at other theaters in Italy?
Yes, I sing at Teatro Regio di Parma, Teatro Regio Torino, Teatro Verdi Trieste, at Torre del Lago, Arena di Verona…

What about down south?
I haven’t sung in Naples or Sicily, but I sang Tosca in Bari at Teatro Petruzzelli; and in Reggio Calabria.

Marco Vratogna as Ezio in Seattle Opera's production (Elise Bakketun, photo)

Let’s talk about Attila. They’re doing it in San Francisco, next…
Yes, the same production we did at La Scala…

…and Ana Lucrecia García, our Odabella, who sang it with you at La Scala, is going down there for the role. But you’re not doing it there.
No, after this I have Un ballo in maschera in Dresden, and later Tosca in Valencia, then Vienna, La Scala, and Bari.

So this will be your last Ezio for a while, then?
Maybe. It’s a difficult role. This is my second production, after La Scala…

So let's talk about the La Scala production. In America, you’ve basically got a clean slate, because most audiences have never heard Attila. At La Scala, did you find that everybody in the audience knew the opera?
No, it was the same in Italy, it’d been twenty-some years since they had played Attila at La Scala. People were extremely excited about it, there was great anticipation. The singers, we were all scared. You know, La Scala is a difficult theater!

What was that production like?
It was directed by Gabriele Lavia, a great actor and film director. It was beautiful, very powerful, an important production. Luisotti was the conductor. The audiences were very happy. All the singers were nervous at the premiere, there was a lot of tension backstage, but the hard work we’d done in rehearsal paid off, it was considered a very intense, sophisticated, detailed production. It was important for all concerned, because after all it’s Verdi at La Scala. Verdi matured as an artist there, he’s part of that institution.

I promise opening night in Seattle won’t be that tense!
Oh, but there’s always tension, in every theater in the world! There isn’t a theater anywhere where you’re allowed to do less than your very best.

But at La Scala—
Yes, at La Scala there are people in the audience who sit in judgement, they’re there every night, they’ve heard thousands of voices, they know the libretti word for word. So that’s a different kind of tension. But it comes down to putting strength and energy into the preparation, and that’s the same everywhere.

Marco Vratogna as Ezio in the La Scala production of Attila (Brescia/Amisano © Teatro alla Scala, 2011)

Do you think non-Italians can care as much about this opera as Italians do?
Yes, there’s what you can only call the Italianità of this opera. It is pure.

A phrase like the one you sing in the first scene: “Avrai tu l’universo, resti l’Italia a me!” (You can have the universe, but give me Italy!)
That’s a very important phrase. Cappuccilli was wonderful there.

Now there’s an interesting thing about that line and that scene—to many of us, Ezio doesn’t seem very heroic, because he comes onstage and, almost the first thing out of his mouth, he offers to betray Rome, the Roman emperor Valentinian, whose ambassador he is.
No, I think Ezio is a hero. Attila is about to march into Italy, and Ezio knows that he will destroy the country. Ezio will do anything to protect Italy, at that moment. Yes, he has problems with the emperor, who is very young and who has recalled him to Rome, and later on he’s offended, because he has risked so much to save his country. But Ezio is a valiant, heroic character; he’s won a thousand battles, he tells Attila, “You remember how I defeated your Huns at the Battle of Châlons…”

The problem is his duplicity.
There’s a compromise. And Attila refuses to accept compromise. So Ezio has no choice, it’s war. And he’s done everything possible to save his country. But that behavior is normal, no? For a brave military person like that.

What’s your favorite moment in this opera?
I like my cabaletta, “È gettata la mia sorte,” a lot. The aria is very nice, but the feeling in the cabaletta is heroic and powerful.

Marco Vratogna as Ezio, with Ana Lucrecia García as Odabella and John Relyea as Attila (Elise Bakketun photo)

Have you worked with any members of our Seattle cast before?
With Carlo Montanaro, the conductor, we’ve done Un ballo in maschera together in Dresden, we do it again in February. And I sang Nabucco with Ana Lucrecia García in Arena di Verona this summer, she was Abigaille.

So in that one you got to sing a duet with her.
She is an amazing singer, yes. This is the first time I’ve worked with John Relyea, who is fantastic. And Antonello Palombi, we sang together in Nabucco at the Baths of Caracalla, in Rome, and also L’amore dei tre re, a marvelous opera by Montemezzi.

That’s another opera we never hear in America.
This was in Torino, a very beautiful production. The problem is it’s very difficult, it’s hard to find the singers who can perform it.

Antonello Palombi as Foresto with Marco Vratogna as Ezio (Elise Bakketun photo)

One last question: as a Verdi baritone, which is your favorite Verdi opera? It sounds like you’re excited about singing your first Rigoletto in San Francisco this year.
Yes, I’ve been waiting all my career to sing Rigoletto. You have to be mature to do it. I think Rigoletto has all the other Verdi operas inside it. My first opera, back in 2000, was Stiffelio, my second was Simon Boccanegra (as Paolo), and my third was Nabucco. I’ve sung Di Luna many times, Amonasro, I masnadieri, Luisa Miller, many Verdi operas. I love Rigoletto, but also Simon Boccanegra, Macbeth, Nabucco. I don’t have one favorite opera, I have a lot of favorite operas.

Meet Our Singers: MICHAEL DEVLIN, Leone

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 00:42:00 +0000

At last night’s orchestral rehearsal I spoke with Michael Devlin, who plays a small but significant role in Attila: Leone, the religious leader who single-handedly (well, assisted by the power of God) repels Attila and saves Italy from the Hun’s ravaging hordes in the great climax to Act One. This production marks a return of sorts for Devlin, who has the unusual record of singing one opera with Seattle Opera in each of the past four decades! We talked about some memorable productions from long ago, about how to make a big impression in a small role, and the power of Verdi’s glorious music.

Welcome back to Seattle Opera! Can you tell us about your early history with the company?
I first came here, my first time in the city and with Seattle Opera, to cover the great Norman Treigle in Boito’s Mefistofele in 1974.

Norman Treigle as Mefistofele (Beth Bergman NYCO Photo)

That’s right, that was a production originally from New York City Opera, Speight Jenkins once told me it was one of the most exciting nights of theater he could remember. One of those productions where, years later, he remembered every single thing that happened in that show.
Yes, and Treigle was doing it all over the country. In Seattle I was supposed to do one performance, but he got a cold, so I stepped in for a second performance. I fell in love with the city—it’s just a wonderful place. I moved here in 1980, and have lived here ever since. I sang my one Horace Tabor in The Ballad of Baby Doe the first season that Speight took over [1984], and then I sang Golaud in the famous Pelléas et Mélisande designed by Dale Chihuly in 1993. I’ve also sung many times with Seattle Symphony. But this is my first time singing in McCaw Hall. From the stage you can hear more sound coming back. You know, when a singer gets on the stage, and sings forte, you can feel the sound coming back. But here it sounds better to me than it did in the old theater for the Pelléas. The architects and acousticians did a great job!

I’ve heard a number of singers say that—that it’s reassuring to hear yourself, your own voice coming back at you the way it does in McCaw Hall.
Oh, yes. You don’t ever want to feel like you’re just singing into a carpet, that’s the worst feeling in the world. Because that encourages you to push harder. You mustn’t do that because that distorts the voice.

1974 Mefistofele Production Photo

So the Seattle audience has only ever heard you in really unusual roles: Mefistofele, Horace Tabor, Golaud, the Haushofmeister in our YAP Ariadne at Meydenbauer a couple of years ago. Do you ever sing any repertory that isn’t so offbeat?
Hey, I sing whatever they pay me to sing. If I can sing the low notes and the high notes, and what’s in the middle, I’ll do it! I’m a bass-baritone, basically, but I’ve done some Verdi baritones, Amonasro, Germont, things like that. And some bass roles.

What about Wagner?
In San Francisco, I once did the Rheingold Wotan down there, and Gunther in Götterdämmerung, covered Alberich in Chicago. Wagner is so loud, and long! I was more comfortable with Mozart, early Verdi, and with French rep. I loved doing Tales of Hoffmann. And I sang a lot of Figaros and Counts and Don Giovannis.

Michael Delos as the Bellboy, Michael Devlin as Horace Tabor, and Claudia Cummings as Baby Doe in Seattle Opera's 1984 Ballad of Baby Doe (Chris Bennion photo)

And not only have you never done Attila before, you said you’d never even heard it before!
Not completely, before I started rehearsals for this production!

What other early Verdi operas have you sung?
I did some concert performances of Alzira.

Really? Wow, that’s even more obscure than Attila.
That was one of my first Carnegie Hall roles, in New York back in the ‘60s. Jonel Perlea was the conductor, it was one of his last jobs: he was partially paralyzed at the time, but he managed to conduct Alzira.

He conducted the recording of Aida I grew up with: Milanov, Tucker, Boris Christoff as Ramfis—great recording. But getting back to Attila (what is it with Verdi, all these operas that begin with the letter ‘A’), your character, Leone, only sings one line. How do you make an impression with such a small role?
That’s really up to our wonderful director, Bernard Uzan. He’s staged me coming right down the middle of the stage, with a follow-spot, and a snow-white costume in the middle of everybody else with dark brown and black costumes.

Do you have a long white beard, too?
I don’t think so, although we don’t do it with make-up and lights until tomorrow. I do have a nice shiny bald head, as you can see. I hope it’ll make a strong, if brief, impression.

Have you ever had such a short part?
When I was first starting out, sure, there’s lots of little bit parts where you come out and sing your one line! But this is interesting, my solo here lasts exactly 33 seconds, I timed it. And to make a good impression in 33 seconds, about all you can do is stand tall and sing as loud as you can.

The character of Leone, mysterious bass whose voice seems to have this supernatural power to defeat evil, reminds me of the Frate, the eerie Monk from Verdi’s much later opera Don Carlo.
I did sing the Monk once. Yes, it’s the same kind of thing, the same kind of small role that makes a big impression.

Neither character sings much by way of melody. It’s all monotone, isn’t it?
Any time Verdi wrote a nice short part like this, where you come in and declaim your big line, it’s usually on a middle C or middle D, right in the best part of the voice for a baritone.

Isn’t that what Monterone does, in Rigoletto?
Monterone, yes, as well as the usher who brings him in—that was one of my first roles, about 45 years ago. And the “La cena e pronta” man in La traviata, and the Marquis and the Baron, these characters sing their lines all right around middle C, which is just wonderful. You can be nice and loud!

Michael Devlin as Goulaud with Sheri Greenawald as Mélisande and Kenneth Cox as King Arkel in Seattle Opera's 1993 Dale Chihuly-designed Pelléas et Mélisande (Gary Smith photo)

The other thing that’s really odd about the line Leone sings is that it’s a repeat.
Yes, Attila sings to Uldino that he had this vision in a dream, who spoke to him, and then I suddenly appear and I look the same and sound the same as the figure in the dream. Maybe if the audience hears it a second time they can hum along!

Now Attila is inspired by history, although a) it’s not very good history and b) in our production, the action is contemporary. What can you tell us about the historical background for your character?
It’s [Director] Bernard [Uzan]’s idea that it would look a little strange for the pope to come all the way out and speak to a bunch of rebels in the middle of the woods. So we’re telling the story that this is Leo before he became a pope, maybe he’s the head cardinal, or something like that. I was hoping for the little red shoes and the tall pointy hat, but they gave me a long tunic with a white coat over it. I’ll have to wait for the next production to do the red shoes.

What’s it like to play a Catholic priest in an opera by Italy’s most staunchly anti-clerical composer?
It’s true, Verdi had a few run-ins with the church, they made him change his settings, twist the plots around. The church was quite a political force in Italy back then, probably even more so than it is now. You really couldn’t cross ‘em. And he probably did.

What’s your favorite thing about singing Verdi?
Part of it is listening to what’s going on around me. He’s such a wonderful, wonderful composer for the voice. If you have a Verdi voice, and work on the legato, it’s wonderful: dramatic, but with the chance to sing some beautiful lines. It’s great to hear them, and sometimes to sing them!

Michael Devlin as the Haushofmeister, surrounded by the YAP cast of Ariadne auf Naxos: l to r Megan Hart as Zerbinetta, Michael Krzankowski as Harlekin, Alex Mansoori as the Tanzmeister, Marcy Stonikas as Ariadne, and Stephanos Tsirakoglou as the Musik Lehrer (Chris Bennion photo).

What’s your favorite thing about singing at Seattle Opera?
It’s great to be home. I’ve been doing this for 46 years, going to New York all the time, and to Europe, all the major cities in this country and minor cities too. I’ve been traveling and living in hotels and motels and sublet apartments for 46 years, and, while I’m not tired of singing, I still like to sing, I’m really tired of the traveling. So I said goodbye to New York after this past season at the Met. I’m always happy to sing at home, but the traveling is getting to be a bit much.

Archie Drake as Jacob, Charles Palethorpe as Barney, and Michael Devlin as Horace Tabor in The Ballad of Baby Doe (Chris Bennion photo)

Meet Our Singers: ANTONELLO PALOMBI, Foresto

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 23:26:00 +0000

Italian tenor Antonello Palombi may be a familiar voice to the Seattle Opera audience by now. He most recently sang Manrico in Il trovatore in 2010, and has also sung in the company’s recent productions of Aida, Pagliacci, and La fanciulla del West. (He’ll also be returning in 2012/13 as Calaf in season opener Turandot.) Now he takes on a role debut as Foresto, the leader of the Aquileian refugees in Attila. We chat with Palombi today about his character and what—in his admittedly biased opinion—makes Italian opera so special.

This is your fifth engagement with Seattle Opera; by now, you must know your way around town pretty well!
I think I know the terrain, yes, and I have to say it was disappointing to see some shops had closed since my last time here, or their names changed or something like that. But actually, if I need something I know where to go, and things my family can do while I’m rehearsing (I have two daughters, one is 8 and one is 14, and both are here right now). We know places for shopping or activities, like the Pacific Science Center, or there’s an ice skating rink at Seattle Center right now. That’s not for me—I can’t take the risk—but my family went skating.

You also have to understand, Seattle was my first American city. I made my American debut right here. So for me, it’s a really important city. Seattle has a place in my heart. I like the people, I like the mood, and when I come here and see the Space Needle, I think, “Well, we are home!”

Antonello Palombi starring as Canio in Seattle Opera's 2008 production of Pagliacci.
Photo by Bill Mohn

Specifically, this is the third Verdi role you’ve sung for us: Radames, Manrico, and now Foresto. What’s your favorite thing about singing Verdi?
I love to sing, singing is my life, and so for me, I like Verdi, but I also like most of the Italian composers. I like to give voice to all the characters in the Italian repertoire, assuming they are compatible with my voice. The Italians, we have in our mouth what we have in our heart, most of the time. And we can say the rest of the world likes to copy us. Our architecture, our food, whatever—you know what I mean. “Made in Italy” means something important. In our opera, you can feel this. Italian opera is about the heart and soul of the people. The emotion and drama is very strong and connects to audiences. You also hear people everywhere singing “Nessun dorma” or “La donna è mobile” or “Libiamo ne' lieti calici.” You’re less likely to hear someone singing the Queen of the Night or something from the Ring.

Of course, I say all this because I am Italian! My mother language is Italian.

Are you as passionate about Attila?
As for Attila, Verdi was still developing his writing. This “Young Verdi” is close to another kind of repertoire that is not very close to my vocality. But in any case, this role was sung by all the most important singers of the past. I’m going to do my best to do whatever I can to give a voice to Foresto, who is not an unimportant character. He’s very strong, a person that trusts his country, is faithful to his love (Odabella), and wants to take revenge on the barbarians that killed her father.

You mentioned Foresto’s faithfulness to Odabella. He also seems very jealous. Is that a fair assessment, or does he have good reasons to be suspicious of Odabella?
Early on, Odabella doesn’t reveal to Foresto that she wants to kill Attila. And it’s not written in the score, but she probably was afraid Foresto would try and stop her. Like most heroines, she makes this decision on her own and that’s what makes her very strong. But when she finally says she wants to avenge her father’s death and reveals this to Foresto, he kneels at her feet and says, “I’m sorry, I’m so stupid, you are amazing.” You can see this moment in the opera, and they sing about happiness because everything is settling back into place. But then Foresto is surprised again because she almost gets him killed when she tells Attila that Foresto has poisoned his cup. At this moment, he doesn’t understand what is happening. I think he has good reason to be confused.

Antonello Palombi as Manrico (with Lisa Daltirus as Leonora) in Seattle Opera's 2010 production of Il trovatore.
Photo by Rozarii Lynch

Meet Our Singers: ANA LUCRECIA GARCÍA, Odabella

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 19:58:00 +0000

Seattle Opera's premiere of Attila opens a week from Saturday, which means it's time to get to know our singers! To start off, I talked (in Spanish) to the woman who single-handedly takes down the King of the Huns: our opening night Odabella, soprano Ana Lucrecia García. In 2008, García alternated as Aida in what is a much better-known Verdi opera, but she's excited to return to Seattle for Odabella, a role she's long admired. She recently stunned La Scala audiences as a last-minute substitution in the role, and we ask her what that experience was like, why she loves Verdi and Odabella, and what it was like growing up with access to Venezuela's legendary system of music education.

What is music education like back in Venezuela, where you’re from?
Fortunately, Venezuela has an organization called Sistema Nacional de las Orquestas Juveniles, which has a presence in each city in Venezuela and gives all of us access to music. When I was very little, I began studying violin and was playing in a symphony orchestra by the time I was 8 years old. You can say I grew up surrounded by music, because my mother sang in a chorus. So I knew what it was to make music as part of a group, and that’s very important. It’s a very healthy activity that helps the formation of your character, makes you a more stable person. It was influential for me to have that access to an instrument, to play in that orchestra, because it has formed so much of my life, to the point that music is now my career.

Do you still play violin?
Very rarely. Sometimes I get a little nostalgic, and I take out my violin and dust it off. I’m surprised by what I still remember—entire scores!—and my fingers will move by themselves, through muscle memory. But lately I’m too vain and I like having my nails long. [Laughs] I don’t want to cut them to play the violin.

Ana Lucrecia García as Aida in Seattle Opera's 2008 production of Aida. Rozarii Lynch photo

How did you switch from playing the violin to singing?
Well, I went from my hometown, Coro, to Caracas to play in a professional orchestra and once I was there, I had my first brush with opera. I knew symphonic music, and I knew choral music—in my hometown, around Christmastime, we’d do choral programs that included Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, lots of stuff—but I had no experience with opera. What’s more, I didn’t even like it. It sounded like strange screams to me and I thought, “Who could like this?” But when I went to Caracas, we had programmed my first opera: Carmen. I recognized the overture because it’s so famous, so marvelous. But when I heard that tragic death theme, I was captured by how descriptive the music was. And then to hear singers explain the story? For me, it was a revelation. I went crazy for it. After Carmen came other operas—The Barber of Seville, Turandot, one after the other—and I started to imitate the singers. I did them all—sopranos, tenors, baritones—and it was all as a joke. My friends and I laughed and laughed and we even made Latin arrangements for the operas, adding drums, and so on. It was nuts, and we had a good time with it. But the older people in the orchestra said, “We think you could be a professional singer. You should think about studying.”

Ana Lucrecia García shares a smile in rehearsal with Antonello Palombi (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Another time, one of my colleagues stopped me as I was walking and asked, “Ana Lucrecia, do you sing? Because when I watch you move, I see a singer.” It was like a premonition! But that’s how it began, as a joke. I imitated and then I found my own voice. I began studying when I was 23, and at the time, my own voice was something to laugh at—I sounded like a squeaky little bird. But little by little, I found a genuine joy in singing, much more than what I experienced playing violin. That surprised me, because my violin was my great love, my first love. I was already a professional violinist, teaching classes and playing in an orchestra. But singing was like an explosion, like starting my life for the first time.

Now you live in Madrid. When and why did you move to Spain?
I moved in 1998 because I began studying voice at Reina Sofía. They had scholarships that allowed me to go without having to pay tuition, and they had the prestige I wanted at the time. So I auditioned and they accepted me.

Ana Lucrecia García and John Relyea rehearse a scene for Odabella and Attila (Alan Alabastro, photo)

Let’s talk about your role in Attila. How do you feel about Odabella and this opera?
This type of dramatic coloratura role appeals to me very much. Attila is strong and warlike but at the same time it shows a musicality that I love. Verdi’s music is a favorite of mine, for how honest it is. It is straight from the heart. It’s different from passion, which is more visceral; with Verdi, it’s all heart. It’s friendship, love, all the noblest of sentiments. It touches me so much; I feel it and I hear it in every note.

Specifically, I love Odabella. Hers is some of the music I listened to before I became a singer, and she was one of my favorites. I thought, “How can one possibly do that? What a marvel it must be to sing that role.” So now the satisfaction is twice over. I’m in awe of the role itself, but I’m also singing with a joy, and a gratitude to God, that I’m able to do this.

Last summer, you sang this role at La Scala. What was that experience like?
Ooh, it was mind-bending. I was going with the obvious joy of debuting at La Scala—imagine that, singing at such a temple! How spectacular. But on the other hand, I was a little apprehensive, wondering how the public would receive me. I had heard so many stories of people booing if they didn’t like you, and I was terrorized by the thought. I thought, “No, no, no! That can’t happen with me, they must applaud me!” [Laughs] But, of course, you later realize that their audience is just sincere. If they like you, they tell you. And if they don’t like you, you’ll hear about it.

When I arrived, I was very prepared. I’d been studying the role for a year, because it was a double debut—debuting at La Scala and debuting in the role. I thought that I needed to come double, triply prepared, to surmount that lack of experience, so I could sound like a true professional. But it ended up being fantastic, I was treated and received so well. The atmosphere was just beautiful, and I have wonderful memories. They applauded me, thank God! [Laughs] It was a very emotional experience.

Ana Lucrecia García as Odabella in La Scala's 2011 production of Attila. Brescia/Amisano © Teatro alla Scala, 2011

How do you relate to Odabella? What’s it like to slay Attila?
Me, personally, I’d never do something like that! But that’s the magic of opera. You can play pretend, and live out these roles and say, “Today I’m going to be the bad girl.” Though, of course, Odabella’s not bad, she’s good. She goes after Attila only because he’s killed her father. But in my personal life, I’d never cut off someone’s head. Normally, I’m a total pacifist, all about peace. [Pauses] Well, it depends. If you did something that bad to me, I’d probably turn into Rambo, too!

"Distress" at the Costume Shop

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 20:47:00 +0000

Next week is Tech Week for Seattle Opera's production of Attila, when the company moves into McCaw Hall and one by one adds all the elements of production: the set, titles, orchestra, costumes, hair and make-up, lights, and finally the audience. So this week, at the Costume Shop, they're putting finishing touches on the costumes to get them ready for the stage and the lights. With the contemporary look Melanie Taylor Burgess has designed for Attila, finishing touches includes the curious process known as "distressing" the costumes.

Attila tells a down and dirty story of war, invasion, refugees, uneasy truces, and brutal power politics. The characters need to look as though they've been living hard for a while. So our skilled craftspeople in the Costume Shop distress the costumes, giving them the theatrical equivalent of years of wear and tear. Here, for instance, is a costume piece for one of Attila's men, before distressing:

And after, with dirt and texture painted-on:

The chain hanging from the pocket of this camouflage jacket is typical of the tools used by Jeanna Gomez, the artist responsible for distressing this piece; the heavy weight stretches the garment, bringing out the natural folds and wrinkles, and Jeanna then paints highlights onto the cloth, darkening the parts that get buried and brightening the spots where the lights will hit.

Stage light has a tendency to make everything look flat; the painting we're doing here, like stage make-up, fights that tendency, giving the pieces even more depth then they'd have in real life. When you buy new clothes off the rack, you want them to look flat and clean and spanking new. Distressing is the artful way of ruining that nice new look.

A couple weeks ago we posted photos of lots of our Attila costumes on our Facebook page. Those photos were taken pre-distressing:

Here, for instance, is Attila's great cloak, smudged as if he's gotten too close to one too many campfires while out on campaign:

You'll see some costumes getting destroyed onstage, too. The people who end up in Attila's entourage, whether soldiers or slaves, use the insignia of a big letter A. Here it is as painted, permanently, on a distressed costume:

But in the opening scene, you'll see Attila's men take several new prisoners and mark them in full view of the audience. They use a kind of chalk that can be sprayed at each performance and washed off between shows:

That way, the same costume piece will get distressed again and again--and the audience can see the process!

Attila: Behind The Scenes: Music Rehearsal

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 18:03:00 +0000

When the lead singers arrived for rehearsal, we caught up with them to see their work with Maestro Carlo Montanaro. Hosted by the King of the Huns himself (Bass-Baritone John Relyea), see why the principal singers all have extremely difficult parts to master before opening night.

Learn more about Attila on the Seattle Opera Website

2012/13 Season: Turandot, Fidelio, La Cenerentola, La Bohème, La Voix Humaine and Suor Angelica

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 20:12:00 +0000

It’s that magical time of year everyone at the Seattle Opera offices looks forward to…. No, no, not the holidays. It’s time to announce our 2012/13 season!

Soprano Lori Phillips (pictured here in Nashville Opera’s 2006 production of Turandot) stars as Turandot on opening night.
© Marianne Leach

Next year we’ll present six operas that explore the infinite variety of love, beginning in August with Puccini’s extravagant final masterpiece, Turandot. It’s a grand romance, set in legendary China, and tells the story of a cruel princess softened by love. And, of course, it features one of opera’s most famous arias: the emotional “Nessun dorma.” On opening night, soprano Lori Phillips takes on the role of the icy Turandot, opposite Italian tenor Antonello Palombi as Calaf. (By the way, you can also see Palombi in our upcoming production of Attila, opening in just a couple weeks!) For more info on the production and a more complete cast list (including bios, headshots, and audio clips), visit our Turandot webpage.

Seattle Opera’s 2003 production of Fidelio.
© Rozarii Lynch

In October, Seattle Opera revives its 2003 production of Fidelio, created by the innovative team of director Chris Alexander and designer Robert Dahlstrom, who set the action in a present-day first-world prison. Beethoven’s only opera, Fidelio remains a story of hope in the face of oppression and tyranny that is as relevant today as it was in 1814. On opening night, German soprano Christiane Libor makes her U.S. operatic debut as Leonore, a devoted wife determined to find and free her wrongfully imprisoned husband, Florestan. Singing that role is tenor Clifton Forbis, whose recent Seattle Tristan inspired rave reviews. Two Seattle favorites run Fidelio’s prison: bass Arthur Woodley is head-jailer Rocco, and bass-baritone Greer Grimsley is the cruel governor Don Pizarro. For more info, click here.

The whimsical sets/costumes come from Houston Grand Opera.
© Brett Coomer

Rossini’s effervescent take on the Cinderella story returns to Seattle Opera in January 2013. This charming production of La Cenerentola brings the family-friendly fairy tale to life with eye-popping colors, magical conveyances, and a helpful team of giant mice. Italian mezzo Daniela Pini and American tenor René Barbera make their Seattle Opera debuts as Cenerentola and Prince Ramiro on opening night. Also making their company debuts are Tamara Mumford and Edgardo Rocha, who take on those roles for two of the performances.
For more info, click here.

Tenor Francesco Demuro (pictured here as Alfredo in Seattle Opera’s 2009 Traviata) stars as Rodolfo on opening night.
© Rozarii Lynch

Another Puccini masterpiece comes to Seattle Opera in February and March 2013: La bohème, directed by Tomer Zvulun and conducted by Carlo Montanaro. You may remember Zvulun from his company debut last season, directing a stunning Lucia di Lammermoor. Montanaro also made his company debut during 2010/11 (Don Quichotte) and you can see him in the pit again in a couple weeks when we open Attila. On opening night Francesco Demuro returns as Rodolfo, with Elizabeth Caballero as his ill-fated Mimì. Norah Amsellem and Michael Todd Simpson, who both appeared in Seattle Opera’s recent Carmen, return as Musetta and Marcello. The alternate cast features the debuts of Michael Fabiano as Rodolfo and Nadine Sierra as Mimì. For more info, click here.

Soprano Nuccia Focile stars as Elle in La Voix Humaine.
© Tristam Kenton

The season wraps up in May with a double bill of important twentieth-century one-act operas, both new to Seattle Opera: La voix humaine, by Francis Poulenc, and Puccini’s Suor Angelica. Nuccia Focile returns for this 40-minute monodrama in which a woman desperately tries to stay connected to a former lover on the telephone. In Suor Angelica, a woman is forced by her wealthy family to abandon her illegitimate son and join a convent. Maria Gavrilova makes her company debut as the suffering young mother, with Rosalind Plowright returning as her chilly aunt. For more info, click here.

Single tickets for select performances won't go on sale until May 29, but you can secure your seats now as part of a subscription package. Visit our website, or give the friendly folks at our ticket office a call (206-389-7676) and they'll be happy to help.

Any questions or comments about the season? Leave us a comment!

A New Year Message from Speight Jenkins

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 19:16:00 +0000

A special new year message from General Director Speight Jenkins.

For current season and ticket information visit seattleopera.org/tickets

The Rabble-Rouser’s Guide to Attila

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 17:30:00 +0000

Giuseppe Verdi (left) loved pushing boundaries. During the decades when he dominated Italian opera, he changed the way operas were written, flaunted social convention, and played an important role in the Risorgimento, the political movement that led to Italian independence and unification. This December, we’re gearing up for Attila and simultaneously looking back on a year which has seen momentous political upheaval, particularly in the Middle East. In Attila and his other early operas, Verdi wrote the theme music for nineteenth-century Italy’s equivalent of what’s currently going on in much of the world.

Research for costume designs for Attila's troops by Melanie Taylor Burgess

There was no such country as Italy when Verdi was born in 1813. The places where Verdi lived and created his operas were a handful of small states and city-states mostly ruled from faraway Vienna. The imperial Austrian government maintained its tenuous hold over the peninsula that was to become Italy by exercising strict control over any means by which large groups of people might communicate, such as newspapers, churches, and the theater. Yet Verdi, who wanted the Italians to break free of foreign domination and create a country of their own, again and again found ways, in his early operas, to get his message across.

His first ball-out-of-the-park hit was the chorus “Va, pensiero” from his third opera, Nabucco (1842). The enslaved Jews are toiling on the banks of the Euphrates during the Babylonian exile, and sing at this point of how they long to return to the Jewish homeland in Israel. Everyone in the audience immediately understood that the Jews symbolized would-be Italians, enslaved by their Austrian overlords and yearning for a country of their own. The Italians quickly adopted “Va, pensiero” as an unofficial anthem, a status the piece enjoys to this day. And because Verdi’s name formed an acronym naming the eventual leader of the united country—Vittorio Emmanuel, Re D’Italia (Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy)—people who screamed “Viva Verdi!”, or whistled the tune of “Va, pensiero” at Austrian soldiers were actually making incendiary political statements.

Coded graffiti: is this man an opera-lover or an anti-government rebel?

Verdi, who came from the most salt-of-the-earth kind of people (today he’d undoubtedly claim membership in “the 99%”), was in no way beholden to the Austro-Hungarian power structure that controlled northern Italy. In the operas he wrote following Nabucco, he seized every chance he could to incite his audiences with patriotic sentiment. Eventually, it became a regular thing for Verdi to run afoul of governmental censors who objected to much of the action he wanted to portray onstage. (In Attila, for instance, they wouldn’t allow Verdi to show the Pope onstage; so Leone, who is based on the historical figure who became Pope Leo the Great, is not yet pope when he appears at the climax of Act One. Regardless, he testifies, with all the power of the Christian church and a mighty bass voice, that “This [Italy] is the land of God.” )

Verdi designed the Attila Act One climax to mimic Raphael's famous painting of Attila's meeting with Leo

Seattle Opera’s upcoming production of Attila is set in today’s war-torn world, and isn’t specific as to location. But again and again in the music and text, you’ll hear the characters wax eloquent about their passionate feelings for their country, which, in 1846, was very specifically Italy.

The patriotism begins with Odabella’s thrilling first line. Verdi asks his soprano to come onstage, open her mouth, and immediately dazzle the audience with a wild coloratura flourish, dashing up and down two octaves, responding to the fearsome Attila the Hun’s question, “What inspires your courage?”

Boundless love for our sacred homeland!

Odabella then goes on to sing her rousing first aria, “Allor che i forti corrono,” featuring her proud characterization of Italian women:

Ma noi, donne italiche,
Cinte di ferro il seno,
Sul fumido terreno
Sempre vedrai pugnar.

But we are women of Italy.
Our bosoms are girt with steel.
You shall always find us
on the reeking field of battle.

Ana Lucrecia García, who sings Odabella in Seattle, did the role at La Scala last year. Brescia/Amisano © Teatro alla Scala, 2011

Before the opera moves on to its second scene, we get ANOTHER enthusiastic statement of Italian patriotism: in this case the Roman General Ezio, negotiating with Attila in a beautiful duet for baritone and bass. Verdi wrote a pithy motto, almost a campaign slogan, for Ezio:

Avrai tu l’universo,
Resti l’Italia a me!

You will have the universe--
let Italy be mine.

And sure enough, this line got pulled from context, just as Verdi must have hoped, to became another rallying cry in support of Italian unification. (No matter that in the context of the story, Ezio, whose line it is, comes across as untrustworthy!)

The patriotism continues in the opera’s second scene, which depicts a historical pageant of the founding of Venice. It gets the history wrong, but the audience didn’t care—at the theater in Venice where Attila had its premiere in 1846, they got so excited they made the tenor and the chorus repeat the rousing cabaletta that concludes the scene. The tune is so catchy, I imagine many in that original audience were singing along during the encore. The metaphor here, comparing ‘la patria’ to the phoenix, is no accident: the name of the opera house in Venice where Attila premiered is La Fenice, the Phoenix, and over the centuries this theater has in fact burned to the ground and been rebuilt a number of times!

At 11:17 in the video below, you can hear and see Foresto’s patriotic cabaletta as sung by Kaludi Kaludov at La Scala about twenty years ago.

Cara patria, già madre e reina
Di possenti magnanimi figli,
Or macerie, deserto, ruina
Su cui regna silenzio e squallor.
Ma dall’alghe di questi marosi,
Qual risorta fenice novella,
Rivivrai più superba, più bella,
Della terra, dell’onde stupor!

Beloved homeland, queen and mother
of great and glorious sons,
now you are a sad wreck,
a desert of silence and rubble.
But you shall rise up from this lagoon
like the phoenix new-born,
more proud, more beautiful,
the wonder of earth and sea!

Attila: Behind The Scenes: Music of Attila

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 18:11:00 +0000

Head of Coach-Accompanists David McDade takes us to the piano for a music lesson on Attila. Learn some of the musical themes you’ll hear from each character as well as explore the big role of the chorus in this opera.

Learn more about Attila on the Seattle Opera Website

The Huns are coming!

noreply@blogger.com (Tamara Vallejos) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 19:44:00 +0000

Foreground: John Relyea,
© Rozarii Lynch
Background: Attila, Israeli Opera, © Yossi Zwecker

Our blog has been a bit quiet for the past few weeks because we’ve been getting ready for a couple of big events: the announcement of our 2012/13 season at the end of this month, and the start of Attila rehearsals tomorrow! You’ll have to wait ‘til December 30th to find out about our next season, but our current season has us pretty excited and it’s in no small part thanks to Attila. This rarely-performed Verdi opera opens at McCaw Hall on January 14 and runs for six performances through January 28—and it’s the first time Seattle Opera has ever mounted it.

“I find Attila the most beautiful of Verdi’s early operas,” says Speight Jenkins. “The arias for all four principals and the great choral pieces were more than a suggestion of things to come; in the area of both solo and choral pieces he had arrived. This is the real Verdi. Attila will surprise a lot of people in its extraordinarily high quality.”

So what’s Attila about? This melodious bel canto opera follows the famous Hun as he and his hordes invade a crumbling empire and come face-to-face with a beautiful warrior woman, a hot-headed refugee leader, and a two-faced general. This two-hour feast of song and drama is set in modern day, and features Canadian bass-baritone John Relyea as Attila. Last season, Relyea starred as Don Quichotte in another Seattle Opera premiere, and we’re looking forward to having him back on our stage. Venezuelan soprano Ana Lucrecia García takes on the role of Odabella, a woman determined to avenge her father’s death; Italian tenor Antonello Palombi is her lover, Foresto; and Italian baritone Marco Vratogna makes his company debut as Ezio, a power-hungry Roman general.

Carlo Montanaro—who conducted Don Quichotte last season—is in the pit for Attila, and Bernard Uzan directs, following his acclaimed Carmen this fall.

For more info on this production and to find a full cast list, visit our http://www.seattleopera.org/attila. And make sure to keep an eye on the blog and our Facebook and Twitter pages, because we'll be bringing you lots of sneak-peeks at the production between now and opening night. Until then, have a look at our Attila Speight's Corner video, where Speight Jenkins talks about why he's so drawn to Attila, and costume designer Melanie Taylor Burgess discuses her vision for this production.

Jason Slayden's WERTHER Photos

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 23:09:00 +0000

Tomorrow night is our final performance of Werther this fall. Before we enjoy this remarkable production for the last time, here's a glance back at this fall's tour, brought to us by Young Artist--and confirmed shutterbug--Jason Slayden. You're likely to find Slayden snapping cameras both offstage and on, where he shares the challenging title role with Andrew Stenson. In this production, Werther (Slayden, above, photo by Bill Mohn) is a photographer who uses his camera to get closer to the unapproachable Charlotte.

Young Artists Sarah Larsen, Amanda Opuszynski, Jason Slayden, David Krohn, and Michael Uloth crossing the Cascades en route to Ellensburg, WA, for last week's performance at Central Washington University.

The marquee outside the Kirkland Performance Center, where the production premiered.

Stephanie Rhodes has performed Massenet's lush score at each performance this fall.

Michael Uloth, who sings the Bailiff in Werther, gets excited about the spread while on tour. Thanks, Walla Walla!

Lindsay Russell, one of our two Sophies, gets ready for the Young Artists' Walla Walla performance.

Rhodes looks at a moment in the score with Sarah Larsen, who sings Charlotte, before a Werther performance.

Following his mainstage debut as Moralès in Carmen, Joseph Lattanzi has taken on the role of Charlotte's fiancé, Albert, in Werther. Here he is in a quick music rehearsal before the Walla Walla performance.

Pianist Stephanie Rhodes passes time on the road by teaching the Young Artists the Cryllic alphabet.

Photos by Jason Slayden. To see more, visit his photoblog, iamanoperasinger! And keep an eye out for him this January, when he makes him Seattle Opera mainstage debut as Uldino in Verdi's Attila.

Young Werther and His Sorrows

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 21:23:00 +0000

Two of our Young Artists are currently taking on one of world literature’s great roles: Werther, the fictional alter-ego created early in his career by Germany’s greatest writer, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (and later re-imagined by French opera composer Jules Massenet). Goethe introduced the world to this fascinatingly tormented, passionate young man in 1774 in his novel The Sorrows of Young Werther, which is structured as a series of letters Werther writes his good friend Wilhelm chronicling Werther’s obsession with Charlotte. Towards the end of Werther’s life, an editor takes over the narration and tells us how this strange young man did away with himself. The letters are so realistic many of the first readers were convinced that Werther actually existed and wrote the letters himself!

Leo Goeke as Werther in Seattle Opera's 1976 Werther (photo by Des Gates)

Goethe was almost Werther. The novel was indeed born out of the author's own personal experience. Not long after he had finished his Doctor of Law degree, Goethe moved to Wetzlar, the town mentioned in the novel, and opened a legal practice. He actually fell in love with a woman named Charlotte, who took care of her younger brothers and sisters and was engaged to be married. Just as Werther does in the novel, Goethe became a good friend of Charlotte and her husband-to-be. Unlike Werther, however, Goethe didn’t shoot himself. When things got too tense in Wetzlar, he moved back to Frankfurt, where he had grown up, and wrote his novel. Many biographers feel Goethe used the novel as a way to get all that hopeless love out of his system so he could get on with his life. By exaggerating his own amorous feelings to the point of parody, Goethe was able to distance himself, psychologically, from his own propensity toward indulging in hopeless love, a tendency which caused him no end of trouble. (Goethe finally settled down with a woman named Christiane Vulpius when he turned 39; they lived together for eighteen years and then finally got married.)

Vinson Cole as Werther in Seattle Opera's 1997 production (photo by Jeffree Luke)

To Goethe’s surprise, The Sorrows of Young Werther became a phenomenal bestseller and attracted a cult following. Translations sprang up in dozens of languages; poets all across Europe began writing Werther-inspired verses; young men around Europe started dressing up in the blue frock coat and yellow waistcoat described as Werther’s habitual costume in the novel, and young ladies bought bottles of eau de Werther perfume; figures of Werther and Charlotte appeared on dishes, jewelery, and other trinkets. One disturbed young man identified so strongly with Goethe’s impetuous hero he threatened to commit suicide the way Werther had. (The story goes that Goethe talked him out of it.) And when the corpse of a young woman who had drowned herself was fished from the river with a copy of the novel in her pocket, Goethe realized there was a problem. The young people who read his novel were not picking up on his cynical treatment of Werther: they were revelling in the way Werther indulged in the most extreme and unhealthy emotional life. When it came time to reprint the book, Goethe added a disclaimer to the beginning, a letter from the dead Werther to his readers in which Werther urges: “Be a man, and do not follow my example!”

Dale Duesing and Delores Ziegler as Werther and Charlotte in Seattle Opera's 1989 production (Photo by Ron Scherl)

Like all well-drawn fictional characters, Werther is so complicated he is impossible to pin down; people’s responses to Werther usually say much more about the people making the response than they do about Werther himself. We collected the following takes on Goethe’s troubled twenty-three year old:

Yes, hopeless SUFFERER! friendless, and forlorn—
Sweet victim of LOVE’S power, the silent tear
Shall oft at twilight’s close, and blushing morn,
Gem the pale primrose that adorns thy bier;
And as the balmy dew ascends to heaven,
Thy crime shall steal away, thy frailty be forgiven!

—from ”Elegy to the Memory of Werther” by Mrs. Mary Robinson

Poster for the first Paris performances of Massenet's opera, which premiered in Vienna in 1892; images here include Werther admiring Charlotte as big sister, in Act One, and Werther pleading with Charlotte in Act Three

Goethe makes Werther an idle dilletante, who sketches a bit, reads a bit, but is incapable of seriously concentrating on anything...[The novel] reads as...a masterly and devastating portrait of a complete egoist, a spoiled brat, incapable of love because he cares for nobody and nothing but himself and having his way at whatever cost to others... Werther, by staying on when it is clear that his presence is unwelcome, defies the company [at a party in the town to which he has moved], but his precious ego is hurt by their reactions, and he resigns his post, returns to Lotte and disaster for all, destroying himself and ruining the lives of Lotte and Albert. What a horrid little monster!

—English poet W. H. Auden

To complain of Werther’s self-pity or lack of will is like complaining of Hamlet’s procrastination. The weaknesses in Werther’s character are certainly there. They are there for a reason. They are there as an essential part of the portrait of a man ill-equipped to cope with his life. They are there as the fatal flaws in a character likeable, generous, creative, spontaneous, responsive, and full of vitality. And as such they must be accepted as the necessary premises in a persuasive tragedy, as necessary components in a consummate work of art.

—Michael Hulse, Goethe translator

Oh, how often have I cursed those foolish pages of mine which made my youthful sufferings public property! If Werther had been my brother and I had killed him, I could scarcely have been so persecuted by his avenging ghost.

—Goethe, Second Roman Elegy (first version)

Dale Duesing as Werther at Seattle Opera in 1989 (Photo by Matthew McVay)

And here, for those of you who haven’t read the novel, are a few excerpted letters chronicling Werther’s disintegration. What would you write back, if you were Wilhelm? Have you ever known any Werthers in your life? What did you do, the first time you fell head over heels in hopeless, impossible love with somebody?

July 16, 1771 [One month after Werther meets Charlotte]

Oh, how my blood rushes through my veins when my fingers unintentionally brush hers or when our feet touch under the table. I shrink back as though from fire, but a secret force drives me forward again, although everything swims before my eyes. Her innocent, candid soul does not divine how tormenting such small intimacies can be. And when, while we talk, she puts her hand on mine and, animated by what we are saying, moves closer to me, so that the heavenly breath of her mouth reaches my lips, I am close to fainting, as if struck by lightning. And, Wilhelm, if I should ever dare—this heavenly confidence—you understand! No, my heart is not so depraved! Weak! Weak enough!—And is that not depravity?

She is sacred to me. Any desire is silenced in her presence. I never know what I feel when I am with her; it is as if my soul were spinning through every nerve. She plays a melody on her clavichord with the touch of an angel, so simple, so ethereal! It is her favorite tune, and I am cured of all pain, confusion, and melancholy the moment she strikes the first note.

Not one word about the magic power of music in antiquity seems to me improbable when I am under the spell of her simple melody. And how well she knows when to play it, at the moment when I feel like blowing out my brains. The confusion and darkness of my soul are then dispersed, and I can breathe more freely again.

Erich Parce and Vinson Cole as Albert and Werther at Seattle Opera in 1997 (Photo by Gary Smith)

August 18

Must it be so that whatever makes man happy must later become the source of his misery?

That generous and warm feeling for Nature which flooded my heart with such bliss, so that I saw the world around me as a Paradise, has now become an unbearable torment, a sort of demon that persecutes me wherever I go. When I formerly looked from the rock far across the river and the fertile valleys to the distant hills, and saw everything on all sides sprout and spring forth—the mountains covered with tall, thick trees from base to summit, the valleys winding between pleasant shading woods, the gently flowing river gliding among the whispering reeds and reflecting light clouds which sailed across the sky under the mild evening breeze; when I listened to the birds that bring the forest to life, while millions of midges danced in the red rays of a setting sun whose last flare roused the buzzing beetle from the grass; and all the whirring and weaving around me drew my attention to the ground underfoot where the moss, which wrests its nourishment from my hard rock, and the broom plant, which grows on the slope of the arid sand hill, revealed to me the inner, glowing, sacred life of Nature—how fervently did I take all this into my warm heart, feeling like a god in that overflowing abundance, while the beautiful forms of the infinite universe surrounded and inspired my soul. Huge mountains surrounded me, precipices opened before me, and torrents gushed downward; the rivers streamed below, and wood and mountains sang; and I saw them at their mutual work of creation in the depths of the earth, all these unfathomable forces. And above the earth and below the sky swarms the variety of creatures, multifarious and multiform. Everything, everything populated with a thousand shapes; and mankind, huddled together in the security of its little houses, nesting throughout and dominating the wide world in its own way. Poor fool who belittles everything because you are yourself so small! From the inaccessible mountains, across the wasteland untrod by human foot, to the end of the unexplored seas breathes the spirit of the eternal Creator who rejoices in every atom of dust that divines Him and lives. —Oh, the times when I longed to fly on the crane’s wings, as it passed overhead, to the shores of the illimitable ocean, in order to drink from the foaming cup of the Infinite an elating sensation of life, and to feel, if only for a moment, in the cramped forces of my being one drop of the bliss of that Being who creates everything in and through Himself.

My friend, only the memory of these hours eases my heart. Even the effort to recall and to express again in words those inexpressible sensations lifts my soul above itself, but also intensifies the anguish of my present state.

January 8, 1772 [Unable to subdue his feelings for Charlotte, Werther has left the town where she lives and taken a job elsewhere; but he has no patience for the new people in his life and disdains them as petty snobs.]

What dreadful people these are, whose minds are completely absorbed in matters of etiquette, whose thoughts and aspirations all year long turn over the single problem of how to push oneself one chair higher at table. And it is not as though they had nothing else to do. No, on the contrary, work continues to pile up because trivial annoyances hinder the dispatch of more important matters. Last week a quarrel started during a sleighing party and the whole fun was spoiled.

The fools, who do not understand that actual rank does not matter at all and that he who occupies the top very rarely plays the chief role. How often a king is ruled by a minister; how many ministers by their secretaries! And who is then the first? I believe it is the man who knows his fellow-men at a glance and has sufficient power or shrewdness to harness their forces and passions to the execution of his plans.

Vinson Cole and Jean Rigby as Werther and Charlotte at Seattle Opera in 1997 (Photo by Gary Smith)

October 19 [Werther loses his new job and returns to the town where Charlotte lives, even though he is growing increasingly unhappy]

Oh, this void, this terrifying void I feel in my breast! I often think: if you could once, only once, press her to your heart, this void would be filled.

December 6 [One of Werther’s final letters]

How her image haunts me! Awake or asleep, she fills my entire being. Here, when I close my eyes, here, in my forehead, at the focus of my inner vision, her dark eyes remain. Here! but I cannot put it into words. When I close my eyes, they are there; like an ocean, like an abyss, they lie before me, in me, taking hold of all my thoughts.

What is man, that celebrated demigod? Does he not lack powers just where he needs them most? And when he soars with joy, or sinks into suffering, is he not in both cases held back and restored to dull, cold consciousness at the very moment when he longs to lose himself in the fullness of the Infinite?

Dale Duesing and Delores Ziegler as Werther and Charlotte in Seattle Opera's 1989 production (Photo by Matthew McVay)

Quotations taken from the Michael Hulse translation of The Sorrows of Young Werther

Andrew Stenson as Werther in Seattle Opera's current Young Artists Program production, which plays in downtown Seattle Saturday, November 19, 8 pm, at the Nordstrom Recital Hall at Benaroya Hall

Speight's Letter from Budapest

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 23:00:00 +0000

Speight Jenkins checked in this weekend from Budapest, where he got to hear Rossini's charming La Cenerentola at the Hungarian State Opera. (Photo of him outside the theater, paying his respects to Ferenc Liszt--who turned 200 a couple of weeks ago--with György Sibelka, photo courtesy György Sibelka.) This trip to Hungary reminded Speight, not of Attila and his Huns (they don't have anything to do with modern Hungary, although their army is scheduled to invade our stage shortly!), but of an earlier trip to Hungary:

In 1960 with a friend I traveled to Poland, the Soviet Union, and Hungary. In Budapest, at a performance of Tristan und Isolde, sung in Hungarian, we sat next to one Dr. Arthur Sibelka and his wife. They introduced themselves to us and sought to speak with us in a private place after the opera where the secret police could not hear us talking. They asked us many questions about the state of the world. He had been an official in the government in Hungary before the Communist takeover in 1947 and afterwards was made to work in the fields in Eastern Hungary. After six years of hard labor he had come back to Budapest and had several years of peace, working in a small position in the Department of Agriculture prior to supporting the ill-fated Nagy government in the eight-day revolution in 1956. He was able to go back to his position after the Soviets crushed the revolution and worked there until he retired. He passed away in 1981.

Hungarian State Opera House (Photo: Wikimedia)

A year or so ago, I mentioned my connection to Dr. Sibelka--with whom I had had no further contact--to a Hungarian friend in Seattle who has many contacts here in Hungary. Before long I received an e-mail from György Sibelka, nephew of the man I met in 1960. Today in Budapest, Mr. Sibelka met me at the train along with his two daughters, Agnes and Zsohphia. The Sibelkas took me first for photos at the opera house, then on the first underground railway created in Central Europe (1898) to a beautiful restaurant by the Danube. The water actually looked blue today as there was not a cloud in the sky. We had traditional Hungarian food: goulash soup and a huge plate of stuffed cabbage with sour cream, slices of veal and a sausage.

Considered one of Europe's most beautiful cities, Budapest arose on the Danube from two riverbank fortresses, Buda and Pest (Photo: Wallpaperstravel.com)

György regaled me with stories of his uncle and of his family in general. His grandfather had four wives, so the Dr. Sibelka I met was a half-uncle of his. The grandfather apparently was very successful and lived a very cosmopolitan and exciting life. Dr. Sibelka, on the other hand, was more intellectual and worked very hard his whole life. György told me how much the six years in Eastern Hungary, working as a laborer, had cost this man of letters, who had traveled and worked for the short-lived postwar Hungarian government in Italy and in other countries in Western Europe.

His stories neatly fit into my recollection of the conversations of a half-century ago. When Dr. Sibelka asked me, “How is Florence?” I said, “What do you mean?” He said, “Well, my wife used to go to Italy often, and now we can’t. I just wondered if it is the same. Tell me how it looks.” It moved me greatly and does now. Here was this cultured European denied the right to travel because of a totalitarian government and forced to work as a field hand just because he had been a member of a democratic government.

When we finished that very large meal--I ate more today than I have in the previous two weeks in Europe--we walked about 100 yards to the Cukaraszda Confectionery, an extremely popular restaurant in Budapest that, like many places in Vienna, only serves desserts. We ate a marvelous concoction of cake soaked in rum, plus whipped cream and chocolate called Somlói galuska.

Somlói galuska (Photo: budapestcookingclass.com)

I heard more stories about their family. His eldest daughter, Agnes, spoke very good English and had worked in Canada for a business firm for which she later worked in Hungary. At the moment she is taking care of her two children, a boy and a girl, six and ten. His other daughter, Zsophia, is not married and also lives and works in Budapest. György speaks hesitant but very expressive English, and he worked at it all afternoon.

When it was over, they took me back to my hotel. It was a great experience, particularly because my wife’s mother was Hungarian, and on this day I became much closer to her background as well. Now it’s on to a very un-Hungarian opera, Rossini’s Cenerentola --we call her Cinderella, and the Hungarian name is "Hamupipőke".

Speight's Letter from Germany

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Thu, 10 Nov 2011 21:26:00 +0000

We heard from Speight Jenkins today, who, following the tremendous honor shown him by the National Endowment for the Arts, headed on toward Europe, as he often does in November (in between mainstage productions), in search of great singers and operas to bring to Seattle. Photo of Speight (left), taken in Bremen near the statue of the famous Bremen Town Musicians, by Christopher Braun.

A three-week audition and performance trip to Germany would be very difficult were it not for the Eurail (railroad) Pass available to Americans. With the Eurail Pass one can change one’s schedule if necessary without any financial penalty as I did when the October snowstorm in New York delayed my arrival in Frankfurt by three hours. Due to the kindness of the Frankfurt Opera I secured a ticket to the premiere of a brilliant Siegfried on a few hours notice.

This trip has been unusual in the number of really outstanding performance so far: a marvelous Rosenkavalier in Munich...

Publicity photo for Der Rosenkavalier at Bayerische Staatsoper

...with Martina Serafin as one of the greatest Marschallins of my life and wonderful conducting by Constantin Trinks, a German conductor not yet 30, and a fascinating, perceptive Dialogues of the Carmelites with Seattle Opera former Young Artist Maureen McKay as Blanche de la Force.

Maureen McKay as Blanche de la Force at Komische Oper Berlin; Photo by Monika Rittershaus

That performance caused me to change my mind about a very controversial, often pornographic Catalan director, Calixto Bieto. It was a revelatory conception of Poulenc’s great opera.

When I saw in the schedule that Die Meistersinger was being given in Nürnberg, I felt that I had to see it. It turned out to be a marvelous production by David Mouctar-Samorai, with a first-class Hans Sachs, Albert Pesendorfer. What made it so good was that it glorified German art in the way I think Wagner intended and managed completely to avoid any suggestion of Fascism (which often happens in this opera) or a connection to the Nazi period (frequently the case in German productions in the last twenty years). It also showed that with a lot of innovation Die Meistersinger worked marvelously in a contemporary, timeless, somewhat abstract setting.

Publicity photo for Die Meistersinger at Staatstheater Nürnberg

Just last night I attended a very strange production of Aida in Hamburg...

Publicity photo for Aida at Hamburgische Staatsoper

...made memorable by stunning conducting by Carlo Montanaro, who will lead our upcoming Attila. It was one of those rare performances when every tempo seemed thought out properly, and the playing of the orchestra captured the warmth and passion of Verdi.

Germany is beautiful in November with all the trees a rich gold. One oddity about them: I have seen no trees with red leaves such as we have in the United States. The weather for the past ten days has been breathtakingly sunny with temperatures in the high 40s and 50s, perfect for me and for traveling.

On the personal side I visited in Bremen with a former Seattle Opera intern, Christopher Braun, and had the opportunity to spend the day with him, his wife, his three-year-old son, Constantin, and two-month old baby, Curt. It was great to see Chris after a two-year period. He is the Marketing Director of the Bremen Opera, and he and his wife enjoy very much living in Bremen. It is, incidentally, the smallest principality in the Federal Republic. Bremen was always, like Hamburg, a “free” city, that is, a democratic one without a king. A city of around 550,000, it has its own Parliament with as much authority within its city limits as, say, the Parliament in Munich has for the whole state of Bavaria.

Auditions in four or five of the cities have turned up some interesting singers possible for Seattle Opera and the performances even more. I look forward to the operas over the next nine days from which I might find more candidates for Seattle Opera.

Attila: Speight's Corner

noreply@blogger.com (Seattle Opera) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 20:26:00 +0000

General Director Speight Jenkins waxes poetic about Attila, its beautiful music, and the stellar cast he hand-picked for this opera. Special guest Costume Designer Melanie Taylor Burgess joins Speight to discuss the new costumes being created for the production.

Learn more about Attila on the Seattle Opera Website

New Goethe Movie just in time for Seattle Opera's "Werther"

noreply@blogger.com (Jonathan Dean) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 18:15:00 +0000

Today the new German movie Young Goethe in Love opened in New York; the New York Times has an insightful review. Seattleites got a chance to see it last May, when it played at the Seattle International Film Festival. In the tradition of Shakespeare in Love, the film is a fictionalized account of how Goethe came to write The Sorrows of Young Werther--the brief epistolary novel that launched the Romantic movement and inspired Massenet's opera, which our Young Artists will be singing at 7 pm tonight at the Kirkland Performance Center in Kirkland, WA.

Here's a trailer for the new film, which stars Alexander Fehling as Goethe, Miriam Stein as his beloved, and the great Moritz Bleibtreu as his rival: