April 12, 2010
Special to the Twin Cities Performance Art Examiner
"How beautiful Princess Salome looks tonight." So begins Salome, the alternately celebrated and censured opera by German composer Richard Strauss. With these simple opening words one of opera's most enigmatic figures is introduced, a woman whose symbolic meaning and psychological motivation have been continually reinterpreted since the debut staging in 1905. One singular aspect of the work, however, that is never in doubt is the grotesque consequences of obsessive desire, a signature theme rendered with spellbinding finesse by The Minnesota Opera in this season finale.
Based upon Oscar Wilde's dramatic adaptation of the biblical legend, Strauss' Salome recounts how the unrequited lust of Princess Salome for the prophet Jokanaan (popularly known as John the Baptist), the one man impervious to her ravishing beauty, leads to Salome's infamous demand to have the holy man's head presented to her on a silver platter. Whether the notorious deed is born of malevolent spite or deranged affection, this exceptionally powerful production offers no conveniently prosaic explanation for inflamed passion.
Salome's inscrutability is brought to mesmerizing life by the acclaimed Russian soprano Mlada Khudoley. From the very first moments, Khodoley projects a grandiose persona defined by a bored indifference to the desire of others. As Salome's obsession with Jokanaan grows, however, Khodoley uses her extraordinary vocal range to underscore a precarious emotional instability. Regulating such demanding vocal stamina would be an endurance test for any performer, especially as the work builds toward Salome's climactic aria. To Khudoley's enormous credit, her powerful pitch never falters, growing increasingly commanding even as her character succumbs to madness.
While the vocal requirements of Salome are notoriously complex, the role is made even more challenging by the physical demands of the Dance of the Seven Veils. The famed movement (in which Salome gratifies the lustfulness of her stepfather King Herod with a blatantly seductive dance) requires a deftness of movement traditionally more attuned to a seasoned dancer than an operatic singer. Rather than relying solely on one performer, Choreographer and Stage Director David Lefkowich has crafted a sensually charged arrangement that maintains Khudoley's place in the spotlight even while complimenting her movements with the graceful supporting trio of dancers Emily King, Megan McClellan, and Colleen McClellan Ueland.
Salome is far from the only character driven by desire. Christian Reinert, in his impressive portrayal of Narraboth, the Captain of the Guard, makes striking use of his rich tenor to express his secret yearning for Salome. Not to be outdone, fellow tenor Dennis Petersen's take on King Herod emphasizes equally potent desire (albeit of a less innocent variety) through luxurious phrasing. And as the understandably embittered Queen Herodias, soprano Elizabeth Byrne serves as the modulating counterbalance to all this heightened passion.
Playing the fated subject of Salome's wanton desire, baritone Jason Howard lends a doomed righteousness to Jokanaan that is both unerringly wise and untouchably pious. These characteristics are on electrifying display in Howard's gripping defiance of Salome's delirious overtures. Howard's voice is that of the fated martyr willing to sacrifice all on the altar of spiritual rectitude.
Strauss' energetic score is sensitively conducted by Emmanuel Joel-Hornak to match the tonal shifts of Salome's volatile passions. Such tensions are further regulated by Set Designer Steve TenEyck's imaginatively adaptable stage which utilizes a digital backdrop in conjunction with practical effects to create subtle shifts of atmosphere. An added flourish is provided by Costume Designer Jennifer Caprio who strikingly attires each role, from the threadbare rags of Jokanaan to the pristine white robes that flow from Salome.
While Salome's actions remain shocking in their barbarity, a glance at contemporary media is ample evidence that obsessive desire continues to elicit violent extremes. By capturing the work's terrifying drive with such sumptuous skill, The Minnesota Opera connects Salome to our own inner desires, creating a resounding pathos even in those of us who would never dream of demanding anyone's head on a silver platter.
April 12, 2010
Special to MinnPost
In 1907, the Metropolitan Opera, having given the American premiere of Richard Strauss' "Salome" and finding its story line too disgusting to justify, dropped the work after a single performance. Today, even at the Met, "Salome" is almost standard repertoire, provided one can find a lithe young soprano with major lung power to sing - and dance - the title role. And yet, let's face it, even when well done, this sordid tale of a 16-year-old princess of Judea who strips for her lecherous stepfather and makes love to the bloodied, severed head of a saint, is still pretty disgusting.
The striking Julia Migenes sang the role for Minnesota Opera in 1989 in a production that made use of the reduced orchestration Strauss later provided for an opera that often, when the original version is used, degenerates into a screaming contest between orchestra and singers. As a result, the relatively small-voiced Migenes came through loud and clear, as did the formidable - and considerably bigger-voiced - Russian soprano Mlada Khudoley, who is playing the part in the company's new production of "Salome," for which the skilled conductor Emmanuel Joel-Hornak is also using the reduced orchestration.
"Salome" opened Saturday at the Ordway Center, and runs through April 24.
An attractively polished, sleek look
This production was staged and choreographed by David Lefkowich, with costumes by Jennifer Caprio, sets and lighting by Steve TenEyck. It has an attractively polished and sleek look: classical columns and arches that stretch into infinity, along with vistas of oceans and clouds and a surprising - and jarring - tableaux at the start that imitates Leonardo's painting of "The Last Supper," with crazy old Herod as Jesus Christ. (Strauss, who hated Christianity, might have liked that last touch.)
It was all impressively sung on opening night. At least in vocal terms, Khudoley almost totally possessed the role, easily cutting through the thick orchestral textures, especially in the final scene where our randy teenager literally makes love to the head of John the Baptist.
As for the Baptist - Jokanaan, as he is known in the opera - Jason Howard, who, with his sculpted physique looked more like Tarzan than the famous Christian prophet, sang his flowing utterances with rich, stentorian tone. Dennis Petersen's Herod, on the other hand, was not just excitingly sung but was also the evening's strongest characterization: a depraved, superstitious borderline psychotic whose frenzy and lust became barely manageable as the story unfolded, though it's hard to believe that Khudoley's silly Dance of the Seven Veils would turn him - or anyone - on. Elizabeth Byrne's Herodias was more conventional - sneering and cruel. Christian Reinart offered his fine tenor in the role of Narraboth.
Sense of mystery, unease is missing
And yet, for all its strengths, the production fails in some key regards. The opening scene never establishes the unsettling sense of mystery and unease that is so clearly in Strauss' brilliant score and even in the Oscar Wilde play on which the opera was based, and some of the voices in this scene were faint on opening night. And though the enigmatic title role can be played in different ways, the approach here seems less credible - and more disturbing - than most.
Rather than being psychologically unbalanced, this Salome is simply a spoiled, arrogant teenager who can't tolerate being ignored. The progression of events concerns her sexual awakening rather than her mental deterioration, in which case she becomes at the end a truly evil character. Sex equals death in this equation, and presumably this means there's a bit of Salome lurking in every teenager. No wonder Herod has her killed.
Kinky, sensual and ecstatic: Minnesota Opera's "Salome" is a 100-minute psychodrama with a grimly gorgeous and bloody finale
April 12, 2010
Special to the Star Tribune
Richard Strauss' lurid, one-act "Salome" (1905), which opened Saturday at St. Paul's Ordway Center in a superbly sung new production by the Minnesota Opera, is a canny essay in depraved carnality, more sensationalist than unsettling.
In its second century, it has lost its power to shock, if not to titillate; its misogyny and anti-Semitism, never attractive, have grown odious. So why does it hold the stage?
Efficiency is one answer: Barely 100 minutes long, the piece seizes the attention and never lets go. Then there's the singing, which for many operagoers is what the medium is all about. "Salome" climaxes in one of the greatest of operatic monologues, an 18-minute psychodrama that provides a matchless vehicle for the right soprano. And if a severed head is part of the bargain, well, such are the sacrifices we make for Art.
But if the soprano gets the ovation, the orchestra is arguably the real protagonist: It moans, shrieks and insinuates, making vividly audible the psychopathological stew in which Strauss' characters swim. While the 68 musicians of the Minnesota Opera Orchestra seemed up to the task, they were held in check by conductor Emmanuel Joel-Hornak, who showed too much deference to his singers. Often the orchestra simmered when it should have boiled; Salome's famous dance, which buys her the head of John the Baptist, was decidedly unslithery.
Billed as "scandalously erotic," the production is hardly that. Steve TenEyck frames the action with slender, symmetrical columns; his resourceful lighting does much of the heavy lifting. Jennifer Caprio's handsome costumes have a touch of Hollywood Biblical about them.
Director/choreographer David Lefkowich's largely static staging leaves unexploited many dramatic opportunities in the libretto (a German abridgement of Oscar Wilde's French original). Lefkowich turns Salome's dance into a quartet, adding three trained female dancers who, in undressing her, introduce a homoerotic component. But for the crowning monologue he deposits his heroine on an otherwise bare, brilliantly lit stage, as if to acknowledge that it's her show.
Mlada Khudoley is incandescent as Salome, at once perverted and sympathetic. In her final minutes she finds a macabre, necrophiliac ecstasy from which it's impossible to look away. Her high B-flats are secure, her low notes shudder-inducing.
Khudoley has a worthy foil in Jason Howard's commanding, sonorous John; his "Never, daughter of Babylon," hurled at her, is the evening's most chilling moment. Dennis Petersen's Herod is musically impeccable but a bit under-acted; the character is more manic than Petersen lets on. Elizabeth Byrne, herself an accomplished Salome, makes something memorable of Herodias' every line.
April 12, 2010
By Rob Hubbard
Special to the Pioneer Press
If operas were ascribed those degree-of-difficulty scores that you find in diving competitions, then Richard Strauss' "Salome" would warrant one of the highest.
Start by squeezing the largest orchestra you can fit into the pit, with many of the musicians playing some of the most difficult lines they'll ever encounter. Then ask a dramatic soprano to not only sing at the top and bottom of her range and all points in between, but present an athletic dance - shedding her clothes as she goes - and deliver a lengthy lung-busting aria to a severed head.
It's an ambitious undertaking, but one that the Minnesota Opera is conquering with one of its most successful productions of recent seasons. Anchored by a spectacular performance from Mlada Khudoley in the title role, it surpasses the opera's daunting demands in all areas, with outstanding singing, powerful acting, imaginative design ideas and a Minnesota Opera Orchestra that has seldom sounded better.
"Salome" is built around a myth that grew up from brief passages in the gospels of Mark and Matthew about John the Baptist being executed as payment for a girl's dancing. But Strauss' 1905 opera - based upon Oscar Wilde's play - turns the tale into a chilling story of sexual obsession. The dancer becomes King Herod's stepdaughter, whose vengeful demands for the prophet's head are motivated by him rebuffing her advances.
Set amid the intriguing stagecraft of Steve TenEyck - which borrows from many a biblical epic and artwork for inspiration - the Minnesota Opera's production rests firmly upon Khudoley's shoulders. The soprano's singing is a breathtaking blend of soaring passion and dark low notes that rumble with foreboding. And her formidable acting skills make Salome's tempestuous mood swings believable, painting a sympathetic portrait of a woman driven to madness by an obsession.
She's complemented by the powerful baritone voice and commanding presence of Jason Howard as Jokanaan, the John the Baptist character. However, despite some strong singing, Dennis Petersen's Herod doesn't convey the creepiness commented upon by other characters.
Director David Lefkowich seems to have imbued his performers with the idea that everyone onstage is driven by a consuming desire. It's part of what keeps the intensity at fever pitch throughout this excellent production.
La bohème brings passion to an exalted romance
March 10, 2010
By Brad Richason
Twin Cities Performance Art Examiner
As
one of the most frequently produced operas in the world, Italian
composer Giacomo Puccini's La bohème has proven an exceptionally
influential work. Most famously, Jonathan Larson's enormously
successful musical Rent was designed largely as a contemporary version.
Even those audience members that have somehow remained oblivious to La
bohème are likely to find much of the storyline strikingly familiar
thanks to the basic plot points being recycled time and time again for
romantic comedies and dramas. Such well-worn conventions, however,
simply makes it all the more impressive that the latest production from
The Minnesota Opera carries such sublimely resounding emotional depth.
Inspired
by La vie bohèmienne, author Henry Murger's collected tales of the
lives of starving artists in the Latin Quarter of 19th century Paris,
Puccini collaborated with librettists Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigia
Illica on a work that would come to define tragic romance in the
bohemian world. La bohème focuses on two impoverished friends, a poet
named Rodolfo and a painter named Marcello. Living on the fringes of
society, the two men are content to pursue art for art's sake, pausing
only long enough to lament the cruel capriciousness of love. Both men's
resolve against affection, however, will be shaken by the influence of
two women; Marcello will resist the charms of his former love, the
flirtatious Musetta, while a chance encounter finds Rodolfo vainly
denying his passion for the pure-hearted, but physical ailing
seamstress Mimì.
While on paper the storyline might initially
appear lightweight, the infusion of Puccini's soaring score elevates
the work into the rarified heights of high romance. From the very first
act, Puccini showcases a thrilling versatility of tone, deftly moving
from comedic levity to amorous rapture with each seamlessly shifting
passage. Masterfully conducted by Emmanuel Joel-Hornak, Puccini's
layered score resists any leaden trappings, keeping the work engaging
and vivacious, even while delving into the fickle remonstrations of
unyielding desire.
As is the standard practice for opera
productions, two separate casts alternate each performance. On the
evening reviewed, the audience was treated to the exemplary chemistry
of tenor James Valenti as Rodolfo, soprano Ellie Dehn as Mimì, baritone
Hyung Yun as Marcello, and soprano Karin Wolverton as Musetta. Through
the rich blend of each adeptly tuned vocal, a cascading rhythm is
achieved, one that carries the production with propulsive force. Such
skill is displayed with especially moving grace in the third act's
gripping confrontation between lovers, as Marcello and Musetta bitterly
spar while Rodolfo and Mimì reconcile. It's an utterly exalted moment,
one pounding with the vulnerable pathos at the heart of the work.
Stage
director Justin Way emphasizes the energetic verve of the work by
keeping the performers in fluid motion, slowing only for the most
affecting pauses. Set and lighting designer Marcus Dilliard also
provides tremendous assistance in sustaining the mood, using a deft
composition of lighting to underscore the tone of each act.
Further
immersion into this bohemian world is crafted by the remarkably
detailed original set design of Robert Brill which carries the action
from the squalid confines of a ramshackle bachelor pad to the crowded
bustle of a Parisian street. Costume designer Jennifer Caprio maintains
the illusion with a display of threadbare period attire perfectly
consistent with the characters' frayed existence.
Make no
mistake, the lives depicted in La bohème are those of common persons,
far removed from the outsized personas so often represented in operatic
works. And yet, it is precisely the commonness of the characters that
makes their emotional grandiosity so profound. As this deftly mounted
production clearly understands, passion continues to transcend all
social order.
La bohème runs through 03/14.
A dark but moving "La Bohème" at the Minnesota Opera
March 08, 2010
By Becca Mitchell
TC Daily Planet
There's no denying La Bohème is one of the world's most famous operas. Giacomo Puccini's 1896 opera is staged frequently across the globe and was the inspiration for the Tony-winning musical Rent, which ran for more than 12 years on Broadway and was just staged in an acclaimed Minneapolis production. One could argue it's the love story at the center of the piece that's contributed the most to the opera's lasting resonance. And on that level, if not on all levels, the current Minnesota Opera production delivers.
Due to the rigorous vocal demands of the score, the Opera is using two sets of rotating casts to tell the story of poor artists in 19th century France. At Sunday's matinée Adam Diegel as the poet Rodolfo and Jennifer Black as the seamstress Mimi were in fine form. Both are able to capture a subtle innocence that make their immediate attraction and instant proclamation of love as believable as can be expected. Tenor Diegel exquisitely controls tender moments, but also displays a powerful voice in moments of passion. As the doomed Mimi, Black is equally emotive and vocally strong with her soprano voice.
And while Rodolfo and Mimi are the opera's core couple, there's an equally intriguing relationship between fellow artists Marcello and Musetta. This pairing brings needed humor to the piece and is done great justice by performers Peter Barrett and Naomi Isabel Ruiz, respectively. Bartett's baritone is wonderfully soothing and loud, and he has a flawless aptitude for physical comedy. Ruiz's Musetta is a careful balance between annoying flirt and caring confidante.
Stage director Justin Way successfully captures moments of humor between friends Rodolfo and Marcello, as well as between on-again, off-again lovers Marcello and Musetta. He also keeps the pace light and the action moving during scenes that have the potential to be stale. Unfortunately, that action is often juxtaposed against Robert Brill's sets (the current production is a remounting of the Minnesota Opera's 1996 production). Those sets are dark and feature looming buildings, which help foreshadow the coming tragedy but do little to highlight the spontaneous and flirty nature of the characters. Instead, they imprison the actors within drab settings as if to further torture them for their lack of fortune.
I was particularly disappointed with the design after having seeing Baz Luhrmann's 2002 staging in New York. Whereas Brill's sets portray a gloom-and-doom atmosphere, Luhrmann's production celebrated Rodolfo and Mimi's romance and the Parisian culture by using a brighter design and moving the action to the 1950s. As opera increasingly becomes thought of as being for an older generation, engaging designs like that in the production I saw in New York can help make opera more accessible to new generations, while adding to and not distracting from the drama.
As I walked into the Ordway's lobby on Sunday I hoped to be as enthralled with this production as I was the first time I saw La Bohème. And though I missed the modernized take, I found the Minnesota Opera's production to be moving. Strong performances combined with Puccini's score continue to make this tragic love story undeniably attractive.
'La Boheme' is all about love, but unlikely to inspire love (of opera)
March 8, 2010
By Rob Hubbard
Special to the Pioneer Pre
Giacomo Puccini's "La Boheme" is the portal that frequently leads to a love of opera. With heart-melting music, a passionate romance and some charming comic repartee, this tale of love among poverty-stricken Parisian artists is one of the world's most frequently performed operas for a reason.
But the Minnesota Opera's current production - which opened Saturday at St. Paul's Ordway Center - doesn't give off enough romantic heat to make up for the libretto's paucity of plot. Despite some strong voices and colorful characters, what could have been a springtime celebration of love instead has a wintry chill to it.
"La Boheme" is so popular that the company is employing two sets of leads and performing it eight times in nine days. But it's likely both casts will fall prey to the decibel levels at which conductor Emmanuel Joel-Hornak keeps the orchestra for much of the performance. Tenor James Valenti has demonstrated a powerful voice in past local productions, but his Rodolfo was too often buried in the mix. Ellie Dehn's Mimi fared better vocally, but projected a spiritless persona quite contrary to the bright light of love Rodolfo describes in his loving arias.
Actually, there were two other tandems onstage Saturday night that proved more compelling than Rodolfo and Mimi. There was a believable bond between Rodolfo and his painter friend, Marcello, as well as between Marcello and his on-again, off-again lover, Musetta. The common denominator in each was Hyung Yun, whose strong, supple baritone voice and confident characterization made Marcello the most interesting character onstage. And Karin Wolverton's Musetta was a well-balanced blend of cattiness and vulnerability, her flirtatious second-act aria a joy.
Director Justin Way did some fine things with the gracefully choreographed scenes of playfulness between Rodolfo, Marcello and their roommates, as well as with the crowd scene on the streets of the Latin Quarter. And Robert Brill's set serves the action well. But a lack of romantic charge at the production's center means it's unlikely to cause operatic neophytes to fall in love with the form.
Rob Hubbard can be reached at rhubbard@pioneerpress.com
What: The Minnesota Opera's production of "La Boheme" by Giacomo Puccini
When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday, 2 p.m. Sunday
Where: Ordway Center for the Performing Arts, 345 Washington St., St. Paul
Tickets: $150-$20, available at 612-333-6669 or mnopera.org
Capsule: A production that could use more warmth and heat.
Sparkling performances sweep aside a nagging inconsistency in Minnesota Opera's restaging of Bohème.
March 8, 201
Spectators who can tear themselves away from the beauty of the voices in the Minnesota Opera's latest revival of "La Bohème" -- Giacomo Puccini's melodious, ebullient, nostalgia-steeped evocation of Parisian counterculture in the 1830's -- may sense an inconsistency at the heart of the show.
Justin Way, the young Australian engaged to "reimagine" the company's 1996 "Bohème" production, originally directed by Eric Simonson, doesn't share Simonson's austere (and somewhat dated) agenda. And while Way's costumer, Jennifer Caprio, has been able to spruce up Karin Kopischke's deliberately tatty threads, his designer, Marcus Dilliard, can't do much about Robert Brill's drab sets, which, with their somber grays and confined spaces -- this is not Gene Kelly's Paris -- aim to de-romanticize Bohemia, suggesting that the vaunted freedom and frivolity of its denizens came at a terrible price.
The result, not uncommon with operatic recyclings, is a modest identity crisis, with production elements sometimes pitted against each other. But it's mainly between the acts that this tension registers; with the curtain up, the music is paramount. And what music! Puccini fuses Italian fire with French grace; he can turn a trivial scrap of dialogue into a meltingly lyric moment. "Bohème" moves like the wind; it's one of the few repertory operas that should have been longer.
Foremost among the opening-night cast -- I haven't heard the alternates -- is the splendid James Valenti, whose Rodolfo, more poet than tenor, combines adult passion with boyish élan. (His clowning is, for once, convincing.) At full throttle, he sounds thrilling, with no hint of strain. Yet he can also sing with compelling intimacy, coloring his words arrestingly.
Anoka native Ellie Dehn, her innocence touched with guile, is a radiant Mimi; hers is a voice of enveloping warmth and richness. In her death scene, played with artful simplicity, more than one tear rolled down my hardened critical cheek.
Hyung Yun's abundant baritone and explosive physicality make him a vivid Marcello. Karin Wolverton is that rare thing, a believable Musetta, integrating the calculated coquetry of the operetta-like Act 2 with the compassion of the pathos-filled Act 4. Jonathan Kimple's Colline bids farewell to his overcoat with mingled irony and sadness; Jeffrey Madison is an endearing Schaunard. Conductor Emmanuel Joel-Hornak, who returns in next month's "Salome," captures the score's sparkle and, even more, its glow; orchestra and singers often breathe in unison.
Hyung Yun's abundant baritone and explosive physicality make him a vivid Marcello. Karin Wolverton is that rare thing, a believable Musetta, integrating the calculated coquetry of the operetta-like Act 2 with the compassion of the pathos-filled Act 4. Jonathan Kimple's Colline bids farewell to his overcoat with mingled irony and sadness; Jeffrey Madison is an endearing Schaunard. Conductor Emmanuel Joel-Hornak, who returns in next month's "Salome," captures the score's sparkle and, even more, its glow; orchestra and singers often breathe in unison.
By Rob Hubbard
Special to the Pioneer Press
Say what you will about the shortcomings of monarchy as a governmental system, some of those royals of yore could really knock your eye out with awe-inspiring visuals. The palaces and apparel of Renaissance Europe can be over-the-top ostentatious, but they certainly get your attention.
The same could be said of the Minnesota Opera's production of Gaetano Donizetti's "Roberto Devereux," which transports you to Elizabethan England via an elaborate set and elegant costuming. Thanks to a tour de force performance by Brenda Harris as a stately but vulnerable Queen Elizabeth, it's a worthwhile journey to the era. While one could wish for more movement in its static staging, Donizetti's music shone brightly on Saturday's opening night, thanks to powerful singing and an exceptional performance by the orchestra.
This production launches the Minnesota Opera's three-season commitment to performing all three parts of Donizetti's "Tudor Trilogy," albeit in reverse chronological order. "Roberto Devereux" centers on an aging Elizabeth's devotion to the title character, who is on trial for treason. Her interest in him is chiefly romantic, as is his with her lady-in-waiting, who is married to the queen's main lawman. This romantic quadrangle provides a fine framework for duets and trios, but the solo arias are the showstoppers.
The best are delivered by Harris with an ideal blend of believable emotion and tremendous technique. Hers is an Elizabeth who can simultaneously exude grandeur and weariness from the weight of the job. While Bruno Ribeiro's Roberto offers little to suggest why he's inspired such passion from two women, his final-act prison aria was outstanding.
Lester Lynch carries much of the first act on his powerful baritone as the cuckolded Duke. And Tamara Klivadenko not only brings a rich and dusky tone to his melancholy wife, Sara, but shows depth and subtlety in her acting, bringing some heat to a staging that could use more of it.
The paucity of onstage movement is often ameliorated by Neil Patel's imaginative set design and Jessica Jahn's gowns, which help make Elizabeth a commanding presence.
Brad Richason
Examiner.com
As staged by the Minnesota Opera, the introductory scene of Roberto Devereux instantly captivates by offering brief glimpses of the aged Queen Elizabeth I being bathed, groomed, and dressed by her attendants. When the queen emerges for her court, strikingly attired in a crimson gown, she utterly radiates regal stolidity. The wordless sequence, featuring a stirring blend of evocative lighting set to a dashing score, dramatically announces a figure of imposing elevation, supposedly immune to the trivial emotional travails of common people. And so it becomes especially gripping to experience the operatic pathos wrought when this impassive resolve comes undone by unrequited love.
Roberto Devereux has come to be known as one third of the Tudor trilogy, three operas by Gaetano Donizetti that focus upon the heightened political and personal intrigues of the period. (The other two works, Maria Stuarda and Anna Bolena, will be presented by the Minnesota Opera in coming seasons.) Composed in traditional Bel Canto style with an Italian libretto by Salvadore Cammarano, Roberto Devereux is named after the Earl of Essex, the much younger, alleged love interest of Queen Elizabeth I (or Elisabetta). The intense emotional ranges that Devereux weaved into his composition are justified by a plotline beating with strained desire, an attribute that Minnesota Opera conductor Francesco Maria Colombo highlights with characteristic virtuosity.
As the work opens, Roberto has been accused of treachery to the crown and his fate hinges upon the favor of the queen. Unfortunately for the earl, Elisabetta suspects that Roberto's heart belongs to another. Though he vehemently denies the charge, Roberto has in fact fallen in love with Sara, the Duchess of Nottingham and wife to his friend and sole defender, the Duke of Nottingham. Skeptical of Roberto's claims, the scorned queen resolves to learn the truth of her lover's faithfulness, setting the stage for a classically tragic love triangle.
Soprano Brenda Harris establishes a striking presence as Elisabetta, maintaining the queen's regal bearing even as her tumultuous inner emotions threaten her façade. Her expressive vocals apply a meticulous feeling for each movement, from a lower tone for public duties to the soaring pitch of private anguish. In a warmly humanizing performance, Harris transforms a foreboding historic figure into a vindictive and prideful, but ultimately sympathetic, slave to the crown.
Playing the role of the hapless Roberto is tenor Bruno Ribeiro. Far from a swaggering rogue, Ribeiro finds palpable affection for a man torn between loyalty to his queen and devotion to his lover. Faced with moral consequences for his indiscretions, Ribeiro gives rich voice to soulful pleadings, particularly during Act 1's riveting confrontation with Elisabetta (Nascondi, frena i palpiti).
Watching events emerge from the shadows is Roberto's secret lover Sara, played with vocal finesse by mezzo-soprano Tamara Klivadenko. Baritone Lester Lynch proves a fine match for Klivadenko, turning in a skillfully tuned performance as Sara's husband, the Duke of Nottingham. Individually, but especially together, these two performers are a showcase of poignantly layered delivery.
Stage director Kevin Newbury adheres close to the traditional Bel Canto presentation, allowing the action to unfold primarily through the sweeping orchestration and versatile vocals. That said, the imaginative set design by Neil Patel assists the storytelling by allowing a seamless transformation of the stage. The queen's gilded court, for example, gives way to Sara's humble bedchamber with one swift raise of the backdrop. The set design is so fluid, in fact, that it imposes its own sense of impermanence; a feeling that the instability of these relationships extends to the entire monarchy. When an enormous red cross emerges during the third act, it suggests more than a judgment for Roberto, but a dire pronouncement for the whole court.
Costume designer Jessica Jahn evokes the Tudor period with a richly patterned wardrobe suitable for the regal court. No character's clothing is as grandiose, of course, as that of Elisabetta. But while her opening appearance in a striking red gown (beautifully lit by lighting designer D.M. Wood) gives no doubt of her sovereignty, Elisabetta's attire grows increasingly subdued over the course of the work in reflection of her progressively fraught emotions and exposed humanity.
If hell hath no fury like a woman scored, than an amorously abused queen would be a truly demonic force. And yet the Minnesota Opera has achieved the formidable task of enacting an all-too human tragedy in which all of the characters, no matter how powerful or privileged, are ultimately victims of a desire they can neither understand nor control. No wonder the work still resonates so strongly after all these years.
Roberto Devereux runs through 02/07.