Countertenors Rule the Night

This was only my second time at City Opera and my first time seeing a live Handel opera. Though Partenope (dating from 1730) is a Baroque opera comprised of the sometimes monotonous recitative/aria form, Friday night's performance was luxuriously sung and entertainingly directed. Two of the roles were written for castrati (emasculated men who maintained their high voice after puberty), though since castrating men is no long in vogue, trained countertenors now sing these parts. The voices of the castrati were said to be sublime, combining the elegance of women with the forcefulness of men. In 1957 Harold Schonberg wrote that "the castrati, and apparently all other singers of the day, had a technique that would be impossible to duplicate... no harder music exists for singers." Who can possibly know if that is actually true? Unfortunately, the only castrato to make a solo sound recording was Alessandro Moreschi, the last Papal castrato, who died in 1922. Granted the recording quality is not great, but his choir trained voice is evidently nothing remotely representative of the pop star icons that enchanted opera houses for centuries. Still worth a listen.

Given that we'll never know what the most famous castrati sounded like, on Friday night the countertenors Anthony Roth Constanzo and Iestyn Davies sang to the best of my imagination just like them. Mr. Davies (playing Arsace), is a fast-rising British countertenor and Mr. Constanzo (playing Armindo), is his American counterpart. Mr. Davies's voice is warm and powerful, with unending and tasteful musicality. His projection reminded me of the commanding mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe. Mr. Constanzo's voice is much lighter, and floated the melody beautifully. Every now and then he unleashed the power, but most of the time restrained his dynamics and size to better serve the music. His small physique was exploited wonderfully by the director, who played on the irony that his part was a brave prince. Instead of using a sword during the battle scene in Act II, he took off his glove and threw it at the enemy, promptly scurrying away.

With such a stilted plot, Handel operas have become the perfect match for experimental and liberal productions. Even though Partenope is an opera seria, an imaginative director can easily make comedy out of the libretto while staying truthful to the music. Francisco Negrin's production was light, satirical and entertaining throughout. Christian Curnyn led an inspired orchestra and communicated seamlessly with the singers. Perhaps a Handel opera is not dramatic or real enough for the more famous opera houses of the world, and I will admit that I dozed off into a hypnotic slumber a few times, but no one can deny the raw energy or lyrical beauty found in Partenope and other Handel operas.

Madama Butterfly at City Opera

Last night I made my City Opera debut, attending a highly moving production of Puccini's Madama Butterfly. Without the larger budget of their neighbors, the Met Opera, Mark Lamos's production was understandably spare, yet no less colorful or emotionally effective. The David H. Koch Theatre is much smaller than its neighbor opera house, and has historically been troubled by uneven acoustics. The farther a singer moved upstage, the more his/her voice got lost in the rafters and the less audible they became. (Before recent renovations, supplementary microphones were often used). There were however, some added benefits in comparison to the Met. The seats were wider with much more leg room, student tickets are $12 instead of $25 and seem to be plentiful (therefore cheaper than going to the movies), and the orchestra pit projects much, much more sound.

The later was a huge benefit for Butterfly's full orchestration, receptively and passionately magnified by City Opera Music Director, George Manahan. Having never come close to being blown out of my seat by the Met Orchestra, the fortes took me by surprise as they filled the theatre with a kind of sound I only thought was possible during orchestral concerts. This grand beauty was too much for some singers- most notably Steven Harrison, who played Pinkerton. Covered up nearly every time he was accompanied by the orchestra, I was at first not sure if the orchestra was simply playing too loudly. After enough time of hearing everyone else with no problem, I was convinced Mr. Harrison's voice was just too small and airy for the grand role.

As Madama Butterfly, Shu-Ying Li sang from start to finish with a big, warm, round, and luscious voice. Being such a well-known opera, I could not avoid thinking back to recordings I prefer, but nonetheless Ms. Li without a doubt raised the bar of the cast. Nina Yoshida Nelsen sang an emotionally sharp and penetrating Suzuki.

The dramatic climax of Butterfly comes at the end, when the title character slits her own throat in front of her son and her long lost love, the just arrived Pinkerton. The music here is intensely moving, having no less of a sincere, overbearing or apocalyptic effect on an attentive audience than the best moments of Wagner. I left the theatre in a hurry and completely ravished.