Perlman delights in Lyric Opera recital

Itzhak Perlman, violin
Rohan De Silva, piano
Civic Opera House
Chicago, IL
April 23, 2017

Vivaldi: Sonata in A Major for Violin and Continuo, Op. 2 No. 2, RV 31
Beethoven: Violin Sonata No. 5 in F major, Op. 24, Spring
Schumann: Fantasiestücke, Op. 73
Ravel: Violin Sonata No. 2 in G major

Kreisler: Sicilienne and Rigaudon in the style of Francœur
Tchaikovsky, transcribed Auer: Lensky’s Aria from Eugene Onegin
Wieniawski: Etude-Caprice in A minor, Op.18 No. 4
Williams: Theme from Schindler’s List
Brahms, transcribed Joachim: Hungarian Dance No. 1 in G minor
Franz Ries: Perpetuum mobile, from Suite No. 3 in G major, Op. 34

An Itzhak Perlman recital is always a major event, as evidenced by the near-capacity crowd he drew at the cavernous Civic Opera House.  With an opera season ending in March, the venue was certainly put to good use in an enjoyable afternoon from Perlman and long-time recital partner, the Sri Lankan pianist Rohan De Silva.  A stage set of classical pillars provided an elegant backdrop (the advantages of performing in an opera house), and video screens showing close-up views in real time flanked the stage, helping to create a sense of intimacy in a large hall.

Itzhak Perlman, photo credit Lisa-Marie Mazzucco
Perlman arranged his program chronologically, beginning with the Sonata in A major for Violin and Continuo by Vivaldi.  An energetic presto opened, effectively serving as a warmup to the sprightly second movement.  The slow movement was brief but genuinely expressive, and a joyful finale rounded off this compact work of a mere seven minutes.

In an unannounced change from the printed program which suggested Beethoven’s first violin sonata (Op. 12 No. 1), Perlman elected for the more seasonally appropriate though well-worn Spring sonata (Op. 24).  It opened with a wonderfully bucolic grace, although Perlman’s intonation was regrettably suspect at times.  A languid Adagio molto espressivo followed with some especially lovely playing from De Silva.  The two closing movements both were marked by a delightful interplay between violin and piano, and an elegant melody heightened the finale.

Schumann’s Fantasiestücke, Op. 73 offered some Romantic fervor, with Perlman presenting them in the continuous, unbroken cycle that the composer intended, rather than three separate works.  I was struck by the rippling of the first and the fire of the last, yet in these works originally envisioned for cello or clarinet, they sounded somewhat timid on the violin, requiring more vigor to compensate than Perlman managed to muster.

Ravel’s relatively brief Violin Sonata No. 2 in G major was the only work programmed for the second half in what was surely a calculated move to allow ample time for encores.  Beginning with a single note line in the solo piano, the first movement was one of coloristic writing, pitting the violin and piano on more austere terms with one another than the previous works which favored conviviality.  Ravel’s own take on American musical traditions came to light in the second movement “Blues”, much like in the Piano Concerto of a few years later, replete with blue notes and slides.

Perlman played the accented pizzicatos with his bow hand and the others were plucked up on the fingerboard, but in the former one wished for a greater abrasiveness.  The last movement was acutely virtuosic, yet the delivery was rather dry and detached – but certainly not enough not to garner an enormous standing ovation, as much a recognition for Perlman’s extraordinary career as for Sunday afternoon’s performance.

And ample encores there were – no fewer than six.  While the four sonatas fared a bit lackluster, it was during the encores that the violinist truly sprung to life, and Perlman became Perlman.  With a charismatic stage presence, he explained to the audience that he brought with him a list of every work he’s played in Chicago – humorously suggesting it dated back to 1912 – so as to avoid duplication.  No Perlman recital would be complete without a work of Kreisler, and he offered the illustrious composer-violinist’s Sicilienne and Rigaudon in the style of Francœur, once erroneously thought to be a bona fide work of its namesake.  Perlman exuded an effortless charm in the Sicilienne; the Rigaudon proved that his remarkable prestidigitation is still very much intact.

“Lensky’s Aria” from Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin followed – quite appropriate as Lyric Opera presented the complete work on the same stage just a few months prior – in a transcription by the legendary Leopold Auer.  A work of rich melancholy, it proved to be surprisingly well-suited to the violin.  The Wieniawski Etude-Caprice in A minor came next; a signature work of Perlman, it never fails to impress.  This was only outdone by the Theme from Schindler’s List – one of John William’s finest film scores, it should be remembered that Perlman played in the original soundtrack.  His deeply moving performance had particular poignancy on Sunday given the proximity to Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Two briefer works brought the afternoon to an agreeable close: the searing passion of the first of Brahms’ rousing Hungarian Dances, and the dizzying acrobatics of Franz Ries’ Perpetuum mobile.

Perlman Lyric
Civic Opera House

Minimalist staging contrasts lush music in Lyric Opera’s Eugene Onegin

Lyric Opera of Chicago
Civic Opera House
Chicago, IL
March 8, 2017

Tchaikovsky: Eugene Onegin, Op. 24

Mariusz Kwiecień, Eugene Onegin
Ana María Martínez, Tatiana
Charles Castronovo, Lensky
Alisa Kolosova, Olga
Jill Grove, Filippyevna
Dmitry Belosselskiy, Prince Gremin

Alejo Pérez, conductor
Chicago Lyric Opera Orchestra
Robert Carsen, director
Michael Levine, set designer

Based upon Pushkin’s seminal novel in verse of the same title, Tchaikovsky’s sumptuous Eugene Onegin is one of the most Romantic of all the great Romantic operas.  An impressive close to the 2016-17 season, Lyric Opera revived Robert Carsen’s production, originally created for the Met, under the guidance of revival director Paula Suozzi.  The sets were of utmost economy, focusing one’s attention on the essential without gratuitous distractions, fitting for a work that ultimately favors expressiveness over flamboyance.  Stark as it may have been, the set never felt cold thanks to the thoughtful lighting design – for instance, much of Act I was basked in a warm orange glow.

During Act I of Eugene Onegin, all photos credit Todd Rosenberg

In a splash of autumn colors, the opening scene was highlighted by the ensemble pieces, notably a quartet which included the first interaction between Tatiana and Onegin.  Mariusz Kwiecień was an expert Onegin, imbuing the role with the same cocky swagger he gave to the title character of Don Giovanni in the 2014-15 season.  Ana María Martínez played Tatiana with a sweet and charming innocence, although she was regrettably in less than top form as it was announced from the stage she was suffering from a cold.  Olga and Lensky were portrayed by Alisa Kolosova and Charles Castronovo respectively, and they were especially affecting in the duet in which Lensky passionately declared his love.

Martínez’s biggest moment in the spotlight was in the celebrated Letter Scene, accompanied by some very fine playing from the solo oboe in the pit.  Having stayed up the entire night putting her feelings to paper, daybreak inevitably came, and was reminiscent of that from Wagner’s Siegfried – and indeed, Tchaikovsky witnessed the Ring firsthand at Bayreuth.  Onegin expectedly rebuffed Tatiana’s youthful interest, given with an even-keeled equanimity, and the two exited the stage arm-in-arm as mere cordial friends.

Ana María Martínez (Tatiana) in the Letter Scene

Act II opened with a lilting waltz; after Lensky caught sight of Onegin dancing with Olga he challenged him to a duel which ultimately proved to be his demise.  In the solo aria that followed, alone on stage, Lensky meditated on the meaninglessness of the situation in which he had embroiled himself, arresting in its deep Tchaikovskyian melancholy.  The final act takes places several years later, however, in a perplexing stage decision it followed without pause.  The beloved polonaise was given a big-boned performance by the orchestra, conducted by Alejo Pérez in his Lyric – and American – debut.  Indeed, the prevalence of dance in the opera reminded one that this was coming from the pen of the greatest ballet composer of the nineteenth century.

At last having developed feelings for Tatiana, Onegin found himself lost in the ennui of a Byronic aimlessness.  Though Tatiana admitted her feelings have persisted, she ultimately rejected him, not wanting to ruin her amiable marriage to the Prince Gremin.  Onegin is left to regret his fate, and to forever wonder what could have been – hardly dramatic by operatic standards, but an emotionally charged ending to be sure.

Mariusz Kwiecień_Ana María Martínez_EUGENE ONEGIN_LYR170223_164_c.Todd Rosenberg
Mariusz Kwiecień (Onegin) and Ana María Martínez (Tatiana)

Bel canto splendor in Lyric Opera’s Norma

Lyric Opera of Chicago
Civic Opera House
Chicago, IL
February 13, 2017

Bellini: Norma

Sondra Radvanovsky, Norma
Elizabeth DeShong, Adalgisa
Russell Thomas, Pollione
Andrea Silvestrelli, Oroveso
Jesse Donner, Flavio
Hlengiwe Mkhwanazi, Clotilde

Riccardo Frizza, conductor
Chicago Lyric Opera Orchestra
Kevin Newbury, director
David Korins, set designer

Easily the non plus ultra of the bel canto repertoire, Bellini’s Norma affords one the opportunity to relish in the beauty of the human voice, chiefly supplied by Sondra Radvanovsky as the title role in Lyric Opera’s current production.  Bellini characterized the work as a tragedia liricia, aptly capturing its essential dichotomy of sumptuous singing within a starkly dark context, perhaps suggesting the similar duality inherent in the dramma giocoso label Mozart appended to Don Giovanni.  This new-to-Chicago production was designed by David Korins, and took inspiration from supposed motifs of the Iron Age.

Sondra Radvanovsky (Norma), Andrea Silvestrelli (Oroveso), photo credit Cory Weaver

Even before the curtain rose, one could feel the impending sense of strife in the dramatic overture, the orchestra in dependably fine form under the baton of Riccardo Frizza in his Lyirc debut.  Radvanovsky was radiant in her first appearance, delivering the justly famous, plaintive “Casta diva” atop an elevated platform.  Augmented to ethereal effect by a solo flute, she embodied the aria’s lyrical decadence.  I did find her voice to be unfortunately grainy in some of the longer sustained notes, but overall she negotiated the daunting demands of the role admirably well.

Another early highlight came in the duet between her and Adalgisa (“Sola, furtiva al tempio”), the latter convincingly sung by Elizabeth DeShong.  The two leading women showed their vulnerability in this touchingly affecting moment.  In due course matters burgeoned into a trio with the addition of Pollione, a vehicle for Russell Thomas’ company debut.  Thomas didn’t quite manage to fully deliver the weight of the role, but he was at his best during the heartwrenching duet with Norma “In mia man alfin tu sei” near the opera’s end.  Hlengiwe Mkhwanazi exuded an appropriately matronly demeanor in her portrayal of Clotilde, watching over Norma’s soon-to-be motherless children.  The choir had many fine moments to shine throughout the evening; prepared by Michael Black they were especially rousing in the Act II call to arms, “Guerra, guerra”.

Russell Thomas (Pollione) and Sondra Radvanovsky (Norma), photo credit Alyssa Pointer

While the opera is takes place in Roman-occupied Gaul during the year 50 BCE, Korins’ set looked back much further in time in its invocation of the Iron Age, which seemingly could have doubled as set from Games of Thrones.  To its credit, it skirted excessive kitchiness, yet this revisionist take still seemed questionable at best.  The oak tree was of sacred significance to the Druids, and one hung suspended as a beguiling central image, perhaps suggesting the way Norma was suspended in indecision between religion and love.  In the opera’s tragic ending, Norma throws herself into a flaming pyre, but in a perplexing anticlimax, no flames were to be had, diminishing the effect.  Indeed, there’s likely more drama to be found in Jim Morrison singing “and our love become a funeral pyre”; there at least fires are lit, unlike the disappointing end to a by and large anodyne production from Lyric.

Elizabeth DeShong (Adalgisa), Sondra Radvanovsky (Norma), and Russell Thomas (Pollione), photo credit Cory Weaver

Vocal and visual spectacle in Lyric Opera’s Les Troyens

Lyric Opera of Chicago
Civic Opera House
Chicago, IL
December 3, 2016

Berlioz: Les Troyens

Christine Goerke, Cassandra
Susan Graham, Dido
Brandon Jovanovich, Aeneas
Okka von der Damerau, Anna
Lucas Meachem, Chorebus
Christian Van Horn, Narbal

Sir Andrew Davis, conductor
Chicago Lyric Opera Orchestra
Tim Albery, director
Tobias Hoheisel, set designer

With works on the scale of La damnation de Faust and Roméo et Juliette to his credit, one would certainly expect an opera from Berlioz to be of the grandest proportions.  Les Troyens certainly does not disappoint on that front, and Lyric Opera of Chicago’s first traversal of this epic – lasting nearly five hours – was a major achievement.  Scored for a large cast, massive choir, sumptuous orchestra, and corps de ballet, this lavish production directed by Tim Albery and designed by Tobias Hoheisel was given a run of just five performances as it was no doubt a costly investment for Lyric.

Lyric Opera’s Les Troyens, photo credit Todd Rosenberg

Berlioz had something of an obsession with Virgil’s Aeneid on which the opera is based, and accordingly provided his own libretto, notable for its directness.  The opera is conceived in five acts, further divided into two parts (The Taking of Troy and The Trojans at Carthage respectively).  The central image on stage through the duration was of a mighty wall, crumbling and dilapidated in Troy, opulent and shining in Carthage, yet in a continuing arc it was the same wall, suggesting the cyclical rise and fall of human civilization.  On that note, one was struck by the suggestion of the Trojan refugees crossing the Mediterranean in flight of their destroyed city, evocative of the plight of the Syrian refugees in today’s no less tumultuous political climate.

The latter part begins at the third act, and it was here the wall was rebuilt, brilliantly shrouded in pearly white light, allowing for a striking visual effect of shadows on the wall.  Act IV was a highpoint with its tender moments in an otherwise bloody drama.  The corps de ballet beautifully portrayed nymphs and satyrs, and Mingjie Lei’s dulcet tones depicted the poet Iopas, accompanied by the harp and oboe.  The act built up to the soaring duet between Dido and Aeneas (“Nuit d’ivresse”), the otherworldly atmosphere further enhanced by celestial images of the stars and planets.  In the last act, Susan Graham’s Dido was impassioned and heartwrenching in her final, desperate cries, and the opera ended with the word “ROMA” projected on the wall suggesting her parting vision of Carthage being destroyed by Rome.

Susan Graham (Dido) and Brandon Jovanovich (Aeneas), photo credit Todd Rosenberg

Dido was originally to be sung by Sophie Koch who withdrew for personal reasons, and fortunately for local audiences a seasoned a Dido as Graham was on hand to take her place, and she provided a bounty of beautiful singing.  Brandon Jovanovich’s Aeneas was imposing and authoritative, amply filling the dimensions of this substantial role.  Also worthy of note was Christine Goerke as Cassandra, the daughter of Priam (king of Troy), appearing only in the first part to haplessly warn of city’s impending destruction.  The chorus and orchestra, led by Michael Black and Sir Andrew Davis respectively, were major forces to be reckoned with, serving effectively as dramatic characters in their own right – unwieldy as the work may be, all the moving parts came together in tight control.

Following the curtain, there was a Q&A session moderated by general director Anthony Freud with Brandon Jovanovich, Susan Graham, Christine Goerke, and Lucas Meachem – thanks are in order to them for providing a fascinating perspective on the heels of what was surely a physically exhausting performance.

Post-opera Q&A, L-R: Susan Graham, Lucas Meachem, Christine Goerke, Anthony Freud, Brandon Jovanovich