by Georg Rudiger (Badische Zeitung)

Die jüngste Terrordrohung gegen Deutschland ist nur wenige Tage alt, da sieht man auf der Bühne des platter Aktualisierungen eher unverdächtigen Zürcher Opernhauses einen Islamisten. Er kombiniert olivgrüne Kampfklamotten mit Rauschebart und Mütze und schlägt gern mit der Faust auf den Tisch, wenn er nicht in einer Höhle mit einem Satellitentelefon hantiert oder mit gefesselten Händen auf dem Boden liegt, gekleidet in ein orangefarbenes Guantanamo-Kostüm. Es ist Anna Netrebkos Verlobter Erwin Schrott, der in Rossinis 1818 für Neapel entstandener Opera seria “Mosè in Egitto” die Titelpartie singt.

Moses war mutmaßlich weder Islamist noch Terrorist, aber für das Regieduo Moshe Leiser und Patrice Caurier spielt das keine Rolle. Der Prophet erinnert die beiden “in seinem Fanatismus an all die religiösen Führer gleich welcher Couleur, die sich im Besitz der einzigen Wahrheit wähnen”. Deshalb erstaunt es nicht, dass Moses’ bärtiger Bruder Aronne (mit hellem Tenor: Reinaldo Macias) mit Kippa und rhythmischen Gebetsbewegungen als Jude zu identifizieren ist. Die Ägypter mit ihrem Faraone (Michele Pertusi) repräsentieren in der Sichtweise der Regie die von der aktuellen Wirtschaftskrise gebeutelte westliche Gesellschaft, die Ziel terroristischer Gewalt wird. Statt ein Unwetter zu beschwören, lässt Moses am Ende des ersten Aktes zwei Bomben explodieren. Immer wieder taucht der zottelige Prophet auf, um die Partystimmung zu stören – bis er am Ende sein züchtig gekleidetes Volk doch durch das auf eine Leinwand projizierte Rote Meer führt, ehe die Ägypter von der Zürcher Unterbühne verschlungen werden. Soweit der Aktualisierungsversuch der Regie, der aus mehreren Gründen scheitert. Zum einen widersetzt sich Rossinis federnde, selbst im Pathos von großer Leichtigkeit und Eleganz getragene Musik diesem gewaltvollen Zugriff. Koloraturen und Terror – das passt nicht zusammen, zumindest nicht in der naiven, gänzlich ironiefreien Sichtweise von Leiser und Caurier. Zum anderen erzählt die dreiaktige Oper eine andere Geschichte – von Urvertrauen und Wortbrüchen, von der Flucht eines Volkes, von einer unmöglichen Liebe zwischen dem Ägypter Osiride (Javier Camarena) und der Hebräerin Elcia (Eva Mei).

Die Regisseure bebildern den auf Dauer erschreckend langweiligen Abend mit ungeheurem Aufwand (Bühne: Christian Fenouillat, Kostüme: Christophe Forey, Hans-Rudolf Kunz). Im ersten Akt ist ein Börsenraum eingerichtet mit Flachbildschirmen, Bürostühlen und einer Aktientafel an der Wand. Später werden zwei Designerküchen, ein Auto, ein Hotelzimmer und ein Büfett auf die Bühne gerollt. Sondereinsatzkommandos seilen sich von der Bühnendecke ab und prügeln lautstark mit ihren Schlagstöcken auf Moses ein – spätestens hier kann man diesen Opernabend nicht mehr ernst nehmen.

Leider liegt auch musikalisch vieles im Argen. Paolo Carignani versteht es nicht, das Opernorchester halbwegs sicher durch den Abend zu führen. Die Streicher vergeigen viele Rezitative, die Bläser wackeln, selbst die Schlagzeuger sind häufig nicht Herr des Geschehens. Es fehlen Präzision, Inspiration und vor allem Tempo. Die Partitur wird buchstabiert, statt interpretiert, die motorische Energie Rossinis entfaltet sich nur in wenigen Momenten.

Auch gesanglich hat man in Zürich schon bessere Abende erlebt. Am überzeugendsten sind Eva Mei als koloraturensichere, über viel lyrisches Potenzial verfügende Elcia und Sen Guo als ebenso bewegliche, feingliedrige Amaltea. Michele Pertusis Faraone ist zwar wuchtig, aber zu wenig nuancenreich – in der Tiefe ist sein Bass seltsam dünn. Auch Javier Camarena malt nicht gerade mit feinem Pinsel. Seine Spitzentöne sind zwar strahlend und kräftig – seinem nasalen Tenor fehlt es jedoch an Wendigkeit und Bodenhaftung. Neben dem soliden Peter Sonn (Mambre) gefällt vor allem Erwin Schrott mit seinem virilen, zunächst etwas ungestümen Bassbariton, der wie bei der Preghiera “Da tuo stellato soglio” (Von deinem Sternenthron), in der vor dem Exodus nochmals Gottes Hilfe erfleht wird, ganz zart werden kann.

Szenisch ist das Ensemble auf verlorenem Posten. Man steht herum, macht wie die immer gut singenden Zürcher Choristen ein absurdes Tänzchen im Bürostuhl oder wartet einfach, bis die hochgerüsteten Polizisten wieder verschwunden sind. Personenregie findet nicht statt. Warum auch? Die würde bei diesem wenig subtilen, aber heftig bejubelten Abend nur stören.

by Oliver Schneider (Wiener Zeitung)

Rossinis Vertonungen des Auszugs des Volks Israels aus Ägypten stehen nicht häufig auf den Spielplänen der Opernhäuser und Festivals. Heuer innerhalb von zwei Monaten gleich zweimal: Die spätere französische Grand Opéra-Fassung “Moïse et Pharaon” war ein glückloser Teil von Jürgen Flimms Salzburger Sommerprogramm; nun hat Alexander Pereira in Zürich die ursprüngliche italienische Fassung genutzt.

Die richtige Wahl, denn die beiden Handlungsstränge (der Machtkampf zwischen Moses und Pharao sowie eine unerlaubte Liebe des Nachwuchses) sind so miteinander verflochten, dass die Spannung über den rund zweieinhalbstündigen Abend nie abfällt.

Moshe Leiser und Patrice Caurier übertragen “Mosè in Egitto” auf die wachsende Ohnmacht der westlich-laizistischen Gesellschaft gegenüber religiösen Fanatikern jeder Couleur. Die Ägypter repräsentieren die materialistische Welt, die zu Beginn ansehen muss, wie die Börsenkurse ins Bodenlose sinken. Erst der religiöse Fanatiker Mosè lässt die Kurven wieder steigen. Gut und Böse lassen sich in dieser Inszenierung aber nicht eindeutig zuordnen. Der Pharao und seinesgleichen sehen sich als die besseren Menschen an, die jedoch permanent um ihre Sicherheit fürchten müssen. Die Machtlosen, bei Rossini die Israeliten, legen ihr Schicksal in die Hände der Fanatiker Mosè und Aronne und gelangen so in die Freiheit. Doch um welchen Preis für die Welt?

Leiser und Caurier und ihr Bühnenbildner Christian Fenouillat haben ein eindrückliches Schlussbild gefunden: Nachdem Mosè die Israeliten unter dem Meer durchgeführt hat – die das Meer repräsentierende Rückwand hebt sich –, ertrinken die Verfolger in einer Flutwelle. Nur der Pharao überlebt und sieht sich zu beruhigendem G-Dur Fotos von religiös begründeten Gräueltaten gegenüber.

Szenisch also ein Wurf, aber auch musikalisch. Der Pesaro-erfahrene Paolo Carignani beweist, wie sehr ihm Rossini im Blut liegt. Mit dem Zürcher Orchester widerlegt er das Vorurteil, dass Musik und dramatische Handlung schlecht zueinander passen, und arbeitet die Reichtümer der Partitur heraus. Ebenso eine Höchstleistung liefert der Chor, dem Rossini den tragenden Part zugedacht hat.

Die Elcìa von Eva Mei gehört musikalisch und darstellerisch zum Besten, was man bisher von der Sopranistin mit dem kristallinen Timbre erlebt hat. Javier Camarena ist ihr geliebter Osiride, mit agilem und höhensicherem Tenor, wenn auch zuweilen etwas unruhig liegend. Ein kontrastreiches Bass-Duo: Michele Pertusis Pharao tönt substanzvoll, während Erwin Schrott dem Mosè seine kernige Stimme verleiht, die in allen Lagen brilliert.

by Thomas Meyer (Basler Zeitung)

Die Aktien fallen, Investitionen bleiben aus, die Börse crasht. Diese Aktualitäten liessen sich auch als biblische Plagen deuten: kein Regen, Dürre, keine Ernte, Hunger. Umgekehrt betrachtet: Die Not, die Moses über Ägypten brachte, gleicht der aktuellen Wirtschaftskrise. Davon erzählt in der Zürcher Inszenierung nun Gioacchino Rossinis Oper «Mosè in Egitto», die 1818 und überarbeitet 1819 in Neapel uraufgeführt wurde.

Der Pharao will die Hebräer nicht ziehen lassen; seine Erlaubnis widerruft er mehrmals, worauf Moses jeweils noch eine Plage hinzufügt. Es ist Terror, den der Prophet hier anwendet, um zu seinem Ziel zu gelangen. Und er erreicht es. Die Geschichte endet bekanntlich mit dem Untergang des ägyptischen Heers im Roten Meer.

Es ist reiz- und effektvoll, diesen alttestamentarischen Stoff so zu aktualisieren, wie es nun das belgische Regieduo Moshe Leiser und Patrice Caurier am Opernhaus tun. Und es ist nicht unproblematisch. Schuld an der Krise sind in dieser Lesart die Hebräer; Moses erscheint als Bin-Laden-ähnlicher Fanatiker, in einer Szene wird er wie ein Guantánamo-Häftling traktiert.

Solche Übertragungen werden nicht allen Zuschauern passen. Immerhin konsequent, wie die Handlung in die Gegenwart verlegt wird, wobei noch weitere Ebenen ins Spiel kommen. Die Kostüme (Agostino Cavalca) sind ebenso modern wie das Bühnenbild von Christian Fenouillat. An Mafiafilme («The Sopranos») erinnert eine Szene in der Tiefgarage, wo der Pharao den unnachgiebigen Moses von Schergen zusammenstauchen lässt. Und wenn sich der Herrscher aller Ägypter am Frühstückstisch in der Einbauküche mit seinem Sohn Osiride unterhält und nach seinen Problemen fragt, sieht das aus wie in einer TV-Soap.

So entstehen ungewöhnliche, durchaus in sich schlüssige Bilder, die allenfalls in der Aufeinanderfolge nicht immer ganz stringent wirken. Mal werden die Ägypter als Börsianer dargestellt, dann wieder als feine Gesellschaft, die zuletzt aber auch noch als Heer fungieren muss, und bei den Hebräern sind nur Mosè und sein mit einer MP bewaffneter Bruder Aronne wie arabische Terroristen gekleidet, während die Flüchtlinge sonst an Juden aus dem Warschauer Ghetto erinnern.

Trotz dieser Ungereimtheiten entsteht eine farbige, lebendige Inszenierung, dies vor allem, weil die beiden Regisseure nicht an ihrem Konzept kleben, sondern die Figuren mit Leben und Gefühlen erfüllen. In der erwähnten Vater-Sohn-Szene etwa erscheint Michele Pertusi, ein beherrschter Bass mit Gewicht, ernstlich besorgt um seinen Sohn, der mit der Wahrheit nicht herausrücken will. Dessen Angst ist im wunderbar hellen Tenor von Javier Camarena (der einzig in den Tiefen etwas blass wirkt) auch körperlich spürbar. Überhaupt wird die Ambivalenz der Figuren deutlich: der so mächtige Pharao ist aus Liebe zu seinem Sohn wankelmütig, und dieser, eigentlich zärtlich in die Hebräerin Elcìa verliebt, ist zu jeder Brutalität bereit.

Die zentrale Figur des Stücks ist – sowohl emotional als auch von der Moral her – eben diese Elcìa, der Eva Mei immer mehr Wärme und Präsenz verleiht. Erwin Schrott als Moses erfüllt seine Rolle darstellerisch und vokal mit Kraft und wirkt wie ein unbewegliches Bollwerk in der Handlung.

Es ist ein gutes Zeichen, wenn der Star des Abends sich so überzeugend in Rolle und Konzept einfügt. Gerade in der Darstellung dieses Moses erweist sich, wie genau Leiser/Caurier in diese «Azione tragico-sacra» hineingeschaut haben. Rossini und sein Librettist Leone Andrea Tottola zeigen Moses nämlich als unerbittlichen Eiferer, der mit Härte vorgeht und dem es an wirklicher Grösse mangelt. Die Regie setzt diese Umdeutung einer zentralen Patriarchenfigur unserer Kulturgeschichte, die in der Vorlage vollzogen wird, auf glaubwürdige Weise um.

Zu Hilfe kommt den Regisseuren Rossinis Musik, die jede sakrale Schwerfälligkeit, wie man sie bei einer biblischen Opera seria erwarten könnte, umgeht, die äusserst wirkungsvolle Szenen aufbaut, aber auch Unerwartetes bereithält. Entsprechend wird sie nun in Zürich gestaltet. Gewiss: es wäre einmal interessant, auch die italienische Oper des frühen 19. Jahrhunderts – ähnlich wie Beethovens und Schuberts Musik – durch die Erfahrungen der authentischen Aufführungspraxis zu hören. Hier besteht Nachholbedarf. Aber der italienische Dirigent Paolo Carignani, zuletzt Generalmusikdirektor in Frankfurt, nimmt die Musik so agil und frisch, stellenweise fast schmissig, dass man ständig mitgezogen wird. Und das Orchester der Oper Zürich klingt richtig schön.

Im Übrigen sind selbst die kleinen Rollen bestens besetzt, so mit Reinaldo Macias als Aronne, Peter Sonn als Mambre und Anja Schlosser als Amenofi. Sen Guo als besorgte Pharaonenfrau Amaltea beschert dem Publikum einen der vokalen Höhepunkte des Abends. Die Leistung des Ensembles ist also insgesamt exzellent, und sie wird ergänzt durch den glänzend von Jürg Hämmerli vorbereiteten Opernchor, der zu einem zweiten Hauptakteur in der Oper heranwächst.

Nur den Schluss verschenken die beiden Regisseure, weil sie glauben, noch eins draufgeben zu müssen. Die Szene am Roten Meer, das sich für die Hebräer teilt und dann die Ägypter unter sich begräbt, brachte Rossini bei der ersten Uraufführung trotz musikalischen Erfolgs einige Buhrufe ein, weil sie so ungeschickt gelöst war. In Zürich nun überzeugt der Untergang der Ägypter szenisch sehr. Noch bedrückender wäre es wohl, wenn zu der darauffolgenden und das Werk auf geniale Weise abschliessenden Meeresstille nun auch eine leere Bühne erschiene. Stattdessen erhebt sich eine hohe Bilderwand, und sie zeigt uns noch einmal all die Schreckensbilder des Terrors, die wir täglich in den Tagesschauen sehen. Das soll wohl unter die Haut gehen, wirkt aber plakativ wie eine Benetton-Werbung.

VIENNA — Blood. Glitzy costumes. Magnificent voices and gorgeous soloists. Clever directing.

Welcome to a very good production of Mozart’s Don Giovanni.

Friday’s staging Vienna’s Theater an Der Wien did not break new ground — the production first premiered in 2006.

But it has weathered well.

Directed by Keith Warner, this Don is more than a manic casanova who has had his way with more than 2,000 women in his life. The man is funny, tender, menacing — and ultimately pitiable, as he expires on stage in a plexi-glass case smeared by his own blood, rather than renouncing his licentious life.

Much of the credit goes to Erwin Schrott, a.k.a. Mr. Anna Netrebko.

Built like a god, and with a voice to match, Schrott’s Don Giovanni captivated the sellout crowd in the sculpted and gilt theater on the banks of Vienna’s huge farmer’s market.

Brutal? Yes, stabbing the father defending the honor of his daughter. Contemptible for the way he treats women as playthings? Surely.

But above and beyond all, Schrott’s Don was human, from the beginning — as a young rake concerned only with improving his “score” — to the final moments, when old but unrepentant, he goes to his own private hell.

A sinner? Yes, but above all, a man who remains true to himself.

Darkness. Death. Suffering. Mozart and librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte had it otherwise in the original, with all the main characters wronged by the Don taking to the stage one more time to sing of their personal redemption, now that the evildoer had been dragged to the eternal fires in a scene that they meant to be merely symbolic — not bloody.

Not Friday. The stage falls as the hero-villain expires. A dark ending at odds with the ‘dramma giocoso” — jocular drama – envisaged by Mozart and Da Ponte. But one that leaves a more lasting impression.

And if Schrott had star qualities, the stage was a veritable Milky Way on Friday.

Hanno Mueller-Brachmann was the perfect foil to Schrott’s Don as his manservant, Leporello. Both baritones, the two complemented each other perfectly — two men on a shared life journey, an 18th century Odd Couple of the 18th century who coexist only because they cannot exist apart.

Nina Bernsteiner was a wonderful Zerlina, the maid who is one of the Don’s many targets. And Markus Butter captivated as a lovingly doltish Masetto, Zerlina’s sweetheart.

And stone-faced in this particular case is meant as a compliment — Attila Jun, the commendatore, the father who dies defending his daughter’s honor only to consign the Don to hell comes back as a very convincing marble bust to carry out his final duty.

Also good were Veronique Gens as Donna Elvira, Aleksandra Kurzak as Donna Anna and Bernard Richter (Don Ottavio). They were superb solo, in their trio “Protegga, i giusto cielo” and other ensemble singing.

Warner put most of the action in a hotel — a good choice for the opera’s amorous theme.

Riccardo Frizza coaxed the most out of the ensemble in the pit — members of the Radio Symphony Orchestra Vienna. A special kudos to cellist Maria Gruen, who shone in some of the more tender love duets between the Don and his victims.

For George Bernard Shaw, Don Giovanni was “eminent in its uncommon share of wisdom, beauty and humor.”

He would have enjoyed Friday evening.

by Enzo Garofalo (Cannibali.it)

“La poesia…consiste in ciò che si trova nel mondo, al di qua di quanto ci è permesso di osservare”. Ad affermarlo era il grande artista belga René Magritte la cui pittura attingeva al mistero indefinibile del reale ed il cui immaginario ha fortemente ispirato le splendide scene che Tommaso Lagattolla ha ideato per l’edizione barese dell’opera ‘L’elisir d’amore’ di Gaetano Donizetti, andata in scena il 29 giugno allo Spazio 7 della Fiera del Levante, ultima opera del cartellone della Fondazione Petruzzelli prima della pausa estiva. Se infatti è dal mondo reale che questo delicato e poeticissimo melodramma giocoso attinge le dinamiche del sentimento d’amore, di fatto poi le traspone in una dimensione quasi fiabesca, il che certamente ne spiega, insieme alla bellezza della musica, l’ininterrotto e diffuso successo a partire dalla sua prima messa in scena nel 1832 al Teatro della Cannobiana di Milano. Con incanto, leggerezza ed ironia Donizetti ed il suo librettista Felice Romani raccontano, ambientandole nei Paesi Baschi, le vicende della ricca e colta fittavola Adina e dell’umile contadino Nemorino che s’innamora perdutamente di lei. Egli fa di tutto per conquistare l’amore della ragazza che, indispettita dalla sua corte, sta per sposare Belcore, sergente di un esercito di passaggio. Ispirato dalla storia dell’amore di Tristano e Isotta che la stessa Adina ama narrare ai suoi villici e dal ruolo che in essa ha una certa magica pozione, Nemorino decide di acquistare dal ciarlatano dottor Dulcamara un magico filtro (in realtà del semplice vino Bordeaux) che dovrebbe aiutarlo ad accattivarsi l’attenzione della fanciulla ritrosa e civetta. A furia di assumere la ‘misteriosa’ bevanda il giovane si ubriaca e mancando del denaro per acquistare un’ulteriore dose finisce con l’arruolarsi nell’esercito di Belcore, mentre Adina commossa per il gesto gli confesserà il proprio affetto. Belcore accetta di buon grado la sconfitta d’amore, mentre Dulcamara lascia il villaggio decantando le proprietà del suo ‘prodigioso’ elisir.
Testualmente tratto da ‘Le philtre’ (Il filtro) di Eugène Scribe, da un punto di vista più strettamente musicale l’Elisir è discendente sia della vecchia opera buffa settecentesca che della sublime inventiva rossiniana, su cui però si innesta la personalissima cifra melodica di Donizetti insieme a quella sua capacità di saper far sorridere e commuovere al tempo stesso. Umorismo sì, ma condito da sentimenti presi dalla vita reale come lo struggimento dato dalla passione frustrata e dalla delusione per una speranza mal riposta. Le inquietudini che attraversano l’animo di Nemorino ne fanno una persona dalle emozioni autentiche, per quanto impacciata e poco intraprendente. E realistica appare anche la figura di Adina che pur civettuola non è priva di un suo certo acume, per cui appare improbabile che potesse mai provare degli autentici sentimenti d’amore verso uno che come Belcore canta “Son galante, e son sergente”: non a caso, sia pure dopo un contorto intrecciarsi di circostanze – questo sì decisamente romanzesco – entra in sintonia con i fremiti del cuore di Nemorino, la cui audacia finale è dettata più da un disperato desiderio d’amore che non dalla cieca fiducia nell’elisir di Dulcamara. Significativa in proposito è la romanza ‘Una furtiva lagrima’ da lui cantata quando si accorge di una lacrima negli occhi di Adina che gli rivela l’amore di lei. Decisamente efficaci nella resa vocale e scenica dei due protagonisti, sono stati il soprano Roberta Canzian, una temperamentosa e accattivante Adina, e il giovane tenore russo Alexey Kudrya, che è riuscito a tratteggiare un Nemorino molto meno sciocco e imbranato del solito. Apprezzabile anche la performance del baritono Luca Salsi, un Belcore impettito e borioso al punto giusto.
Più tipicamente da farsa invece il personaggio del ciarlatano Dulcamara, tuttavia anch’esso non privo di legami con la realtà in quella sua ostinata arte di arrangiarsi e di imbrogliare che tanto ricorda un certo diffuso costume italiano. Ed è tutto su una accentuata comicità d’azione e di dizione che lo ha caratterizzato il fisicamente prestante basso uruguaiano Erwin Schrott, notevole per potenza vocale e capacità di dominare la scena attraverso divertenti e caricaturali sketch condivisi con un suo muto e buffo assistente magistralmente interpretato dall’attore Pasquale De Marzo. Positivo anche il contributo del soprano Filomena Diodati nel più defilato – sul piano canoro – ruolo della villanella Giannetta. Ottima la performance del Coro della Fondazione Petruzzelli come sempre mirabilmente guidato dal M° Franco Sebastiani.
L’Orchestra della Provincia di Bari dal proprio canto ha portato a termine una buona esecuzione musicale dell’opera sotto la guida della canadese Kery-Lynn Wilson che, se si esclude la scelta di alcuni tempi discutibilmente lenti in alcuni passaggi, ha offerto una lettura abbastanza equilibrata della frizzante partitura donizettiana.
Un’opera così spumeggiante per quanto a tratti velata di malinconia, si è prestata alla perfezione alla dinamicissima regia concepita da Francesco Esposito, piena di simpatiche trovate teatrali, come quella della euforia erotica creatasi intorno al gruppo di soldati di passaggio, che vede improvvisamente coinvolti tutti i contadini (uomini compresi!), o quella delle villanelle discinte che, appresa la notizia dell’eredità d’un tratto toccata in sorte a Nemorino a causa della morte di uno zio, cercano di sedurlo a tutti i costi. Ad arricchire la regia è stato rilevante anche l’inserimento di movimenti scenici curati dal coreografo Domenico Iannone. Di Francesco Esposito anche i coloratissimi costumi in stile tardo settecentesco ben armonizzati con una scenografia costituita da tre piccole case semoventi dalle finestre illuminate (una di esse è la rivendita di illusioni di Dulcamara) e da diversi e ben coordinati accessori di scena per la quale, come già accennato, il talentuosissimo Tommaso Lagattolla si è ispirato alla pittura di Magritte, ai suoi colori, alle sue nuvole, alle sue mele, al suo ‘impero della luce’ e più in generale al suo stile da illustratore che ha contribuito a sottolineare la componente fiabesca dell’opera.
Numerosi e convinti gli applausi del foltissimo pubblico che ha gremito la platea dello Spazio 7, confermando l’immutata popolarità di questa gradevolissima opera.

by Marco Andreetti (Corriere della Sera, 4th May 2009)

«A Santa Cecilia è arrivato Mefistofele: cioè il basso uruguayano Erwin Schrott. È lui la guest star dei concerti diretti da Antonio Pappano nei quali canta il Prologo dal «Mefistofele» di Boito. Il program­ma è completata dalla prima Sinfonia di Beetho­ven e dal «Te Deum» di Verdi. «I ruoli demoniaci m’intrigano molto – dice il basso – . Un po’ per in­clinazione vocale, perché i demoni hanno sem­pre una voce scura, e un po’ perché la parte del ‘cattivo’ risulta spesso quella più divertente e sfaccettata, aperta a una moltitudine di interpreta­zioni personali».

Già protagonista tre anni fa a Santa Cecilia nel­la «Damnation de Faust» di Berlioz sempre diret­to da Pappano («Siamo molto in sintonia, è una persona genuina dall’entusiasmo contagioso con cui imparo molto ma divertendomi e non è cosa da poco!») Schrott è tornato ancora nei panni di un Diavolo, questa volta tutto italiano: «Sebbene entrambi trasposizioni dal ‘Faust’ di Goethe, so­no molto diversi tra loro dal punto di vista psico­logico. Ho affrontato l’intero ruolo di Berlioz an­che al San Carlo di Napoli, una strana creatura che irrompe dal nulla e distrugge le vite di Faust e Marguerite repentinamente, riuscendo nel frat­tempo a strappare anche qualche risata. Invece inizio solo ora a conoscere il Mefistofele di Boito, che sfida un potere superiore quasi per noia».

L’opera di Arrigo Boito – letterato e musicista della Scapigliatura milanese che scrisse per Verdi i libretti di «Otello» e «Falstaff» – andò in scena alla Scala il 5 marzo 1868 e si apre con il prologo in cielo dove Mefistofele nel recitativo «Ave Si­gnor, perdona» annuncia di volere trarre in tenta­zione Faust: «Quasi non ha dubbio della sua vitto­ria… e poi invece fa la stessa fine di Don Giovan­ni!», spiega Schrott, 36 anni, fisico possente, vo­ce e carisma che lo rendono uno dei cantanti più richiesti oggi per interpretare il mitico seduttore mozartiano. Il cantante aprirà la prossima stagio­ne della Scala con un altro personaggio tutto sex appeal, l’Escamillo di «Carmen» e vi ritornerà nel­la stessa stagione ancora con «Don Giovanni» e «Les Contes d’Hoffmann». Schrott è sposato con il soprano russo Anna Netrebko, la star in assolu­to più richiesta e pagata oggi nel mondo della liri­ca. Il loro figlio Tiago Aruã è nato lo scorso set­tembre a Vienna e i giornali rosa austriaci hanno fatto a gara per accaparrarsi in copertina le foto insieme al bambino; intelligenti, belli, bravi, a ve­derli sembrano gli Angelina Jolie e Brad Pitt della lirica, questo mese sono anche su «Vanity Fair»: «Non ho nemmeno il tempo per preoccuparme­ne più di tanto, preferisco focalizzarmi sulla musi­ca», commeta Schrott e intanto, dopo il «Don Gio­vanni », tutti sperano di poterli sentire ancora can­tare insieme in un’opera: «Non dipende solo da quello che io o lei vogliamo fare, ma anche da quello che le nostre voci, maturando, ci consenti­ranno di cantare, e non lo dico con rassegnazio­ne, ma con molta curiosità».»

by Carlo Lanfossi (Il Giornale della Musica — English version here.)

«La corrispondenza fra arte e vita è argomento più che abusato negli allestimenti di melodrammi, ma mai è stato sfruttato così bene come in questo Faust di Gounod andato in scena nell’avveniristico complesso valenciano Palau de les Arts: lo spettacolo, nato a Covent Garden nel 2004, è uno dei più riusciti del talentuoso regista David McVicar, il quale sposa il tema di fondo del Doktor Faustus di Mann facendo del protagonista non già un medico, bensì un compositore. Da qui, il continuo gioco di rimandi fra realtà (la Francia dell’epoca di Gounod) e il teatro: il tutto animato da un lavoro di recitazione sui personaggi che è firma di lusso del regista scozzese. Moltissimi gli esempi che andrebbero citati da questa produzione che è Teatro vivo ad ogni scena, ma su tutte spicca la scelta di inserire i balli durante la notte di Walpurgis: qui, non più una grotta oscura, ma un palcoscenico su cui Faust assiste impotente alla pantomima danzata e grottesca dei protagonisti e delle loro vicende, guidati da un Méphistophélès travestito. Se il dramma è maschera e finzione, così i sogni di Faust-artista si infrangono con l’ambiguità di teatro e vita. Tutto questo non sarebbe possibile senza un cast che sappia rendere credibile un konzept registico così spiccato: Vittorio Grigolo è un protagonista vocalmente un po’ troppo spinto, ma sembra nato per questo spettacolo, così come l’avvenenza fisica e la possanza vocale di Erwin Schrott disegnano un maligno dal fascino estremo. Più sciapa, ma tecnicamente ferratissima, la Marguerite di Alexia Voulgaridou, mentre la bacchetta di Frédéric Chaslin si limita ad accompagnare, mancandole quelle nuances che la ricca partitura di Gounod offre. Successo straordinario per un pubblico la cui età media è circa la metà di un normale teatro italiano.»

By Charles Sheek (PlaybillArts)

«Erwin Schrott, a veteran Don Giovanni, tells the Met’s Charles Sheek why opera’s ultimate bad boy continues to enthrall artists and audiences.

You’ve sung Don Giovanni many times, but never before at the Met. How has your interpretation developed?

Everybody discovers different nuances each time they perform in an opera. It grows on you. And I have to compare my own point of view to those of the director and the other artists. That’s why singing the same role so many times is never boring—it’s never the same thing.

You were asked to sing Giovanni early in your career but decided to wait. Why?

Most people think Mozart is the easiest way for a singer to approach the profession, but it’s not easy at all. His music can be cheery or tragic or a lot of things at the same time. When you look at Don Giovanni it may look simple at first, but then you discover there’s a lot more to it. Either you decide to sing it and see what happens, or you take your time and study all the details until you’re confident enough to face Mozart onstage. I took the second option.

What is it that Don Giovanni is really after? Is it the seduction, power, the thrill of the chase…?

I think he’s a bored, emotionless person who entertains himself by hurting other people. He serially misbehaves. He fakes passion, he’s seductive, but the truth is that he has no passion at all—because it’s an emotion, and he’s unable to feel anything for anyone. He doesn’t care about what happens around him.

Mozart wrote the opera in the 1780s. Why does this character continue to interest us?

There are still plenty of Giovannis in the world! The opera is a psychological essay on infidelity, betrayal, and men always being on the verge of moral corruption. It’s very contemporary, if you think of it in these terms!

You sang in this production on a Met tour to Japan two years ago. How would you describe director Marthe Keller’s staging?

Her vision is quite simple, but in a good and interesting way. Simple things are often the hardest to achieve. Marthe sees Giovanni as some sort of addict, addicted to seduction to the extent that he behaves as if defying death were the ultimate act of seduction.

You just had a son, Tiago, with Anna Netrebko. Congratulations! Would you want him to become a performer?

I’d like my children to become whatever they wish. And to be happy—I couldn’t ask for more for them than that.»

by Bradley Bambarger (The Star-Ledger / nj.com)

«Mozart’s three operas written with librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte are comedies about a serious thing: sex. Two of these revolve around the complications that arise when sex rubs up against issues of class (“Le Nozze di Figaro”) and loyalty (“Cosi fan Tutte”). With “Don Giovanni,” it’s the tragicomedy of sex and morality — the culpability of both the seducer and those who want to be seduced.

In the Metropolitan Opera’s “Don Giovanni,” Erwin Schrott plays Don Juan as demonic peacock, strutting on stage with his muscled chest just out in front of his arrogant pout. This compulsive rake is an emotional nihilist who loathes the losers in his seduction games — those women in thrall to his looks and skills despite what they know and say. Sometimes the rogue has to trick his prey; sometimes they’re asking for it.

Schrott is the Don of the day, a 35-year-old Uruguayan bass whose career ascent has been measured (top prizes at Placido Domingo’s 1998 Operalia competition notwithstanding). Now, he has a Decca record deal, as well as his share of celebrity headlines. The world’s hottest opera star — Russian soprano Anna Netrebko — had his baby last month.

These days, opera singers have to look their parts, as well as sing them. Schrott’s Latin looks provide ideal verisimilitude for a Don Juan (think Antonio Banderas). Director Gina Lapinski takes full advantage, having him shirtless in the opening scene. But Schrott’s virile voice fills the bill, too. His tone is coffee-colored; his phrasing beautiful but dramatic, like heightened speech. He is also a natural stage creature, radiating energy.

The entire cast is excellent. Bulgarian soprano Krassimira Stoyanova plays Donna Anna. She is nearly raped by Don Giovanni, who kills her father, the Commendatore, somewhat reluctantly when he attempts a rescue. (The Commendatore’s ghost will haunt the Don by the end, although Schrott plays haunting better than haunted.) Stoyanova got Wednesday night’s biggest cheers for an exquisitely shaded “Non, mi Dir,” the aria where she puts off her fiance until she can resolve her Don Giovanni issues (ostensibly revenge, but maybe it’s not that simple).

Isabel Leonard is sweet of face and voice as Zerlina, who nearly succumbs to the Don on her wedding day but is able to soothe her ruffled fiance with a coo or two. Susan Graham has the hardest role, as Donna Elvira, an older woman who, despite her protestations, keeps falling for the rogue, to his disgusted amusement. The strong American mezzo seems a bit uncomfortable playing a patsy, but she sings stylishly.

As for the guys who don’t get many points for being good, tenor Matthew Polenzani, as Anna’s intended, makes the most of his haplessly lyrical moments. Joshua Bloom, as Zerlina’s Masetto, looks and sounds like he could play Don Giovanni, if given a chance. The opera’s heart is Leporello, Don Giovanni’s semi-reluctant right-hand man. Italian bass Ildebrando D’Arcangelo (who also looks Don-worthy) fills the part with subtle warmth, his “Catalog Aria” low-key but charming.

The ensembles of mixed emotions, from trios to septets, came together wonderfully on Wednesday, and the Met orchestra played with its usual acuity. Conductor Louis Langree — director of Lincoln Center’s Mostly Mozart Festival — has a leaner, more period-influenced way with the composer than has often been heard at the Met. But his phrasing seems more apt for light than shade, as the ever-incredible overture and “stone guest” scene could have used a darker power.

For all the hearts racing on stage, Marthe Keller’s rather conservative 2004 production lacks the conceptual edge that a 21st-century “Don Giovanni” should have. Still, designer Michael Yeargan’s stone walls are evocative of the Don’s hard heart, the shadowy spaces just right for those who don’t care.»

by James R. Oestreich (NYTimes)

«Marthe Keller’s production of Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” at the Metropolitan Opera opened in March 2004, several months before Peter Gelb was named the company’s next general manager, and it was revived a year later, many months before he actually took control. But in its current revival, which opened on Saturday afternoon, this production stands as a plausible representative of the Gelb aesthetic that elevates theater to a near par with music.

With rudimentary but versatile sets by Michael Yeargan, Ms. Keller takes the monumentality of the Met stage in stride rather than trying to amplify it, as Franco Zeffirelli had done in the production that hers happily replaced. No one is lost in dark corners, and the focus of the action is always clear despite Jean Kalman’s subdued lighting. The singers are attractive and mostly believable in their roles, and many are more than passable actors.

The Uruguayan bass Erwin Schrott, in fact, may be the Don Giovanni of choice today, acclaimed at least as much for his acting as for his singing. Taking the role for the first time in the house (having sung it with the Met in Japan in 2006), he inhabited it animalistically, all but panting toward the next sexual adventure. So much was he the character that his singing seemed to flow out as naturally as speech, well paced and well tuned if not always glamorous in tone.

Ildebrando D’Arcangelo, after some stiffness in his opening number, proved an excellent foil as Leporello, matched closely enough with Mr. Schrott in voice, physique and manner that their exchange of costumes worked seamlessly and all the more hilariously. Without slighting the comic possibilities, Mr. D’Arcangelo made the character genuinely affecting.

Susan Graham’s innate dignity was somewhat undercut in the role of Donna Elvira by the otherwise effective costuming of Christine Rabot-Pinson and stage direction of Gina Lapinski. Were those garish red gloves in the first act supposed to set off the big head of hair (more orange than red to my eyes)? With most of the stock mugging behind her in the second act, Ms. Graham fared better. But her singing, for all its admirable qualities, still lacked a certain fire that the role demands.

Matthew Polenzani sang beautifully as Don Ottavio, with a rich, sure tone, and made the best of the hapless character. But set against his youthful appearance, Krassimira Stoyanova seemed a bit matronly in her bearing, and her soprano, though ranging freely through registers and dynamics, sometimes had a hard edge that spread throughout her last aria.

Isabel Leonard inhabited the role of the impudent, innocent Zerlina as thoroughly as Mr. Schrott did the Don, and the chemistry between them was sizzling. Her singing was fresh, effervescent and lovely.

Joshua Bloom, making his Met debut as the bluff Masetto, more than held his own in this exalted company. Phillip Ens was a sturdy Commendatore.

Louis Langrée, one of New York’s foremost Mozarteans, as music director of the Mostly Mozart Festival, conducted, and he made a fine job of the second act. The first was plagued by slippages, major and minor, between stage and pit.

For the rest, the orchestra displayed its typical agility and finesse. Among its finest moments was the simplest: the plush underlay of Don Ottavio’s aria “Dalla sua pace,” as gorgeously rendered as the melody above it.»

By Anthony Tommasini (NYTimes)

«There was a moment last summer during a performance of Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” at Covent Garden when the charismatic Uruguayan bass Erwin Schrott, singing the title role, nearly stopped the show. And not in the typical meaning of that phrase.

This was the first time I had heard Mr. Schrott, dubbed “the Marlon Brando of opera” by some in the international press, and I was wary of the hype. But after observing him in action on that June evening in London, the comparison seemed not that much of a stretch. New York opera lovers can see him as the Don starting on Saturday, when he stars in the Metropolitan Opera’s revival of Marthe Keller’s 2004 production.

He had the audience hooked from the first scene, when Giovanni appeared in disguise, looking like a masked Spanish pirate, his red vest exposing his muscled chest, bent on seducing the vulnerable Donna Anna. His virile, dusky singing deftly veiled the character’s malevolence.

In Scene 2, after having fatally stabbed Donna Anna’s father, the Commendatore, when the old man rushed to her rescue, Giovanni and his servant Leporello arrived on a street in Seville. In lines of agitated recitative the exasperated Leporello reprimanded his master as an utter rogue. Mr. Schrott’s Don laughed maniacally and warned the servant to hush up.

Then, as he breathlessly explained that another rendezvous was imminent, something seemed to distract him. He trailed off into uneasy silence. Crooking his neck, he looked around, squinted, then began singing again. Soon he stopped cold and sniffed the air. Was the singer discombobulated?

A knowing smile crossed Mr. Schrott’s face, and he sang the next line of recitative: “Zitto! mi pare sentir odor di femmina!” (“Hush! I seem to smell femininity!”) Ducking for cover, he waited, and sure enough, Donna Elvira appeared.

This moment usually comes across either as absurdly comic or simply weird. Don Giovanni can smell women approaching?

“Apparently he can,” Mr. Schrott, 35, said during a recent interview at the Met, following a staging rehearsal. Recalling that production, Mr. Schrott said, “I can’t tell you how many times a coach or prompter fed me a word, thinking I had forgotten a line.”

The Russian soprano Anna Netrebko was singing Donna Anna at Covent Garden that night. The two are now engaged; early this month she gave birth to their son, Tiago. While Mr. Schrott appears at the Met, Ms. Netrebko is at home with the baby in her Vienna apartment. Mr. Schrott also has a 10-year-old daughter, Iara, who lives in Uruguay with her mother, his ex-wife.

Opera buffs should not expect the pair to become the next love couple, appearing regularly together in productions. “We actually want to try to avoid it,” Mr. Schrott said. “She has her career, I have mine.” Of course, he added, “if it happens naturally, fine.”

Mr. Schrott is gratified to be considered a dynamic actor and smoldering stage presence. But he emphasized that the basic craft of singing is crucial at this stage in his career. He is determined not to let himself be pushed into vocally inappropriate roles, he said, even if it means restricting his repertory.

Mr. Schrott has sometimes been faulted for letting musical details slip when he becomes swept up in the moment of a performance. But he has taken that feedback to heart. Coaches at the Met, where he made his debut in 2000 as Colline in “La Bohème,” report that he is disciplined and focused.

Mr. Schrott’s career developed slowly, which was fine by him. After three years at a conservatory in Uruguay, he continued his studies for a year in Buenos Aires. With a fellowship in hand, he went to Italy for training and worked with mentors, notably the baritone Leo Nucci, whom he had met in South America. His breakthrough came in 1998 when, after hedging about entering Operalia, the competition run by Plácido Domingo, he won it — both the jury prize and the audience prize.

For years he was content to sing supporting roles. “It was beautiful to take a character who is not the big deal in the opera, but to make something of it,” he said. “That is really being an artist.”

Bigger roles came his way, including Mephistopheles in “Faust,” Banquo in “Macbeth,” Mozart’s Figaro and a major challenge, Pharaoh in Rossini’s “Moise et Pharaon,” at La Scala in Milan, with the perfectionist Italian maestro Riccardo Muti conducting.

Decca has just issued Mr. Schrott’s first solo recording, a program of arias by Mozart, Verdi, Meyerbeer, Gounod and Puccini, with Riccardo Frizza conducting the Orquestra de la Comunitat Valenciana. For a singer so naturally spontaneous, the recording process — which requires performing passages over and over to get them right — was initially a “nightmare,” he said.

At first he was worried, he said, that the sound of his voice — “my ideal sound, my inner sound, what my ear hears” — was not coming through on the recording. Actually, the engineers have ably captured the heft, warmth and chocolate-tinged colorings of his voice. He may have felt constrained singing before microphones in a recording studio. But his performances have plenty of his trademark impetuosity, and by the end, he was pleased with the results.

Don Giovanni is becoming his calling card, though he also sings Leporello, as he did to acclaim this summer at the Salzburg Festival, which gives him dual insights into the roles. “I think Leporello understands Don Giovanni better than Giovanni understands himself,” Mr. Schrott said. He sketched out two frameworks for comprehending their relationship, which he considers a co-dependency.

In one, Leporello is an older, more overtly comic character. You could imagine him having worked for Giovanni’s father; when the father died, Mr. Schrott explained, he entrusted his bored, reckless son to his faithful servant. The other is to consider Leporello and Giovanni as having grown up together, servant and master in the same household.

“They played games when they were kids,” Mr. Schrott said. Leporello is jealous of Giovanni’s wealth and elegance, and the beautiful women. But inwardly he pities his master’s amorality and emotional emptiness.

Mr. Schrott much prefers this second concept, as does his colleague Ildebrando D’Arcangelo, the Italian bass who is singing Leporello in the Met’s production. That was clear during the recent staging rehearsal in a basement studio of the house.

Working with the director Gina Lapinski, Mr. Schrott and Mr. D’Arcangelo sorted out the attitudes of the two characters during the final scene at Giovanni’s castle. During the previous scene the Don had rashly invited the statue of the Commendatore, which had spoken to him, to join him for supper.

Beneath all the banter and horseplay you sensed the tensions and mistrust between this master and servant. The most fascinating interplay, though, came when the mezzo-soprano Susan Graham, singing Donna Elvira, burst into the scene. What Elvira yearns for here has always seemed elusive. Getting on her knees, she says that she wants to prove her love for Giovanni one last time. Does she actually want him back? Or does she only want him to repent and change his ways?

Ms. Graham explained to her colleagues that as she sees the character, Elvira’s romantic fantasy is over. She wants to be proved right and for Giovanni to renounce his ways. Mr. Schrott answered that Elvira may believe this rationally, but that passion and love are beyond reason. Elvira is still desperate.

When Mr. Schrott approached the kneeling Ms. Graham with a seductive gleam in his eyes, Ms. Graham said, “That’s too much, too romantic.” So he tried again, this time flashing an enticing yet blank look that barely concealed his contempt and lust. It worked.

Afterward, Mr. Schrott cautioned that when he gets onstage in this scene, despite all the painstaking work, anything can happen in the moment. “Taking risks is part of the job,” he said. “Making choices. You have to.”»

(Das Opernglas – July 2008)

«Die Karrierekurve von Erwin Schrott weist steil nach oben. Hinzu kommt seit einigen Monaten der Rummel um sein Privatleben. Wie er mit all dem umgeht, verriet er unserem Mitarbeiter Johannes Schmitz in Berlin. Ausschnitte aus dem Interview.

Seit Ihrem letzten „Opernglas“-Interview vor anderthalb Jahren ist viel passiert in Ihrem Leben, beruflich wie privat. Sie sind einer der weltweit gefragtesten Don Giovannis, und Donna Anna – Anna Netrebko – erwartet ein Kind von Ihnen. Es scheint, dass die Oper und das wirkliche Leben eine Schnittmenge haben.
Sie werden verstehen, dass ich mein Privatleben äußerst sorgsam behandle und nicht gern darüber rede.

Absolut. Doch welche Konsequenzen ergeben sich für Sie daraus, dass Anna Netrebko und Sie ein Paar sind?
Nun, ich koche heute besser, und sie mag, was ich koche…, und ich lerne jetzt Russisch und versuche, Anna etwas Spanisch beizubringen.

Und beruflich? Gibt es gemeinsame Pläne?
Nein, nicht wirklich. Wir reden kaum über unsere beruflichen Laufbahnen.

Aber unterstützen Sie sich nicht gegenseitig, etwa in gesangstechnischen Fragen oder wenn es um Interpretationen geht?
Doch, das tun wir gelegentlich. Denn natürlich bewundere ich sie sehr als Künstlerin. Sie ist sehr konsequent in allem, was sie tut, und sie besitzt eine ungeheure Professionalität. Trotzdem reden wir gar nicht so viel über unsere Arbeit. Wenn wir zusammen sind, steht unser Privatleben im Vordergrund.

Also fühlen Sie sich nicht wie das neue Traumpaar der Opernszene?
Oh Gott, nein. Uns gibt es wirklich, wir sind ganz normale Menschen. Wir haben lediglich das Glück, gemeinsame Interessen zu haben und diese Liebe zur Musik teilen zu können, aber ansonsten sind wir wie jedes andere Paar auf der Welt und leben ein ganz normales Leben. Natürlich ist unser Lebensrhythmus ein anderer, ein schnellerer, allein durch die vielen Reisen.

Es ist sicher sehr angenehm, einen Partner zu haben, dem man nicht erklären muss, was der Job als Sänger für Anforderungen mit sich bringt.
Ja. Es fällt uns deshalb leichter, einander zu respektieren und uns gegenseitig zu verstehen. Da ich selbst Opernsänger bin, weiß ich natürlich, was Anna als Sängerin vor einem Auftritt braucht. Doch vergessen Sie nicht: Sie ist eine Frau und zumal in diesen Fragen eine sehr kluge dazu. Sie lebt ihr eigenes Leben, was die Karriere anbelangt. Sie hat so viele Verpflichtungen und steht unter einem enormen Druck. Dafür bewundere ich sie.

Sänger vergangener Jahrzehnte wirkten weniger nahbar. Vielleicht hat sich aber auch nur die Welt um die Sänger herum gewandelt und ihre Darstellung durch die Medien. Wer hat sich denn nun verändert: Wir oder die Sänger?
Als ich einmal mit einem Freund in einer Bar war, haben wir über ganz normale und profane Dinge gesprochen, über Sport etwa. Da kam ein junger Mann auf mich zu und sagte mit tiefschwarzer Stimme, die ihn wohl als Sänger ausweisen sollte: „Sind Sie es, Herr Schrott, der berühmte Opernsänger?“ Ich antwortete: „Ja, hi, ich bin Erwin.“ Darauf sagte der Mann: „Ich wollte Ihnen nur sagen, dass ich auch Sänger bin.“ Da war er, der Stereotyp des Sängers, der versucht, mit seiner Stimme zu beeindrucken. Aber meine Sängergeneration „tickt“ eigentlich schon völlig anders.»

(from Al Arab Online)

«The first week of the 5th Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Festival had set a very high-standard of musical quality and pushed audience enthusiasm to frantic levels. Indeed, after the world class performances of the London Philharmonic, the powerful and soulful revival of Arabic Classics with Asmma Monaoar and Khaled Selim and the Bolshoi triumph, one might have wondered what this 5th Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Festival had in stock to keep up with such ground-breaking performances.

The challenge was met by ADMAF on the evening on the 29th of March at the Emirates Palace Auditorium. Indeed, the Bolshoi Orchestra was there again that evening, but not to play to the gravity-defying, ever so graceful dancers, but to a different type of other-worldly talents: opera singers.

In this Opera Gala, Anna Netrebko, the internationally acclaimed soprano performed with the graceful mezzo-soprano Elina Garanča and the no-less talented Erwin Schrott to a full house comprising His Excellency Khaldoon Mubarak, Chairman of the Executive Affairs Authority and CEO of Mubadala, His Royal Highness Prince Michael of Kent and many distinguished guests from the Emirati and foreign community. A detail was telling of the expectations raised by the sweeping international attention this 5th Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Festival has drawn: two Kuwaiti visitors confessed they had come specially from their home country to attend this evening’s performance.

The first half of this evening’s performance was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s and began with Le Nozze de Figaro’s Overture: a fitting choice to debut this Opera Gala as the energetic, immensely pleasing opening statement of this famous W.A. Mozart masterpiece gave a sampler of how melodic, powerful and quite simply merely entertaining the rest of this evening would be. Alexander Vedernikov’s conducting was generous and energetic as he skilfully led the orchestra and the audience into this evening of opera.

Enter the divas! Netrebko and Garanča appeared on the stage in glittering dresses, looking stunning: if their appearance had anything to do with their performance, it promised to be stellar. And indeed it was. Their performance of the love duet “Ah perdona il primo affetto” was vibrant and engulfed the audience in all the emotion the Opera has to offer. The audience thundered in applause as the two singers left the stage.

Erwinn Schrott appeared, bringing his relaxed, friendly charm to the stage: his interpretation of the Don Giovanni extract “Madamina, il catalogo e questo” was extraordinary: in addition to the perfect singing, the audience simply saw a wonderful actor’s performance. Working the stage playfully; skilfully involving the audience and the orchestra in his rendition of the list of Don Giovanni’s many conquests across Europe, Schrott demonstrated how the Opera was not only about vocal skill but about emotion, acting and storytelling, making it an immensely elaborate and entertaining form of music. This was followed by another excerpt of “La Clemenza di Tito” in which Elina Garanča lent her commanding presence and her perfect performance to this piece, literally hypnotizing the audience.

Another of the many highlights of this first part of the Gala dedicated to Mozart was “D’Oreste D’Aiace” performed by Netrebko. Quite the opposite of the playful Don Giovanni excerpt, this tormented and anguished piece provided an extraordinary opportunity for Netrebko to propel the audience in another world, that of anger and madness of her character Electra. Netrebko’s mastery was such that her virtuosity never was the issue: it was simply and powerfully serving the notes of Mozart and this terribly expressive song that accelerates and stops, bursts in laughter of dementia and is absolutely unpredictable as can be anger and madness. The audience hit new heights of frenzy as it clapped on and on to salute Netrebko’s perfectly tormented performance.

The three singers returned to the stage after a March from Idomeneo in order to perform “Soave sia il vento”, one of the songs that sets the story of Mozart’s “Cosi fan Tutte” in motion: Schrott’s Don Alfonso was acted perfectly as were Netrebko and Garanča playing the two fiancés wishing gentle winds to the men they love: Don Alfonso’s deceitful friendliness and both women’s shared concern for their loves was a powerful and very unique combination, based on moving individual performances, but just as much on an intricate chemistry between the performers. This perfect balance served Mozart and the audience superbly.

The audience avidly applauded, already missing Netrebko’s, Garanča’s and Schrott’s magic, be it only for a short intermission. The conversations amongst the festival-goers during the interval gave the clear impression that the audience that night was a mix of seasoned opera lovers and first-timers: an interesting, yet challenging mix, as the program and performance could easily loose one part of the audience, while catering to another part. Based on the enthusiastic applause in the auditorium moments earlier, but also on the very interesting conversations between opera fans and opera debutants, one could feel that the excellence of the performances that evening combined with the very smart programming made this Opera Gala directly speak to the heart and soul of all present. Quality has this equalizing effect: it simply elevates all those that it touches to the same levels of bliss. This was definitely the case in the Emirates Palace auditorium that evening, during the first part of the Opera Gala. It would be even more so moments later, when the audience regrouped for what would be one of the defining moments of the 5th Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Festival…

The Bolshoi orchestra did not leave anytime for pause for the audience: Verdi’s “La Forza del Destino’s” Overture masterfully cast a cloud of threat and power, those of destiny as the title indicates, over the auditorium. A very fitting introduction as the following piece was one from Verdi’s Macbeth. Demonstrating the range of his voice and his acting, Erwin Schrott returned to the stage to perform a riveting song over the course of which General Banco expresses his feelings that threat looms over him. The beginning of that song was particularly impressive on the part of Schrott as much as the orchestra: indeed, the singer’s a cappella performance was nothing less than perfect, engulfing the audience in the General’s sense of doom, while the orchestra responded ever so lightly, in both a moving performance and one that let Schrott’s acting and singing fill the auditorium. The audience could only salute such heights with powerful, spontaneous applause.

The program that evening simply would not let the audience enjoy one minute of respite, taking them from one emotion-filled performance to another. Seconds after Schrott left the stage, Anna Netrebko came back to the stage, resplendent in a red dress. It was time for the opera equivalent of a “hit”: “Casta Diva”, a fitting title to describe the opera legend standing onstage. Netrebko was in a trance: she let herself be carried by Bellini’s music, and engulfed in the emotion of the music, she passed it on to an audience simply overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. As the song ended with Netrebko’s perfect, soulful a capella ending, the orchestra could only respond subtly with the last few notes written by Bellini as a closing statement. The conductor Vedernikov did not break the spell cast by Netrebko’s voice, as he delivered those last notes with a very subtle touch, in order to leave the dumbstruck audience fully immersed in Netrebko’s soulful performance.

The applause continued relentlessly well after Netrebko left the stage. Garanča appeared, her too in a new dress, reminiscent of a flamenco dress. “Nacqui all affanno” from Rossini’s La Cenerentola is a paradoxical piece: indeed it is a recollection of hardships of the past at a moment of happiness of the present. Garanča’s interpretation managed to set both those elements in her performance, providing the audience with a prime example of how the opera is not an exercise of vocal power, but quite the contrary, one of subtlety both in voice and in acting.

This Opera Gala was truly voyage across Europe and its opera: after Mozart’s take on European classics such as Don Giovani or le Nozze de Figaro, the second part offered us Scottish Macbeth to the Italian tunes of Verdi, or as the musical transition would propose a “sinfonia” of “Il Viagio a Reims”, a regal piece, describing the convergence of European leaders to Reims for the coronation of Charles X.

Garanča was the one wearing the flamenco dress, but Netrebko would be the one leading the audience to Spain through the notes written by French composer L. Delibes and the words of French romantic poet Alfred de Musset. “The Girls from Cadiz” was a blissful description of Spain, Netrebko singing in a subtle, playful yet concentrated performance, her arms slowly and gracefully raised in a posture reminiscent of a flamenco dancer.

Spain seen through the inspiration of French composer remained onstage till the end of this second part of the Opera Gala, with Bizet’s Carmen, and more specifically Schrott performing a powerful, manly “Toreador” and Garanča playing masterfully with “La Chanson Boheme’s” high notes and expressive escalation. Bizet’s classics were both grounds for perfect performances and sheer entertainment, a combination that led the audience to an unstoppable thunderous applause, as the performers came to the stage to bow gracefully.

The audience responded by an enthusiastic standing ovation and continued its applause on and on. The performers disappeared and reappeared on the stage, as the applause unrelentingly went one for more than 5 unwavering minutes of grateful salute to the artists, as “bravos” and “encores” rang through the audience.

After this long, deserved salute, the performers graced the audience with an encore: “La Ci Darem la mano” from Don Giovanni. In a beautiful game of complicity between the singers, and with both the audience and the orchestra, Netrebko, Schrott and Garanča playfully performed this piece over which the male lead is playfully torn between two women… as the song and quite simply the fun escalated to a frenzy, Netrebko took the conductor Vedernikov with her, as the orchestra played on, the singers sang on, leaving the stage, and the audience simply sprang back to a standing ovation drowning the last notes in their irrepressible urge to salute the artists that had swept them off their feet.

Generosity was truly in the auditorium that night, as the performers seemed to greatly appreciate their audience, and the audience spared no efforts to express their recognition. The Opera Gala was a powerful, key moment for the 5th Abu Dhabi Music and Arts Festival as it demonstrated how an uncompromising quality driven approach to music and culture can be all inclusive, leaving room for all, be it seasoned music lovers or intrigued first timers. This evening was a shining example of what Abu Dhabi has to offer world performers –generous, appreciating, sophisticated yet spontaneous audiences- and what those performers can bring to Abu Dhabi.»

by Marta Moreira (abc.es)

Erwin Schrott (Montevideo, 1972) es junto con Carlos Álvarez el cantante más asiduo de la corta historia del Palau de les Arts. Su compromiso con el teatro valenciano, cimentado gracias a la labor de Helga Schmidt, tendrá como colofón su traslado a Valencia, ciudad en la que quiere echar raíces con su familia.

-Imagino que cuando un cantante se especializa en el repertorio mozartiano tiene ante sí el reto de ofrecer algo más. ¿Se le pueden dar nuevos matices a Fígaro a estas alturas?

-Es la gran reponsabilidad que tenemos como intérpretes. Responsabilidades que sólo se toman cuando asumes riesgos. Ofrecer algo diferente no quiere decir con falta de respeto o con cambios exagerados. Siempre hay que garantizar el mantenimiento de las leyes musicales, el estilo, la trama y la época original del autor. A partir de ahí uno puede exprimir el personaje a su manera. El exceso de permisibilidad es lo que lleva a la arrogancia y el egocentrismo. Nosotros sólo somos intérpretes, la creación ya está hecha. Por mucho que estemos dotados de genio, las claves de la obra maestra ya nos vienen dadas. Y precisamente los cantantes más grandes son los más humildes.

-Precisamente su mentor más notable, Plácido Domingo, es conocido por su sencillez a pesar de vivir en el estrellato.

-Plácido es un marciano, no es humano. Es un cantante al que nadie se debe comparar, aunque todos deberíamos aprender de él. Es uno de los pocos colegas a los que da gusto escuchar por la excitación constante en la que vive, por su capacidad para sorprenderse de las cosas más pequeñas después de cuarenta años de carrera. Debo agradecerle que tras conseguir que me hiciera una audición me llamó inmediatamente para interpretar a Dulcamara en «L´Elisir d´Amore» de Donizetti en Washington; un personaje que suelen interpretar cantantes de sesenta años. Yo tenía entonces 23 y nuca había hecho un papel protagonista, pero ese tipo de oportunidades son de las que no puedes dejar pasar.

-¿Era uno de esos papeles en los que uno puede dañarse la voz?

-En todos los papeles puedes dañarla, desde el más pequeño hasta el más complicado. Depende de tu preparación. Estamos hablamos de dos cuerdas vocales que son más frágiles de lo que pensamos, basta muy poco para destruirlas.

-¿Alguna vez ha temido perder su herramienta de trabajo?

-Puede llegar a dar mucha paranoia, pero si te vuelves loco con ello te pasas el tiempo enfermo y tienes que vivir en un iglú. Hay cantantes que no hablan en todo el día, otros que no caminan… Pero los virus están en todos los lados y hay que aprender a estar en el ambiente común. Yo tomo algunos cuidados, llevo una vida sana, pero sin volverme loco.

-Recientemente ha participado en una producción bastante moderna de «Las bodas de Fígaro» en Zurich. ¿Qué puede adelantarnos de la que se presenta aquí?

-La de Zurich era totalmente distinta a esta, allí el conde era un mago, por ejemplo. Éste es un montaje que transcurre apenas un poco más tarde de cuando Beaumarchais escribió la obra. El decorado es decrépito, anunciando el fin de la época dorada de los nobles y como preludio de la Revolución Francesa. Fígaro está representado como un sirviente que se muerde la lengua y cierra el puño.

-¿Ha sido la especialidad como bajo en Mozart un camino voluntario, existiendo papeles tan agradecidos para barítono en Verdi?

-He tenido la suerte de estudiar con grandes profesores que me insistían en que Mozart era una escuela de canto, que con él descansabas la voz, y aunque yo quería cantar otras cosas (como hacer dramas y pegar gritos en el escenario), puse toda esa testosterona en una cajita y les hice caso. De todas formas no tengo interés por el momento en actuar como barítono. He hecho algunas cosas sueltas de Verdi, con filmaciones para DVD fuera del teatro. Tomé a Alfredo Krauss como ejemplo de cómo se puede profundizar en las obras cuando te especializas en un repertorio reducido, aunque corremos el riesgo de aburrirnos, claro. Yo he decidido hacer una carrera muy cauta y centrada.

-Pertenece a una generación de cantantes de ópera en la que las dotes actorales son mucho más apreciadas y requeridas de lo que fueron en el pasado. Una época en la que además la concordancia física con los papeles es importante. ¿Se ve trabajando en una obra de teatro convencional?

-Me encantaría, aunque no sé si estoy preparado. Me gusta mucho el teatro de prosa, pero nunca lo he intentado, no sé si tengo la técnica vocal. Pero si me lo ofrecen, el papel es ideal para mí y tengo suficiente tiempo para estudiarlo, diré que sí. Ya me han ofrecido antes musicales en Broadway.

by Joaquín Guzman (abc.es)

«Éxito sin paliativos de los Alagna en un Palau de Les Arts, que llenó en sus dos terceras partes el auditorio superior. No fue un aplauso de compromiso sino sincero. Pero no es oro todo lo que reluce: David Alagna es todavía un joven compositor y se nota. Se entrevé cultura musical, lo que es arma de doble filo y debe despojarse de clichés y lugares comunes si quiere encontrar un lenguaje propio. No orquesta mal y en su música hay esfuerzo y propósitos, quizás demasiado ambiciosos, y los resultados son cuestionables. Falta inspiración y abundan los pasajes en una suerte de Adagio Lamentoso iniciados por una nota pedal descriptiva de la irrespirable escena, desembocando en cierta monotonía. La visita de diversos personajes al condenado la dotan de una frescura y ritmo que se echan en falta en no pocas ocasiones. David Alagna parece querer abarcarlo todo y se queda en el intento convirtiendo la partitura en previsible. Esto oí y lo hago mío: «Quizás una música demasiado blanda para una historia tan dura» El tiempo juzgará.

Roberto Alagna es un tenor controvertido. Se reparten por igual sus detractores y admiradores. Alagna es un artista muy estimable con una media voz sólida, facilidad, brillantez en el agudo y suficientes medios. Su timbre es expresivo y musical. Le falta sin embargo matizar más. Dio lo mejor de sí mismo, no aprecié la fatiga de la que se habla, y el público supo reconocerlo. La Manfrino no me dijo gran cosa. Buena cantante sin más. Schrott es un animal escénico y un magnífico cantante. Su breve intervención como desahuciado fue de lo mejor de la noche. Esperemos que su relación con Valencia vaya a más. Villard es un profesional sin alardes, el coro efectivo y la orquesta a buen nivel, obediente pero sin rutilancias.»