I seem to have seen Capriccio more than any other opera, so it’s just as well that I love it. Elizabeth Soderstrom was my first Countess at Glyndebourne, at which time I knew little of the history of the opera. Other Countesses stand out – Kiri te Kanawa at Covent Garden; Felicity Lott, again at Glyndebourne; Anna Tomowa-Sintow – sensational at Salzburg; and now Renee Fleming.  This is really an opera for older people, filled as it is with longing and lament, probably for a world that Strauss, by then in his 8os and in the midst of his second World War, expected to disappear for ever. The story is a trifle – a vain but charming aristocratic widow cannot decide between two suitors, a poet and a composer, so they vie to show which is the better, words or music. Neither is, of course, and she really only loves them when they are working together, which she persuades them to do. It is light and charming, with much affectionate sending-up of the theatrical profession, but the music, oh the music – it soars and swoons reflecting emotions far deeper than those depicted on stage. Renee Fleming seems to have been born to play this role and her voice and looks suits it perfectly – it’s a real shame that she’s not a better actress – her Countess seems to have too much vanity un-leavened, as it is, by not quite enough reflection and angst. She is supported by a universally wonderful cast in which Peter Rose manages to stand out as the impresario, La Roche. And they were given, by Mauro Pagano and Robert Perdziola, a set to die for – an 18th century French Salon with some 1920s additions  – sofa, armchairs, low table and a wealth of deep-fringed lampshades – I just wanted to move right in and not change a thing. Andrew Davies conducted an, again, faultless rendition of the music. I never wanted it to end…..

Opera is often a cheat.  Forcing us to savour a few moments of sublimity that stand in stark contrast to the preceding 20 minutes of greyness.  Or perhaps we are indulged by an aria of simplicity that stands out conspicuously from a surrounding chorus of bombast.  It’s all too often a conceit of the worst kind.

But sometimes, the composer and his interpreters get it right.  Enter the recent Live from the Met performance of Capriccio headlining soprano extraordinaire Renee Fleming.  Fleming’s Countess Madeleine was a bit meek in some ways.  Madeleine’s love for Flamand and Olivier, her two competing suitors, seemed less about a connection with either man and more about the inability of Madeleine to escape from her own narcissistic trap.  Will she choose the lull of music or the persuasion of poetry?  I’m not sure I cared.

But this Capriccio was about more than Fleming’s processing of gluttonous admiration.  This production of Richard Strauss’ final opera deftly meandered through the jealousy of the other lover, the competitive instincts of the artist, the vanity of privilege.  The musical score clinked with the bite of the loyal servant and bellowed with the laughter of the lucky struggling performers who are finally to get their break.  Strauss takes us through every emotion and every permutation of the relationships that inhabit the worlds of the artist and his admirers alike.

The set was a real triumph with its painted finishes and vibrant fabrics drawing us into the luxury of provincial France of a time gone by.  But, through it all was Fleming with the voice of the generation.  Strong, consistent, articulated and colourful, Fleming demonstrated why she is at the top of the list of contemporary sopranists; The American’s closing aria where she debates the choice of artistic loves and carnal lovers wends to a crescendo that is subtly expressive of the impossibility of her choice and convincing of the fate that we all share.  Choosing between loves always brings disappointment.  Choosing this production of Capriccio, however, is likely to bring plenty of  joy.

Oh dear – what a mess this is! The opera by Rimsky-Korsakov, never previously performed in this country (you’ll understand why if you bother to venture to see it) is really a bit of a pot-boiler woven around an obscure moment in Tsarist history, based loosely (very, I should hazard) on the brief third marriage of Ivan the Terrible to a simple country girl, Marfa. The plot, not based on any historical records, is lightweight and stupid relying on that hoary theatrical standby, the Love Potion. This must have already seemed thoroughly over-used and hackneyed in Rimsy-Korsakov’s day but, if staged with furs, jewels and barbarism, it might just about have been possible to get away with it. Up-dated to present day Russia, as it is in this production, just makes it seem crass in the extreme, and absolutely maddening to watch. Why up-date an opera that has probably never been seen by anyone in a London opera-going audience, and for its first outing ever in this country?

The singing is universally good, Ekaterina Gubanova standing out as the spurned mistress of the villain, Gryaznoy, also well sung by the Danish Baritone, Johan Reuter, though much of the acting and nearly all the direction leave a lot to be desired. All in all this is very much an evening for Rimsky-Korsakov completists only.

So listen.  Jones is right that the Met production of Lucia di Lammermoor wasn’t in top form.  Natalie Dessay started slow, but I have to admit finished strongly with her death aria.  I mean – the lady knows how to exit.  Dessay’s voice ended with colour, and a playful wisp that almost made me believe she’d find a way to hang around a bit longer. Thankfully, she didn’t as we got a chance to hear and see her visceral and beautifully physical demise.  But, I think more should be made of tenor Joseph Callejas in the role of Edgardo.  The role isn’t easy in that the opera is written with Lucia in mind. Edgardo is a tricked, betrayed romantic who at every step misjudges the wrath of Lucia’s brother and the frailty turned fickleness of Lucia herself.  In most productions the role is a backdrop or a plinth from which Lucia pushes.

But, Callejas didn’t let the limitations of the libretto stop him.  In his interpretation, Edgardo became, not a romantic, but love in allegorical form.  The consistency and richness of this tenor removed him from membership in the retinue of singers hoping for greatness and placed him as one of the best currently on stage.   I also note that Callejas managed to make his role as much about the vulnerability of blind, extreme, masculine love as Dessay did the sublime tragedy of the feminine version.

Dessay pulled it off at the end, but Callejas delivered all the way through.

Thumbs up here.  Go see it New York.

There was a clamorous lack of tartan in the Met’s Lucia, broadcast live last evening at selected cinemas around the world – a missed opportunity, but  a conscious decision, I’m sure. The up-dating to the second bustle period also seems  un-necessary and makes the story, pretty ridiculous in the early 18th century when it’s set, absolutely idiotic, unless one accepts it as just a tale of doomed love and ignores the political clan rivalry that causes it to be doomed. This being said, it was then a wonderful production with real (albeit Irish!) wolfhounds in the opening scene on the Scottish moors. A ghostly figure appears in this scene for all, except Lucia’s companion, to see, so we’re still not certain if this is a figment of the poor girl’s imagination, made febrile by her mother’s death and her own passion for the neighbouring Laird, her own family’s sworn enemy.

Natalie Dessay seemed, to my ear, a little under par in this performance, though it may, of course, have been the quality of the sound production. The audience at the cinema where I was watching, mostly old enough to have seen Callas in the role (if not, in some cases, Nellie Melba) also seemed somewhat unimpressed by her. What she did bring to the role, almost impossible for the likes of Joan Sutherland and Beverly Sills both of whom  played the role to great acclaim, was a sense of Lucia’s fragility, and this did add a dimension often not possible to stress in productions of this opera.

Joseph Calleja was in great voice as Edgardo and Natalie Dessaye and he sang wonderfully together. The scenes between Edgardo and Lucia’s manipulative brother Enrico, spiritedly played and sung by Ludovic Tezier, were some of the most stirring of the evening.

An enjoyable evening, then, but I didn’t feel I had seen a truly great or definitive performance or production.

On February 12th, under the auspices of the newish  The Met Live in HD  series of productions, we went to see Nixon in China in live performance at the Met but showing  simultaneously at selected cinemas around the world, in this instance  the Gate Cinema, Notting Hill. Firstly the Metropolitan Opera deserves a huge bravo for initiating this idea, which I thought might have pitfalls but, if last evening was anything to go by, will run successfully for a long time to come. Something of the excitement of arriving at a great opera house seemed to have filtered through to this small cinema in West London  and I noticed, not without some satisfaction, that our audience didn’t seem significantly dowdier than that arriving for a matinée at the Met.

When I saw this production before I remember the first act seeming very static but the two great advantages of seeing it on film are, firstly, that the camera at least can move around and secondly, we had the magic of the close-up shots of the performers, missed by  our co-audience actually in the opera house. These two things added, in this instance, immeasurably to my enjoyment of the work.

The idea of turning this momentous meeting of  opposing ideologies into an opera came from Peter Sellars, who was in charge of the Met production; he put the idea to John Adams who, as well as having composed the music, was conducting the orchestra for yesterday‘s performance.  The work seems to have gained in stature – possibly it needs the size of stage provided by the Met and simply not available at the Colisseum in London, where I saw it before. The production seemed the same but widened and enlarged. The music seemed at the same time weightier and more tuneful than I remembered. This is nothing less than a truly great 20th century American opus.

James Maddalena’ singing as Nixon, a part he seems to have appropriated, seemed a little under par yesterday but the other performers were at the top of their game: Janis Kelly making much of Pat Nixon’s bewilderment and confusion when faced with a culture so alien to her own; Russell Braun magnificent as Chou En-lai, movingly wondering if the regime had achieved what it had set out to do and, indeed, if their aims were right for the Chinese people, whilst suffering from the pancreatic cancer which would soon kill him; Kathleen Kim giving a bravura performance as Madame Mao with Robert Brubaker strong as the frail Mao himself. Richard Paul Fink was also extraordinary as Henry Kissinger who, in the second act, takes the lead in a ballet choreographed by Mark Morris, while singing – no small feat for a somewhat portly singer.

All-in-all a wonderful and fascinating evening, and a chance to see world-class performers in great works a few hundred yards from home. Can’t wait for the next broadcast…..