Flipping heck!

My friend here in Tbilisi was muttering something about 'some Czech Ballet company' coming to Vilnius this weekend. Just had a look at the programme.

She got it slightly wrong. In fact it's choreography by the wonderful Jiri Kilian with music by John Cage (prepared piano stuff) and Webern, both of whose music I have studied recently plus some Mozart.  The dancers are Georgian, and there are some great dancers about.

I'm going! Will I be able to get a ticket???

Dull and boring - or safe?

As I write, 3sat, the Swiss-Austrian-German channel is broadcasting Mozart's 'Die Entführung aus dem Serail', from the Zürich Opera House, in a production by Jonathan Miller. I was looking forward to a slightly different, funny and interesting production. But in fact it's extremely standard and staid. And not even conducted by Harnoncourt who often conducts there, but by Christoph Kõnig.

The set, a palace garden surrounded by 3 high walls (which might have been the set of his 1980s 'Magic Flute' in Glasgow minus the books), with a palm tree in the middle, does not make sense. Why should a palace entrance, with a rather minor door, be set back between two walls? Or is it the tradesman's entrance? The costumes are pure 18th century - so it's as traditional as you can get. Klaus Maria Brandauer, an actor who plays Bassa Selim, rather shows up the non-native German-speaking singers with his natural speech. He has a rather high voice for 'authority' characters who in Mozart tend to have a low voice (eg Sarastro in the 'Magic Flute', or Don Pedro in 'Don Giovanni'). Alfred Muff as Osmin is rather restrained, and not the rather evil but also partly funny character that I would have expected (another parallel to the 'Magic Flute' 'singspiel' - Monostatos; both are made drunk, the first with alcohol, the second with music; perhaps showing, in a rather racist way, how 'simple [foreign] people can be easily manipulated).

On the other hand, this opera could easily be seen, and treated, as an East-West (euphemism alert!) opera, eg setting it the 21st century, for example in Afghanistan or Iran. That might have been interesting - but would any opera house have touched it, these days? Think only of Osmin's aria (freely translated) '[they will be] beheaded, then hung, then stuck on hot spears etc' (how can someone be beheaded and then hung??). And that might be dangerous, and start up a lot of trouble. Maybe that's what they were trying to achieve in this production - but it's dull! I'm off to bed!

Reaching the limits of its capacity?

Went to the opera house today, had heard of a premiere I had missed, of two ballets, one being 'Firebird'. (How can this happen? I don't know.)

As usual found the computer screen showing the available seats covered in about 99% blanks - ie sold seats. It's amazing. Even last Thursday the house was packed for 'Red Giselle' - not the newest production, and it is May, while the Filharmonija filled only about 30 - 40% of its seats for Justus Frantz and Mahler.

In earlier years it was nearly always possible to get quite good seats quite close to the performance, but recently that has become virtually impossible. It's a great success for the opera house! How can we increase the capacity for the singers to sing more, the dancers to dance more and the orchestra to play more, so the average Joe Public can go to the performances? Double the orchestra size, for starters?

Found a group of 8 French people trying to communicate with the lady at the box office; not wonderfully successfully despite the use of English. Stepped in and helped out. You have no idea how difficult it was for me to translate straight from French into Lithuanian - kept getting stuck a) on staying in French, and b) on Russian words, before clearing the blockage. I understood both sides perfectly.....

New Music Director at Vilnius Opera and Ballet Theatre

(Bit of old news this, but no-one tells me anything). In February the talented Robertas Servenikas took on the position of music director of the Lithuanian National Opera and Ballet Theatre. The post had fallen vacant following the death of Jonas Aleksa a year or two ago (or even two and a half???). The opera house had looked all over the place for a new director - a Pole had been a strong candidate - but now we have found one on home turf. Could it be something to do with the salary that might be on offer, or, whisper it, with the quality of the orchestra?

Servenikas is a wonderful guy, vastly enthusiastic and a good sound pair of hands. He has been working in the opera house on and off since Aleksa died, and is increasingly extending his operatic repertoire. Should also be said that he is probably the most enterprising conductor Lithuania has in terms of contemporary music - if you have a new composition, he'll be the man to perform it for you.

Now his task is to rebuild the opera orchestra (I would suggest), and to move it from currently wobbly and depressed, via sound and reliable, to outstanding and inspiring. It won't be an easy or overnight task - and maybe there need to be personnel changes, but this should become his legacy at the opera house.

(Photo from LNOBT magazine 'Bravissimo')

'Und neigte das Haupt und verschied'

'and bowed his head and died' - Jesus in Bach's St John's Passion.

But he didn't. He frigging didn't! I'd heard that this was a very slow production at the Vilnius Opera and Ballet Theatre, but I was not bothered. I love this piece, bought the score and came back specially for this performance and the St Matt's Passion next week in the Filharmonija.

The score was a mishtake - the opera house was pitch dark. I had bought the last ticket available, in January (!) and was in the 15th row. Almost no point of going at all. Couldn't recognise anyone on the stage. Which may be as well in some cases.

I began to worry when the orchestra started noodling around the opening introduction; noodle, noodle, noodle and not a clear note among it. It then turned out to be an extremely stylised production by the American Robert Wilson (if he were Scottish, there would be about 500 of them in an area the size of a thimble). Fast movement? Forget it? Movement (I'm talking human movement, not part of a piece of music)? It was robotic, they moved, and then froze for a good long while - often in poses akin to Indian temple dancers. The costumes were sort of clerical, single colour head to foot; the choir members' heads were painted the same colour as their clothes. Beams moved along the back of the stage - every time you looked, they were in a different place, but you hardly ever saw them move. Now, I love the piece, but I could not see the band, there was no action on the stage, and I could not read my score. Not my idea of a Bach passion. Not interesting. I did not feel any passion.

The opera house orchestra is not made for Bach either. The obbligatos were really quite rough. The singers...so I cannot tell you who sang what, because I was too far away. Especially since my score has 5 main soloist parts, and the website lists 10 singing soloists, plus two choir members stepped forward during the applause. One of the singers had a voice problem, and the German Dominik Koninger sang for him from the edge of the stage (the part of the servant, I think). Not bad. The male alto had intonation issues, I thought - his first aria seemed way off-beam. Johannes von Duisburg, a regular attender in Vilnius, probably Jesus, did well.

At least the diction was better and I could understand most words. People seemed to like it, though I am not sure whether the standing ovation was due to achievement or due to the need to rush to the loo urgently - there had been no break and people suffered.

Prententious Prancing in Slow Motion

I was wondering if I had made a mistake buying a ticket for 'Die Walkuere' at Vilnius Opera and Ballet Theatre instead of going to the viola concerto concert at the Filharmonija. I had.

It was deadly! So deadly, I left after the first act. The instrumental music was nice, and the orchestra played nicely (though the horns portended what was to come - and it was not good); the singing might have been the right notes, but it was totally un-understandable (they sung in German, I speak German, but it would have been really hard work trying to understand them, especially since there are no arias which repeat words). I hear that the singer Benno Schollum has produced a book called 'German for singers' - I could think of a ready market for this....

The acting was execrable - because the action moves slowly, there's not a great deal to do for the singers, so they were busy filling time. Frankly, I had not realised until I read the plot afterwards, that the woman in the first act was the sister of Siegmund - it looked to me like she was desperate to bed him, especially doing all sorts of suggestive stuff with that big, long sword he was holding. ...And what was that about the oversize sofa, the stuffed lion on it, and the hand running along the back of the sofa? And why did she put the milk out for the cat? Filling time, that's all it was. Maybe in Wagner's day people were happy watching singers just standing around singing.....

It was quite nice, though, to rest your eyes to the music - though the seats are not that much made for sleeping.

Don't ask me about the rest of the opera, though.

Whose Dance of the Seven Veils?

Don't know what was scarier - the multitude of health and safety breaches on stage, or the thought of Salome (Sigute Stonyte) possibly taking off her clothes. Suspect, though, that Ms Stonyte usually Gets Her Own Way, and that Taking Off Her Clothes In Public is not one of them. Thank you for small mercies. Other singers have done it, Barbara Ewing in New York, and La Netrebko would love to do it...others might concur with that dream....This review talks about Salome as the 'teenage temptress'. 'Teenage', eh? Ms Stonyte has been an opera house soloist since 1985.

Salome, out of Oscar Wilde's pen and with Richard Strauss' stunning music, has a plot not for sensitive souls. Herod, her stepfather fancies her, so does Narraboth, a young army officer. She fancies Jokanaan (John the Baptist), but he only talks to God. Then there is a bit of confusion between the opera's actual plot and the Vilnius plot, but it, er, gets the plot again, and Salome uses the cracked record technique to get to kiss Jokanaan. In which she succeeds.

Ms Stonyte sang the title role very well indeed; could not understand any words (it was in German, I speak fluent German), but realised, when she sang the word 'eris' which should have been 'er ist' that she joins words together. It's a huge role, and the singing of the notes was awesome. Pawel Wunder, however, as Herod, outsang and out-acted everyone. I had not seen him before, and wondered who he was - we definitely need to hang on to him (I see he's from Kazakhstan). He was stunning! I understood more words, too. Johannes von Duisburg, too, as his namesake, was excellent, but he did not have that much to do - though he had plenty of behind the scenes singing. And young Modestas Pitrenas, the conductor, had nothing to be modest about - almost two hours of solid conducting of an extremely complex piece of music with not a break is a challenge, which he mastered well. The orchestra played well, too.

But the plot? Generally it was ok, but there were serious changes. Leaving aside the discrepancies of Salome singing to John the Baptist 'your body is whiter than any I have seen' (which might be realistic given he's been in an underground dungeon) but in fact he is covered in dirt, more seriously she also sang, basically 'I want your body'. Shame that the production made her stand in the middle of the stage, leaning away from him, and him clinging to the wall at the side of the stage. All she sang was about getting in the sack with him, yet her body, well wrapped in black, told a totally different story ('Keep away from me; jeez, don't you realise how you smell?'). Does no-one know about body language? Not sure about Ms Stonyte and acting 'sexy' though.

And then what was this thing with the 6 little girls on the stage, in frilly salmon-pink empire-type dresses (including Salome, also in knee high socks) while her mother, very amply built indeed, but belly dancers should be thus, did the dance of the seven veils? But then Herod had asked her to dance, and she said 'over my dead body'; in fact, she made him take off his clothes instead (almost all).

The set itself was a Soviet kind of place/palace, ca 1970, with the wallpaper and the (I am sure original) furniture to match. The opera has lots of parts with about 3 words each, and these were faithfully filled. The production was very gripping, edge of seat stuff (Salome's final aria - and there are not that many arias - was heart-breaking). I'd go again.

Health and Safety? Where do I start? The sloping stage with the ancient chair on which people stand and which they sing from, while holding on to a wobbly fake wall? The chap crawling across the stage, laying a cable, taping it down as he should, but the tape does not stick? The axe that slipped of the stage into the pit at the percussion end (no-one hurt)?

Wow!

Gluck's 'Orfeo ed Euridice' at the Lithuanian National Opera and Ballet Theatre in Vilnius tonight - premiered only last October. What a production! It's breath-taking - and very daring!

I don't know why I always think of it as a baroque opera when it's firmly written in the classical period (I know that there are at least two baroque operas based on the same story, by Monteverdi and, well, it's 'La Morte de Orfeo, by Landi - not quite the same topic). It's ...just so baroque, with its shortness, its recitatives and da capo arias, its baroque style dances.

The story is the usual; Orfeo has lost his wife, Euridice, and goes looking for her in the underworld. He finds her, but is not allowed to look at her; when he does, she dies again. Cue famous aria. And a few bits in between. Actually, it seems I know the opera quite well.

There have been many performance difficulties over the time; the role of Orfeo has been variously sung by an alto castrato (for whom it was written), a soprano castrato (which threw everything out of balance), usually by women pretending to be men, but this time it was a counter tenor, 25-year-old Alon Harari from Israel. Kind of complicated, no? There are also questions over some of the pieces, especially the overture which is a bit weak.

It seems that Jonas Jurasas, the Lithuanian producer, is full of ideas. They got round the overture problem by playing it in the foyer while the audience was still ambling to their seats.

Then....

there is a general noise, which becomes louder and louder, screechier and screechier, as the curtains open to ...

the ruins of the World Trade Centre, where a crowd of desperate onlookers is being held back by firemen and tap. More firemen storm the stage from the audience side. The music begins. Out of the middle of the audience comes a desperate cry 'Euridice!' And again, and again. What a start!

Orfeo storms to the stage, the people around him give him pictures of loved ones, but he does not find his Euridice among them. Some diaphanous women dance around him. Amor appears wearing a hard hat, floating on air on the right hand side of the stage. Some musicians play on the stage. There's a large black box in the middle of the WTC ruins which looks like both the Ka'bah in Mecca, or a bit like the memorial to the holocaust in Vienna. This moves in and out and around, and forms a stage within a stage. In between firemen keep dashing across the stage.

The furies scene is very colourful, with some dancers dressed in red representing fire, and others with wild and wonderful wigs as the furies. The blessed spirits are dressed in calm beiges, yellows and greys, and are very calm.

Near the end the conductor dashes on the stage, picks up Amor's arrow, and ends the opera using it as a baton.

Alon Harari was generally great, though by far the best moment was right at the beginning. I wonder how his voice would project to the end of the theatre. This role is a monumental task - basically the opera is a monologue for one, with a few words thrown in by Amor and an aria or two by Euridice, who spends most of the time dead. I thought that in the famous aria 'Che faro senza Euridice' he was too brisk, and not heart-broken enough - maybe he was tired by then. (Incidentally, if he is dressed like a builder, might it be an idea to paint some muscles on him?)

Similarly the orchestra was far too brisk in the dance of the blessed spirits; it launched itself into it, slowed down for the middle bit, and then shot off again on the repeat. I wondered if the flautist had breathing challenges there - there were odd breaks (I play a junior version and I have the same problem - but I ain't have had the professional training). It was funny that they played taped birdsong over the theme the first time it came around.

Asmik Grigorian, another Lithuanian singer studying in London, seems to have changed the timbre of her voice - I had a memory of it being brighter a year or two ago (she could sing very high and very loud), but this time it seemed warmer. Maybe it's the pitch of the arias, but in any case it was very nice. Her rendition of the aria 'Che fiero momento', where she expresses her grief at Orfeo's apparent infidelity, was masterful.

Now, the precision of classical music is not usually the orchestra's strength, and as usual the winds let the band down. The playing could have been much more precise, and at the same time emotional - 'and now again, with feeling'! A few dynamics here and there, sort of thing.

The choir, unfortunately, deserves particular comment. The movements were nice, the costumes were nice, but oh dear, oh dear, the singing! Yes, all the notes were in the right places. But there's a difference between the furies and, say, the blessed spirits. If I had been the choirmaster, I would have made the furies spit out every word individually, spit, spit, spit - aggression, aggression, aggression! Everything was sung the same, whether it involved grief, happiness, or fury. Or was the choir meant to be the BBC commentators and analysts?

If you are not an opera fanatic, or music aficinado, do go and see the show - you'll enjoy it - nice music, interesting action. You may think I'm quibbling. I just want to get high quality into the opera house.

Anyway, boring it was not!

(Picture from the LNOBT)

You must, must, must go and see it!

Rossini's 'Barber of Seville', that is, at the Staatsoper in Berlin. It's brilliant, brilliant, brilliant! Starting already with the overture and some ironic rallentandos and unexpected echos (conducted by Paolo Arrivabeni), this production bursts into life and never stops till the end.

Set on a white stage with a mini theatre made from sheets of fabric hanging off wires, Ruth Berghaus' production resembles those paper and cardboard models one had of eighteenth-century theatres. This is reinforced by the exaggeratedly caricaturic characters all of which have their own walk (as if they were pushed around the stage on a stick of cardboard) as they appear and disappear. The costumes were pure 18th century, with ironic additions.

Figaro (Alfredo Daza) was wonderful, totally as he should be, a factotum, a fixer who could sort out anyone's problems; great singer, too. Count Almaviva (Dimitri Korchak) seemed a bit weedy at the beginning, but soon picked up speed and was a brilliant comic actor. Alexander Vinogradov as Don Basilio floated all over the stage, backwards and forwards, eyes rolling all around his head - his aria on the power of libel was to die for. All others were great, too.

It really was a great, great performance; the house was packed and everyone enjoyed themselves hugely. The orchestra played wonderfully, too. If you go to Berlin, check out this one (and if you go to Sydney, Australia, check out their very different, but equally stunning, production).

Autumn in Tbilisi

It certainly is autumn in Tbilisi; where two weeks ago we were still sweltering and lashing out in perspiration every time we hiked home, today I have closed, for the first time, the little windows that were open all summer. Breakfast on the balcony won't happen much longer; Dinner has not happened for some time what with it being dark. There's a howling gale - great when I'm about to fly off to Kiev on some abstruse airline.

'Autumn in Tbilisi' is also the title of the little festival at the opera house, which I had mentioned before. Starting next Monday, 11 days before the start I tried to get tickets. Box office knew nothing about it. I emailed the opera house but must have got someone who speaks no English - no response. We phoned the opera house last week to ask when the tickets would be on the market; today (Monday) they said. Great.

This morning I hurtled down the hill to pick some up for a friend and I; the lady at the box office knew nothing about it (7 days to go). Phoned the opera house and in my best Russian asked about the tickets; was told they might be for sale in a day, or two, or three.... tried to reserve the tickets what with my impending absence. Can't be done - though the website quite clearly explains how to reserve tickets (but perhaps someone else runs this festival and provides the tickets?).

I suppose, it's Georgia.

Frenetic Vaudeville

...is what you get when you put together Rossini (the music), Goldoni (the play) and Dario Fo (the producer)! What a team!

The opera buffa 'La gazzetta' was almost lost, and only staged in 1960 for the first time. Apparently it needed surgery and reconstruction to be put together. I'd say! When I heard the overture to 'La Cenerentola' I feared I was in the wrong opera! Later there was an underlay of an aria from the 'Barber of Seville'; and there were semi spoken recitatives, sometimes underpinned by unusual instruments, such as a flute.

But the production put everything into the shade. The DVD recording (opus arte 0953 D) was made in the Gran Teatre de Liceu in Barcelona, where the very delightful conductor Maurizio Barbacini had everything under firm control - and he had a speaking part, too! The orchestra incidentally seemed to be a very young group, and they played with plenty of enthusiasm.

Under Fo's direction the show was totally crazy. The story is, briefly, that a neapolitan businessman visits Paris with his daughter, and decides to advertise for a husband for her. With predictable consequences. Amongst the candidates is a Quaker (an unusual character in an opera - did they exist even in Goldoni's times?) - here the Quakers looked like Pilgrim Fathers. The funniest thing was that Don Pomponio (the neapolitan) introduced himself as 'short and rotund' - the casting had done well here with Bruno Pratico.

This production was set in the 1920, and involved non-stop dancing and other background activities - the stage was nearly always full of action. The singers didn't just have to sing, they had to dance a tango, juggle (bombs!), work a finger puppet chicken (the other chickens did a great chorus line!), do a backwards flip - opera singing ain't what it used to be! If you want to stand still in Western Europe, go and sing oratorios - and even then....

Rossini's operas obviously give great scope for wacky performances. This one is brilliant, and well worth having! I wish they'd also record the Sydney Opera House version of the Barber of Seville!

Figaro, figaro, Fiiiiiiiiigaaaaro!

Rossini knew what he was doing when he wrote the signature aria for Figaro right at the beginning of his opera 'The Barber of Seville'. Figaro firmly plants himself in the minds of the audience as a wheeler, dealer and fixer!

Surprisingly, it was the first time I had seen the opera. It was also the first time I saw anything at the Sydney Opera House. It was brilliant!

Set in a 1930s health spa, it involved not only the singing protagonists, but also a number of silent characters, including a retired colonel, two injured bullfighters, a mad painter, and a lovely little elderly factotum who shuffled about in that memorable way of the parking attendant in 'Mon Oncle'. I had not realised the story was so involved (having only seen the play in the Russian Drama Theatre in Vilnius, in Russian), with Count Almaviva disguising himself as all sorts of characters.

From the start it was clear that Figaro (the wonderful Jose Carbo) had everything in control, and although he did not have that many singing parts after the first aria, he sorted out everything, and for everyone. The surreal and rather psychedelic set contributed to a general air of wackiness (in the blurb the production is, justifiably, described as a mixture of Antonio Gaudi and the Marx Brothers). There were lots of lovely little, and very funny, details - and the singing and musicianship were just grand, full of joy and enthusiasm. I wish the Vienna Staatsoper produced shows like this!

Figaro in Vienna

The 232nd performance of Mozart's 'Marriage of Figaro' was sold out, bar a few tickets for 157 Euros - and those had sold, too, by the time the show started. Unbelievable prices - it would mean that the performance should be about ten times as good as those in Vilnius.....

It was rather startling to be faced, on entering the auditorium, with the large multicoloured iron curtain displaying the worlds 'Angst essen Seele auf' ('Fear eat soul' [sic]). This is the title of a 1980's film by Hans Werner Fassbinder about the relationship between an (illegal?) immigrant from Africa and an older German woman - what would the situationa be now? Anyway, what is it doing in the Staatsoper? Though as a statement it is certainly profound and most performing musicians can relate to it.

The conductor, Philippe Jordan, rather belted through the overture leaving the audience's ears pinned back. Then the curtain opened onto a very traditional setting, with the singers in traditional costumes. Quite often I found it difficult to hear the singers over the orchestra, and even that sounded a bit dull - as if muffled, but that might have been due to my distance from the stage.

The performance was, frankly, a little boring. Maybe because it was the 232nd performance of this production. I have a CD of the opera by the same producer, Jean Pierre Ponelle, who has done some sublime productions - his version of 'La Cenerentola' stands out, but this staging was rather mainstream. Occasionally a few witty Ponelle bits appeared, like at the end of the second act, when Basilio, Marcellina and Antonio did a funny little dance quite reminiscent of a sextet in 'La Cenerentola' - but these were very few and extremely far between. The singers, of course, sang very nicely, particularly Krassimira Stoyanova (who from the distance looked rather older than her part of Countess Almaviva deserved) in her dejected third act aria. But you would expect a brilliant, sparkling performance from the Staatsoper in Vienna, wouldn't you?

This one seemed rather routine, and it made me wonder who the Staatsoper is there for? Certainly it is there to give work to the singers and musicians. Those who perform at the Staatsoper are near the peak of their, and anyone's, career. It is a beautiful representational building in the centre of Vienna. Many tourists flock to the building - I wonder how many Viennese visit it regularly, at those ticket prices (13th row cost 127 Euros). Do the tourists get value for money (do tourists ever get value for money??)? Tuesday night's performance suggests that it might be better to go for the Staatsoper experience rather than the music. Yes, it was a trip of a lifetime for me, and I now know that I don't need to go again, unless it is a premiere. Funnily enough, the audience, even native Austrians, were as drab as the acting on stage - that's not normal in Vienna.

The other question that popped into my mind was about the future of opera. Here I was in an expensive seat in the 13th row, far enough from the stage to miss all facial expressions, with the orchestra packed into the pit and sounding like an old recording, and I was thinking of Ponelle's film of the same opera which was so much more exciting. In a film the camera can go all around an actor/singer, and the sound is recorded such that it will come across better than at the back of the audience in an opera house. Staging an opera is incredibly expensive. Of course attending a performance near the protagonists (eg the front row) is wonderful and a wholly different experience, but it is only ever a minority of the public who can achieve that.

Apart from the social aspect of attending opera, like many sponsors appreciate well, there is the feeling of being together in something - but I wonder if that feeling and the emotions could not be stronger in a football match?

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Soprano attacked by bedbugs

It seems that even Hilton hotels are not as clean as the driven snow, and they certainly seem to allow pets. Not that these pets are always friendly. A soprano called Alison Trainer, who was staying in a Hilton Hotel in New York, discovered to her horror that she was not alone in bed. No, it was not that tall, dark, handsome stranger (though it sounds as if she might be looking for one), but a couple of bedbugs. What did she do? What would you do? Me, I would just swat them.

Ms Trainer, however, being quick thinking even when just waking up (she'll be the first out of the hotel in case of a fire), immediately threw on her laptop, typed in the word 'bedbug' and spotted the likeness of her very recent new acquaintances. Obviously her laptop is much faster at starting up than mine. So she put some of them into a ziplock bag (the kind of thing the average American singer always has handy), and she is now suing the hotel for damage to her romantic life and her career - a cool 6 million USD. Nice work if you can get it. Apparently some of the welts, also on her face, might need laser surgery. The surgeon better make sure that he has a very steady hand that day.

It makes you wonder....do people always carry clean, new ziplock bags? How easy are bedbugs to catch - do they not run fast? Did Ms Trainer, in her nightie or not, throw herself all over the room to catch a few? Are bedbugs music critics? Presumably they do not die once they have bitten someone - it would be a bit pointless. Did they do a postmortem on the bedbugs to make sure they died in the hotel and not elsewhere?

Incidentally, I got this story out of the artsjournal for which I have a link on my sidebar - but the stories have not been updated. I may have missed other such gems.

A Nightmare at the Opera

This lovely comment by Simon Jenkins in today's Guardian describes the hullabaloo that has broken out in Milan after the tenor Roberto Alagna rushed off the stage in mid-performance. Apparently the spectators in the Gallery booed him for 'a rather laboured B flat'. That sounds like an audience with steel, who were looking for a return for their expensive tickets - 'if we pay that much, we expect every note to be sung perfectly and with expression'. Not like those of us who even (politely) applaud those for making an effort who have laboured with rather more than one B flat - like the whole octave range. It sounds a bit like the Glasgow Empire which used to be the death of comics. It must be interesting to attend the Scala.

Mr Alagna is suing the scala for not protecting him from the audience - what if they had thrown stones, he asks. Do many people attend the opera with stones in their pockets? Would people in the gallery, a packed standing area presumably, really wish to enter the opera house with eggs or tomatoes in their pockets? He also feels the rest of the audience should have protected him...

Simon Jenkins anticipates European Directives to result from this, on health and safety grounds. It makes you wonder how long it will take before performing artists can sue concert halls for stage fright.

Salome in Vilnius

No, I cannot be in two places at once, but this morning I came across this review in the International Herald Tribune of the Lithuanian Opera and Ballet Theatre's new production of Strauss' 'Salome'.

I am a bit amazed that an American critic rushes all the way over to Vilnius to see an opera, but I have an idea of how this may have happened. It is a friendly enough review, though I agree with the critic that the casting of the main character was maybe not the most ideal - but who else do we have at the moment? The really good young singers all go abroad, and at least the singer in question is solidly based in Vilnius. And she does act well. I also heard her once do a sublime Verdi requiem.

I see that we have a new music director - the last one, Jonas Aleksa, having died suddenly last year. The new director is Jacek Kaspszuk of the Polish National Opera, who is reported to be a very nice person. That cannot always be taken as read in conductors. I wonder in which language he communicates in Vilnius? Quite a lot of people still speak or understand Polish...

The review describes quite a different, rather daring production of Salome, and I wonder how the Vilnius public took it? On the other hand, we are used to modern productions - there are no more cobwebs around the Vilnius opera and ballet theatre these days.

arts journal

The arts journal is a wonderful publication, putting together articles about the arts throughout the world (see links on the right). Clicking today on 'come on, smell the noise' I come across an article about the use of puppets in opera, not least the ones used by Anthony Minghella in his production of 'Madame Butterfly', as seen in Vilnius in March - and later, LATER, at the New York Met. He used a puppet for the child seeing it was difficult to get young children to act 'naturally'. Indeed, the Japanese puppetry technique he used, where about 6 people in black manipulated the puppet, was awesome. The bad news, Mr Minghella, is that this is as distracting as the presence of a small child on the stage - I had seen a concert performance of the opera in Yerevan with a gorgeous little Armenian boy taking that role. While generally he was quiet (and possibly really fell asleep at one stage), by the time he had called 'Mama' across the stage to his 'mum' there was not a dry eye in the house. Don't ask me how the singing was after that.

Mozart at the Academy

Monday first went round to the seniunija to see about the leak in the roof. They said someone would come round, they would make a list of the work/costs involved and all residents would pay. Two hours later a ring at the door, a guy came in to look at the leak. Looking out from the balcony I spotted a huge truck with a crane (to reach the roof six floors above the street). As it happens, they did not need to use it. Two guys, one with a pot of putty-like material, went up into the loft and spent some time there. They said we would see next time it rains. Great.

In the evening a concert in the music academy of Mozart Sonatas, Quartets and other stuff. It was ok... a couple of professional played the sonatas, one of which was a bit scaredy-caty. The prof responsible for chamber music then did a nice rendition of a Mozart piece arranged for quartet and himself. Last time I had heard him play his nerves had taken off, but this time he was much better and he looked really happy whilst playing.

This morning a notice appeared in the stair about getting new windows put into the stairs. And about time too. Everyone needs to pay their share according to their apartment's square metreage. At least 51 percent of owners need to sign the form of agreement, that's 13 out of 24 owners. Will we get it?

Tuesday evening sorted the last bit of the other flat for the new tenants who really seem to like it and treat it as their home. They have been able to clean places that I thought were uncleanable. On my return home a guy in my stair was fixing his own cable TV. Hmmm...

..and right; on Wednesday morning my phone was off and the internet. Phoned Lietuvos Telecom who said someone would definitely come round and fix it today. By 15.30 no-one had come round; I phoned again. Apparently a member of my family had told them that it was fixed. Wrong! An hour later I phoned again and got slightly evasive answers, though also lots of apologies. The girls at the call centre clearly read from a script because they always finish by saying 'Aciu kad naudojates Lietuvos Telekomo paslaugas' (thank you that you are using our services). Anyway, I was going out for my run at 18.50 when I met an engineer in the stairs coming up to my flat. Right enough - the fault was where the neighbour had fixed their cable TV. Thankfully I don't have to pay for that.

Today, Thursday, 10 signatures for our windows in the morning. In the evening the very energetic neighbour who has taken charge of this is going round to the neighbours who have not yet signed. It's clear that it is mainly the neighbours in the top who would like the new windows. Some are also probably unable to pay their contribution, although they can pay over six months - but this is coming in together with the heating season; not the best of timing.

This evening in the opera house to see the Flying Dutchman; about the fourth time I have seen this wonderful production with lots of energy, though the Dutchman, whoever he was, was a bit flabby and lacking in said energy - it's the acrobats who have the energy (which acrobats? - ah, you need to see the performance!). I sat in my favourite seat, front row, seat 18, right behind the conductor's right shoulder; whenever an unknown character came on the stage I felt like tapping him on the shoulder and asking him 'who's that then'? No-one I knew was in the opera house, but lots of enthusiastic young people - though it was not sold out by far. I did notice, though, that the opera 'Pelene', a right Lithuanian story, was sold out for the Sunday performance which is mainly aimed at children. Great stuff!