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When I’ve missed opening night I try desperately to avoid reading other reviews, a sort of anxiety of influence. Social media makes it tough when you see headlines proclaiming the brilliance of that show: as I saw on Facebook concerning Joel Ivany’s new Carmen with the Canadian Opera Company, that I saw this afternoon in its second performance. When I encounter this much fanfare I resist – out of perverse obstinacy—insisting that I be moved and not influenced by what anyone else thinks, even when (especially when?) I already admire the director.

Director Joel Ivany

I’ll aim to avoid spoilers so that I don’t steal any of Joel’s thunder. This is the man whose young company Against the Grain Theatre accomplishes a curious sort of alchemy, through a modern adaptation + translation, or “transladaptation”, managing to be new without violating the text. His new version of Cosi fan tutte, namely A Little Too Cozy comes to Toronto next month.  He is a big reason for the buzz I felt in the theatre.

But this Carmen is not a transladaptation. In fact for three acts it’s a very conventional reading of Bizet’s Carmen, not terribly different from previous versions of the opera that we’ve seen.

Then for Act IV, Joel Ivany the radical takes over.  In fairness, we’re set up for that ending in the first three acts even while staying close to the text as written.

Simone Osborne as Micaëla and Russell Thomas as Don José (Photo: Michael Cooper)

Simone Osborne is Micaëla in this cast (there’s a second cast I’ll be reviewing later this month). Can we call it a love-triangle, when one girl is the epitome of sex while the other stands in for conservative wholesomeness, family values and has been selected by Mom? that’s the challenge Micaëla faces both in winning the man’s heart and in winning our sympathies, even if this was likely a totally different sort of dynamic for the family audience in 1875 than now. The last time I saw this production Micaëla was done in such a way as to seem bold (or even feminist?) in visiting her lover Don José and in pursuing him into the mountains in Act III, singing an aria about facing her fears.  She was admirable and the music was moving, even if it didn’t really correpond to what Bizet likely expected. I believe Osborne was closely directed by Ivany, doing the most basic thing in the text: to make her seem young, virginal, vulnerable, and especially (in Act III) afraid. Her courage in her big Act III aria is not a denial of fear but rather the acceptance of her terror while believing God will protect her, a different emphasis taking us directly back to the text. Even a little kiss on her forehead in the first act from José is a big deal. Emphasizing this simple element about Micaëla changes the arc of the entire opera.

By implication Don José is then also more of an innocent, likely also a virgin, helping to explain why he is so totally out of his depth with Carmen. By contrast, not only are Escamillo the bullfighter & Carmen a pair of experienced lovers, both alluding to others they have loved, but they are public personas who boldly address groups of people in their arias.  How can José possibly compete with that kind of flamboyance? Russell Thomas is the naive José, overwhelmed by passions he’s never felt before, becoming a very believable romantic volcano, eventually spinning out of control with frustration and rage. The voice reminds me of James McCracken, who starred opposite Marilyn Horne in Leonard Bernstein’s seminal Met production and the first great recording of the Opéra-Comique version (employing dialogue, like this production). The voice has incredible projection even if –like McCracken—he has a quirky way of singing some vowels; for instance the second syllable of “Carmen” sounds like “ayn”, or the French word “plus” (as in “tu ne m’aimes plus”) becomes more like “plee”. But wow does this voice carry, and he has wonderful conviction at every moment.  Someday i’d like to hear him sing Wagner or perhaps Verdi’s Otello.

The two larger-than-life performers certainly deliver. Anita Rachvelishvili’s Carmen sails through her performances to crowds –such as the Habanera—without much difficulty, but also without engaging me at a level beyond her big persona. I was won over by her softer scenes, such as the fortune telling scene of Act III and especially in her duet with Thomas to end the opera. The voice projects even when she sings softly, the moments that I found most persuasive, whereas I found the big numbers a bit generic for my taste, and indeed felt that Ivany and the chorus were trapped in her aura for those moments. Better in a smaller part was her toreador, namely Christian Van Horn, although it’s a role that works whether you’re likeable or not, and in this version Van Horn gave us an enjoyable Escamillo, with a ringing voice and lots of swagger.

What’s so different about the end of this Carmen, and how can I talk about it without giving it away? Let’s just say that John Allemang – interviewed by the Globe and Mail recently about life as an extra—and his colleagues come to the fore. Bringing the last act of this opera to life –an act that can seem predictable– is Ivany’s greatest achievement. Some of it is simply a matter of being creative with the opera exactly as written. The other divergence is at the very end, a tiny change that doesn’t violate the plot even as we’re left with something different from any Carmen I’ve ever seen. See if you can watch what Thomas and Rachvelishvili do with the ending without being moved. I was blindsided, and will only spoil the ending confessing that I’ve never cried at the end of this opera before, never felt such a strong sense of tragedy.

Not like this.

The cast is full of Canadian talent. Alain Coulombe offers a fleshed out version of army captain Zuniga. Iain MacNeil has the necessary flamboyance for Dancairo, the smuggler leader, accompanied by the more soft-spoken Remendado, the ever smiling Jean-Philippe Fortier-Lazure. Sasha Djihanian and Charlotte Burrage as Frasquita and Mercedes –the gypsy girls who seem to function as Carmen’s backup singers—were regularly pressed into action by Ivany, whether wielding dance moves in Act II, rifles in Act III, or all dressed-up for the bullfight in the last scene. In the first and last acts we have the pleasure of watching the Canadian Children’s Opera Company, alongside the COC Chorus. Should I offer my expression of gratitude to Alexander Neef for the Canadians onstage? Perhaps, yet they could do better. My dream is that unless we’re seeing a real star onstage, the default position of the COC should be to hire a Canadian. While Van Horn –an American—was good, there are Canadians who could have sung this role. I will set aside consideration of the two leads – Russell Thomas and Anita Rachvelishvili—who were wonderful, even if there may be Canadians who can undertake the starring roles. Both of the women playing Micaëla (today’s Simone Osborne, and Karine Boucher in the other cast) are Canadian, as is David Pomeroy the Don José in the other cast.

Paolo Carignani led a brisk and energetic reading of the score (the way I like it). And as I have mentioned, a whole different cast takes the stage April 20th who may offer a different interpretation. Carmen continues at the Four Seasons Centre until May 15th.

And the beat goes on. While there may have been a change of leadership, the Toronto Symphony hot streak continues, with bold performances onstage & at the box office.

Sunday afternoon I attended the second of a pair of concerts with a broad assortment of different styles that might have been titled “Tuneful TSO”, including some of the most famous melodies one is likely to encounter at a symphony concert. No it wasn’t a pops concert, even if there were a couple of charming eruptions of applause between movements: something that I quite enjoy, especially when it’s warranted by the performance, as it was today.

The young American conductor James Feddeck led the TSO in this curious mix of compositions. On the one hand you might label it Germanic, what with Mendelssohn (selections from his music for A Midsummernight’s Dream) Handel (harp concerto), Wagner (“Ride of the Valkyries”) and Elgar (the “Enigma” Variations): the latter a composer who surely felt Wagner’s influence. Or would you call it English, on the grounds that—Wagner aside—Handel has been adopted as an English composer, while the Mendelssohn we heard was selected from his incidental music for a Shakespeare play? I wonder what input the young conductor had on this program, which had a very coherent feeling to it. We began and ended with powerhouse displays of trombones. And throughout there seemed to be a fascinating rapport between Feddeck and the orchestra, who seemed to be having almost as much fun as the conductor.

We began with the Wagner as a glib curtain-raiser, Feddeck perhaps pandering to the lowest common denominator in his quip that while the opera from which it’s taken is over four hours long, this might be the best 5 minutes.  Exxcuse me?  I’d say it’s not the worst 5 minutes so long as you include the vocals by the valkyries, but what we get is a ridiculously repetitive piece whose only redeeming feature is the way it showcases the players. I recall a professor decades ago saying that when Wagner wrote this he likely didn’t expect orchestras to be able to play it perfectly, that a slightly ragged sound in the strings would have added an air of wildness to the piece, a wildness that’s no longer evident when orchestras play as skillfully as this one. I love the opera, which I would never have investigated had I used Mr Feddeck as a guide. At this point I set aside my misgivings about negative commentaries (oh well… i forgave Bugs Bunny so i suppose I can forgive Feddeck), and his somewhat leaden tempo. But the slower speed does allow the players to relax somewhat, to really wail away in the climactic passages: as they did.

Talk about contrast..! The next item was about as far away as you could get. The roughly hundred players mostly vanished, as 30+ remained alongside Heidi Van Hoesen Gorton, the soloist in Handel’s harp concerto. We went from a loud celebration of war (whether you understand the piece for its operatic maidens scooping up dead heroes or the scene in Apocalypse Now, a ritual of killing) to something angelic. I was thrilled at how silent this audience became, hanging on Gorton’s every note, her highly dynamic reading of this concerto. I remember this piece for my frustration as a teen, having heard the tune partway through on the radio, hypnotized and tormented because I had no idea what I had just heard (has that ever happened to you?). It took me years to find it, one of the prettiest pieces, in a lovely recording by Judy Loman. In her interpretation Gorton elaborated the melody with ornaments, holding the audience in the palm of her hand.

Toronto Symphony harpist Heidi Van Hoesen Gorton (photo: Christopher Wahl)

When the TSO announced their program earlier this year, they stated their intention to make more use of the virtuosity in their midst: just as they did in employing their harpist – Gorton – as soloist in a concerto. The remainder of the concert continued to highlight the talent in this orchestra. Feddeck led very clearly articulated readings of three movements from Mendelssohn’s incidental music to Midsummernight’s Dream. As with the Wagner, I can’t help thinking of the cinematic associations, given that we’re in the midst of my film music course at the Conservatory, having recently looked at Korngold, who adapted this music in Reinhardt’s 1935 version of Shakespeare’s play (the one with Mickey Rooney and Olivia DeHavilland).

Toronto Symphony principal horn player Neil Deland

For me the highlight was the “Nocturne”, featuring a sumptuous solo from horn player Neil Deland.

And there were a great many more beautiful solo moments after the intermission, in the Elgar. The most impressive thing Feddeck gave us was his introduction, a charming lecture including short demonstrations from the TSO to illustrate his points, as he explained aspects of Elgar’s “enigma”, a comfortably informal presentation. Feddeck seemed very much at home with the TSO, and i believe the feelings are mutual. His expansive tempi, too, seemed guaranteed to please the orchestra, who had the time to properly build to climaxes. The audience ate it up.

Peter Oundjian returns this week with Angela Hewitt in a program of Bach & Shostakovich.

Tonight I saw Opera Atelier’s Lucio Silla, an opera receiving its Canadian premiere production at the Elgin Theatre. I’ve wondered what was so special about this opera, having heard about previous Opera Atelier presentations of the work in Europe, and now I know.

In his introductory talk, Director Marshall Pynkoski spoke of Opera Seria, a form whose reputation can be a turn-off.  When the opera began he proceeded to show us how our assumptions about the form have been wrong: in effect a continuation of much we’ve seen from Opera Atelier. Their Alcina in 2014 was full of comedy, as was their Clemenza di Tito back in 2010, both of which are the same genre. But this shouldn’t be such a surprise, any more than the inclusion of funny scenes in a tragedy.    While Opera Atelier may be in their 30th anniversary season their historically informed approach still contains lessons.

As we’ve seen in other OA productions, recitative is not merely the filler between arias, even if singers might sometimes offer them in perfunctory fashion in recitals, as the dull preparation for their vocal fireworks. There are other ways to understand – and interpret—the aria and recitative discourse of Opera Seria. Recitative can be – indeed must be—the place where the story is advanced, and where the characters have depth and integrity, whatever they might show in their vocal solos. Because Pynkoski, music-director David Fallis, and choreographer Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg sought to invest every moment with dramatic depth, the arias have a different relationship to the recitative. At times the tension and pace are so intense that the arias feel less like a place for the singer to show off, but suddenly become a place for everyone to relax, to reflect.

The arias too have a few surprises. Sometimes we’re watching dancers function as supernumaries, or seeing action on another part of the stage while an aria gently goes on. And it doesn’t hurt that this is Mozart. For a sixteen year old he wrote amazing music, never less than engaging and sometimes astonishingly beautiful. It’s a huge thrill to discover this new work. While it’s always been there (at least since the 18th century) here’s a chance to see it staged. One may wonder: why isn’t this work done more often? What’s wrong with it that we haven’t seen it before now in Toronto (or New York for that matter)?  I think the answer in each case is the same one, the tyrannical monster that perhaps needs to be slain. Whether it might be misconceptions about opera seria, or the false belief that an early Mozart opera that’s never produced is deservedly obscure, in each case the assumptions deserve to be ended.

Lucio Silla, with Gerard Gauci’s set & costumes (photo: Bruce Zinger)

Tafelmusik sounded wonderful as usual under David Fallis’ leadership, the Artists of Atelier Ballet were effective even though they did less than expected. I think Gerard Gauci’s set –and this time also including costumes as well—is his most magnificent creation for Opera Atelier that we’ve seen so far.

Set designer Gerard Gauci

Yet it’s the five remarkable soloists in this production who made this happen, five who learned some amazing music even though they likely won’t sing it again –except if Opera Atelier revives the work—given that it’s not an opera that gets produced very often: which I have now decided is too bad. This is an opera worthy of being staged regularly.

Kresimir Spicer in the title role changed from the louder and more violent Silla we saw in his first appearance, becoming gentler both in his sound and deportment. In his final aria, where Silla struggles with his moral choices, Pynkoski has him walk behind the conductor, entering the same plane as the audience, including a lengthy unaccompanied cadenza ending perfectly in tune.

Kresimir Spicer as Silla (foreground), Peggy Kriha Dye as Cecilio and Meghan Lindsay as Giunia (immediately behind), photo: Bruce Zinger

His antagonist was Meghan Lindsay as Giunia, standing firm against his demands. The physical interactions between Silla and Giunia likely are more modern than what was seen in Mozart’s time, as she boldly stands her ground against the harassment of the tyrant. Not only was the tension between the two electrifying, but as contemporary as current headlines.

Peggy Kriha Dye undertaking her first trouser role was wonderful to watch, spectacularly persuasive even though she’s not very tall. Her second-act aria to Giunia is one of the highlights of the evening, sung with magical commitment and pathos (get out your handkerchiefs… I went teary for the rest of the night), a moment suddenly putting me in mind of Fidelio even if this opera predates it by decades.

Mireille Asselin as Celia once again demonstrated that she can effortlessly shift the tone of a show, her every appearance a kind of comic relief, aided by perfect intonation. Inga Kalna’s Cinna was a perfect match, with her brilliant coloratura.

Lucio Silla continues at the Elgin Theatre until April 16th .

So in other words do go see Lucio Silla. You have nothing to lose except false assumptions.