The prowess of great dancing

            Great academic dancing, either classical, romantic or modern, is a blend of natural talent, superb training and, not least, qualities that I can only call acrobatic and athletic. There is also the vital element of strong personality, which goes beyond mere talent: one sees dancers whose technique is very good but don´t communicate or don´t present a distinctive view of a role. And there´s also physical beauty, for dancing is intensely dependent on the human body; sexiness is necessary to transcend.

            I wrote weeks ago that this year we are seeing more dancing than in recent seasons. And I welcome the trend, for the Colón certainly isn´t enough; even if that great theatre has recuperated this year some of the old qualities, the productivity is still rather low and artists from abroad are scarce, although there will be a great gala next week. Unfortunately, the Argentino of La Plata has had to cut down its budget due to the dire financial situation of the province, and has eliminated the premiere of "Zorba the Greek" (Lorca Massine on Theodorakis´ music).

            The "Second Ballet Gala of Buenos Aires" at the Coliseo sponsored by Galicia Éminent was a success. Apart from an irrelevant and unnecessary presentation at the beginning: "The Merry Widow March" (Lehár-Bazilis) by disciples of the Fundación Julio Bocca seemed elementary and out-of-place, though one very young girl soloist showed some promise. But with "After the rain", an inventive choreography by Christopher Wheeldon on Arvo Pärt´s minimalist music for violin and piano (recorded, as all the rest) we shared the enormous plasticity of Carmen Corella and Dayron Vera from the Barcelona Ballet.

            The "Grand pas classique" is a 1949 very academic choreography by Viktor Gsovsky on Auber´s music nicely done by Silvina Perillo and Edgardo Trabalón from    the Colón. I didn´t relish the following "Duet", with kitschy music (Isaac Schwartz) and choreography (Jasemine Bigo), but it was well danced by the Russians Polina Semionova and Dimitri Semionov, from the Staatsballett Berlin. Although I disliked the music of "The Fall" (Electric Light Orchestra), the steps by Russell Ducker were imaginative and gave the astonishing Ángel Corella (brother of Carmen) opportunity to show his fantastic agility and fine body. He is a member of the ABT (American Ballet Theatre).

            The pas de deux "The Black Swan" is one of the best conceived by Marius Petipa, as an essential part of the Third Act of Tchaikovsky´s "Swan Lake", for the Odette beloved by the Prince is now (with the same appearance) Odile, the seductive and cruel daughter of the magician Von Rothbart. So you have the best qualities of virtuosic dance but meshed with a psychological undercurrent. The Argentine Marianela Núñez and the Brazilian Thiago Soares are man and wife and members of the Royal Opera House in London. Of course they both have a very clean command, though I find more poise and better physical form in Núñez than in Soares, to my mind a bit heavy.

The First Part ended with a Soviet ballet, the pas de deux from "The Flames of Paris", a 1932 score by Boris Asafiev on very traditional lines about the French Revolution, presented with a new choreography by Alexei Ratmansky Osipovich, also traditional, correctly danced by Iana Salenko from the Staatsballett Berlin but stunningly partnered by Daniil Simkin, from the ABT, whose amazing cabrioles seemed to defy gravity.

Simkin, who looks like a young Baryshnikov, added to the programme (and beginning the Second Part) a piece in which he was feted on an earlier visit to BA, a dislocated, Bohemian choreography of one of the satirical songs by Jacques Brel, "Les bourgeois"; the dancer was fascinating to watch, with an uncanny command of the weirdest moves. Then, a duet from Act I of "Carmen", a ballet concocted by Marcia Haydée on music by Bizet, although on this case not from the opera but from "Les Pêcheurs de Perles" and the second movement of his Symphony. I find the characterisation of the steps rather tame, lacking the power of other views such as Alonso´s. It was agreeably danced by Julieta Paul and Bautista Parada from the Teatro Argentino (La Plata).

             A true hit followed, with the renovated view of the tango steps by choreographer Gustavo Mollajoli on one of Piazzolla´s best pieces, "A Buenos Aires", a vibrant duet in which Perillo was magnificent, just one year before her retirement, and Trabalón a very good partner. The celebrated Pas de deux from "The Corsair" (Petipa on music by Drigo) was nicely executed by Semionova and Semionov, but I´ve seen the Corsair´s Variation danced with much more audacious steps by the flying Serge Golovine and Julio Bocca. 

            "La pluie" ("The rain") is an interesting choreography by Annabelle López Ochoa on Bach pieces from the "Goldberg variations" and it was danced beautifully by Salenko and Simkin. Then, another stunner: "Soleá", in which María Pagés manages to give us vibrant flamenco with ballet slippers on authentic guitar music by Rubén Lebaniegos including a harsh "cantaora jondo". The duet of the brothers Corella was unforgettable, pure fire and perfect execution by people that are as beautiful as they are talented. 

            Finally, "Winter dreams", a passionately Romantic duet by Kenneth MacMillan on piano pieces by Tchaikovsky in which Núñez and Soares were convincing and attractive. It was a good ending for a variegated and generally accomplished night.

Tango Monologues. Juan María Solare, piano. CD copyright Solare.

La relación del tango con la música académica ya es larga y ha producido muy notables ejemplos.  Por otra parte hay que distinguir entre las variantes de tango europeo y nuestro tango. Si en el primer caso tenemos ilustres ejemplos como los producidos por Albéniz y Stravinsky (además de estilizaciones del tango gitano como la de Jacob Gade), el tango argentino desde sus principios tuvo ejemplos producidos por músicos “clásicos”, aunque en ciertos casos son casi indistinguibles de los tempranos tangos populares, con frecuencia tan bien escritos como los académicos. Pianistas populares dedicados al tango siempre hubo: Sebastián Piana, Juancito Díaz, Luis Visca. Y generalmente fueron editados tangos pensados específicamente para piano, así como arreglos pianísticos de tangos-canción o reducciones al piano de conjuntos instrumentales. Son muchos centenares y a veces tienen alta calidad.

El tango académico tuvo registros ya en la era del vinilo, como cuando Antonio De Raco grabó los tangos de Juan José Castro. Recientemente fueron muy interesantes las recopilaciones históricas realizadas por Estela Telerman, que hasta tienen ejemplos del tardío siglo XIX. Y están esos Postangos de Gerardo Gandini, improvisaciones a partir del tango de una gran imaginación relacionadas con técnicas de desarrollo jazzístico.

El notable disco grabado por el pianista y compositor Juan María Solare es una valiosa contribución. Primeramente, es un ejecutante de primer orden, límpido en la articulación, y con un sentido muy desarrollado de algo indispensable en este caso: las inflexiones tanguísticas, ese particular pulso idiomático que produce en un porteño (y yo lo soy) una inmediata identificación. Soy un porteño muy cosmopolita, de origen francés, pero también lo es Solare, que vive en Bremen, Alemania. El origen no se borra nunca, pese a casos de empatía casi inexplicable (un judío cuyos padres eran de Odessa creó “la” ópera negra por excelencia, “Porgy and Bess” de Gershwin).

En segundo lugar, hay dos tipos de obra en este disco: las compuestas por Solare, y las de clásicos del tango popular en versiones que sólo podrían ser realizadas por un compositor de formación académica, ya que tienen una solidez de estructura que va más allá de la inspiración popular, por auténtica que sea. Hasta los tangueros más cercanos a la tradición académica (De Caro, Salgán, por mencionar a dos que no están en el CD) son ante todo tangueros. Pero Solare –como Juan José Castro- es ante todo un compositor de raíz académica, como lo son Gandini, e incluso Piazzolla. Un caso especial es el de Pítari, que pese a tener ese tipo de formación vía UCA, casi siempre ha realizado piezas crossover en su carrera. ¿Cómo es lo arrabalero y canyengue a través de la visión de Solare? Conserva su intención original pero en fusión con un pulimiento sin “roña”.

Es éste un CD “de autor”, sin sello. Está muy bien grabado en Bremen y en un piano de bella sonoridad, un Bösendorfer, y data de 2009. El folleto tiene los textos en castellano, inglés y alemán e incluye la descripción por Solare de cada una de las veinte piezas. Todos los arreglos de tangos ajenos son de él. Es un disco llenísimo: 79´22. Muy bueno el título, “Monólogos del tango”, ya que se tocan en un solo instrumento y por una sola persona. Contacto: www.JuanMariaSolare.com  

Con excepción de Pítari, todos los tangos fueron escritos por creadores que ya no están más; son parte de la historia del género. Es gigantesco el repertorio y me parece una buena cosa que se hayan evitado los más trillados, si bien algunos tienen un copioso historial grabado. El grupo inicial incluye el brillante “Danzarín” de Julián Plaza, el bien conocido “Malena” de Lucio Demare (“Malena canta el tango como ninguna”) y “Bahía Blanca” de Carlos Di Sarli, que tuvo una de las mejores orquestas con un estilo muy propio.

Siguen cuatro tangos de Solare, que nació en 1966, demasiado tarde para conocer de primera mano la Guardia Vieja pero con la sensibilidad que le permite intuirla. Sus tangos son modernos pero la tradición está en ellos  como germen (si por tradición se entiende incluso la de Piazzolla, que también es historia). Su temperamento suele ser melancólico y evocativo, sin efectismos, de buen gusto e introspección. Así define a “Pasaje Seaver”: “es una imagen de la desolación total y de la ruina”. Como con Piazzolla, y pese a que son muy diferentes entre sí, me parecería mejor referirme a sus creaciones como “música ciudadana”, más que tango. Algunos lo son, pero otros tienen el aroma de Buenos Aires, como un destilado. “Valsarín” evoca al “Danzarín” de Plaza;  “Tengo un  tango” es de los más tangueros, valga la redundancia; “Para Lisa” es un vals que evoca a una amiga de ese nombre y no hay citas de “Für Elise”, “a Dios gracias”. No está de más decir que para Solare –y tiene razón- el mundo del tango también incluye al vals criollo y a la milonga.

Los dos siguientes contrastan fuertemente: uno bien 1928, “Bandoneón arrabalero” de Juan Bautista Deambroggio, “Bachicha”, que presenta el problema admirablemente resuelto de sugerir al bandoneón de fuelle en el piano percusivo; y el de Pítari, escrito para la Orquesta No Típica de la Universidad de Bremen (Link: www.tango.uni-bremen.de) con clara estructura y encadenamientos de  acordes inspirados por procedimientos modulatorios del jazzman Thelonious Monk.

        Siguen cuatro piezas de Solare experimentales muy variadas: “Milonga fría” (con inserciones electroacústicas), que reconoce influida por Stockhausen; “Atonalgotán”, obviamente poco habitual en su planteo: “el tango reconstruido en el sentido de Jacques Derrida”, claramente experimental, y que forma parte de “Meses de peregrinaje” (título que refiere a “Años de peregrinaje” de Liszt); “Fragmentango” para 4 pianos con “overdubbing” (los cuatro tocados por Solare y grabados superpuestos): “sílabas dispersas se combinan para formar palabras y conceptos…con la forma abierta y del movimiento Fluxus… un clonaje de mí mismo”; y “Akemilonga”, basada en escalas por tonos y dedicada a una compositora japonesa.

Viene luego tres tangos: dos de preguerra y uno de Piazzolla. Un tango triste, “Nieblas del Riachuelo” de Juan Carlos Cobián, considerado “terrible” por Solare, le inspira incorporar una cita del Réquiem de Mozart; la milonga tangueada “La puñalada” de Horacio “Pintín” Castellanos, muy rítmica; y un tango piazzollesco bien tango, “Calambre” (1961).

Finalmente, cuatro piezas más de Solare: “Liebergmilonga”, dedicada a Andreas Lieberg, fundador de la Orquesta No Típica antes mencionada; “si Debussy hubiera escrito una milonga, sería como ésta”; “Talismán”, simple, “bajo legato y melodía staccato”; “Furor”, para un ballet: “si la música de Piazzolla sabe que existieron Stravinsky o Bartók, la mía sabe de Berio y Kagel”; y “Reencuentro”, milonga lenta y melancólica, escrita “tras visitar el cementerio donde está enterrada mi madre”.

Disco de gran riqueza para mentes abiertas, refleja como pocos la amplitud de la música que puede escribirse a partir del tango. El rostro barbado del autor/intérprete ilustra el folleto y nos da algunas pistas sobre su compleja personalidad.

András Schiff, a celebrant of music

            A colleague recently called András Schiff "the best pianist in the world". Surely there are other big names in the topnotch category, though as some have never been here (Maurizio Pollini, Krystian Zimerman),  we lack live comparisons; and one of the best is about to come here: Arcadi Volodos. Anyway, Schiff is certainly a sure candidate for such a ranking, although I believe it is a dangerous proposition, for there are many subjective factors as well as the measurable, objective ones. You may prefer the flashy to the introspective, the great Lisztian rather than the great Schubertian, and that´s certainly legitimate; but some  players have been able to tackle those extremes with equal felicity (Brendel, for one).

            Anyway, I´m completely sure that Schiff´s recent recital for the Abono del Bicentenario at the Colón was a memorable event. "A celebrant of music", that´s the title I chose: indeed, the serenity and conviction with which he transmits his interpretations accomplish a phenomenon of intimate empathy with non-frivolous and sensitive listeners such as is very rarely felt. Schiff was here  before: a recital and Beethoven´s "Emperor Concerto"; I was vividly impressed then, but I liked the current concert even more (it´s silly that the former visit isn´t mentioned in the hand programme).

            He has an enormous repertoire encompassing, e.g., most of J.S. Bach and the Beethoven complete Sonatas . Now he played a fascinating combination of four sonatas: Beethoven´s Nº 30, Bartók´s only one, Janácek´s (called "1/X/1905") and Schubert´s Nº 18, D.894, "Fantasy". The interval came after Janácek and not before as the programme had it. I would have preferred Bartók ending the First Part, for it has a galvanizing third movement, but it is typical of Schiff´s personality that he finished with a movement called "Death-Adagio" (a dirge to the memory of a murdered worker whilst promoting the creation of a Czech university in Brno).

            Schiff has stated that the last movement of Beethoven´s Sonata Nº 30 (a metaphysical Theme and Variations) is the one he likes best in the whole immense corpus. After a gossamer first movement and a flying Prestissimo (in which for the only time in the whole evening I noticed very slight imperfections) the final movement proceeded like a progress into the higher spheres, with the control of a past master in execution  and the comprehension of a very wise man.

            Bartók´s tough Sonata was played with marvelous precision, its relentessly rhythmic organisation fully revealed; I personally prefer a bigger sound in this music, such as other illustrious Hungarians provided: Andor Foldes, György Sandor; but this is a matter of taste. Janácek´s sonata, so characteristic of his inimitable style, was left incomplete because the composer destroyed the third movement; he also liquidated the other two, but fortunately Ludmila Tuckova had copied them, and thus it was premiered in 1924. I admire such artists as Radoslav Kvapil and Rudolf Firkusny in this fiercely personal music, but Schiff gave me even more of its essential nature.

             I´ve had a soft spot for Schubert´s Sonata Nº 18, D. 894, "Fantasy", ever since I got hold of a lovely record by Henri Jolles back in 1956. It is very much a piece for convinced schubertians in its utter lack of effects, blissful lyricism and spontaneous flow. I disagree with Schiff (as I did with Lang Lang in Sonata Nº 21) in that both make the repeat of the exposition; alas, the result is that the first movement lasts as much as the other three together and thus the work feels unbalanced. Yes, I know, Schubert marks it, as was the use of his time, but the exposition is very long, and the music quite slow, especially as the second movement also is slow. Nevertheless, such was the mesmerizing concentration , beauty and perfection of Schiff´s playing that the whole Sonata was irresistible. 

            Some people put the accent on a few cellular phones and coughs, and of course they are right in deploring them, but Schiff remained composed and smiling, and the ovations were interminable after such intimate music, so it wasn´t a bad audience after all. And the artist was generous: four splendid encores, including the only Chopin and Bach we have heard from him in BA.  A pearly execution of Schubert´s Impromptu Op.90 Nº 2; his exquisite traversal of Chopin´s Nocturne Op. 15 Nº 2 showed that the Romantic sensibility is literally at the tip of his fingers; the late Beethoven Bagatelle Op.126 Nº 4 was played with appropriate quirkiness and lightning passages from forte to piano; and Bach´s third movement from the Italian Concerto demonstrated the pianist´s magnificent contrapuntal command and independence of hands.

            The Colón´s piano is long due for a replacement; how is it possible that an institution handling over 250 million pesos a year can´t budget the  cost of a new first-rate Steinway? It is really shameful to bring such artists as Schiff and not give them a quality instrument. Especially when the prices of that Abono are ridiculously high (much more than the Salzburg Festival!) and that students are hurriedly placed in the hall at the last minute ( I know, I´ve seen them) to make it look as a soldout house. Policies at the Colón need a thorough revision. Schiff is a gentleman, not like Jarrett who protested loudly, but both merit fine pianos to play.

 

For Buenos Aires Herald

A rich panoply of symphonic music

            What follows is a panorama of symphonic  activity in recent weeks. I will start with the National Symphony (Orquesta Sinfónica Nacional). The organism under its Principal Conductor, Pedro I. Calderón, offered a programme of pleasant rather than transcendent pieces. It started with an homage to the Argentine composer Antonio Tauriello, who died some months ago. A very early score was chosen, the vibrant and well written "Obertura sinfónica", still fully tonal and far removed from his later complex atonal style. Apart from a dislocation near the end, things went well. 

            The "Concertone" K.190 by Mozart is a good-quality specimen of the 17-year-old composer, though without moments of special inspiration. However the combination is "sui generis" and interesting (hence the unusual denomination of the piece): two violins are principal soloists, but the oboe and the cello also have solo passages. It was very nicely played by Haydée Seibert Francia and by Antonio Spiller, back in Argentina after a long absence (he is concertino of the Bavarian Radio Orchestra since 1978); his brother Andrés was the oboist (first deck of the NS) and Jorge Pérez Tedesco the cellist, who committed some slips (generally he is very good). Calderón accompanied with appropriate discretion. 

            Prokofiev´s Seventh and last symphony has been derided by some who call it superficial; in fact it is as audacious as could be tolerated in the last paranoiac years of Stalin. It is beautifully orchestrated, has lovely melodies and plenty of imaginative orchestral incident. Little played, Calderón and the NS gave a good account of it.

            Hamburg-born Bernhard Wulff (1948) has had a varied and checkered career, with special projects in such unforeseen places as Ulan Bator (Mongolia), Kirgizistan and Hanoi (Vietnam). He has conducted the NS before. I liked his reading of Gluck´s dramatic Overture to "Iphigénie en Aulide" in the effective Wagner arrangement; this is noble music and I wish the opera were staged here. I found María Cecilia Villanueva´s "Escenario", a piano concerto (premiere), extremely arid, even if valiantly defended by Haydée Schvartz; a minimalist menu of dissonant chords, it wasn´t enticing to hear. Wulff (dressed strangely, by the way) ended the concert with a workmanlike but rather pallid version of Brahms´ Third Symphony, devoid of inner fire.

            The last concert of the NS had an unconventional programme and one could think that it was too crossover; but magnetized by the intense conducting of the Swiss Marc Andreae, sixtyish, the orchestra played with commitment. Piazzolla´s "Tangazo" is a strong 15-minute piece in five sections, where apart from some horn fluffs the playing was vibrant.  Liszt´s Second Concerto is the devil to play both by the pianist and the orchestra, and the junction between them tends to be touch and go, but not this time: Andreae knows well the Argentine pianist Federico Aldao, fortyish, who has worked a lot in Switzerland (now he is back). And the interpretation was as exciting as it was truthful, some sonorous mistakes by the pianist amounting to little in playing that was by turns forceful and delicate, in perfect style and with the tough fast tempi the composer asks for. With Andreae an empathetic collaborator.

            Andreae has premiered dozens  of scores, especially Swiss; he brought with him Fabian Müller´s "Baladas y Bulerías" (in Spanish in the original), a very successful and sensitive take on Southern Spain, with subtle orchestration and attractive melodic and rhythmic ideas. Finally, I was  happy to encounter after a very long time a score I enjoy enormously, one of the best crossovers I know: Morton Gould´s "Latin American Symphonette"; Gould was a talented composer and conductor. He lived between 1913 and 1996 and the music we heard dates from 1940/1. It is an exuberant display of Latin American rhythms: Rumba, Tango (of the Habanera type), Guaracha and Conga. In fact, we are always in a Caribbean ambience with plenty of folkish percussion and an active imagination giving constant variety to the music. Led with wonderful pep and precision, the NS gave one of its best performances.

The Buenos Aires Philharmonic was led by Carlos Bertazza, its Assistant Conductor, in an all-South American programme of considerable renovation and usefulness. Although his podium stance of continuous "dancing" was uncomfortable to see, he had done a thorough study of the scores and transmitted them with conviction, although some of the orchestra weren´t up to par.

The "sure thing" in the programme was Piazzolla´s Suite "Punta del Este", to my mind hardly one of his best scores, but there´s a fury about this composer nowadays, and Néstor Marconi is a redoubtable bandoneon player.  For me the interesting stuff was heard before and after. Before,  a Colombian composer, Adolfo Mejía (1905-73) gave us a rare chance to hear music from that country: for Latinamericanism is trumpeted about but scarcely practiced. A short tone poem, "Íntima", proved to be sensitive and agreeable. And after,  finally a Villalobos symphony; he wrote a dozen, but in sixty years of concertgoing I have only heard Nº 6 (conducted by the composer back in 1953). Bertazza chose the sprawling, 50-minute Nº 2, "The Ascension", written in 1917 when he was thirty but premiered as late as 1944, it was played here conducted by Villalobos around 1947 and never again heard in Argentina. Excessive, colorful, vigorous, the score would have benefited from judicious pruning, but it is full of surprises and well worth knowing.

For Buenos Aires Herald

BAL gives us Mozart abducted by Al Qaeda

            Readers know that in my view opera production has fallen into a disastrous trend of distortion; it started in Europe about thirty years ago and has steadily grown, unfortunately promoted by directors of opera houses and music critics that have become accomplices and promoters. Much later but just as lamentable, the trend has landed in our country. To the point that nowadays to be brave and courageous means to do productions that respect the music and the libretto and that understand the fascination of opera as a way to visit distant cultures. But no, nowadays the Troy war is dealt with Kalashnikovs and it is chic to distort things to the point of no recognition. Those that defend the art of Wieland Wagner or Zeffirelli (very different but equally valuable) are considered obsolete in their views, they aren´t capable of "lateral thinking"... No, now the Walhalla is in Puerto Madero, and an eighteenth-century rescue opera about "The Abduction from the Seraglio" becomes an airport taken by taliban terrorists for the sole purpose of keeping Konstanze hostage of Pasha Selim: a chief terrorist keeps the name of a Turkish Pasha and the Janissaries (the Royal Guard of the Ottoman Empire) are a bunch of unkempt caricaturesque talibans (why not Al Qaeda...).

            Yes, this is what happened in Buenos Aires Lírica´s "renovated" view of Mozart´s opera. Mind you, there are two basic ways of showing a bad concept: miserable, mediocre realisation, or brilliant execution of a shameful travesty .  Between these black and white extremes, the whole range of greys in realisation may appear, according to the money, taste and imagination of the perpetrators (traitors?). 

             Pablo Maritano is a young producer who, along with his iconoclasm, is capable of witty moments that can be funny if you accept the basic conceptual travesty. Although in fact it seems that the basic idea comes from the President of BAL, Frank Marmorek, for the advance notices carry no statement by Maritano. The BAL simply says that as the original libretto is bad, they have decided to commission a new libretto for the spoken parts. As you may remember, "Die Entführung aus dem Serail" is a Singspiel, with sung and spoken fragments. The sung bits are intact in music and text, Gonzalo Demaría´s new libretto only concerns the spoken parliaments that connect the musical ones. One good point: although I assume that he originally wrote in Spanish, it is translated into German, so at least we don´t have a bilingual clash. Another: the text is succinct and meshes well into the following music. And the producer, although hampered by a mostly absurd text, gave some pep to the action.

            The Turkish subject was a delicate one in the Vienna of 1782, when "Entführung..." was premiered as part of an intention by Emperor Joseph II to impose the Singspiel as an alternative to the predominant Italian opera. Why "delicate"?  Well, the Turks had besieged Vienna in 1683, the most expansionist moment of the Empire; they fortunately failed to take it.  In Mozart´s time the Turks were no more than a bad memory and to make fun of them was "in". There were further examples later on, as Rossini´s "Il Turco in Italia" proves, although there were also "serious" operas about them, as the same Rossini´s "Maometto II". Nevertheless, the original libretto by Gottlob Stephanie gives us two sides: the Pasha is noble and generous, the spoof is about Osmin. "Turkish" music was also trendy, and it appears both in the Overture and the Janissaries´ Chorus: cymbals, fast tempi and marked rhythms. By the way, Mozart wrote another Singspiel of Turkish ambience, "Zaide" (1779), unfinished but viable, rarely done nowadays (it would be interesting to offer it).  

The composer for "Entführung" wrote exceedingly difficult music of very ample range, for he had great singers; to find the right voices is quite a tall order, and I´m afraid several didn´t fit the bill in this case (this opera has been offered elsewhere in these last five years: Colón and Roma; those casts were better but still not satisfying).  I would single out two artists: the veteran Dutch Harry Peeters (debut) maybe short in volume but he is a savvy actor and musician who showed convincing professionalism in the deep bass role of the grotesque Osmin. And Patricio Oliveira sang with fortitude his big aria as Pedrillo (here a barman...) as well as being a funny character. In his first big part Iván Maier as Belmonte sounded rigid, his voice lacking in harmonics, though as the opera went on it tended to round out.  Hernán Iturralde, a baritone, took the spoken part of the Pasha with excessive parsimony, perhaps following Maritano´s marking.

The ladies were below the challenge, although Marisa Pavón (Konstanze) solved well some parts; but in a lot she sounded white and sliding, by no means the full lyrical voice capable of florid phrases. And Constanza Castillo as Blondie (first big part) showed a very marked vibrato; I suppose it isn´t her fault that her acting was exceedingly "vamp".

The Orchestra under Pedro-Pablo Prudencio (Chilean) sounded small and  lacked precision in the initial minutes; later on it recovered somewhat, but the phrasing was mostly flat. The Choir under Juan Casasbellas was alright (poor guys having to play cartoon talibans...). For the record, the "functional" stage designs were by Andrea Mercado, the costumes, by Sofia Di Nunzio, and the lighting by José Luis Fiorruccio. 

For Buenos Aires Herald

The splendor of the orchestra: Mehta and the Fiorentini

            No other world-class maestro has visited us as often as Zubin Mehta, always with outstanding success. My private catalogue lists the 12^th of September 1962 as a special date, for the young Mehta (he was born in 1936) conducted that day the Orchestra of Amigos de la Música in, among other pieces, a splendid interpretation of Schönberg´s First Chamber Symphony (no, he didn´t come with the Montreal Symphony, as wrongly said in an inserted flyer of the hand programme).He also conducted the Orchestra of Radio del Estado. So, half a century later, we had him back in Buenos Aires, a city he dearly loves. 

            The Mozarteum brought him with the New York Philharmonic in 1978, 1982 and 1987, and with the Israel Philharmonic in 1972, 1993 and 2001. But Mehta also visited us with the israelis in other occasions, and with the Bavarian Radio Orchestra. And now with the Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino two things were foremost: Mehta in his seventies may be more contained than he used to but is still very much a master of his trade, and the fiorentini are a first-rate orchestra that fully competes with those of La Scala and of the Rome Santa Cecilia.

            Mehta´s career is a wonder: he was Principal Conductor at Montreal, Los Angeles and New York, and General Music Director of the Munich Opera. He still holds two posts: Principal Conductor of the Israel Philharmonic since 1977 and Principal Director of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino since 1985. He has never conducted opera in BA, but his work at Munich, Florence and Valencia has been very important and varied, and the Met, Salzburg, La Scala and Covent Garden have witnessed his performances, always colorful and vibrant. And the Vienna Philharmonic has welcomed him often since his youthful years. 

            As to the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, it is one of the oldest music festivals (since 1933). After  World War II the main personalities there have been Mehta, Riccardo Muti and Bruno Bartoletti. They have often programmed modern and rarely done operas.  The Orchestra, although it has taken the name of the Festival, is fully operative not only in May but most of the year, and has been conducted by the greatest names and composers. It recently inaugurated the new Teatro Comunale of Florence.

            Their two concerts for the Mozarteum at the Colón had a high level. It was announced that they will do a third concert but invited by the City of Buenos Aires at the Usina del Arte, the recycled venue that opened just a couple of months ago at the very limit of La Boca; the original idea was to do it open-air (a wrong concept in Winter) but bad weather gives the privilege to the Usina. The programme there will be lighter.

            The first concert combined two great symphonies: Nº 4l, "Jupiter", by Mozart, and Nº4, "Romantic", by Bruckner. Mehta´s Mozart proceeded along very orthodox paths of the old schools, with no attempt at historicism or at the fast tempi that are now trendy. It was all very musical and well done, but the music needs even more precision coupled with adrenaline. As to the "Romantic", I have no reservations; in the revised final version, of course (the original was heard just once here by the Vienna Symphony under Rozhdestvensky). The Orchestra sounded astonishingly German in its strong bass –grounded response to the granitic music; perhaps the disposition of the strings has an influence: basses behind first violins, second violins opposed to the first, cellos in front of the conductor and violas next to the second violins. Phrased with total respect for the score, tempi always expressive and firmly maintained, the grand line fully kept, and admirable strings and brass, it was one of the best "Romantics" ever heard here.

            Encores: a limpid, energetic Overture of Mozart´s "Le nozze di Figaro", and a gorgeous performance of Mascagni´s Intermezzo from "Cavalleria Rusticana".

            The second concert was on an even higher plane.  Beethoven´s Eighth Symphony had an impeccable reading, where the numerous accents were taken in their stride by the players with total spontaneity and the transitions went smoothly. The second choice was an homage to Argentina: Mehta chose what is probably the best of Alberto Ginastera´s scores: the "Variaciones concertantes". They were commissioned by Amigos de la Música and the great Igor Markevich gave its premiere on June 2, 1953. I was there, and it made a deep impression on my teenage mind. Almost 60 years later, I still find it his most mature music. It is also very difficult. I can´t truly say that some of the most virtuosic bits were completely solved by the players of the MMF, but the overall picture was excellent and Mehta certainly understands the piece.

            Finally, a splendid performance of Dvorák´s Ninth Symphony, "From the New World", vehement but controlled, each element of the complex writing fully given its due, and with a perfect relationship between the sections of each movement. Here as in Bruckner, I admired the exactness and beauty of sound of the first horn.

            Encores: an exhilarating Dvorák (Slavonic Dance op. 46 Nº 8); a luscious orchestration of Gardel´s tango "Por una cabeza" preceded by a gracious reference by Mehta to Jeannette Arata de Erize, who recently turned ninety; and a wonderful reading of Verdi´s Overture to "I Vespri Siciliani".

 

For Buenos Aires Herald

Verdian comedy contrasts with Goethean Massenet

            Two extremely divergent operas are being offered in these recent weeks: Verdi´s first comedy, "Un giorno di regno", by an ad-hoc group at the Teatro del Globo; and Massenet´s "Werther", a Gallic look at a Proto-Romantic Goethean antihero, at the Teatro Argentino (La Plata). 

            "Giorno..." was a City of Buenos Aires premiere; the Argentine privilege had come seven years ago in a pioneering but rather weak interpretation at the Roma (Avellaneda).  Poor Giuseppe Verdi had to write a comedy at a time when he was afflicted by family tragedies: the death through various illnesses of his beloved wife and two children. And he had a very bad case of angina. Nevertheless he met the deadline imposed by the impresario Merelli, and the opera duly had its first night on September 1840 at Milan´s La Scala...and it was "un giorno di fiasco", as cleverly put by Fabián Persic in his excellent comments on the hand programme. Verdi might have ended his career then, but the perceptive Merelli convinced him to write "Nabucco", and that opera was a smashing success. The rest is history.

            Felice Romani´s libretto had in fact been written for Adalbert Gyrowetz, whose opera was premiered at La Scala in 1818. By 1840 it was rather late in the day for traditional "opera buffa". The full title of Verdi´s comedy is "Un giorno di regno, ossia Il finto Stanislao", and it is based in a true episode, in which Stanislaw Leszczynski, King of Poland, indeed was impersonated for one day so as to allow him the time to arrive incognito to Warsaw. Romani was the most famous librettist of his time and he moves his characters with a good deal of charm, although the ending is very abrupt. And Verdi´s music follows the Rossinian (rather than Donizettian) pattern, with little of his future style. But the writing is pleasant and fluid, with arias, duos, trios, quintets, sextets and septets cunningly disposed.

 After his dramatic first opera, "Oberto, Conte di San Bonifacio", he tried his hand at comedy with bad luck, a mediocre cast certainly unhelpful. "Un giorno..." was staged with better results in Venice, Rome and Naples; however, it soon disappeared from the repertoire until after World War II. Cetra recorded it in the Fifties conducted by Simonetto with Pagliughi and Capecchi, and later Gardelli led a star-studded cast in a Philips recording: Norman, Cossotto, Carreras, Ganzarolli. Even then the European theatres were slow to put it on stage. It is unfair: the piece certainly is worth knowing. The intensely dramatic Verdi that was to follow nevertheless capped his career with the miraculous "Falstaff", definitive proof of his genius for comedy.

Dante Ranieri was our most refined tenor in the Sixties and Seventies; now he is a guardian of good tradition as demonstrated in this "Giorno", leading the 26-member Asociación Ensamble Lírico Orquestal plus a choir of 26 enthusiastic singers, the Coral Ensamble prepared by Gustavo Codina. Oscar Grassi, our best buffo thirty years ago, was the savvy producer, with lovely costumes by Mariela Daga, a succinct but adequate stage design by Daniel Feijóo and conventional lighting by  Ernesto Bechara. The acoustics of the Teatro del Globo are optimal for a chamber opera.

A generally good cast was assembled, with outstanding work by Fernando Grassi (son of Oscar and quite as able, but with a better voice and figure) and Ricardo Crampton, who cut a fine figure and sang well as the false King. The wily Marchesa del Poggio was fleshed out with fine character by María José Dulín, though her big voice had too much vibrato. Cecilia Layseca, on the contrary, sounded sweet, discreet (maybe too discreet) and musical as Giulietta. Leonardo Pastore forced his tone in the very high range of Edoardo, but otherwise was correct. Fernando Santiago was the able buffo foil of Grassi. Quite poor Lucas Córdoba (Ivrea) and barely passable Alfredo González Reig (Delmonte). All in all, though, an enterprising and useful evening. Please, in 2013, why not "Aroldo" or "Oberto" or "Masnadieri"? 

            "Werther" has been staged pretty often in the last twenty years (in 2011 there was a modest but correct version at the Roma) but it was a logical decision to offer it at the Teatro Argentino, where it had only been done in 1956. However, it wasn´t satisfactory in two main points: the staging by Paul-Émile Fourny and the work of Guadalupe Barrientos as Charlotte.  The Belgian producer had the wrong idea of a distancing (Brechtian) ploy for a Sturm und Drang melodrama that needs communication and nearness. He worked with the Belgian stage designer Benoit Dugardyn in producing an effect of a frame within a frame within a frame. Visually agreeable but self-defeating in terms of Werther´s quandary. The costumes by Stella Maris Müller and the lighting by Horacio Efron were competent.

            Basque tenor Andeka Gorrotxategui made an interesting debut with an ample voice full of lights and shadows, good style and fine dramatic presence. Barrientos has strong vocal means but Charlotte doesn´t seem to agree with her temperament; the singer is an extrovert and here she tried to be introspective and stylish, but it didn´t jell; and her French was unintelligible.  I hoped for more from Oriana Favaro´s Sophie, too light and fluttery. Very good contributions from Gustavo Gibert (Albert) and Luis Gaeta (The Bailiff) and correct jobs from the pair of friends Johann and Schmidt: Federico De Michaelis and Maximiliano Agatiello. Benjamin Pionnier conducted acceptably though without refinement, and the Children´s Choir under Mónica Dagorret sounded fresh and in tune.

For Buenos Aires Herald