Classical New Jersey Society - Reviews & Opinions

Little Opera Company takes on a big one … with success
Saturday, May 1, 2004
By Dennis Hyams

The Little Opera Company of New Jersey, Robert Butts (conductor). Puccini’s Turandot. Westfield High School Auditorium.

It was with some trepidation that I learned, some months ago, that Little Opera Company of New Jersey (LOCNJ) planned to perform Turandot. Puccini’s operas are so beautiful and romantic that many musicians enjoy performing them. Their joy is not always felt by audiences because performing Puccini well is much more difficult than it might seem, particularly for the orchestra, which in community productions is often rather small for the heft of the more impassioned music and dramatic moments. In addition, many musicians, though accomplished technically, lack the flexibility to cope adequately with the *rubato so essential in the interpretation of Puccini’s music; and this is not easy to achieve in an ensemble. In short, this is a massive opera usually performed by large forces in large opera houses with large budgets, so how could this little opera company hope to do justice to Turandot, with its exotic musical and scenic orientalism, large chorus, and somewhat less-than-romantic story?

Well, they did, and they succeeded triumphantly, having learned so much over the few years of their existence and rapid development. They find excellent professional singers, talented designers (for sets, costumes, and lighting) and directors, and they have worked throughout with a loyal, albeit small, orchestra which has shown a steady pattern of increasing competence and ensemble under the reassuring baton of Robert Butts. This performance was the culmination of their long experience together shown in the terrific support they gave to the singers in this remarkable production.

The singers were, in a word, outstanding. The fiendishly difficult role of the ice-princess Turandot was taken in stride by Dauri Shippey, one of the finest sopranos to have sung with LOCNJ (her performance as Tosca last year was memorable). Even so, one wondered how she would cope with the sustained and cruelly high *tessitura in this role. The voice needs to be beautiful of tone, accurately-placed, well-supported, and strong without showing strain. Ms. Shippey demonstrated all those qualities, as well as an imposing physical presence. And her ice melted rapidly, as required, in Act III.

Juan Pineda (tenor) sang Calaf, the hero. Despite a throat problem, he managed a persuasive performance. Indeed, if they hadn’t made an announcement about it at the start, I doubt if anyone would have noticed that he was less than well. Juan has a fine ringing upper range of considerable strength and beauty. The middle and lower ranges are weaker and were sometimes overwhelmed by the orchestra. But his ability to build his voice up to a powerful and glorious climax, and his stage presence, allowed him to make an effective Calaf. His eagerly-awaited “Nessun dorma” near the beginning of Act III was well-wrought and rapturously received by the audience.

Kam Cheng sang the role of Liú. From her very first note, the gorgeous timbre of her voice was apparent. She maintained high standards of singing and acting throughout, and showed impressive voice control, which makes such a difference in singing this role. Splendid … her future in music should be bright.

Timur, blind father of Calaf, was beautifully sung and acted by Israel Pessoa; his bewilderment at Liú’s collapse and his grief after learning of her death, were deeply moving, more than enough to bring a lump to the throat and a tear to the eye. He cared, and we cared.

The Emperor Altoum, father of Turandot, seems traditionally to be sung by the house *comprimario in a wavering high voice, portraying the old Emperor as a rather doddery and senile man. Not so in this production: here, he was a man of flesh and blood, and of noble voice played by no less than the fine tenor Luis Cabrera, well-known from (inter alia) his previous performances with LOCNJ. What a treat!

The Mandarin who opens Act I was another winner, sung impressively by Deandre Simmons. He has a big voice, richer than many I have heard in this role. This was a reassuring start to the opera, and proved to be a harbinger of things to come from all the others in the cast.

Ping, Pang, and Pong are three Ministers who provide (at times) lighter relief in this somewhat gruesome tale. They are all that is left of the commedia dell’arte element in the original story by Carlo Gozzi (1762). These characters were played by Chuck Schneider (baritone), Fausto Pineda (tenor), and Phil Alongi (tenor), respectively, and they did a very fine job vocally and dramatically. Mr. Alongi was in his first role, his debut. Based on this performance, he joins the ranks of those to watch out for in the years ahead.

Several small roles were played nicely by younger performers (ages 7-18), including the dancers; note that, of the 54 chorus members, only five were over the age of 18! What a great job they all did, and how much they enjoyed it! Surely this is one of the best ways to introduce children to classical music, a task misguidedly abandoned by so many schools today (a point that must be made again and again).

The chorus comported themselves very well, and sang splendidly. Congratulations are due to the Chorus Mistress, Maureen Monroe, and to the choristers of all ages.

The narrators (spoken text is used in LOCNJ productions to fill in for cuts made in the score) struggled bravely to be heard, sometimes against heavy acoustic odds; they deserve special praise for that, although some of their delivery could have been improved.

(Of course, the real answer would be to drop the spoken intrusions and do
the whole opera. - Editor)

The orchestra certainly lived up to the promise it has been showing in the last year or so, in regard to accuracy, intonation, attack, and ensemble work. It has made great strides under the mentorship of Robert Butts. He has a precise stick technique that is as good to look at as it is effective. If the tempi were often on the slow side, one felt that special care was being taken to achieve clarity and accuracy; it did not spoil the overall effect. It was remarkable how a chamber orchestra of 13-17 players could provide such solid support in this mighty work, even though at times it had difficulty in lowering its volume sufficiently to let the voices through.

Praise to the designer(s) of the costumes and the imaginative sets (no credits given in the Program I received). The lighting had its moments (good and less good!), but, like the stage direction, was generally appropriate and effective.

It was an inspired idea to copy a lump of text with pictures from a book about operas, and use it as an insert into the Program to provide interesting background material and a detailed synopsis of this opera. It reminds us that Puccini died before he could complete the opera, and the ending used since 1926 has generally been Franco Alfano’s second version. More recently, Luciano Berio, working from the same pages of Puccini’s sketches that Alfano used, has written an alternative ending, which avoids the big triumphal choral conclusion (featuring a reprise of the “big tune”, Nessun dorma), replacing it with a rapid effervescence, fading to silence. This quiet ending (recently recorded) seems unlikely to supersede the Alfano in general performances because Alfano’s solution seems highly appropriate and it’s good! But time will tell.

My glowing review of this performance of Turandot does not mean, of course, that there were no mistakes, whether musical or non-musical. Most of them can be overlooked because it all worked so well. But there is one recurrent problem that cannot be ignored: the poor job done by the proof-reader (if any) of the printed program. I have complained of this before, but this one takes the prize! The typo fairy had a field day: of the many plums I offer you Mozart’s “Requiem” (mentioned as another work left incomplete by the composer) and “The Des Moined Metro Opera” (is that a verb now?). But the first prize goes to “Sour Angelica” (should be “Suor” -meaning “Sister”; the action takes place in a convent, and Angelica is the very antithesis of sour!).

The message to LOCNJ is simple: please bring your printed programs up to the standards you have set for the opera performances.

A choral masterwork by Masterwork
Stamina on display
Sunday, May 2, 2004
By John Hammel

The Masterwork Chorus and Orchestra, Andrew Megill (conductor). Handel: Israel In Egypt. Heather Fetrow and Casandra LaMotte (sopranos); Margaret Bragle (mezzo-soprano); Nathan Davis (tenor); Timothy Wilds (baritone); Douglas Millar (bass-baritone). Community Theatre, Morristown.

Handel's brilliant oratorio, Israel in Egypt, took a strange path from its genesis in the composer's mind to its first performance on April 4, 1739. Chief among them was the fact that Handel, contrary to his normal ethic of working from beginning to end, composed Part II, “Moses’ Song,” first, completing it within eleven days in October 1738. He next completed the “Flight from Egypt,” which became Part I, in less than two weeks. Far from being satisfied, he actually worked on another part he intended to be Part I which he felt would fulfill historic background to the Exodus story, a set of lamentations of the Israelites on the death of Joseph.

For whatever reason he ultimately didn't use this for his oratorio but adapted that section as a funeral anthem for Queen Caroline. Some of the adapted words were used in the first part of Israel in Egypt as well as some of the music for the overture. So Handel settled on the current configuration. Handel saw this work as a “song of liberty” and the Jewish people as symbolic of the struggle and victory of suppressed nations everywhere.

Unfortunately for Handel the structure of the work is the antithesis of the prevailing popular Italian opera of its day: it has no *da capo arias; its emphasis is on the chorus, symbolic of the destiny of an entire nation as opposed to individual fate; and its first performance was in a theater rather than in a church setting, which would have been more "proper" for biblical texts (he used excerpts from Exodus and Psalms 78, 105 and 106 as his entire libretto). These unorthodoxies certainly gave ammunition to the staid contemporary critics and his myriad enemies who vilified the work. They certainly missed or deliberately overlooked this groundbreaking score's complexities and innovations with its four short recitatives, four arias, three duets and 28 choral numbers, 18 of which were set for only eight voices. That it was a masterpiece was not perceived.

The setback was not unnoticed by Handel, who after writing three more operas would abandon any further attempts at oratorio based primarily on choral singing. He thereafter gave the da capo aria much more space in his works. Two examples suffice. In the three part Messiah, there are nineteen choral numbers and fifteen da capo arias. In Judas Maccabaeus the ratio was upped to seventeen choral numbers and twenty-two da capo arias. Some have called his abandonment of choral oratorio an artistic disaster but viewed in the light of what followed I think that would be stretching the point. I'm sure Handel would have further developed the style of Israel in Egypt, but it would be churlish to carp over his later output whilst lamenting the singularity of Israel in Egypt and future lost opportunities to extend the form.

How, then, would the forces of Andrew Megill's Masterwork Chorus rise to the inherent musical and dramatic challenges of Israel in Egypt? Putting the burden of carrying the work on the shoulders of the choral singers, even those as dedicated and proficient as the Masterwork have proven themselves must have left room for trepidation on the part of some if not all involved. This is a choir that is made up of amateurs with a deep commitment. Yet they have varying skill levels, and meet only once a week for rehearsals. I was all attentive ears then when the tenor soloist, who after the overture, opens the oratorio with the recitative, "Now there arose a new king over Egypt....." preceding the alto and chorus, who vocalize the agony of the bondage of the Israelites and their oppressive burdens. All fears instantly subsided and were further dissipated as Dr. Megill and his well trained chorus brought the message home again and again, in chorus after chorus, with well controlled dynamics and inflection. Balances were generally exemplary with superb diction and dramatic insight and power.

Throughout the afternoon Dr. Megill, with precise and energetic body english elicited the most dramatic evocations I have ever heard from the Masterwork Chorus. He did not utilize a baton, opting for richly expressive hand gestures instead. The singers brought intensity to the texts, calculating the words’ weight as well as nuance.

Their descriptive narration of the plagues brought upon the Egyptians were compelling as they hammered home every climax without sounding chuffy. Their crisply articulated runs in the opening of Part II were perfectly wrought.

The most beautiful choral rendition was their hushed sense of reverent awe when describing the sinking of Pharaoh's army to the bottom of the Red Sea. Their rhythms never flagged or rushed ahead, no matter how complex the *contrapuntal or *canonic passages became. *Releases throughout were excellent and the combined sections sang out gloriously at the end of the oratorio in fulsome splendor.

I could not help but notice that in parts of the score where the tenor section was required to stand out, they were not as sonorous as the other three sections.

The Masterwork Orchestra was highly responsive to Megill and generally played with élan and proper baroque spirit and movement. They aptly displayed the highly picturesque quality of the musical passages depicting the plagues. The hopping frogs, buzzing flies and locusts, and raining down of the hailstones were all brilliantly played out.

The lone double-bassist’s tone was rock solid all afternoon. The brass were suitably bright and articulate and the oboes had impeccable tone and a beautiful sense of phrasing. It was far too humid for the strings to stay perfectly in tune, and alas the first violins had a tendency to be a bit saggy at times, although hardly at the expense of altering the fine music making that transpired during the afternoon. Harpsichordist and organist Edward Brewer played up to his usual high musical standards, providing apt continuo support for both soloists and chorus.

Ah, the soloists. Theirs was a hard lot. This is the chorus’s show, and when you get a chorus responding and producing as the Masterwork did all afternoon it's difficult to shine forth from the shadows as it were. There was no one who got the “goat's horns” but one alone who proved to shine brightly within the limited opportunity. Soprano Heather Fetrow's demeanor betrayed nervousness but her voice gave away none. Instead she delivered on a grand scale. Towards the end of the first part, in her entrace air, “Through the Land So Lovely Blooming,” she displayed ample bloom and brightness with a voice that was well modulated and even throughout its full register. There was good forward placement which translates into carrying power with its inherent ability to cut through and over an orchestra and to the back of the house. She also exhibited excellent control of her vocal instrument and hence was able to negotiate her *coloratura effortlessly and float the purest and most sweetly effervescent high tones.

She is also an artist capable of blend and balance when working with a smaller voiced colleague. Her duet with soprano Casandra LaMotte in Part II’s “The Lord Is My Strength and My Song,” was the epitome of gracious consideration. Ms. Lakota’s smoothly produced and sweetly lyrical smaller instrument could have been easily overshadowed by Ms. Fetrow, who instead scaled her voice down to a suitable size the better able to serve art. Brava indeed. At the end of the work, Handel presents a powerhouse chorus with soprano interjections and we awaited either Ms. Fetrow or Ms. LaMotte to step forward. And at the appropriate section it was Ms. Fetrow's clarion strains which came ringing out gloriously from within the ranks of the soprano section of the chorus, where she had been singing throughout the afternoon when not delighting us with her solo abilities.

Ms. LaMotte for her own two solo turns proved to be a fine singer in a more fluidly even vocal manner. Her voice, too, showed no signs of strain throughout her compass and she was able to imbue her singing with nuance and restraint.

Tenor Nathan Davis possesses a beautiful, evenly produced instrument that is the very essence of baroque exactitude and *bel canto *cantabile line. I only wish he would have chosen to "let go" and become more dramatically involved with the text. He also has a natural richness to his middle and lower registers that doesn't convey itself in his upper register, hence its lack of bite and loss of some color.

Mezzo-soprano Maragaret Bragle simply has a gorgeous voice. She can produce her *legato sound with just the right amount of drama necessary, and her text readings were generally excellent. She has a smooth line and employs dynamics very well. Her diction was first rate even in fast moving coloratura passages. I could listen to her sing a cookbook. Her beautiful rendering of the alto aria in Part II, “Thou Shalt Bring Them In,” was delivered with effortless projection and line. As my scribbled note's state, "she is the cat's meow."

A further rarity within the genre of oratorio and within the pages of this innovative work is the aria for two basses, “The Lord Is a Man of War.” It's great good fun to have two of the lower voices going at it with one another, and Handel delivered some rollicking contrapuntal writing. Baritone Tim Wilds and bass-baritone Douglas Millar both gave rip-roaring performances with Mr. Millar taking the top prize for his more mellifluous and even tempered vocal production. Mr. Wilds seemed to enjoy grabbing his highest notes, stopping just short of barking and hence spreading his tone a bit, whereas Mr. Millar came off with a finer sense of fluidity and finesse. Mr. Millar also displayed a rounder, smoother curve to his top notes than Mr. Wilds.

A very American opera
Singing the foremost concern
Sunday, May 2, 2004
By Mary Morse

Westminster Opera Theater. "Little Women." Playhouse, Westminster Choir College of Rider University, Princeton

Westminster Opera Theater's sprightly production of the beloved classic, Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, made us understand why Mark Adamo's operatic interpretation has received such acclaim in the years since its Houston premiere in 1998. While Adamo's libretto omits Jo's haircut and many other familiar scenes from the novel, its compressed focus on the maturing March sisters still rings true.

The opera was double-cast for most major roles. For the Sunday matinee performance I attended, mezzo-soprano Abigail Nims was Jo, the aspiring writer and tomboy. Nims effortlessly played both sides of Jo's character: the pensive poet who understands loss all too well and the take-charge sister who drafts her sisters and neighbor Laurie for her attic melodramas. Nims is a graduate student, but all of the other major roles were taken by undergraduate students. Jo doesn't have the show stopping arias (surprisingly, Meg and the German professor Bhaer get those), but she appears in almost every scene. Nims asserted Jo's fierce passions and loyalties with crisp articulations and eloquent expressiveness. The few times she wasn't onstage, we missed her.

As the opera begins, Jo kneels in front of an open trunk, obviously filled with childhood treasures. When her former beau and now-brother-in-law Laurie (Steven Brennfleck) joins her, both remember their shared adolescence. While no song actually carries the title "Wasn't it perfect as it was?" the verbal and musical repetition of this motif marks Jo's resistance to change. Brennfleck's tenor was pleasant, but he couldn't capture the charming quicksilver shifts of Alcott's Laurie, a problem shared by many screen actors who have taken on the role. When Meg (Jenna Lebherz) announces her love for John Brooke (Tony Beck), Laurie's tutor, Jo accuses Meg of abandoning her. Meg's response, a coloratura aria, "Things Change, Jo, " has become a popular new recital song.

Lebherz, while lacking Nims' vibrant stage presence, sang with clarity and ease. As Friedrich Bhaer, the German expatriate who captures Jo's heart, Sean Guerrier almost stole the show. His rich baritone in "Kennst du das Land, " an aria modeled after a Schubert lied, confirmed why he won first place in the 2004 Eastern Region MATS competition. As always with a Westminster production, sets and costumes played second fiddle to the vocalists. In the case of Little Women, the decision to hang several quilts and nightgowns on a clothesline as the most frequent set, seemed entirely in keeping with Alcott's portrayal of the March family's spare and simple life.

Kudos to Westminster Opera Theatre for tackling a new work in a time when even major opera companies seldom deviate from the tried and true standards. I missed New York City Opera's production of Little Women, so this was the first time I had heard the opera live. While I hope to enjoy it on other stages in the future, Westminster's performance will become my yardstick.

Colonial Symphony Orchestra, David Gilbert and Peter Schickele, guest conductors, Schickele (narrator). William Bolcom: Commedia ("For An Almost 18th Century Orchestra"); Peter Schickele: Uptown Hoedown; Saint-Saëns: Carnival of the Animals; Beethoven: Symphony no. 8 in F major. Community Theatre, Morristown

The Colonial Symphony ended its season on two distinctive notes. One musical and the other more personal and tinged with a bit of sadness. The performances of the ensemble throughout the evening were first rate and the conducting of David Gilbert was full of energy, insight, and incisiveness. He imbued all the works with a crisply articulated and dramatically infused sensibility. Mr. Schickele brought unflagging wit and bounteous energy to his own pastiche, Uptown Hoedown, as well as his own (rather than the oft-used Ogden Nash) poems preceding the individual movements of Saint-Saens Carnival of the Animals, infusing it all with his usual hilarious antic behavior.

The concert opened with Pulitzer Prize winning composer William Bolcom's Commedia for (almost) 18th century Orchestra. The piece is eclectic, incorporating music that is both as up-to-date post-modernist as one could wish for (or not) and neo-, well neo-practically-everything: a bit of baroque, classical, romantic, modernist, and even pop styles all juxtaposed and blended together to create a mélange of musical material that jumbles and tumbles its pieces over and about each other at breakneck speed. The wilder string outbursts are offset by a sweetly *cantabile trio between two violins and a cello that offers respite and charm. With all of the dissonances and flourishing punctuations between the string sections and woodwinds rollicking back and forth, this virtuoso whirlwind of a short work struck me as being the offspring of a Carl Stallings “Looney Tunes” cartoon. It's a virtuoso showpiece for the orchestra and they and Mr. Gilbert carried it off with panache, even in the most challenging rhythmic sections. My only complaint is that one of the two violins in the trio section(s) was a bit under pitch and thus threw the dulcet balance slightly more out of whack than intended by the composer.

Mr. Schickele literally bounded out onto the stage to conduct his composition Uptown Hoedown, a humorous mish-mash of tunes and styles for which Bolcom’s Commedia had prepared us. Mr. Schickele pointed out that like Camille Saint-Saens' Carnival of the Animals, his work, too, drew on some already existing tunes and then turned around to conduct this most clever collection and distortion of musical offerings that incorporated melodies from Mozart and Beethoven to American folk tunes and even children's ditties, all exuberantly arranged by Mr. Schickele and wonderfully performed by the Colonial forces who played the exacting counter rhythms of the different tunes with easy expertise. There wasn't one collision let alone a single fender bender.

My own favorite outright steal and glorious bit of fun was when the orchestra broke into “Animal Crackers,” an absolutely brilliant arrangement and boisterously rousing to boot. Mr. Schickele conducted with an abundant energy that belies his 69 years on the planet.

Camille Saint-Saens only allowed two performances of Carnival of the Animals during his lifetime - one public performance for the Société de la Trompette and the other in a private performance requested by his close friend Franz Liszt. He feared that more performances would damage his enviable reputation as one of France's and the world's leading "serious" composers. Only the “Swan” movement featuring solo cello was published during Saint-Saens lifetime and proved to be a highly popular piece.

The complete work depicts a varied menagerie of animals and is highly parodistic. It was originally scored for two pianos and small orchestra, including glass harp but usually performed with a celesta or glockenspiel. This performance featured Barry Centanni on xylophone. The piano parts were transcribed by the Colonial pianist Allison Brewster Franzetti for one piano and were performed by her with stunning virtuosity. Throughout the entire work Ms. Franzetti was the model of marvelous sonority, power balanced with the finest detail of nuance and rich, full flavor.

Mr. Gilbert conducted a dynamically strong performance that was a full mix of frivolity and seriousness. All of the members of the orchestra shone in their individual spotlights. Special note must be given to first chair cellist Bruce Wang's rendition of “The Swan” which was imbued with firmly centered tone, whether spinning out the most delicately gossamer web of melody or creating the warmest of expressive fortes.

The piano accompaniment of Ms. Franzetti in this segment was an example of the highest artistry in the service of the whole.

Mr. Schickele's narration of his own short poems were suitably comedic, full of jocularity and wit. His actions were hilarious, whether goading a tortoise in its race underneath the folding letters of Saint-Saens name spelled out across the stage or tapping concertmaster Jorge Avila on the shoulder at the conclusion of the “Hens and Cocks” section, finally asking him to stand up. Whereupon Mr. Schickele removed an egg from the chair evoking outright laughter from the audience.

Shifting gears considerably, the post-intermission concert concluded with Beethoven's Eighth Symphony, a masterpiece of the genre, hearkening back to the Classical period from which he emerged and from which he broke away.

Many musicologists and scholars have argued that it is a parody or even satirical coming as it does between the startling breakthroughs and innovations of the Seventh and Ninth symphonies. I have always thought of the Eighth as more of a loving homage and final flexing of the musical muscles before embarking on the form shattering complexities of the Ninth. The Eighth is not without many charms of its own. It is a short work, about the same length as the First. Yet its architectural structure is original in both form and tonal coloring. Beethoven in the first movement and again in the fourth, modulates to distant keys, and utilizes extremely rigorous logic in finding his way back. The second movement is most notable for its "tribute" to his good friend Johannes Nepomuk Maelzel, the inventor of the *metronome, and has a rhythmic tick tocking in the strings that is utterly beguiling and highly reminiscent of Haydn's “Clock” Symphony. It is also in *sonata form but without formal development. The third movement *minuet is remarkably the only minuet Beethoven ever wrote for a symphony.

The Colonial Symphony seemed at odds with this work in the opening movement, and I missed a crispness of articulation, sensing instead a lack of clarity between the sections < not too horrible, but slightly muddled. Mt. Gilbert was on top of the situation though and pulled the musical shape firmly into place before the movement's end. From then on it was clear and exciting sailing. The *Allegretto scherzando was finely balanced with the precision of the metronome firmly in evidence. The minuet was filled with good dramatic sense: the cello section’s passagework was strongly phrased, and Gilbert's conducting kept the whole running on all cylinders. The *Allegro vivace got off to an overdriven start for my tastes but none the less with compelling playing. The *staccato notes in the opening section were more staccato than I've ever heard them. Overall, this movement was carefully shaded dynamically as the Colonial players responded to every conductorial nuance. There was heft and bounce to the rhythms and it was all brought to a tautly honed finale.

Prior to the formal concert of the evening the Jazz Ensemble from Morristown High School, with which the Colonial Symphony has an alliance through an outreach musical education program, performed two selections: George Gershwin's “Summertime” in an arrangement by Michael Sweeney and “Big Noise -From Winetka,” the Bob Haggart and Ray Baudue classic, in an arrangement by Paul Lavender. Both arrangements had ample color and rich ensemble sound. The high school students brought magnificent drive and energy to these pieces, startling for players so young. The featured soloists were aptly proficient in their spotlights, exhibiting talent that showed much promise.

The sadly tinged note of distinction mentioned at the beginning of this article was the announcement at the end of Martin Bookspan's pre-concert lecture that it was to be his last. He is retiring and moving to Florida after a long career as an outstanding and erudite musicologist, author, critic, and radio and television host and commentator, most famously as the announcer of the New York Philharmonic broadcasts as well as the “Live from Lincoln Center” telecasts. Those in the classical community for years have fondly referred to him simply as "The Voice" for his sonorous tonality and impeccable insights. To say he will be missed is wholly inadequate. The retirement of Mr. Bookspan is the end of an era in many respects and although it was noted in the upcoming season circular in my program that pre-concert lectures are planned, I feel that his wit, intelligence, erudition and scholarly knowledge will be irreplaceable. I personally wish Mr. Bookspan the most joyous and fulfilling of retirements.

A grown-up opera in fairy-tale guise
Continuing the trend toward concert opera
Saturday, May 22, 2004
By Robert W. Butts

Coro Lirico, Italo Marchini (conductor), Mozart's The Magic Flute. Guillermo Lagundino (Tamino), Mathew Burns (Papageno), Valerie Bernhardt (Pamina), Lorraine Ernest (Queen of the Night), Luiz-Ottavio Faria (Sarastro), Curtis Watkins (Monostatos), Susan Lewis (Papagena) with the Haddonfield Symphony Orchestra. Presented at St. Virgil's Church, Morris Plains.

Opera or opera as oratorio? Fully staged, unstaged, semi-staged? In costume or concert dress? Super titles, printed libretto, synopsis or narration? In original language or translation? Off book or on? It seems there are increasingly numerous ways for companies to present opera with various degrees of audience involvement. When considering the possibilities it also becomes clear that some operas work better in some formats than in others. Some work best < or even only < when presented in a particular way. Then there are those rare few operas which seem to maintain audience interest regardless of how they are presented. Leading the pack in this regard must be Mozart's The Magic Flute, delightfully presented on this occasion by Coro Lirico in concert, in English, in concert dress, with narration, and including nominal but quite effective semi-staging.

As regards the staging, it should be mentioned that a large part of the success in this area had less to do with the actual movements than with the fact that all singers knew their parts by memory - no heads in music here! - and were visually in character at all times, singing with perfectly communicative diction conveying every word as well as every musical phrase.

Not that any of this helped the story make sense, but that didn't really matter. As conductor Italo Marchini stated in his brief pre-concert words, on some level everybody knows the opera is about growing up. Despite two centuries of collective interpretive baggage, at root are ideals of self-discipline vs. desires and the acceptance of reality of life as a rough road to personal fulfillment rather than life as a dream in which we get what we want simply because we want it. If anything, these deeper meanings of the work, undoubtedly a major if unconscious factor in the opera's unbroken history of popularity, came through because of the lack of elaborate stage elements. With no dragon, designed either to resemble something plausibly real or very clearly just fantastical, listeners were immediately drawn towards Tamino as somebody chased by something only he could actually define and therefore something that could resemble every listener's personal dragon.

The only element of the production that did not quite work was the use of the chorus to represent the three ladies and the three spirits - or three boys to be more precise both in literal translation of the German word Knaben and in keeping with the opera's male/female symmetry. At times, it sounded fine, but at other times, particularly in some musically tricky moments of Act II, the sound seemed too heavy for the scoring. In the ensemble closing the first scene, the sheer numbers of chorus singers proved too much for anybody to adequately hear Tamino’s or Papageno's parts of the quintet. These important concerns aside, the chorus sang with gusto and relish throughout, creating a thrilling sound that fully conveyed Mozart's blend of sacred and secular styles. The men were notably good in the Bach-like writing for the Armed Men in Act II.

Mr. Marchini led the performance with zest. His *tempi were tight and frequently a bit quicker than is sometimes heard, a difference that felt totally right. With the slightly quicker tempi, he managed to maintain dramatic as well as musical momentum that effectively drove the opera forward. The Haddonfield Symphony was a superb opera orchestra, conveying musical nuance as well as rich orchestral sound.

Tenor Guillermo Lagundino was a warm and likeable Tamino, his voice dark and dramatic rather than the more commonly cast lyrical. While he performed Mozart well, one longed to hear what he might do with a more Verdian role.

Baritone Mathew Burns was a crowd-pleasing Papageno. Displaying a terrific stage presence with beautifully fluid vocal technique, he brought the delightful bird catcher fully to life.

Valerie Bernhardt beautifully sang Pamina's every aria and ensemble, filling Morris Plains’ St. Vincent’s Church and reaching listeners with her warm tones and melodic understanding. She, like Lagundino, sounded heavier than the average Pamina and would similarly seem welcome in a Verdian context.

Bass-baritone Luis-Ottavio Faria was a solid Sarastro. His lowest notes were as rich and secure as his higher tones, bringing a complete musical presence to his performance and making both of Sarastro's hymn-like arias memorable.

Lorraine Ernest as the Queen of the Night sang her two notoriously difficult arias with energy and conviction, exciting the audience at every virtuosic turn.

Susan Lewis made the most of her brief stage appearance as a desirable Papagena for the long-waiting Papageno, both of whom wonderfully realized one of Mozart's most magical moments in their discovery of each other.

Perhaps it is that very magically whimsical moment that lies at the heart of the opera's most basic meaning and appeal. Life is filled with more trials and tribulations than can be imagined. Few, if any of us, can live every moment of every day in total self-discipline and/or self-denial. Yet, whether we seek absolute perfection with a partner or we merely seek to make a happy home with a partner, in the end what we do is face ourselves for who we are, aware of our own limitations and strengths.

Tamino's dragon was the destiny he probably felt unable to face at first and therefore ran away from. He learned < as did all in the opera and as we hope we all will at some point to face them head-on. With The Magic Flute Mozart and his librettist/producer Shickaneder created a fairy tale which needs only to be experienced to be understood, even if intellectually the individual parts often seem nonsensical.

Performed magically in concert, Coro Lirico, Marchini, and all the musicians and singers conveyed the universal meanings of what ultimately is one of opera's most human masterpieces.

Harmonium Choral Society, Anne Matlack (conductor), joined by the Lenape Valley Madrigals, Alyssa Marie Saunders (director). “Songs of Love”. Grace Episcopal Church, Madison.

Nineteen choral pieces, spanning five centuries, all on the theme of love, comprised this concert. This was indeed “a true variety show” as stated by Anne Matlack in her opening remarks.

The highlight was the premiere performances of the first and second prize winners of the Harmonium New Jersey High School Student Choral Composition Contest, judged by a board of professional composers. Kyle Boatwright’s “The Rain” won first prize, and Christine Woodbury’s “No Cinderella” won second prize.

Ms. Boatwright is a junior at Princeton Day School studying composition with Laurie Altman. Her fairly serious and richly harmonic piece contrasting rain with love was based on a poem by Robert Greeley.

Ms. Woodbury is a sophomore at Madison High School and studies composition with Paul Somers. Her piece, based on her own lyrics, had fun with the TV promotion of physical attraction.

A choral concert directed by Anne Matlack is always a great joy filled with crystal clear and precise sound as her energy and enthusiasm for the music infects not only the performers but also the audience. Dr. Matlack knows well the importance in the horizontal dimension of rich harmonics and in the vertical dimension of creating forward momentum. Couple all this with detailed program notes, also by Dr. Matlack, and you have a fine evening of choral entertainment.

Another world premiere, this one composed by an adult, was E. F. Corson’s “Love Interests.” The composer, a bass singer in Harmonium, is an experienced choral composer. Also heard was the New Jersey premiere of “Love Songs” by Matthew Harris, whose works have previously been sung by Harmonium including a well-received commission.

The remainder of the concert consisted of love songs from the renaissance to modern times. All were sung with verve and conviction. Harmonium singers always seem so enthusiastic during the concert, and it spills over into chat with them afterward.

Felix Hell returns
Virtuoso visits Sacred Heart
Sunday, May 23, 2004
A. Michael Noll

Felix Hell (organ). Bach: Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 539; Franck: Chorale in E Major; Gigout: Toccata in B minor; Rheinberger: Abendfriede; Boëllman: Suite Gothique, op. 25; Dupré: Prelude and Fugue in B Major, op. 7; Barber: Adagio for Strings; Liszt: Fantasy and Fugue on “Ad Nos ad Salutarem Undam.” Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Newark.

The amazing young organist Felix *Hell from Germany is only 18 years old and just completed his undergraduate Bachelor of Music from the Curtis Institute of Music as their youngest-ever organist to graduate. He will now begin his graduate studies at the Peabody Conservatory.

The Schantz organ at Newark’s Sacred Heart Cathedral has over 9500 pipes, and every one of them was clearly under Hell’s control as he played each piece flawlessly with finely nuanced choices of stops for the varied pieces in the recital, something possible on an organ with this many possibilities. The “Menuet Gothique” of Boëllman’s Suite Gothique was great fun, and the Liszt Fantasy and Fugue had great emotional power.

I was particularly impressed by the sheer beauty of the Barber Adagio for Strings (*a piece even more dear to Curtis grads than to most Americans) as arranged for organ by William Strickland. The climax was warmly expressive and was followed by quiet rumblings in the pedals. I wanted to hear it again and was happy when Hell played again it as an encore after asking the audience to remain quiet at the end to allow the sound to fade away in the vaulted spaces of the cathedral.

We are most appreciative of John Miller and his colleagues at the Music Ministries at the Cathedral for presenting Felix Hell for what has been his third recital there. For good reason: Hell always returns to the organ at the Cathedral where he has tamed its power well with a balance of fun and emotionality.

Chamber opera flourishes
Magic Flute for everyone
Sunday, May 23, 2004
By John Hammel

Stony Hill Players: Mozart: The Magic Flute, in English with Chamber Orchestra, Steven Jarvi (conductor); Jean Dembaugh (director). Tamino: David Kellet; 1st Lady: Barbara Nowicki; 2nd Lady: Kathleen Myrick; 3rd Lady: Elizabeth Moulton; Papageno: Gregory Wright; Queen of the Night: Erica Mundy; Monostatos: William Dembaugh; Pamina: Meredith Hoffmann-Thompson; 1s Spirit: Mitchell Facer; 2nd Spirit: William Shore; 3rd Spirit; Daniel O'Sullivan; Speaker: Randy Parker; 1st Priest: Norman Miller; 2nd Priest: Rick Roberts; 3rd Priest: Axel Anderson; Sarastro: Kevin Pruner; Two Armored Men: Axel Anderson and Matthew Lincoln; Papagena: Kember Lattimer. Oakes Memorial Church Summit.

The Stony Hill Players’ presentation of Mozart’s The Magic Flute was as charming and enjoyable a production as one could wish. Directed by Jean Dembaugh, it was in English with the standard cuts.

Ms. Dembaugh's direction was aptly concise, employing the parameters of the stage to neat advantage and giving the singers the opportunity to act and hold true to the veracity of the score and libretto. Set design by Rick Roberts was static but flavorsome and colorful. Movable scenery was easily and inconspicuously designed to create a sense of flow that didn't hinder the forward motion and energy of the production. Lighting design and lighting were by Bob Garmany and Bob Peiser and were professionally suitable and well balanced. The room itself was a bit boomy and had a tendency to obscure the diction in some ensemble singing but by and large was more than livable. It is a new space and possible future home for the Stony Hill Players, and I'm sure they will adapt to the characteristics of the acoustic in short order. There are overripe "sweet spots" on the stage where the voice gets picked up and projected out into the audience in an overly reverberant fashion.

Most of the leading roles were doubly cast, and I had no idea if I was present at an A or B cast or whether that sort of categorization was even necessary. Perhaps auditions were such that there was simply a plethora of talent on hand to negotiate two nearly full casts of outstanding vocalists. It certainly was a bonus considering the opera's run on successive days.

The vocal standout was the Pamina of Meredith Hoffman-Thomson. Pellucid tone and a true Mozartean shape to her phrasing were coupled with heartfelt, expressive acting and sumptuous tone that was totally even in register, culminating in a blossoming top. Ms. Hoffman-Thompson was able to swell and ebb her lines to create throbbing expression and intensity in her portrayal of the suffering and virtuously triumphant Pamina. Her suicide aria, “Ach, ich fuhl's,” was one of the most beautifully rendered I have ever heard: achingly, meltingly lovely.

David Kellett's voice has been an instrument that I have found appealing since I first heard him over 20 years ago. He had a refreshing lyric quality then that was sufficient in carrying power up to his higher register where it would take on a slightly driven quality. He always reminded me of having a smoothness like "Tito Schipa" several generations ago. Kellett’s voice is a finely produced instrument, and he has retained that smoothness of line and production throughout the registers even as age has darkened the tone and added weight. Thus he has now acquired a deeper intensity to other enviable aspects of his singing. What I found lacking in his portrayal, though, was a sense of ease and nuance as well as suppleness of phrasing that is a cornerstone of great Mozartean singing. With that said, I found his performance to be both ardent and powerful as he found the right balance of stoicism and romantic aspiration in his character.

The three ladies were charming and comic by turns, showing off their characters to best advantage. Their harmonies by and large were exquisite with the exception of the First Lady's tendency to flatten out at times in her extreme high range. The two lower voices acquitted themselves admirably, and I wish there was an aria available in the opera that would have shown off the plummy timbre of Third Lady Elizabeth Moulton.

The Papageno of Gregory Wright was troublesome: there was no magic to his voice; his intonation was very often off the center of pitch; his vocal line was uneven; and he was satisfied to bark his notes rather than sing them. Loud without being large, his voice had a slight rasp and breathiness that revealed a technique that forces him to sing on the vocal cords rather than allowing the air to pass through them unhindered. His acting was noticeably deficient in its lack of the true comic insight into the nature his character. Throughout the afternoon, Mr. Wright seemed more concerned with insuring that his head-piece was on straight than with focusing on his character, which came off as impossibly prissy with too many fey affectations.

Erica Mundy seemed a bit on the youngish side to be tackling so formidable a role as the Queen of the Night. She struggled valiantly with the part, and by and large her singing was up to the task, but there was a bit of push evident in the middle which wobbled the vocal production. Her low register was covered and rightfully lightened and her top was strong but in a lyrical not a dramatic sense. A lyric coloratura can sing this role easily enough but Ms. Mundy just seemed miscast. She came up on the short side of the first high F in the Act I aria, but in that regard she's in good company. I've heard some of the greatest sopranos of the past 40 years do the same. Her second act aria was more proficient, and Ms. Mundy popped off her high notes - including the frightening Fs - appealingly.

Kevin Pruner's Sarastro lacked the depth and profundity of a true basso but he sang the role with conviction. His is a purely produced tone albeit a light baritone. So the proper gravitas of the part was missing. His acting was fine and the voice in and of itself is a beautiful instrument. Just not quite right for the part.

Monastatos is a difficult part to pull off. He is often utilized for comic relief and his lusts are the tragic flaw at the center of this character, as the Queen of the Night's is her prideful arrogance. I would like to see his part taken to a deeper level in some future production as there are aspects of his character that are never challenged. Perhaps most directors wish to forego the innate cruelty that is at the core of his lustful ambitions. I find it intriguing though that someone who is a slave finds it so easy to emulate the characters of the master rather than sublimate them.

Bill Dembaugh played Monastatos as he is usually portrayed with a deft comic turn and seedy lustful impulses. His singing was easily the most legato I've ever heard in the role. This was not surprising as Mr. Dembaugh employs an "old school" bel canto technique that sustains him capably through the travails that would normally plague other singers.

The Papagena of Kember Lattimer was everything this role could be. Charming, gracious, vivacious, comically enchanting and a clearly strong and focused soprano voice with impeccable diction. The voice had what teachers and singers call "ping" a placement firmly centered between the eyes in the bridge of the nose that allows a spinning type of energy to shoot the tones to the farthest reaches of a hall without a sense of strain. A lovely performance; unfortunately the role too short.

Overall this was a satisfying production of The Magic Flute that captured the wonder of Mozart's musical fairy world, generally well balanced and with a rousing finale by all of the forces in the opera gathered on stage to bring it to a close with a powerfully climactic ending.

The chamber orchestra was more than adequate to the task at hand, providing ample color and underlining the dramatic and comic elements by turn with strong surety of purpose. In the extreme humidity the upper strings had their work cut out for them keeping themselves in tune but managed to weather on ably in spite of the sogginess of the afternoon. Conductor and Musical Director Steven Jarvi was an excellent leader and conducted with brisk flavor, giving cues strongly and capturing the essence of the Mozartean spirit. Pianist Linda Eriksen was her usual outstanding self, adding depth and color from the keyboard.

Mozart's The Magic Flute, his last fully completed composition, is a rare combination of farcical symbology and metaphor coupled with a finely honed dramatic sense of wonder and awe. It sets fairy tale adventurism against a background steeped in obscure Masonic ritual and elicited a rare compliment from the normally taciturn Beethoven himself when he later declared that "Mozart's greatest work remains The Magic Flute." It was an instant success from its very first performance on September 30, 1791 at Emanuel Schikaneder's Theater auf der Wieden. *Schikaneder was in financial trouble and asked his good friend and fellow Freemason Mozart for assistance by collaborating on a project that would take advantage of the public's fascination and taste for Zauberopern (magic works) based on mythological tales. These popular works incorporated preposterous situations and spectacular stage effects.

The opera emerged from a dark period in Mozart's life, one that was plagued by ill health, severe financial straits, and a troubled marriage. He wrote in a letter, “If people could see into my heart they would see everything is cold - cold as ice.” An astonishing aspect is that at the same time Mozart was composing The Magic Flute he was also working on two other compositions: a commission for La Clemenza di Tito, an opera to celebrate the coronation of King Leopold II of Bohemia, and his Requiem Mass.

The Magic Flute appealed to the childlike sense of wonder and awe that sustained Mozart in his most downhearted periods. It also touched on his idealistic belief in love and its power of freedom, releasing the laughter of the soul. The opera's young lovers, Tamino and Pamina, relinquish individual freedom for love's sake and hence attain a deeper freedom by discovering love’s dependence on one to the other, thus freeing them of ungenerous feelings and becoming something greater than each could be individually. It is their joy and sublime happiness that is the mirror held up to each of us, the audience. That noble message, with its accompanying splendor of plot and fantastical sub-plots and situations, may be one reason why The Magic Flute has endured and delighted audiences from its inception to the present day.

The opera is also psychological, affecting the audience on myriad subliminal levels. There is the mightily beneficent father figure Sarastro, whom some have put forth as a wish fulfillment fantasy of Mozart's own relationship with his dominating and manipulative father Leopold. Yet regardless of the psychological nuances and meanings, the true universal appeal of The Magic Flute lies in its hero's quest for love and a true home and its impulse for deep and enduring freedom.

There are also those who find anti-feminism inherent in the opera, but I believe that accusation to be a case of 21st century mores being imposed on 18th century sensibilities. It is true that the Queen of the Night is more than a bit of a shrill harpy, but she was meant to be easily recognized by Schikaneder's audiences as a satiric parody of the autocratic Austrian empress Maria Theresa. Sarastro was easily recognized as her more benevolent and benign successor, Joseph II. And keep in mind that not only is Pamina accepted with Tamino into Sarastro's temple (very much against the practices of any Masonic lodge), but it is she, not Tamino, who leads the way bravely through the trials by fire and water after first deciphering the riddles that must be solved. It is her unquestioning bravery and devotion to Tamino that is the much stronger influence in the opera.

[Those who wish to complain about sexism should perhaps take a look at Carmen usually staged with its opposed feminine stereotypes of chaste Michaela and the erotic tease title character. But Carmen is too popular to touch. - Ed.]

Mozart lived only a short two months after the opening of The Magic Flute, and one can well imagine that its triumph, both artistically and with the general public, must have brought no short measure of joy to an ailing body and heart. Its popularity has not diminished over the course of its 213 years and has been an opera that is able to hold the fascination of both young and old alike in its near perfect universal musical and dramatic blending.