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SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL OPERA REVIEW
Monteverdi, L'Incoronazione di Poppea: Soloists, Juilliard415
(Orchestra), Henry Bicket
(conductor), Juilliard's Peter Jay Sharp Theater, New York, 17.11.2010 (SSM)
I have to admit that for many years, before I had actually listened to and attended a production of L'Incoronazione di Poppea, I thought the opera was about the coronation of a pope. It didn't take long for me to realize this was not the case: there is a coronation in the opera not of a pope but of the seductive and scheming mistress of Emperor Nerone, Poppea. It's difficult not to give the ending away, a complaint made to film critics but rarely to opera reviewers. In this particular case, though, it is almost impossible to discuss the opera intelligently without revealing the spoiler. Yes, Nerone does crown Poppea as Empress, a surprisingly modern twist, an anti-hero and anti-heroine (words that hadn't even been coined yet in English) who walk off happily into the sunset with blood on their hands. In some ways, the honesty, truthfulness and psychological perspicuity of the character realizations are way ahead of the time.
As with Chaucer and Shakespeare, early markers on the timelines of their art, the creators of this opera, Monteverdi and librettist Francesco Busenello, had no rigid tradition to follow. They were free from the pressures and restrictions of religion, royalty and governments that might decree, for example, that an opera's ending had to contain a certain kind of moral paradigm, or that it could not portray royalty as self-serving or just plain evil (which this opera does). If the music at the end were a little less joyful, the words a little less care-free, or the point was made that Poppea's ultimate end is to be stomped to death by Nerone, then one might be able to make a case that the ending contained a moral lesson; but again this does not occur.
L'Incoronazione di Poppea has an unauthenticated provenance, as is the case with most operas of the period. In terms of historical performing practice this is a best-guess situation, with Alan Curtis' edition the most successful compilation of source material. The instrumentation in the Julliard performance, which was completely satisfying, was the barest possible. Curtis' edition calls for two recorders. By comparison, Rene Jacobs' version for his 1993 production includes recorders, trumpets, cornets and dulcian. With strings, three theorbos, organ and Baroque harp, the orchestral timbre was just right for the singers. In this mixed environment of arias, ariosos and recitatives, the musicians provided an accompaniment that supported the singers but never overwhelmed them.
The decision as to which gender sings which part here comes close to being historically and artistically correct. This director's use of the existential conflict between the character's gender and the gender of the actor/actress added tension to the opera, creating at times a discomfort that strangely enhanced the opera's appeal and success. There was no attempt to transpose any of the music to meet the needs of any one singer's tessitura. This can happen in the case of Nerone, who is often performed by a male tenor at the expense of the wonderfully pure harmony in the soprano-soprano duets of Nerone and Poppea. Cecelia Hall, in another pants role, sang with even greater confidence than she did last year in her eponymous role in Juilliard's production of Handel's Ariodante. Haeran Hong, who also performed in a smaller role in Ariodante, was both sensuous and slithery. She handled some of the difficult melismas as if she were simply speaking and not running through octaves with her silvery voice.
Once again, I must compliment Robert Mealy for his modestly titled “A Note on the Opera,” which runs several pages in the playbill and is considerably more readable and scholarly than equivalent articles in the Grove Dictionary of Music. I've some minor caveats. It is understandable that an attempt was made to present a complete opera without cuts. It is difficult though to keep one's attention focused for the first act's long hour-and-a-half, particularly when what seemed like a large part of that time was devoted to Nerone and Poppea saying goodbye. The acting was as good as the singing, except in the case of Nick Zammit's Ottone, who didn't seem to know what to do with his hands and at one point was seen searching the stage for a position marker.
Each singer was faultless in both stylistic understanding and vocal technique. This cast might be young, but in musical ability they are more mature than many singers twice their age. This production gave ample evidence to belie the common notion that there is no future for music of the past.
Stan Metzger
Director: Edward Berkeley
Conductor: Harry Bicket
Set Designer: John Kasarda
Costume Designer: Kim Krumm Sorenson
Lighting Designer: Kate Ashton
Cast:
Poppea: Haeran Hong
Ottavia: Naomi O'Connell
Nerone: Cecelia Hall
Ottone: Nick Zammit
Arnalta: Daniel T. Curran
Seneca: Liam Moran
Coronation Scene Photos - Photo:Courtesy of Nan Melville.
I have to admit that for many years, before I had actually listened to and attended a production of L'Incoronazione di Poppea, I thought the opera was about the coronation of a pope. It didn't take long for me to realize this was not the case: there is a coronation in the opera not of a pope but of the seductive and scheming mistress of Emperor Nerone, Poppea. It's difficult not to give the ending away, a complaint made to film critics but rarely to opera reviewers. In this particular case, though, it is almost impossible to discuss the opera intelligently without revealing the spoiler. Yes, Nerone does crown Poppea as Empress, a surprisingly modern twist, an anti-hero and anti-heroine (words that hadn't even been coined yet in English) who walk off happily into the sunset with blood on their hands. In some ways, the honesty, truthfulness and psychological perspicuity of the character realizations are way ahead of the time.
As with Chaucer and Shakespeare, early markers on the timelines of their art, the creators of this opera, Monteverdi and librettist Francesco Busenello, had no rigid tradition to follow. They were free from the pressures and restrictions of religion, royalty and governments that might decree, for example, that an opera's ending had to contain a certain kind of moral paradigm, or that it could not portray royalty as self-serving or just plain evil (which this opera does). If the music at the end were a little less joyful, the words a little less care-free, or the point was made that Poppea's ultimate end is to be stomped to death by Nerone, then one might be able to make a case that the ending contained a moral lesson; but again this does not occur.
L'Incoronazione di Poppea has an unauthenticated provenance, as is the case with most operas of the period. In terms of historical performing practice this is a best-guess situation, with Alan Curtis' edition the most successful compilation of source material. The instrumentation in the Julliard performance, which was completely satisfying, was the barest possible. Curtis' edition calls for two recorders. By comparison, Rene Jacobs' version for his 1993 production includes recorders, trumpets, cornets and dulcian. With strings, three theorbos, organ and Baroque harp, the orchestral timbre was just right for the singers. In this mixed environment of arias, ariosos and recitatives, the musicians provided an accompaniment that supported the singers but never overwhelmed them.
The decision as to which gender sings which part here comes close to being historically and artistically correct. This director's use of the existential conflict between the character's gender and the gender of the actor/actress added tension to the opera, creating at times a discomfort that strangely enhanced the opera's appeal and success. There was no attempt to transpose any of the music to meet the needs of any one singer's tessitura. This can happen in the case of Nerone, who is often performed by a male tenor at the expense of the wonderfully pure harmony in the soprano-soprano duets of Nerone and Poppea. Cecelia Hall, in another pants role, sang with even greater confidence than she did last year in her eponymous role in Juilliard's production of Handel's Ariodante. Haeran Hong, who also performed in a smaller role in Ariodante, was both sensuous and slithery. She handled some of the difficult melismas as if she were simply speaking and not running through octaves with her silvery voice.
Once again, I must compliment Robert Mealy for his modestly titled “A Note on the Opera,” which runs several pages in the playbill and is considerably more readable and scholarly than equivalent articles in the Grove Dictionary of Music. I've some minor caveats. It is understandable that an attempt was made to present a complete opera without cuts. It is difficult though to keep one's attention focused for the first act's long hour-and-a-half, particularly when what seemed like a large part of that time was devoted to Nerone and Poppea saying goodbye. The acting was as good as the singing, except in the case of Nick Zammit's Ottone, who didn't seem to know what to do with his hands and at one point was seen searching the stage for a position marker.
Each singer was faultless in both stylistic understanding and vocal technique. This cast might be young, but in musical ability they are more mature than many singers twice their age. This production gave ample evidence to belie the common notion that there is no future for music of the past.
Note: Since this review was written we have learned that Nick Zammit (Ottone) was suffering from a severe eye infection during this performance. It seems only fair that we should pass this information on. Ed