Estados Unidos
Santa Fe Opera 1: The Balancing Act
Jesse Simon
The first proper collaboration between
Strauss and von Hofmannsthal -after Elektra, which was the setting of an
extant play- resulted in an improbable gem: if the situations in Der
Rosenkavalier lean in the direction of comedy, its light mood and nostalgic
comforts are underscored by a strain of melancholy that offsets its potential
for saccharine sentimentality. The new production at this summer’s Santa Fe
Opera, directed by Bruno Ravella, managed to capture much of the opera’s fine
emotional balance, but was perhaps even more notable for the quality of its
musical performances, especially the Marschallin of Rachel Willis-Sørensen and
the taut musical direction of Karina Canellakis.
Since its foundation in the late 1950s the
Santa Fe Opera has had a special relationship with the works of Strauss: it has
been the site of no fewer than six US premières, and has offered North American
audiences the chance to experience many of the lesser-performed later works.
Somewhat surprisingly this was the Opera’s first Rosenkavalier in over
thirty years, although the reasons for its absence are understandable: it can
be a challenging work to stage, requiring an unusually large cast and a
director who can move effortlessly from chaotic crowd scenes to intimate
moments of emotional honesty while maintaining the thread of the drama.
The new Santa Fe staging, a co-production
with Garsington and the Irish National Opera, was logistically ambitious -the
complex set-change between the second and third acts earned a rare round of
applause for the stage crew- but was directed with such attention to detail and
such a strong feeling for its characters that the story emerged with the
requisite clarity and lightness. The sets, which featured baroque relief
ornaments expanded to unwieldy size, offered a freewheeling reinterpretation of
high-Viennese luxury, while the costumes ranged freely from eighteenth to
early-twentieth century (the Baron’s attire was especially outlandish); but if
the staging took a casual approach to the opera’s intended setting, it remained
deeply traditional in its general adherence to the libretto. It was not a
staging that seemed intent on telling us anything new about the characters or
taking the plot in unexpected directions; rather it was content to stay within
the bounds set by the opera itself.
Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier. Karina Canellakis, conductor. Bruno Ravella, director. Santa Fe Opera 2024. © 2024 by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera.
Yet the staging was successful, both as an
entertainment and an illumination of the text, due in large part to Mr
Ravella’s ability to craft sharply-defined characters. Admittedly, his penchant
for broad physical comedy got the better of some scenes: Valzacchi and Annina
were consistently a little too far over the top, and Faninal’s high-strung
histrionics seemed too extreme a reaction to the surrounding events. Nor did
some of the opera’s busiest scenes attain the necessary level of manic
intensity: the Marschallin’s visiting hours in the first act were somewhat
subdued, and the second half of the second act didn’t quite achieve the frantic
momentum it so obviously required.
But the staging’s moments of caution and
indulgence were balanced by long episodes in which the relationships between
the characters were delineated by subtly revealing actions. The Marschallin’s
pointed glances throughout the first act gave her an intriguing ambivalence;
Octavian’s momentary loss of composure on first seeing Sophie set the tone for
their mutual attraction; and in the final part of the third act the complex
emotions of the three characters were rendered with a minimum of excess action.
If the staging never allowed us to forget that Rosenkavalier was a
comedy, its finest scenes had the charged intimacy of a chamber drama.
Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier. Karina Canellakis, conductor. Bruno Ravella, director. Santa Fe Opera 2024. © 2024 by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera.
The libretto may devote most of its
attention to the thwarting of the Baron and the nascent romance of Sophie and
Octavian, but Rachel Willis-Sørensen ensured that the Marschallin remained the evening’s
central presence. Her opening scenes had a detached refinement -made all the
more apparent when set against Octavian’s impetuousness and the Baron’s
coarseness- and she maintained a suitably noble bearing during the trials
of her morning audience; yet the humanity beneath the façade, present even in
the earliest scenes, emerged clearly during her finely crafted monologue, in
which youthful reminiscences and meditations on time were presented with a lack
of sentimentality and a compelling hint of bitterness that made her rejection
of Octavian all the more plausible. Indeed Ms Willis-Sørensen established such
a presence in the first act that, when she reappeared mid-way through the third,
it had the effect of restoring order to the action: both her dismissal of the
Baron and her contribution to the climactic trio were highlights of the
evening.
Matthew Rose embraced fully the irredeemably
uncouth manner of the Baron, presenting him with a deft mixture of pompous
self-importance and clownish swagger. But if the character’s garish costumes
and bright-red side-whiskers suggested little more than a stock buffoon, Mr
Rose’s intelligent, conversational delivery of the fast-paced dialogue in his
initial meeting with the Marschallin gave unexpected depth to a figure who can
often appear one-dimensional. Certainly Mr Rose approached the Baron’s least
savoury moments with gusto -his little waltz in the second act was suitably
crass- but his measured delivery, and his refusal to play the role solely for
laughs, provided a solid centre amidst the chaos of the third act.
Paula Murrihy’s Octavian was credibly
ardent in the first act -there was a volatile energy in all her interactions
with the Marschallin- but her performance gained in depth during her scenes
with Sophie in the second; she also seemed to delight in the comic potential of
the Mariandel scenes. As Sophie, Ying Fang greeted the emotional tumult of
Octavian’s arrival with a handful of elegantly-crafted high notes, but revealed
a defiant edge when confronted with the threat of the Baron. While both Ms Fang
and Ms Murrihy enjoyed individual moments of distinction, they were at their
best when singing together, and their two scenes in the second act were among
the evening’s highlights.
Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier. Karina Canellakis, conductor. Bruno Ravella, director. Santa Fe Opera 2024. © 2024 by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera.
The staging may have made easy work of the
story, but it was the musical direction of Karina Canellakis that gave the
evening its infectious momentum and dramatic unity. The first act especially
was a marvel of pacing: brisk but unforced during the breakfast scene, buoyant
and vigorous during the Marschallin/Baron/Octavian trio, but solemn,
introspective and deliberate for the Marschallin’s monologue; and in the third
act, the woozy offstage waltzes were set against a sense of restraint that kept
the action from growing too chaotic. Although Ms Canellakis favoured a lean
sound that, in a handful of passages, seemed at odds with conventional
Straussian opulence, her ability to summon clear string textures and refined
woodwind playing yielded countless sections in which narrative drive and
orchestral detail existed in perfect balance.
Balance, indeed, was one of the hallmarks
of the evening: the staging, instead of veering too far from the mainstream
performance tradition, devoted its energies to finding the mid-point between the
libretto’s comedic and melodramatic strains, while the singers and orchestra
were consistently able to navigate the score’s sudden shifts between the
burlesque and the beautiful. Rosenkavalier may be a challenging work to
stage and perform, but when given such a well-crafted staging and such well-judged
performances, it is a remarkably easy work to enjoy.
Comentarios