Nem Manon (de Puccini), nem Manon Lescaut (de Massenet) me excitam por aí além. Uma ou outra vocalização, perdida aqui e ali, e pouco mais.
O facto é que, por inúmeras vezes, dei comigo a adquirir bilhetes para récitas cujo ponto de atracção residia, não na obra, mas sim nos intérpretes.
Mattila, em Manon Lescault, no Met! Que tríade fantástica!
Desta feita, não foi o caso... Não fui ao Met assistir à (seguramente soberba) Manon Mattila, com muita, muita pena minha.
A minha indisponibilidade é de lamentar, sobretudo depois da leitura desta ultra entusiasta critica, do The New York Times:
«There was basically one reason the Metropolitan Opera dusted off its drearily realistic, unbecoming old production of Puccini’s “Manon Lescaut” and brought it back to the house for the first time in 18 years on Tuesday night: the soprano Karita Mattila.
(…)
The daunting title role requires a classic lirico spinto soprano, a voice with both Italianate lyrical grace and weighty power. Ms. Mattila waited until her voice had gained maturity and richness before, when she was nearly 40, she first portrayed Manon Lescaut in 1999. That she was ready to bring her acclaimed Manon to the Met enticed James Levine to conduct the work for the first time since 1981.
Ms. Mattila, in splendid voice, did not disappoint. (…)
Though a lovely and mature Finnish woman, Ms. Mattila is such a compelling actress that she affectingly conveyed Manon’s girlish awkwardness. She acted with her voice as well, singing with burnished sound and nuanced expressivity.
(…)
The contrast with Mr. Giordani was telling. Here was the real thing, an Italian tenor who sang with ringing power and sweeping fervor. Yet for all his stylistic authenticity, his singing was overemotive, sometimes sloppy and vocally blatant. After a while, I thought, well, if this is idiomatic Puccini style, I’ll take Ms. Mattila’s affecting coolness.
As Manon evolved from a young, impulsive woman to the superficial plaything of Geronte, who keeps her in luxury, to the abandoned woman jailed for theft and exiled to Louisiana, Ms. Mattila sang with her own kind of stylistic authority.
In the demanding final scene, when she and des Grieux are dying in the wilderness (Puccini, seemingly with scant knowledge of Louisiana geography, set the scene in a desert on the outskirts of New Orleans), Ms. Mattila was riveting. In her disheveled gown, looking delirious, she sang most of the impassioned aria “Sola, perduta, abbandonata!” while lying on her side, struggling to sit up. The gleaming, anguished power and beauty of her singing was beyond style.
(…)»
Depois de uma destas, só me resta a crença na máxima Há mais marés que marinheiros...
O facto é que, por inúmeras vezes, dei comigo a adquirir bilhetes para récitas cujo ponto de atracção residia, não na obra, mas sim nos intérpretes.
Mattila, em Manon Lescault, no Met! Que tríade fantástica!
Desta feita, não foi o caso... Não fui ao Met assistir à (seguramente soberba) Manon Mattila, com muita, muita pena minha.
A minha indisponibilidade é de lamentar, sobretudo depois da leitura desta ultra entusiasta critica, do The New York Times:
«There was basically one reason the Metropolitan Opera dusted off its drearily realistic, unbecoming old production of Puccini’s “Manon Lescaut” and brought it back to the house for the first time in 18 years on Tuesday night: the soprano Karita Mattila.
(…)
The daunting title role requires a classic lirico spinto soprano, a voice with both Italianate lyrical grace and weighty power. Ms. Mattila waited until her voice had gained maturity and richness before, when she was nearly 40, she first portrayed Manon Lescaut in 1999. That she was ready to bring her acclaimed Manon to the Met enticed James Levine to conduct the work for the first time since 1981.
Ms. Mattila, in splendid voice, did not disappoint. (…)
Though a lovely and mature Finnish woman, Ms. Mattila is such a compelling actress that she affectingly conveyed Manon’s girlish awkwardness. She acted with her voice as well, singing with burnished sound and nuanced expressivity.
(…)
The contrast with Mr. Giordani was telling. Here was the real thing, an Italian tenor who sang with ringing power and sweeping fervor. Yet for all his stylistic authenticity, his singing was overemotive, sometimes sloppy and vocally blatant. After a while, I thought, well, if this is idiomatic Puccini style, I’ll take Ms. Mattila’s affecting coolness.
As Manon evolved from a young, impulsive woman to the superficial plaything of Geronte, who keeps her in luxury, to the abandoned woman jailed for theft and exiled to Louisiana, Ms. Mattila sang with her own kind of stylistic authority.
In the demanding final scene, when she and des Grieux are dying in the wilderness (Puccini, seemingly with scant knowledge of Louisiana geography, set the scene in a desert on the outskirts of New Orleans), Ms. Mattila was riveting. In her disheveled gown, looking delirious, she sang most of the impassioned aria “Sola, perduta, abbandonata!” while lying on her side, struggling to sit up. The gleaming, anguished power and beauty of her singing was beyond style.
(…)»
Depois de uma destas, só me resta a crença na máxima Há mais marés que marinheiros...
Eu gosto muito da Manon do Puccini! Sofre dum último acto teatralmente frágil mas musicalmente muito belo, aliás o Puccini várias vezes sentiu dificuldade com os últimos actos das suas óperas! Obviamente que a última Manon do S. Carlos foi abaixo dos mínimos mas é uma ópera muito defensável e para compreendermos a sua modernidade basta penarmos que estreou em Turim a pouco tempo de diferença da Santa Irene do Keill que ouvida hoje pareçe uma peça de museu!
ResponderEliminarJ. Ildefonso.
tem razão, os terceiros actos da Bohéme, Tosca, Butterfly e Turandot são os mais fracos. Quanto à Manon talvez prefira a de Massenet, porque tem mais material, embora continue a tentar gostar mais da Manon Lescaut, mais inteligente e mais sábia. O problema da ópera, para mim e é pessoalíssimo, é que, tirando as árias e o dueto final, não encontro melodia que me satisfaça.
ResponderEliminarGostava de ouvir uma ópera do Alfredo Keill. Onde encontrar, amigo João Ildefonso.
Aquisições feitas em Lisboa:
As Quatro Últimas pela Flagstad
A homenagem à Malibran pela Bartoli
A Vespri Siciliani pela Callas
O Don Giovanni do Jacobi
Ainda não ouvi nada
Um abraço