O Verdi de Netrebko

Há anos que Anna Netrebko me excita. É linda, plutôt ronde, grande e transpira sensualidade... Em palco é tórrida, tórrida... No domínio lírico puro é absolutamente ímpar, animando as suas interpretações com doçura, candura e erupções libidinosas (Manon...)

À conta desta Senhora, o património da família G A já sofreu delapidações não negligenciáveis, com deslocações all over the globe... e mais não digo, por pudor.

A presente aposta da Senhora Netrebko - interpretar o Verdi Spinto - é, lamentavelmente, pouco relevante.

Vocalmente, este registo exibe enfermidades várias. A agilidade apresenta hesitações. Os graves são inseguros  e limitados. É certo que o tímbre escuro mantém o fascínio de sempre, além do corpo que a voz ganhou (essencial, para este tipo de repertório!), mas...

Depois, há o teatro... que peca pelo desinvestimento: Lady Macbeth (Macbeth) e Leonora (Il Trovatore) serão as heroínas mais vivamente recriadas, por oposição a Elena (I Vespri), Giovanna (Giovanna D'Arco) e Elisabetta (Don Carlo) - esta última, particularmente desabitada.

3,5 / 5 * * * * *

Anna Bolena: première no Met - 26 de Outubro de 2011

«To open the Met’s season, Ms. Netrebko sang the punishing title role of Donizetti’s “Anna Bolena” in the company’s first production of this breakthrough Donizetti work from 1830. The extended last scene was the high point of Ms. Netrebko’s performance as the distraught British queen (based on the historic Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII). Having been falsely condemned for betraying her husband, Anna drifts in and out of sanity.

Ms. Netrebko sang an elegantly sad aria with lustrous warmth, aching vulnerability and floating high notes. When the audience broke into prolonged applause and bravos, Ms. Netrebko seemed to break character and smile a couple of times, though her look could have been taken as appropriate to the dramatic moment, since the delusional Anna is lost in reverie about happy days with her former lover.

Then, at the end of this “Mad Scene,” Anna, restored to horrific reality, curses the “wicked couple,” the king and his new queen, and stalks off to her execution, insisting implausibly that she is not seeking divine retribution but going to her grave with mercy on her lips. Ms. Netrebko dispatched Donizetti’s cabaletta, all fiery coloratura runs and vehement phrases, with a defiance that brought down the house.

Yet Ms. Netrebko’s Anna and the overall performance of the opera were not what they could have been. The production, by the director David McVicar, is uninventive and safe. The sets, by Robert Jones (in his Met debut), are handsome and efficient but tamely traditional, using a matrix of rotating white brick walls and sliding wood panels to evoke the interiors and environs of Henry’s palaces.

In Act I, when the king’s hunting party gathers, complete with two impressively large dogs, a bit of abstraction is introduced through some sculptural gray trees. Jenny Tiramani’s costumes are colorful, detailed and true to the period. Too true. This Henry could have come from the set of almost any of the innumerable films and television shows that have been made about the Tudors.

But the bigger problem was Marco Armiliato’s routine conducting. Mr. Armiliato has been valuable to the Met’s Italian repertory wing since his 1998 house debut. In “Anna Bolena” he conveyed an understanding of bel canto style, in which arching lines must be given room to spin and cast their spell, and accompaniment patterns have to be flexible.

The singers seemed to feel supported by Mr. Armiliato, who was always there when they took liberties. That was the problem. This performance needed a conductor to instill some intensity into the music, to keep the cast more on edge, especially in the early scenes. Much of the action occurs in highly charged bursts of dramatic recitative. But too often here the orchestra chords that buttress the vocal lines were listless. And the orchestra’s playing lacked character.

Previously, Ms. Netrebko had sung the role of Anna only at the Vienna State Opera this spring. She started tentatively on Monday, perhaps settling in for the long, hard night of singing that awaited her. She looked regal and splendid. And in a nice directorial touch, Anna first appeared with a little red-haired girl, clearly her daughter, the future Queen Elizabeth.

At 40, Ms. Netrebko may be in her vocal prime. Her sound is meltingly rich yet focused. Sustained tones have body and depth. Her contained vibrato exposed every slight slip from the center of a pitch, especially in midrange, but I’m not complaining. This remains a major voice, with resplendent colorings and built-in expressivity.

Bel canto purists have long debated whether Ms. Netrebko is a natural to the style, especially in her execution of coloratura passagework. She may not have the nimble precision exemplified by Beverly Sills (who was criticized by some for that very accuracy). Ms. Netrebko’s approach is to sing coloratura as a lyrical elaboration of the vocal line, which she did affectingly as Anna. And she exudes vocal charisma.

Still, at moments throughout the evening her singing seemed cautious. She was at her best when sparring with other singers, especially the mezzo-soprano Ekaterina Gubanova, who was Giovanna (the queen’s lady-in-waiting Jane Seymour, though it’s best to stick to the Italian names, since “Anna Bolena,” with a libretto by Felice Romani, plays very loose with history). Ms. Gubanova has an ample, dark voice with a slightly hard-edged quality that takes some adjusting to. She sang Giovanna with incisive delivery, folding embellishments and runs into impassioned vocal lines.

Her character was a bundle of nerves in Donizetti’s inspired Act II scene in which Giovanna finally confesses to the queen that she has been the king’s mistress and will become his new wife. Again the orchestra under Mr. Armiliato seemed to hold back, rather than empower, the intensity these two artists were trying to summon onstage.

The bass Ildar Abdrazakov brought his earthy, muscular voice to the role of Enrico (Henry VIII). Though his passagework was muffled by his gravelly tones at times, he was an imposing presence, and he did not overplay the king’s brutishness.

The tenor Stephen Costello won a hearty ovation for his Riccardo (Lord Percy, Anna’s former lover). This was a big assignment for the gifted and game young tenor. Mr. Costello captured the character’s consuming adoration for Anna through his impetuous and anguished singing.

The role includes a touchstone tenor aria, “Vivi tu,” in which the condemned Riccardo implores his friend Lord Rocheford (Anna’s brother, here the solid bass-baritone Keith Miller) to evade the king’s wrath and go on living. Mr. Costello mostly navigated the music’s demanding passagework and exposed high notes. To hear this rising artist stretching himself was part of the excitement.

The mezzo-soprano Tamara Mumford took on the trouser role of Mark Smeaton, a court musician with a fatal crush on Anna. Her singing was sometimes shaky but always honest and ardent. The able tenor Eduardo Valdes as the court official Hervey rounded out the cast. Every role is significant in an opera so rich with ensembles, including a climactic Act I sextet almost as memorable as the enduring sextet from Donizetti’s “Lucia di Lammermoor,” and more contrapuntally intricate.

Mr. Gelb has said that ideally the Met should make an artistic statement by presenting an ambitious new production every opening night. Two years ago he took a chance on Luc Bondy’s ill-conceived staging of Puccini’s “Tosca.” Last season came the premiere of Robert Lepage’s production of Wagner’s “Rheingold,” which is still being argued over, as audiences await the last two installments of the complete “Ring” cycle this season.

“Anna Bolena” represented a different sort of risk. To make a case for this great, overlooked opera, a company must have a stellar soprano in the title role. Ms. Netrebko is that artist. If only she and her colleagues onstage had received more help from Mr. McVicar and Mr. Armiliato.

The gala evening performance was relayed to Times Square and to Lincoln Center Plaza, where there was seating for some 3,000 people who had scooped up free tickets earlier. After the curtain calls onstage, the “Anna Bolena” cast appeared on the Met’s outdoor balcony to the cheers of the crowd. This is becoming a welcome tradition under Mr. Gelb.»

Ao que parece, a menina-dos-olhos de Peter Gelb - Netrebko - compôs uma Anna Bolena modelar. Brilhou como poucos. Da encenação, pouco haverá a enaltecer, dada a irresistível incursão de McVickar pelo pró-realismo... Armiliato também não se encontrava particularmente inspirado...

A 15 de Outubro, dir-vos-ei de minha justiça, com conhecimento de causa!

Anna, Anna!

(Anna Netrebko... ossia Anna Bolena)

A Catedral abre amanhã a temporada 2011 – 2012 com uma nova produção de Anna Bolena (Donizetti). Jamais o Met assistiu a esta peça lírica, que se estreia por via da glamourosa Netrebko.

«“Anna Bolena” is the opera that, in 1830, made Donizetti’s international career. Ignored for decades, it was revived for Maria Callas in a legendary 1957 production at La Scala, directed by Luchino Visconti, which spurred a renewal of interest in the bel canto operas of the early 19th century. But the weight and fury of the role, which Ms. Netrebko first performed in Vienna in April, pulls it toward the mature Verdi roles on her horizon: parts like Leonora in “Il Trovatore,” the title role in “Luisa Miller,” Desdemona in “Otello,” in addition to Elsa in Wagner’s “Lohengrin,” Puccini’s Manon Lescaut and Tatiana in Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin,” which she will sing at the Met in the 2012-13 season for the first time anywhere.»

Entretanto, aguardamos pela récita de Outubro, que o Ministério da Cultura difunde em directo, em HD!

Met 2010 / 2011

O mundo lírico anda a reboque do Met, desde há décadas. Não há volta a dar!

Eis o soberbo programa da próxima temporada do Met Opera House, a que nenhum teatro lírico chega aos calcanhares!

ps só para que conste, Elisabete Matos - a GRANDE - alterna o papel de Abigaíl com a insuportável Guleghina, que há anos devia ter pedido a reforma antecipada! Mais? A temporada abre com Anna Bolena... interpretada por Netrebko! WHAT ELSE?

QUEM FOI QUE DISSE QUE NÃO VOLTAVA A NYC NOS PRÓXIMOS 3 ANOS?????

La Traviata @ the Met

(La Traviata - Met Opera House, Dezembro de 2010)

Esta encenação de La Traviata foi estreada em Salzburgo, em 2005. Anna Netrebko interpretou uma Violetta absolutamente extraordinária, capaz de rivalizar com a da Callas. Onde a da grega era sofrida e vítima, a da Russa foi lasciva e lânguida.

À época em que tomei contacto com a Violetta de Netrebko, ensandeci. Contudo, a minha loucura passageira não invadiu a minha capacidade critica! Como referi, conheço dezenas de Violetta, sendo que duas sobressaem: a da Callas e a de Netrebko. Sim, eu sei, a da Cotrubas era muito lírica, como a da Gheorghiu; a da Sutherland (a primeira) era pirotécnica, como a da Caballé, etc. Mas, reitero: há duas imensas!

Peter Gelb, que limpa a poeira e o bafio do seu Met, decidiu – e bem – destronar a encenação de Zeffirelli. Por uma única vez, devo saltar em defesa do insuportável italiano... Assisti, em Abril de 2010, no Met, à sua proposta e não me desagradou, apesar da megalomania e hiper-realismo costumeiros. Já a sua Tosca merecia ter sido destruída, logo após a primeira récita!

Enfim, Gelb recuperou a mise-en-scène de Salzburgo (de Willy Decker) e eis o resultado...

«Even die-hard fans of the director Franco Zeffirelli’s productions for the Metropolitan Opera have to concede that his 1998 staging of Verdi’s “Traviata” was terrible. With its opulently garish sets and knee-jerk realism, the production dwarfed the cast, no matter what stars were singing. So the time has long since come for something different. And the intriguing production by the German director Willy Decker that the Met introduced on New Year’s Eve could not be more different.

The entire story is played within the confines of a tall, curved grayish-white wall, as if the action were taking place in an arena under clinically bright lights. And during crucial scenes groups of choristers lean over the wall like voyeurs, watching the deteriorating relationship between the dying, defiant courtesan Violetta and her smitten lover Alfredo, here played by the glamorous Russian soprano Marina Poplavskaya and the sweet-voiced American tenor Matthew Polenzani.

The costumes are modern. Violetta appears at the party in the opening scene in a short blazing red dress, and all the guests, male and female choristers alike, wear black tuxedos, making the crowd look androgynous and threatening. This “Traviata,” which originated at theSalzburg Festival in 2005 and was the hottest ticket of that summer, lives on as a popular DVD starring Anna Netrebkoand Rolando Villazón.

No doubt many opera buffs will dismiss it as just another high-concept Eurotrash outrage, though there was surprisingly little booing when Mr. Decker and the production team, in their Met debuts, took curtain calls on Friday night. This was in contrast to the opening night of last season, when the Met’s general manager, Peter Gelb, replaced the popular Zeffirelli “Tosca” with Luc Bondy’s gratuitously modern and lame staging.

In some scenes Mr. Decker’s reconceptions of “La Traviata” are as heavy-handed as the melodramatic clichés he abhors in traditional productions. And though the look here is bare and timelessly modern, the symbolism is forced, especially the ever-present giant clock to indicate the passage of time and the ticking-away of the terminally ill Violetta’s life.

Still, this is an involving and theatrically daring production that belongs at the Met. And unlike the suffocating Zeffirelli staging it replaces, it is a showcase for courageous singers. Mr. Decker clearly worked with his leads here to develop vulnerable, revealing portrayals.

With her long blond hair, slender physique and square-jawed face, the lovely Ms. Poplavskaya looks like a young Meryl Streep and exudes charisma. In traditional productions Violetta’s popularity with the Parisian set can give a false impression. She flouts societal codes, and Ms. Poplavskaya’s portrayal restores the character’s danger. There is something seedy about the opening party scene, when the guests lift up the red leather couch on which Violetta blithely strides, having kicked off her high heels.

Like many sopranos who have taken on this demanding role Ms. Poplavskaya, so splendid as Elisabeth in the Met’s recent production of Verdi’s “Don Carlo,” was less comfortable vocally in the coloratura flights of Act I than in the lyrical effusions and dramatic outbursts of the later scenes. She handled the runs of “Sempre libera” ably but was at her best earlier in this great solo scene, when, curled into a fetal position on the couch, she sang the rueful, aching phrases of “Ah, fors’è lui.”

From Act II through Act III Mr. Decker’s staging moves without a break. This forward momentum makes Violetta’s downfall and death dramatically inexorable but places enormous vocal burdens on Ms. Poplavskaya. In her farewell to dreams of a happy life with Alfredo, “Addio, del passato,” she sounded tired and took what seemed extra breaths where she could find them in the phrases. Still, her voice had a cool, earthy beauty; her sound was penetrating and vibrant. Even when fatigued, she floated some beautiful high pianissimo notes.

Mr. Polenzani, a fine lyric tenor, was an uncommonly elegant Alfredo. His sound, though not large, carried well, and the integrity and supple phrasing of his singing were special. That he looked so youthful and wholesome gave a startling charge to the moments in which Alfredo can barely contain his passion for Violetta. It was clear what keeps this reckless relationship going.

And after Alfredo’s father, Germont (the Polish baritone Andrzej Dobber, who had an imposing presence but sang with a leathery sound), persuades Violetta to give up Alfredo for the sake of the Germont family honor, the father-son confrontation was viscerally staged. Germont literally slapped sense into his son, which sent Mr. Polenzani to the floor, seething with humiliation and anger.

Sometimes Mr. Decker goes too far in exposing what he sees as the subtext of the opera. For example, Act II, as written, opens in a country house near Paris, where Alfredo and Violetta have been living for three months. Fresh from a hunt, Alfredo sings about how joyless life is when Violetta is away, then expresses his ardor in the aria “De’ miei bollenti spiriti.”

In this staging Alfredo is not alone but romantically entwined with Violetta, as they roll off a couch (one of five), she in a slip, he in his underwear, both loosely wearing flower-patterned bathrobes that match the fabric draped over the couches. The clock is also draped to show that for a while, at least, time has stopped for the lovers.

Even as Alfredo sings about how he misses Violetta, we see them playing a lover’s game of hide and seek among the couches. And during his aria, as Alfredo recalls the day Violetta declared her faithfulness and love, when Mr. Polenzani’s voice sent this romantic phrase soaring, Ms. Poplavskaya pretended to be singing along with sweeping arm gestures and fake-operatic intensity.

Is Violetta mocking Alfredo for his overheated feelings? What Mr. Decker means to come through, I think, is that Alfredo and Violetta are almost afraid to acknowledge the implications of their emotions, since she is clearly ill. So she mimics him to defuse his sincerity.

You really have to go with the concept to interpret the staging touch this way. I mostly did and found it fascinating. Still, some in the audience laughed as Ms. Poplavskaya imitated her lover. This is a big price to pay to lend a traditionally romantic Verdi aria a modern psychological twist.

Though the conductor Gianandrea Noseda led a performance that balanced passion with refinement, there were many moments of inexact coordination with the singers. The problem may have been that Mr. Decker was asking for the operatic equivalent of Method acting from his cast, and that the singers were too absorbed in their performances to pay close attention to the conductor.

This production is part of Mr. Gelb’s campaign to make the Met more theatrically innovative. He deserves credit for taking risks with the bread-and-butter staples of the repertory. The question is whether the Decker “Traviata” is the kind of reconceived production that will last for seasons into the future. Perhaps the Met will become a house where productions are rotated more often, which would be an interesting departure, though an expensive one.»

Don Pasquale - Live from the Met, via Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian, 13 de Novembro de 2010

(Anna Netrebko, como Nemorina, em Don Pasquale - Met Opera House, Novembro de 2010)

O fascínio da opera buffa belcantista reside num ponto central, incontornável: a sagacidade triunfa sobre a linhagem e força bruta. Aliás, a tradição do final do classicismo – Mozart, em particular – introduziu este aspecto estruturante, apoiando-se, nomeadamente em Beaumarchais. Figaro constitui, assim, o paradigma do novo herói dramático, cuja inteligência triunfa sobre a perversidade aristocrática.

A tradição buffa, belcantista – e não só! -, contém, ainda, outro aspecto muito característico. O derrube do anti-herói – Mustafá, Pasquale, Falstaff, Bartolo, etc. - demanda uma colaboração conjunta de parte das demais personagens que, por força da urdidura e intriga, expõem ao ridículo o senhor. Pelo meio, há identidades truncadas, volte-faces e peripécias mil, movidos por um ritmo frenético, envoltos em momentos de humor singelo, e muito acessível.

Don Pasquale, de Donizetti, que é uma peça lírica buffa – e não uma ópera cómica, como erradamente se diz por aí (a Carmen é, essa sim, uma ópera cómica, com diálogos falados, que intercalam com a árias), reitera a força destas premissas.

A produção luxuosa que o Met difundiu sábado passado contou com a assinatura de Otto Schenk, encenador austríaco que a sala nova-iorquina muito respeita. Schenk é um hiper-realista, com um traço megalómano. Relembra Zeffirelli, embora seja menos dado ao mau gosto. Algumas das suas encenações mantêm-se no activo. Há para todos os gostos: um Parsifal que bordeja o sublime (que me fascinou, perto de 10 anos após a estreia), um Os Mestres Cantores de um realismo caduco e empoeirado, um Der Ring kitsch, kitsch (doravante substituído pela montagem de Lepage)…

No caso de Don Pasquale, o encenador seguiu a lógica de sempre, ditada pelo realismo faustoso e acelerado, mas altamente coerente. Tudo é imenso, até a decadência do protagonista, caracterizada com particular finura: criados descuidados, Pasquale emporcalhado e seboso, palácio e entourage decrépitos. Nos antípodas, emergem as esbeltas figuras dos sagazes Nemorina, Ernesto e Malatesta: Netrebko lasciva e libidinosa, Polenzani pueril e apaixonado e Kwiecien dandy malandro e astucioso. Cada um en su sitio, como manda a peça.

Por vezes, o retrato fiel d’a coisa não é sinónimo de vistas curtas! É que os rasgos ultra-criativos, com frequência, roçam o delírio… Realismo assim, sim!

Em matéria de prestação interpretativa e vocal, a fasquia esteve à altura da mise-en-scène: soberba!

Netrebko apenas encerra uma fragilidade: 5kg a mais! Há fogo, lava e vísceras na sua graciosa Nemorina, ora dócil e terna, ora astuta e ardilosa. A voz está deslumbrantemente aberta e colorida (apesar de estruturalmente escura), segura e ágil, como se pretende. A figura… é o que se sabe: um monumento.

Polenzani mantém o cristal que o celebrizou: um timbre imaculado e límpido, com uma ousadia pirotécnica magistral. A personagem presta-se a menor riqueza expressiva que as demais, tendo o tenor explorado – e bem – a dimensão lírica e apaixonada da personagem. Há uns anos, no Met, vi-o como Don Ottavio e adivinhei-lhe um futuro promissor. Não me enganei!

Kwiecien – cujo Enrico impressionou tudo e todos – impregnou Malatesta de elegância e malícia. Quando foi necessário – por ocasião do célebre e implacável dueto com Del Carlo, verdadeira prova de fogo belcantista -, exibiu com mestria a sua agilidade e disciplina.

John Del Carlo, vero basso buffo, foi Pasquale até ao âmago: fanfarrão, atontalhado e deliciosamente ridículo. O timbre não será dos mais belos, mas a riqueza expressiva da sua criatura… Pasquale será o equivalente donizzettiano de Falstaff. Pago para ver o seu Verdi derradeiro, genialmente buffo!

Encerro com uma referência a Levine & The Met Orchestra. Apreciei o ritmo frenético impresso à leitura orquestral, mas James Levine é pouco subtil e refinado. A orquestra cumpriu com brilho, mas faltou-lhe picante e malícia.

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* * * * *
(4,5/5)

Don Pasquale

This afternoon, you'll be mine, Anuska, right here!

Manon Netrebko

(Netrebko como Manon)

Há cerca de dez anos, de malinhas aviadas - algures entre o fascínio do regresso à pátria e a tristeza profunda -, deixei a Ville Lumière. que havia sido a minha cidade durante um período considerável da minha vida.

Decidi presentear-me com um lugar burguês na Bastilha. Fleming preparava-se para estrear uma nova produção de Manon. Foi apoteótica: charmosa, certeira e rigorosa, com uma convicção teatral impressionante... e apoiada numa voz de ouro...

Anos e anos volvido, eis que a Manon de Fleming - a melhor do mundo, até à data!!! - parece ver-se ofuscada por aquela que seria LA MIA DONNA, não fora eu um respeitável pai de família...

Netrebko, em Londres, triunfa como Manon! Baremboim já o sabia - tal como eu!

«I’ve always held that Massenet’s Manon is an outright masterpiece, but never until now seen a performance that justified my belief (the old Monteux recording has been my lodestar). Antonio Pappano’s conducting must take great credit for this: vigorously muscular and boldly coloured, it never lets the score drift into whimsy or sentimentality.

Laurent Pelly’s production won’t please those who nurse a pink rococo vision of the piece. Austere to the point of ugliness (the Hotel de Transylvanie looks like a maximum-security facility designed by Philippe Starck), it is set in a Paris closer to the world of Manet and Zola than Fragonard and Louis Quinze.

But it has the great virtue of taking the characters’ emotional turmoil seriously, and telling the story with crystalline clarity. Nothing is souped up, nothing sugared: this becomes a credible human tragedy, in which greedy impulsive youth is outsmarted by venal hypocritical middle age.

Yet it’s the singing that gives the show its extra star. I don’t forget the terrific supporting cast, but it is without doubt the night of nights for the leads, Anna Netrebko and Vittorio Grigolo.

In the past, I’ve been resistant to La Netrebko’s charms, but not here. She gives herself wholeheartedly to Manon – enchantress, gold-digger, calculating little crook – and sings with polish and precision, without any of her usual approximate grabbing at the music. She was in magnificent voice (her top register spot-on in the Cours-la-Reine frolic) and her sheer joy in performing was contagious.

Opposite her Grigolo made a triumphant Covent Garden debut as Des Grieux. All his success with crossover romantic ballads might lead you to expect a vulgar crooner, but you’d be wrong. He balances his Italianate ardour with style and intelligence – his Saint-Sulpice aria was sung with lovely musical sensibility – and his good looks and energetic acting make him an appealing stage figure. A great operatic career lies in his sights, if he keeps his wits about him.»

Netrebko dixit

«On her singing inspirations

"I listen to Callas because I think she is unbelievable. And to Freni, Scotto – those are my girls. They knew how to sing bel canto in a good way, a tradition which is now almost lost, in my opinion: this beautiful technique but with a full sound, and you can also understand the words. It's so beautiful learning from them. But from Sutherland? You cannot learn from her. Forget it. She's absolutely unique, out of this world, but she is like a computer. Not in a bad way – the sound is so perfect – but you cannot hear words."»

In the still of night...

Rimsky-Korsakov e Tchaikovsky – dois dos mais ilustres representantes do Romance (equivalente russo do lied alemão) – são, neste artigo, homenageados por Netrebko e Barenboim.

Enquanto Rimsky-Korsakov nos propõe um conjunto de melodias de cunho claramente oriental, Tchaikovsky, por vias das canções aqui abordadas, evidencia a sua veia ocidental.

Netrebko, de timbre escuro, erótico e quente, impregna-se neste universo russo, pouco conhecido do ocidente dito erudito. As suas interpretações envolventes são de uma generosidade e calor irresistíveis. O seu sentido dramático e fervor com que defende este território arrebatam os mais cépticos. Há uma sensualidade inusitada na articulação e uma graciosidade magnética nas abordagens da intérprete.

Hélas… a técnica, aqui e ali, evidencia alguns deslizes. A linha melódica, nem sempre suficientemente apoiada, revela-se instável e algo comprometida, sem grande liberdade. O registo agudo – porventura o mais comprometido – pouco dado a atrevimentos, expande-se de modo contido.

Barenboim, esplêndido – particularmente inspirado nos arrebatamentos magnânimos de Tchaikovsky –, mostra-se um parceiro notável, com uma classe impressionante.

Pela sensualidade e encanto de uma das mais irresistíveis intérpretes…

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* * * * *

(4/5)

Degustando...

Anna di Lammermoor

(Anna Netrbko como Lucia - Lucia di Lammermoor, Met 2009)

Sugiro que o fiel leitor avalie a prestação de Anna Netrebko, como protagonista de Lucia di Lammermoor, na récita a que aqui aludi (e aqui) - Met, 2009. Mais: sugiro que substitua o preconceito (para não falar de narcisismo destrutivo) por uma atenta avaliação ;-)

Pessoalmente, creio haver espaço para muitas Lucia's: Callas (a dramática), Sutherland (a pirotécnica), Gruberova (a mais-que-pirotécnica), Dessay (a belcantista) e Netrebko (a fémea, actriz, intérprete, cantora and so on). À côté, há ainda Scotto e Anderson (a excelsa).

Termino com uma sugestão: que se desidealizem as pretéritas! Respeite-mo-las e aprecie-mo-las, sem esquecer que existem outras, actuais, diferentes, mas igualmente magnéticas e brilhantes! Se assim não for, tornar-nos-emos escravos do mundo "pretérito, perfeito e idílico", que apenas existe nas depressivas mentes (doentes).

Agora, é tempo de degustar a cena da Loucura e o seu final (Spargi d'amore pianto).
Bom proveito!

Lucia... Lucia... finalmente siamo insieme

Dramática, elegante, louca e linda - a mais bela boca que a lírica jamais viu. Que mais se quer?

Férias - Em degustação...

Opera Kitsch & Sexy

Ossia, discretamente, de olhos postos nas linhas vocais de La Netrebko.