A Showcase for Opera’s ‘It’ Girl

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The New York Sun

The current “it” girl of the opera world returned to the Met on Wednesday night, to star in a Bellini opera. She was Anna Netrebko, and the opera was “I Puritani.” This work has long been a showcase for bel canto sopranos. In recent memory, we have had Callas, Sutherland, Sills, Caballé, Gruberova. Ms. Netrebko has her problems as a bel canto artist — who doesn’t, huh? — but the world loves her, and rightly so.

The Met revived its 1976 production of “I Puritani” explicitly for her. In 2002, they staged another Bellini opera, for another star soprano: Renée Fleming was superb in “Il Pirata” (an opera the company had never done before). Star sopranos have been good for Bellini; and he has been good for them.

Anna Netrebko is the type of performer who can have an off night, vocally, and still succeed, thanks to musical and dramatic charisma. On Wednesday night, she was not off, but rather secure. And she succeeded in a big way.

Yes, there are problems: The voice can be a little cold, a little stifled, a little unbending — lacking in pliancy. This is unfortunate, perhaps especially in bel canto. Where sweetness is called for, you can instead find steel. And Ms. Netrebko seems to scald without really meaning to. Also, there is a stubborn tendency to sharp.

But the gifts she brings outweigh all flaws (if they are flaws, instead of distinguishing traits). In myriad ways, Ms. Netrebko rivets the listener, as she did throughout “I Puritani.”

The soprano made one significant misstep on Wednesday night: This was her handling of Elvira’s Act I aria, “Son vergin vezzosa.” It was rushed, mechanical, and thoroughly unenjoyed. Moreover, the coloratura was unclean. The rushing and musical indifference could have been the fault of the conductor, Patrick Summers. But Ms. Netrebko, of course, is responsible for her own coloratura.

And how about the mad scene, one of the greatest stretches in all bel canto opera? From Ms. Netrebko, it was an unshowy tour de force. What I mean is this: It was a tour de force, all right —but it had complete musical and theatrical poise. Ms. Netrebko displayed phenomenal control. And she was pathetic in the original sense — evoking great pity, sadness, and even wonder. This is simply a smart singer.

You may wish to know about high notes: In the course of the evening, Ms. Netrebko sang a couple of Ds, and they were okay. The one that ended the opera sneaked sharp. And the one E flat was very, very flat — though not as flat as one that Ms. Netrebko tried in the Met’s “Rigoletto” last season. That was so bad, it became almost legendary. But at least Ms. Netrebko is game, and opera fans turn out for such daring.

Since she burst on the scene about five years ago, many of us have remarked, “There’s a little Callas in her.” She and others may protest at this comparison, but tough: It’s true. Ms. Netrebko bears a resemblance both in her virtues and in her flaws (or “flaws”). When she performs, she gives you something to remember, and that can be said of few.

“I Puritani” is not a one-singer opera, although it is a soprano vehicle. In the role of Arturo was Gregory Kunde. And who is he? Let his official biography tell you. The first line reads, “Tenor Gregory Kunde is the most elegant and accomplished bel canto singer on the opera stage today.”

Of course, classical-music bios are notorious for hyperbole and braggadocio. But this is embarrassing even by those standards. Mr. Kunde, out of selfrespect, must do something about it.

On Wednesday night, Mr. Kunde showed a beautiful voice, especially when he was singing softly, and in midrange. He was at his best when he was most relaxed (no surprise). But when he went up high, he fought tightness and strangulation. And, on the whole, he was short on bel canto suavity — or “elegance,” as his bio phrases it.

But, in a role like Arturo — vocally difficult — you may think, “Any port in a storm.” Not everyone can even yelp a note above high C. And bel canto tenors in general are scarce.

For our Giorgio, John Relyea, an announcement was made before the curtain rose: He was recovering from bronchitis, and asked for our indulgence. No apology was necessary. Mr. Relyea sounded like himself, except possibly for a certain reduction in volume. (Just possibly.) He was wise not to overexert. And he brought his usual musical authority.

All basses or bass-baritones — Mr. Relyea belongs to the latter category — portray many fathers, or father figures. As a consequence, they often have to put a paternal compassion in the voice. And Mr. Relyea did this magnificently, particularly in Bellini’s Act II.

In the role of Riccardo was Franco Vassallo, an Italian baritone. He showed a rich, smooth instrument — a beautiful one, really. Unfortunately, he sang with little musical life. And his pitch and high notes could both be painful. The mezzo-soprano Maria Zifchak made an adequate Enrichetta.

Maestro Summers is an important player in opera, as music director in Houston, and a guest all over. On Wednesday night, he was a competent manager of affairs. And his refusal to dawdle was to be appreciated. But he frequently rushed, and lent to Bellini more energy than style.

Bellini, as you may well know, was greatly admired by Chopin and Wagner (among others, to be sure). He died at only 33, and “I Puritani” was his last opera. It has both trite music and inspired. The story here is said to be extra-far-fetched, not least because it has a happy ending: lovers reunited, madness vanquished, and a world reconciled. If that is ridiculous, then so is life as it should be.

A footnote, if I may: I have often complained about shushers, the bane of the concert hall or opera house. The shushers are always worse than those they are shushing. At last week’s premiere of Tan Dun’s opera “The First Emperor,” some audience members applauded on Plácido Domingo’s initial entrance. On Wednesday night, the same thing happened when Anna Netrebko entered. And on both occasions, the applauders were shushed — by noisy, scolding, self-righteous, insufferable shushers.

Even worse than cell phones, those shushers.

Until February 15 (Lincoln Center, 212-721-6500).


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