Category: Daily Dispatch

  • The Princeton Festival’s “Tosca” Takes Flight

    The Princeton Festival’s “Tosca” Takes Flight

    Once you see “Tosca,” you never forget it. But I never expected to be haunted by it!

    I remember the first time I saw it on PBS back in the 1980s. It was one of those “Great Performances” broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera, with Hildegard Behrens in the title role and Cornell MacNeil as the villainous Scarpia. Placido Domingo was Cavaradossi. From the perspective of my 19-year-old self, Domingo, especially, seemed a little long in the tooth to be cutting the romantic figure of a dashing young painter turned political prisoner. Funny to think back on it now, as he must have only been in his 40s at the time. And he’s still singing!

    Now, 40 years on, what a difference it makes to experience the work with someone with the pipes AND the youth to really put it across. Last night at The Princeton Festival, tenor Victor Starsky sang Cavaradossi with power and vigor. In fact, all three leads, including soprano Toni Marie Palmertree as Tosca and baritone Luis Ledesma as Scarpia, were extraordinarily well-matched, at every turn heightening the drama and intensifying the passion, in what is really a lean chamber piece writ large by Giacomo Puccini. Frankly, I never recognized its genius before.

    Never had I found myself so engrossed in the work’s interweaving themes, both musical (the interplay of heart-rending leitmotifs clearly paving the way for Hollywood film scores of the 1930s & ’40s) and textual (the libretto a fascinating blend of religion, politics, and sexuality). It really got me thinking about how each of the characters relates to love, death, and God in various combinations. And I thought “Tristan” was perverse in its celebration of love-death! Clearly, Wagner was not Italian.

    It’s the kind of reflection one engages in when one experiences opera as theater, as opposed to listening to it on a recording, where the music and the quality of the singing take precedence. In the opera house, you get the total experience, as you’re also focusing on the action and the words.

    “Tosca” really begins to insinuate itself as it explores various permutations of faith and blasphemy, eroticism and nihilism. Far from the laugh-out-loud experience of that PBS “Tosca” that had me howling in Act III, the opera, when done right, makes you forget how trashy the subject matter really is. It’s no longer the “shabby little shocker” derided by musicologist Joseph Kerman, but rather like Victor Hugo at his most twisted. You just don’t know how to feel about certain things, but you can’t help FEELING. Is there a more desolate aria than Cavaradossi’s “E lucevan le stelle?” Sometimes you’re just screwed. Interesting, though, that the character couches thoughts of impending doom in meditations on all the hot nights he’s going to be missing out on with Tosca. Molto Italiano!

    Tosca’s thoughts, on the other hand, in her own expression of hopelessness, the aria “Vissi d’arte,” turn on contemplations as to why God has deserted her. For Scarpia, virile, dangerous, and subtle, well, he sings – in church no less – “Tosca, you make me forget God!” Because he’ll do anything to have her.

    Ledesma not only has the voice, but the imposing carriage to convince as the morally bankrupt chief of police, who is the recipient of the opera’s most awe-inspiring leitmotif. He is an edifice in himself, the embodiment of power corrupted. We hear echoes of it, even as Tosca enacts a pious ritual with candles and crucifix over his corpse, as if to note, how the mighty have fallen.

    Scarpia is no cartoon villain. He invokes Iago in the first act. Even in death, he dominates. It’s not for nothing that Tosca’s last line is “I’ll see you before God, Scarpia!” The full extent of his calculated evil comes to light only posthumously, and he looms over the fates of the other characters, just as the grim prison of the Castel Sant’Angelo looms over Rome.

    For such a swift opera (Puccini was ruthless in trimming numbers from the libretto, based on a sprawling melodrama conceived by Victorien Sardou as a vehicle for Sarah Bernhardt), the characters are fascinatingly layered. Some contemporaries complained about the resulting sacrifice of lyricism (alleged), but the drama is inexorable. Since there are no set pieces or flashy effects (beyond perhaps that chorus at the end of Act I), it’s essential that all the singers be able to pull their weight, vocally and as actors.

    The opera certainly offers a plum part for a soprano – a diva playing a diva – and Palmertree left nothing on the table. Like Starsky, she brought it when it counted. Tosca’s journey takes her from the comparative innocence of love, religious devotion, and petty jealousy in Act I to desperation and resourcefulness, as she pushes back against Scarpia’s objectification and harassment in Act II, to the point that she takes matters into her own hands. Palmertree made you feel the anguish of Tosca trying to keep her lover’s secret, even as she hears him being tortured in the next room, only to have to rein it in a few moments later to strike the right tone of introspection to navigate her dark night of the soul in “Vissi d’arte.”

    The Princeton Symphony Orchestra was in impressive tune with its conductor, Rossen Milanov, who led the performance as to the manner born. Milanov has ample experience conducting opera and ballet in the U.S. and Europe, but it’s only comparatively recently that we’ve been exposed to that facet of his artistry in Princeton. Nothing I’ve heard at the Princeton Festival since its post-COVID resurrection in 2022 prepared me for what I heard and saw last night. Milanov conjured waves of sound and navigated passionate breakers, but he did so most undemonstratively, as a collaborator, yes, but also as a sensitive accompanist. Conducting opera is like steering a ship, and no matter how turbulent the drama got, Milanov at the helm kept his cool and rode the blue. I don’t know if it’s just that I haven’t been paying close enough attention, but even when conducting the orchestra’s regular subscription concerts at Richardson Auditorium, he really does seem to be more relaxed and just getting better all the time.

    Also, not to be undersold was the production’s stage direction by Eve Summer. Even though I emphasize “Tosca’s” intimacy, the opera would seem to call for grand sets, at least for the outer acts. How do you believably conjure the church of Sant’Andrea della Valle on a stage the size of the one inside the performance pavilion on the grounds of Morven Museum & Garden? And how on earth do you hope to convey the height and imposing grandeur of the Castel Sant’Angelo, and still have room for a firing squad, much less to pull off the opera’s famous ending. Yet Summer and scenic designer Ryan McGettigan made it work. A masterstroke came at the end of the first act, when the chorus (prepared by Vinroy Brown), attired in cowls and miters, processed from the stage up and down the aisles of the tent to surround the audience with spinetingling sonorities.

    Furthermore, I must say, I expected something far less spectacular from Tosca’s final act of defiance. Instead of simply dropping from the parapet, as I anticipated, Palmertree suddenly put on a burst of speed, dashing along the length of the battlement, at the far end flinging herself headlong into oblivion. Kudos for going for broke! I am nearly always slammed by a wave of emotion at the end of an opera, but the music, the visual, and the audience reaction really put it over the top.

    I admit, when I first heard that the opera this summer was going to be “Tosca,” I had my doubts. Previously, the post-COVID, Princeton Symphony Orchestra incarnation of the Princeton Festival had dealt solely in comedy – “The Barber of Seville,” “Albert Herring,” “Cosi fan tutte,” “The Impresario” and “Scalia/Ginsburg” – certainly apt, given the season and the venue. These all had their enjoyments, but I was unprepared for “Tosca,” which despite the stage limitations, was a triumph.

    Anything else this week is bound to seem anticlimactic, but there’s something to be said for just relaxing and enjoying a concert. The Princeton Festival runs through Saturday. For the remainder of this year’s schedule, visit https://www.princetonsymphony.org/festival.

  • Stravinsky on TV Golden Age of NBC

    Stravinsky on TV Golden Age of NBC

    Yes, there was actually a time when NBC broadcast a program called “The Wisdom Series.” One of the episodes featured a half hour with Igor Stravinsky. When was the last time you saw anything like this on network television?

    The descent into barbarism continues. Happy birthday, Igor Stravinsky!

  • Alfred Brendel: Wit, Wisdom & Beethoven

    Alfred Brendel: Wit, Wisdom & Beethoven

    Alfred Brendel was taller and had a better sense of humor than one would ever anticipate from the somber expression he wore on so many of his album covers. He was often described as “cerebral,” but what he really liked was to laugh. I guess that image would have jarred with the marketing strategy of Philips Records. They always had him looking way too serious as he recorded way too much Beethoven. Back in the day, Brendel was the first to record Beethoven’s complete piano music. Then he recorded the sonatas again. And then again.

    His fame paralleled the rise of the LP. It’s interesting that many of his earlier recordings were in muddy sound for the Vox label. That said, the repertoire was often much more stimulating than that on the digital recordings he made later in his career. (For Vox, he set down first recordings of Franz Liszt’s “Christmas Tree Suite” and Prokofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 5.) Also, the performances seemed more spontaneous, or perhaps simply more vibrant. Later, he was always reliable, if not always the most thrilling interpreter. Cerebral became a handy euphemism.

    Handily, the compact disc arrived for Brendel at mid-life, just as he had reached maturity. The improved technology allowed him to go back and document much of his core repertoire in clean, modern sound. By extension, he was a regular presence on classical radio, and millions became familiar with him through his interpretations of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, Liszt, Brahms, and perhaps most interestingly, Schoenberg.

    When he retired in 2008, at the age of 78, he had been struggling with arthritis and back pain, but he was still at the top of his game, one of the few classical artists still guaranteed to pack an auditorium. He appeared at Carnegie Hall no less than 81 times. Twice, he performed the complete Beethoven sonatas there.

    I don’t think it’s possible to love classical music and not respect Alfred Brendel. The man was an interpretive artist of the highest caliber. He also sold lots of records during an era when his very existence helped contribute to the viability of keeping a classical music section in most record stores.

    He looked pretty much like what anyone imagined a pianist to be: bespectacled, crowned with a disheveled widow’s peak, and improbably tall and lank. He was the living embodiment of an absent-minded professor. But the man, better-read than most, also possessed a keen sense of humor. He was a fan of Edward Gorey and Charles Addams and Gary Larson. He collected kitsch and newspaper bloopers. He went on record as stating that his favorite occupation was laughing.

    Alongside his many thoughtful essays on musical subjects (including at least one on humor in music), he published two volumes of epigrammatic poetry, “One Finger Too Many” and “Cursing Bagels.”

    One of the most celebrated pianists of his day (and that’s saying something), Alfred Brendel died this morning, peacefully at his home in London, at the age of 94.

    R.I.P.


    PHOTO: Brendel, flanked by Liszt (left) and Eugene Jardin’s whimsical “Gipsbrendel”

  • Ditch Deep Dive & Iconic The Buzzword Graveyard

    Ditch Deep Dive & Iconic The Buzzword Graveyard

    Please stop using “deep dive.” It’s not cool anymore. Also, take a moment to consider before bandying the word “iconic.”

    For some reason, I was somewhere in the guts of my Facebook account recently, and found a feature that offers recommended changes for greater audience engagement (or, in the parlance of the day, to “blow up my content”). Out of curiosity, I clicked on it. Essentially, it condensed one of my carefully-crafted posts to a surplus of bullet points and exclamation marks and added a few hackneyed buzz-words.

    I understand that something like this can be taken in at a glance by even the biggest troglodyte on social media, but I’m sorry, it’s not what I do. And having A.I. suggest the inclusion of “deep dive” is as agonizing as having a parent walk in when you’re hanging out with your friends as a teenager and trying just too hard to be “awesome” and “amazing” (words which, in their laziest applications, also need to be retired).

    What a sad, clichéd, tabloid carnival barker world we live in.

    Suggested title for this post: “CLASSIC ROSS AMICO SLAMS A.I.!”


    IMAGE: A.I.-generated stupid robot stolen from somewhere on the internet (because I refuse to use A.I.)

  • Grainger Plays Grieg Rare Footage Surfaces

    Grainger Plays Grieg Rare Footage Surfaces

    This rare footage turned up online within the past week or so of Percy Grainger playing music by his friend, Edvard Grieg. Since it’s Father’s Day and I’ve got to be out the door to meet my stepdad for brunch, and since it also happens to be Grieg’s birthday, I thought it would be an easy post, and a fascinating one, if you should choose to follow the link.

    If you are ever in the vicinity of White Plains, NY, I highly recommend a visit to the Percy Grainger Home & Studio, the house in which Grainger lived for 40 years. Be sure to contact them in advance, as the house is open only on certain days and by appointment.

    I went into great detail about my own highly enjoyable visit on the last of April. If you missed it, hopefully this link will take you to the May 1 post, in which I share my impressions.

    Happy birthday, Edvard Grieg!


    IMAGES: (left) detail from screenshot of Grainger playing Grieg’s “To Spring,” from the Lyric Pieces, Op. 43; photo of Grieg inscribed to his friend, one of the many treasures on display at the Percy Grainger house

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