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Friday, September 28, 2007
ASO’s complete ‘La Boheme’
OPERA REVIEW Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. Thursday in Symphony Hall. Performance repeats Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sunday at 3 p.m. www.atlantasymphony.org, 404-733-5000.
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
At the wrenching emotional crux of Puccini’s “La Boheme” — in the final minutes of Act 3 — the lovers Mimi and Rudolfo bicker and reconcile, then reveal to each other what might be everyone’s greatest fear: they don’t want to be alone.
It’s a ravishing few minutes of hope and pathos, although the orchestra has already confirmed that the worst scenario is inevitable, for we’ve already heard Mimi’s music run through with the icy shiver of death.
Here soprano Norah Amsellem, as the tubercular seamstress, sang exquisite pianissimos, throbbing with expression yet hushed to a whisper.
The scene was given a crystallized, hypnotizing, almost-perfect realization Thursday in Symphony Hall, as the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra opened its 63rd season with a complete performance of Puccini’s 1896 masterpiece.
Instead of the statements of artistic policy that typically greet each new season — a program headlined by a symphonic standard and spiced with ear-friendly contemporary music, for example — the ASO and music director Robert Spano are recording the complete “Boheme” this weekend in “live” performances for Telarc (with a closed-door patch session Sunday evening to fix mistakes).
The evening began with “The Star-Spangled Banner,” where the ASO chorus lined the aisles, sang with full brio and gave the non-choristers among us a chance to know what it’s like to blend our voices with theirs, one of many small pleasures of the evening. (Actually, the evening began with a video advertisement from one of the ASO’s sponsors, the insidious creep of commercialization into the concert hall.)
This “Boheme,” stage-directed by James Alexander, came with a few props (tables and chairs, a wood stove), the singers in evening dress and the orchestra on stage, larger and louder than you’d typically hear in an opera pit. The singers acted the melodrama at the front, which meant they were behind the conductor’s back. They could see him via TV monitors at their feet; he could not see them, which led to many tiny problems of coordination between soloist and orchestra.
Perhaps this explains why Act 1, most of which is deliriously gorgeous, lacked drama. Tenor Marcus Haddock, as Rudolfo the poet, sang with strong pipes and a sweet voice when soft and low. Up near the ceiling of his range, it got pinched and unpleasant.
Amsellem, for all her intermittent vocal beauty, also sounded rather shrill when she had to open up for long lines of sustained intensity, which was often. Beyond their Act 3 bliss, neither singer offered much depth of personality. They gave off more light than heat.
Charisma came from the opera’s “B” couple, Musetta and Marcello. Soprano Georgia Jarman is a catch. Aggressive and sexy in manner, she had a clear, agile voice and delivered Musetta’s famous waltz as the show-stopper it’s meant to be.
Baritone Fabio Capitanucci, as Marcello the painter, likewise had the complete package: a vibrant personality, a handsome voice, a theatrical way with the texts.
The two other bohemians — bass Denis Sedov as Colline and baritone Christopher Schaldenbrand as Schaunard — also performed with distinction. Kevin Glavin had a wonderfully goofy turn as the landlord demanding the rent.
In at least one way, this “Boheme” was a milestone performance. The ASO Chorus, with about 170 members, plus the Gwinnett Young Singers, sang the opening scene of Act 2 — a gaggle of street vendors, shoppers, soldiers, parents, children and more — with the choral discipline and seismic force they’d reserve for the “Hallelujah Chorus.” It was surely the loudest and best prepared “Boheme” chorus in the 111-year history of the opera.
Orchestrally, as everyone anticipated, the performance was a revelation. As the dirt-poor bohemians burn Rudolfo’s manuscript to keep warm, the flames flicker bright in the orchestra, then we hear the flames flicker out. Or the ghostly falling snow of Act 3. Or the instant of demented terror — a full orchestral scream — when the landlord knocks. Or the final stab of Mimi’s death.
Spano revealed every nuance of Puccini’s glittery, embroidered score — every bit of it amplified in our consciousness, a performance not soon forgotten.
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