#going4baroque

Opera Philadelphia’s production of Semele presents such a wealth of auditory and visual riches, I hardly know where to begin this review. But let us start with the singing. Singing may be said to be the bedrock on which any opera builds, and what a foundation this was. The singing was, to a person, exceptional. Some of the singers I was familiar with, but this production introduced me to many new favorites, whose careers I will follow with great interest. I was particularly impressed with the chorus, which had a beautiful even, blended, sound. They did Handel’s sublime choral music a great credit. The orchestra did a capable job of generating a believable baroque sound, especially given that it was not a period ensemble, though some of the dance rhythms were a little muddled.

A quick recap, for those of you who don’t know the plot: it’s from Roman Mythology, and it follows the well trodden path of most Roman myths: Jupiter falls in love with a mortal woman (Semele). Jupiter absconds with mortal woman (Semele) to garden of heavenly delights. Mortal woman gets insecure about sleeping with a god and wants to be immortal. Juno gets jealous. Juno wakes up the god of sleep and forces him to put the dragons guarding the garden of delights to sleep, then takes control of the mortal woman’s sister and tells the mortal woman that if she makes Jupiter come to her in his full glory, she will be a goddess. Mortal woman makes the request, gets burned to a crisp, and then Dionysus is born from her ashes and the world rejoices. 

I mostly go to the opera for the music (I mean, you’re not there for the plot, see above), but I am not immune to the charms and pleasures of a well dressed set, and I found the set and lighting a particularly effective addition to this production. Through the ingenious use of banners and projections the set was believably both the mortal realm and the many faceted realm of the gods. The banners scrolling down as streams of stars and clouds passed along them was an ingenious and stunning way to transition between the worlds, and the falling banners at the end as everything fell apart was a striking visual.

There is a growing trend of returning the dances that originally were so integral to these operas to a place of prominence. This production goes farther along this road than others I have seen, and in general I thought it was an addition that added interest and drama. It was particularly effective in the scene where Juno puppets a dancer representing Ino to convince Semele that she has begun to transform into a goddess, and become beautiful. The choreography also added to many of the large choral numbers, adding visual interest and increasing the impact. However, in a few of the quieter, more emotional scenes, for example when Ino declares her love to Athamas, I found the bold choreography a touch distracting and I wish the choreographer and director had trusted the drama to stand on its own two feet and hold the audience’s attention without the dancer. The dancers were all skilled however, and, apart from those scenes, I think it was a creative and fun addition to the opera. Maybe I need to start going to see some dance performances even when they aren’t accompanied by opera.

I had heard of Amanda Forsythe, but had never had the pleasure of seeing her in person, and wow! She is such a dynamic stage presence, both vocally and physically. Many of her arias were sung as she was being lifted, carried, and otherwise thrown around the stage by the aforementioned dancers, and she didn’t miss a note. Her clear, flexible voice never faltered. And her showstopper aria, “Myself I shall Adore” did indeed bring down the house. I particularly appreciated her ornamentations, (of which there were many) which were novel and creative without being anachronistic. I don’t know to whom I have to sell my soul to get her to sing more Handel in Washington DC, but I am accepting offers.

As we always do, my father and I were comparing notes at intermission, and he was particularly taken with the performer playing Ino. He had found her particularly affecting in her aria, “Turn hopeless lover.” But he went on to say that he was withholding judgement on the performer portraying Juno, as he though so far she was okay but not exceptional. At which point we discovered that the roles were both being portrayed by the same actress--the amazing Daniela Mack. We had the pleasure of seeing her at Carnegie Hall doing Alcina in concert (prior to the origin of this blog). This should tell you something about Ms. Mack’s range, if not our observational skills. Even in the second act, when I knew that both roles were portrayed by the same woman, I found it hard to believe. Her physicality was mesmerizing, and her voice shone in both roles.

As for Alek Shrader, who played Jupiter, my father had the following to say, “It is a good thing the show did not actually attempt to show Jupiter coming to Semele in his full glory because several members of the audience might have also died.” I am not ashamed to say that I cried during “We’er you walk.” I have ears and a soul. His physical bearing and vocal power were something to behold--it was easy to believe that he was a god taking human form on the stage. I look forward to more from him in the future.

Tim Mead’s reputation preceded him, and he also delivered on some fiendishly difficult coloratura. Sometimes I find countertenors to be lacking in power, but his voice felt full and powerful throughout the range. His voice and Ms. Mack’s blended together exquisitely in their duets.

I had seen Alex Rosen in Opera Lafayette’s production of Radamisto, and was quite impressed with him. His bass is full and rich (especially for such a young performer), and he moves fluidly through coloratura. I am watching his career with interest and I hope to be able to say I saw him when.

⭐️⭐️ The experience of reading Curse of Penryth Hall is like drinking a wine that hasn’t fully completed the aging process. The core concept is good, and the mystery is solid. The characters are passable, but occasionally have to hold the idiot ball or become two dimensional in service of the plot. I have a lot of issues with the sentence craft of this book, and unfortunately, the good idea, solid mystery, and middling characters mean I can’t in good fait recommend this book.

I’ve had experiences like this before, and in my opinion the person first in line for the blame is the editor. The author has promise, but the correct response here is: “Congratulations on finishing your novel. It’s not ready for prime time, but I’d be interested in seeing your next one.” The sentences are just too rough. In places I found myself skimming because the poorly constructed sentences were repelling my eyes as oil does to water.

The core idea of a haunted Welsh mansion where people start dying is a good one, but that is an idea that rests on vibes. I want to feel the wind off the moor on my neck, and smell the mist in the morning. Instead it felt like listening to a teenage girl tell you about her day at school. I also took issue with some inconsistent and unconvincing character choices. The main character Ruby, lives with a bookseller, who’s only personality traits are old and fatherly. It’s entirely unclear why he likes Ruby, who appears to be a selfish drunk (I do not understand why everyone thought she was charming. She reminded me most of a Frat bro.) I recommend giving this one a pass.

I got told by enough people that judging Charles Stross by the first book that he ever published was not fair, so here I am trying a different one. It won the locus award and was nominated for several other awards, so I think by any stretch I’ve now given Mr.Stross a fair shake. My feelings are largely unchanged. It’s sexist, mistakes technical jargon for world building, and calling the character development two dimensional is fundamentally unfair to the concept of planes.

This book calls itself a novel but is actually connected short stories, which is strike one because I felt bait and switched. I also don’t know what issues/fetishes/etc Mr. Stross has with women in power and/or his mother, but I would humbly suggest that he work them out somewhere more private than this novel.

I’m giving it two stars because there’s two passages that are actually clever and funny which honestly makes me more angry because there was the kernel of a few good ideas in here. Unfortunately Mr. Stross thinks he’s cleverer than he is and can’t get out of his own way to let this work breathe.

My opinions about Menewood are mixed. I’m deeply frustrated by it. The last half is a really interesting, well written, exciting epic historical fiction that is deeply researched and positively dripping with atmosphere. The first half is meandering, overlong, over complicated and full of the absolutely unnecessary and off putting thing that made me so angry about Hild. If you’ve also read Hild, and if you also found that end off putting and upsetting, it does not go away, and be prepared for it to consume the first 300 pages of Hild. If you were okay with it, then press on, I guess.

I also think the editor did a disservice in not forcing Griffith to cut some of this. 720 pages is a huge book and a huge ask for a reader. I go in expecting a book to earn every page over 350, and double earn every page over 500. This book did not do that. As I often say, there probably is a very good novel’s worth of pages in Menewood, but unfortunately there’s also a bad novel’s worth of pages, and it would have been to the story’s benefit to have them trimmed.

This book finished stronger than it started, and in spite of that review, I loved watching Hild come into her own, as a woman, and as a leader. Ultimately I was both disappointed by, and yet somehow really enjoyed this book, thanks to a strong ending. But I really don’t think I can recommend most people press on through the first 300 pages to get to the good part.

⭐️⭐️⭐️I have been struggling with what to say in this review. Not because I hated this book. In fact, this book was fine. If you like dark academia, if you like 18th century Venice, if you want to read Phantom of the Opera but Lesbians--you will have a good time reading this book. I did not love this book. I did not hate this book. I wanted more from this book. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. Look, my online handle has Baroque in the title--I love Baroque music, I love fantasy, this should have been my jam. And I was really enjoying the set up for this book. The vibes, as the youths say, are immaculate. I just wanted a little more pay off. Some other reviewers have taken issue with the purple prose, but I didn’t have a problem with that. This book is luxurious, this book is plush. Yes the prose are a part of that experience. I think I just wanted this book to lean in to the horror genre instead of away. To go “full gothic nonsense.” Ultimately it felt like it took itself a little too seriously. If you’ve read Mexican Gothic--I kept waiting for *that moment* and it never happened. If you like Dark Academia and Horny Lesbians Making Bad Life Choices in 18th Century Venice. This book will deliver on that, but ultimately the best Genre books transcend the tropes that comprise them, and this book couldn’t quite make that leap, so it’s just fine.

My whirlwind tour of Europe may be over, but I’m still traveling to see my baroque operas! I saw a production of Ariodante in Chicago this past weekend that I have thoughts and feelings about so I decided to revive this little blog to share them.

Prior to seeing this production of Ariodante, I had seen one production on DVD, and had the great pleasure of seeing it performed in concert at the Kennedy Center with Joyce DiDonato and the English Concert.

The production I saw at the Lyric brought out aspects of the drama that I had not focused on when it was presented in concert. The traditional plot of Ariodante is sort of a cross between Othello and the Hero/Claudius plot from Much Ado About Nothing. Ariodante and the princess Ginevra are in love, Polinesso is jealous, so he convinces Ginevra’s maid, Dalinda, to dress up as her, and on the night before Ariodante and Ginevra are to be married, invite him in as a lover. Ariodante, despondent after seeing this, leaves the castle to commit suicide, over his brother Lurcano’s objections. After Ariodante throws himself from a cliff, Lurcano goes to Ginevra’s father and demands justice, namely that either Genevra be put to death, or he be given the chance to battle with her champion in a trial by combat. Reluctantly, the king agrees, but Polinesso offers himself as her champion. Meanwhile, Ariodante has in fact survived his suicide attempt, and finds a horrified Dalinda in the woods. Dalinda confesses, and they rush back. Polinesso and Lurcano fight, and Lurcano mortally wounds Polinesso. Polinesso confesses, Ariodante returns and explains what he has learned, the all is forgiven and the lovers marry.

The Chicago production made some changes to the more traditional plot. In a typical production, Ariodante is the outsider, and much of Polinesso’s jealousy comes from the Polinesso’s feeling that Ariodante has stolen what is rightfully his. In the Chicago production, which was updated to 1970s Isle of Skye, it is Polinesso who is the outsider, a charlatan priest from the mainland, who also may have been in a biker gang (that part was not clear). As well as updating the time line, the production had an updated message about sexual expectations and exploitation of women. Rather than a mostly harmless misunderstanding, the punishment of Ginevra is a brutal ostracization and slut shaming by the comunity she calls home. Polinesso, rather than an emotionally manipulative and ambitious power seeker, becomes a bonafide sexual predator, who stalks and harasses Ginevra and then turns the community against her when she refuses his advances. In this production also in a stylized way, depicts him violently raping Dalinda, after she dresses as Ginevra and invites him in. In light of these more realistic choices, the show also changes the ending. Rather than forgiving her community, her father, and her betrothed, Ginevra leaves the island and sets off on her own journey of discovery.

These choices take the play from one that has a depressing second act, to a very dark and dismal place. In light of this, the choice to search for some place to find humor or levity is a reasonable one. What I did not think was reasonable, was the choice to attempt to find it in Polinesso, a character they had turned into a sexual predator. Stalking is not funny. Harassment is not funny. Breaking into a woman’s room to sniff her underwear is stalking and it should not be played for laughs.

The only other gripe I had about this production, and it is a small gripe, is that in the first act Ginevra is portrayed as quirky and slightly ditzy. I like the choice to have her be quirky, because, as my father pointed out, it helps explain why the community was so easily persuaded that she was a sexual deviant. However, in light of the updated, empowering ending, I think they played her a little too stupid in the first act to really make the empowering ending ring true. 

But enough about the production, let’s talk about the music. From top to bottom, musically, I have nothing but praise for this production. In terms of fully staged opera productions I have seen, this falls only short of Glyndbourne. Henry Bicket was conducting, and I, the queen of complaining about tempos, have nothing to say. The tempos were perfect, the balance was perfect. 

I have had the privilege of seeing Alice Coote singing Ruggiero at an Alcina in concert, but this was my first time seeing her in a staged production. Her Ariodante was sublime. She is now 2/2 of making me cry. Scherza Infida is 12 minutes long, and has four lines of unique lyrics, and she held the stage for the whole time.

This was my first time seeing Brenda Rae, who was Ginevra, but she sang and acted beautifully. Her feelings of betrayal when her community turned against her were heartbreaking to watch. 

Heidi Stober, who played Dalinda also acted Dalinda’s shame and suffering after her rape in a subtle, moving way, and her voice was clear and beatuiful.

I had forgotten, until I read the program, that I had seen Iestyn Davies in the Lyric’s production of Rinaldo when I was a student at Chicago. He was excellent then, and, though I didn’t agree with some of the choices for his character, he was a very menacing Polinesso, and his voice was very well suited to the role. 

I feel like I have seen Kyle Ketelsen, who plays the King of Scotland, somewhere before, but I cannot figure it out. He is a great young bass, and I think he has a lot of potential. In this production the king is more of a villain and he carried it off.

Finally, for me, one of the absolute joys of the production was the young Eric Ferring as Lurcano. Mark my words, this man is going places. His acting was good, his ornamentation was tastefully done, and he was a joy to listen to. He sang fearlessly and note perfect. I can’t wait to see where he goes next. He’s a special singer, and I know I’ll see him again.