Caramoor International Music Festival, Katonah, N.Y.; July 9, 2005
Over the years, Caramoor’s Opera Director Will Crutchfield has been concentrating on the bel canto period, with particular attention to the works of Rossini, Bellini and Donizetti. This season’s offerings – Bellini’s La sonnambula and the original version of Verdi’s La traviata – continue that tradition, and Saturday night’s Sonnambula was an object lesson in what bel canto is all about.
“Beautiful singing,” is, of course, the translation of the term, but it also implies a mastery of legato, florid singing, using each ornament – a trill, an appoggiatura, grace notes – to express feeling. La sonnambula’s plot couldn’t be simpler: our heroine, Amina, sleepwalks, and this fact has eluded her entire tiny Alpine village, including her mother, her whole life. She’s engaged to Elvino, who is loved by the jealous, spiteful Lisa (who is loved by Alessio, whom she verbally abuses) but when a stranger comes to town and Amina sleepwalks into his room in Lisa’s Inn, Lisa takes her opportunity to slander Amina. Elvino calls off the wedding and agrees to marry Lisa (an old fling, it turns out). Just at that moment, enter Amina, asleep and grieving beautifully; everyone realizes what has really been going on and when Amina is awakened, she sings a wildly ornamented cabaletta of happiness, the wedding is back on, and everyone rejoices, except, perhaps, Lisa. The plot and music – and characters – are as graceful as ballet, and like most of early 19th century opera, the feelings are pinpointed in individual arias.
Bellini, with his long, gorgeous melodies, even entranced Wagner. There have been great Bellini sopranos over the years – Callas, Sutherland, Sills, Caballé – but few tenors have been able to partner them. Elvino, the tenor role here, was composed for Giovanni Battista Rubini, a man with an apparently stratospheric upper extension, and the role (like the lead in Puritani, also composed for him) is filled with high Bs, Cs, Ds and even an F. Lately some tenors have come along who can tackle this range and Crutchfield, finding such a voice in young John Osborn, paired him with the great bel canto soprano Sumi Jo, and the results were stunning.
Jo is a known quantity. Her beautiful, expressive tone, impeccable coloratura, excellent, sensitive phrasing and musical intelligence, not to mention astounding ease with high notes have made her an international star since her debut in 1986. As Amina, she was lovely, her tiny figure the picture of refinement, her caressing of the text as important – and sincere – as the ease with which she dispatched Bellini’s music. “Ah, non credea mirarti,” one of the saddest melodies in all of opera, was delivered with heartbreaking pathos. Osborn, singing Elvino in the original keys for which the part was written (the role has been systematically transposed down for a hundred years), was equally fine. The voice has a solid center, good flexibility and the high notes required. He occasionally, in his second act aria and cabaletta, sounded pushed to his limits, but elsewhere, not only managed the high Cs, but was capable of shading them to fine pianissimi when the score called for it. And through it all, he remained an ardent lover, with utmost care given to the text.
Daniel Mobbs’ handsome baritone was well-used in the role of Count Rodolfo, the somewhat enigmatic figure who shows up; Megan Watson sang Lisa’s music with verve, an almost too-shiny tone and just the right petulance, and the nerdy Alessio was a very good Christopher Dickerson. The rest of the cast was splendid, and after a shaky start, the chorus, with plenty to do, was admirable.
The Orchestra of St. Luke’s played gloriously, the difficult horn parts not missing a note and the phrasing of the strings as graceful as the vocal ballet it was accompanying. The opera was staged by Ira Siffin a smallish space in front of and on the same level as the orchestra – it was as simple as the story and there was no nonsense. The Scenic/Costume designer was Robert Martin, and he evoked the rustic goofiness of this Swiss village properly.
Mr Crutchfield led with a perfect ear for Bellini’s long lines as well as the more energetic moments. The embellishments to Bellini’s vocal lines, one assumes, were his, and they were plentiful and original. It is customary to add to second verses – it’s part of the bel canto tradition – and only occasionally did they seem overly ornate. The evening was a lesson in bel canto: beautiful singing, beautifully conceived.
Robert Levine
