Dvorák : Rusalka
Chorus and Orchestra of the Metropolitan Opera, New York
Yannick Nézet-Séguin
That Rusalka deserves to be known far, far beyond its one hit number is undeniable. That it presents some problems to the average opera-going public is also, unfortunately, undeniable, because Rusalka is an opera that relies very heavily on its orchestra, rather than on its soloists, for maximum impact. That's not to say a company can risk second- or third-stringers in the vocal parts, because it's very difficult to sing, but if the conductor and orchestra aren't putting heart and soul into their share of the proceedings, then the piece will never get off the ground.
I've been an admirer of Yannick Nézet-Séguin from the first time I heard him conduct, and I have high expectations of him now at all times. He did not disappoint tonight. In the right hands, the Met orchestra can play as well as any of the world's great symphony orchestras, and this score, rich with Dvorák's symphonic experience, calls out for a conductor who can work with it on both levels, as an independent symphonic instrument, and as the framework for the vocal contribution, with equal power. Nézet-Séguin built the work progressively, from a crisply unsentimental first act, through a barnstorming second, to the passionate, despairing climax of the third. As good as the plateau was - and it was excellent - conductor and orchestra were the glue that held it all together, and the finishing touch to give it its full, glorious lustre.
The Met's production, by Otto Schenk, is now at least twenty years old. It's a nice, traditional presentation, very straightforward, not too fussy, and no psychological tricks. Visually, though, for cinema presentation, as someone on Twitter put it, "who stole all the light bulbs"? I've seen enough Günther Schneider-Siemssen set designs to know that they were usually very handsome and quite elaborate, and I'm sure that's the case here too, but for the most part, especially in the outer acts, most of the details were largely invisible on screen. We began to get a clearer view of the forest set at the end of Act 1, as dawn breaks - the surrounding trees began to show up a bit like a Corot landscape. In the last act, a couple of the longer-view shots during the last scene, with just Rusalka and the Prince on-stage, had more of a Caspar David Friedrich feel to them, but generally, most of the detail was wasted. Fortunately the soloists were always well spotlit.
The title-role in this variant of the Undine legend has been a staple of Renée Fleming's repertory for many years now, and there's no denying her fluency in the part. She looks lovely, with a gentle vulnerability well-suited to the role. The upper part of the voice is as beautiful as ever, radiant and silken-smooth. In Act 1, the very lowest part of the voice started out rather metallic and hard, almost disagreeably so during the first 10 minutes. As the performance progressed, this warmed up, and by the last act, everything was fully in place, the lower notes warm and expressive, rather than flattened. From the moment Rusalka regains speech in Act 2, in an anguished diatribe against her fate, to her final valedictory blessing, Fleming was in superlative form.
Piotr Beczala, on the other hand, arrived on stage in Act 1 with all cylinders firing, and remained that way right to the end. I have never heard him sound this good, and he made for a convincingly handsome, story-book Prince. The voice is perfectly suited to the role, heroic, ardent, bright, yet with weight at the lower end too, and he was truly on fire tonight. Just a little too much so, actually, as he tried too hard for the top C at the climax of the final scene and wobbled (Dvorák did mark the score "don't shout" here), but it was a pardonable fault in a generally formidable performance, making a genuine character of the Prince, who can otherwise appear bleatingly stupid.
Of all the roles in Rusalka, I think the hardest to pull off is the Foreign Princess. This is the temptress, the character who distracts the Prince from his sworn love, but her music is not especially seductive. She's confrontational musically, and dramatically, not to put too fine a point on it, she's a Grade-A, Joan-Collins-Dynasty-style B**** (capitalisation intended). It's usually given to a strong mezzo-soprano, but in this run, the Met has entrusted it to the dramatic soprano Emily Magee, who provided a forceful presence, although the vocal tone was a little stony.
Dolora Zajick was a robust, earthy witch, like a solid pillar of common sense dishing out cold, hard facts with a firm, no-nonsense tone, and a scornful eye for the idiocies of the rest of the world (both worlds, supernatural and human) around her. John Relyea sang superbly as the Water Goblin, a hapless observer, certain of impending doom but unable to prevent it, nor were there any weaknesses in any of the other supporting cast. All in all, this was a performance of a quality to fully validate the Met's reputation as one of the world's greatest opera houses.
[Next : 12th February]
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