Boris Pinkhasovich / Κριτικές

Boris Pinkhasovich (dont l’apparence rappelle étrangement celle d’un Roberto Alagna aux cheveux mi-longs) propose un Lescaut aussi roublard que nonchalant. La voix résonne puissamment, homogène et sombre conférant tout de suite du charisme à ce personnage parfois réduit à simple faire valoir.

Das Schlussbild von Robert Carsens gegenwartsnaher Deutung von Puccinis Manon Lescaut (Neuproduktion 2005) ist wohl deren stärkstes: Der Kanadier lässt die Shoppingqueen Manon nicht in der Wüste, sondern unter den gleichgültigen Blicken von Schaufensterpuppen in einer Luxuseinkaufspassage sterben, quasi vor verschlossener Tür im Goldenen Quartier.

Tschaikowskys Oper unter Valery Gergiev, und rundum neu besetzt: Jubel für aufwühlende Dramatik – und Olga Borodina im Zentrum.

Wiens Opernfreunde wußten es schon immer: Ohne Sänger, ohne Dirigenten kann man keine Oper spielen. (Als hätte es je des Nachweises solcher Behauptung bedurft.) Vom ersten Takt an gelingen Valery Gergiev und dem Staatsopernorchester eine hervorragende und in sich geschlossene musikalische Deutung von Tschaikowskis chef d’œuvre. Bewundernswert, wie Gergiev mit kleinsten, flirrenden Bewegungen seiner Hände die dynamische Palette durchmißt, Einsätze gibt, orchestrale Zurückhaltung fordert. Und das Orchester nicht nur in den Soli zu Höchstleistungen animiert. Dieser Abend fordert Orchester, Chor, Solisten — und das Publikum. Wer sich darauf einläßt, dem danken es alle Kräfte des Hauses mit einem Abend, der in der Rückschau gewiß als Höhepunkt (nicht nur) dieser Saison Bestand haben wird

The students’ horseplay in the final act involves the daubing of multi-mammary graffiti on the walls of the garret. That and the stark lighting make for an alienating backdrop when the dying Mimi is helped in. Yet the staging ultimately achieves poignancy in its own terms when the casting of deep shadows almost obscures the graffiti, highlighting the pallor of Mimi’s face into the bargain. The cast is uniformly impressive. Anna Princeva’s robust if skilfully modulated Mimi defies her physical condition, while Joshua Guerrero’s excellently sung Rodolfo seems all the more winningly vulnerable for his lithe, flexible tone. Boris Pinkhasovich’s exceptionally strong Marcello, and the fine Schaunard of Cody Quattlebaum and Colline of Gianluca Buratto complete the quartet. Danielle de Niese admirably traces Musetta’s development from knicker-waving temptress to compassionate friend.Renato Balsadonna, previously the company’s chorus director, ably coordinates his former choristers on and off stage. More than that, he conducts with immense sensitivity, unafraid to let the reflective moments make their mark. Whatever is lost in the sumptuousness of strings in Mario Parenti’s reduced orchestration is more than made up for with a telling horn counterpoint here, a singing cello line there. It’s very skilfully done, as is the whole slimmed-down, stripped-plank show.

As the famously flirty coquette, Danielle de Niese steals the show with her antics in Café Momus, drunkenly climbing on tables and flashing her panties. While de Niese may not be the most vocally glamorous Musetta, she nicely charts the character’s development from outrageous party girl to concerned friend. Her post-breakup walk offstage at the end of Act 3 is particularly memorable – tragic without being scene-stealing. She spars nicely with Boris Pinkhasovich’s Marcello, who is particularly outstanding in his projection of the text. Pinkhasovich has a marvellous voice, with a mellifluous legato and presence. I can’t wait to see him return in bigger roles.Joshua Guerrero has an undeniably exciting voice, with squillo and high notes to burn. He makes for an earnest, direct Rodolfo, and though his intonation tends to sag in his middle register he makes the most of the character’s emotional outbursts. His “Che gelida manina”, taken at a daringly slow tempo, was beautifully nuanced and displayed an admirable control of the line. But it’s Anna Princeva’s Mimì who is the real reason to see this revival. The Russian soprano is a much richer voice than we typically get in the role, and her repertoire includes Lohengrin, Trovatore, and Vespri siciliani. Her entrance makes an immediate aural impact, her dark coppery soprano flecked with melancholy. Hers is an immediately tragic Mimì, looking haunted from the beginning as if she knows her relationship with Rodolfo is doomed. Princeva is also able to shade her voice beautifully, practically whispering her final lines. Though neither Guerrero nor Princeva are particular stage animals, they were utterly disarming in their earnestness and showed great chemistry with one another. The evening was overseen by Renato Balsadonna, who followed his singers admirably well while drawing sumptuous sound from the reduced orchestra. Top marks as well to the socially-distanced chorus and children’s chorus, adding a wonderful freshness to the performance. As any good Bohème should do, the audience was left sobbing by the end – an utterly winning revival.