- Northern New York Newspapers
- Watertown Daily Times
- The Journal
- Daily Courier-Observer
- NNY Ads
- NNY Business
- NNY Living
- Malone Telegram
NEW YORK The Metropolitan Opera may have pretty much turned opening night over to the glamorous Anna Netrebko, but New Years Eve belonged to a very different diva Joyce DiDonato.
Last year the Kansas-born mezzo-soprano headlined a starry lineup in the baroque pastiche The Enchanted Island. On Dec. 31 she brought a gala audience to its feet with a luminous performance in the title role of Donizettis Maria Stuarda.
Saturdays matinee performance of Maria Stuarda will be broadcast live in HD to movie theaters around the world, including Potsdams Roxy Theater.
Never before performed at the Met, this second opera in the composers so-called Three Queens trilogy portrays the lethal conflict between Mary, deposed queen of Scotland, and Queen Elizabeth I of England.
From the moment she makes her entrance in the second scene, singing of her joy in strolling outside her prison in Fotheringay Castle, DiDonato rivets attention. She imbues every syllable with a concentrated eloquence that makes her compact voice seem larger than it is. She displays seemingly effortless command of coloratura embellishments throughout a wide vocal range. And she is equally impressive in fiery outbursts and in hushed, long-held phrases like the ones she spun out as she sang through the chorus in the final scene.
The operas dramatic heart is a confrontation between the two queens that never took place in history but that figures in the Friedrich Schiller play on which the libretto is based. Mary at first abases herself in hope of winning a pardon; then, as Elizabeth hurls insults, her pride reasserts itself and she seals her doom by denouncing her rival as figlia impura di Bolena (impure daughter of Anne Boleyn) and vil bastarda (vile bastard).
DiDonato was impressive in this scene when she sang the role for the first time last spring in Houston, but her performance on New Years Eve was even better more confident and more filled with vocal and dramatic shadings. There was a wonderful touch when, after she had spent her fury, she allowed herself a beatific smile, as if to convey: There! I said it and Im glad!
Of course, it takes two to stage a confrontation, and DiDonatos partner at the Met is Elza van den Heever, a South African soprano making her debut. She has a voice thats impressive in many respects, with a large and vibrant upper register. But she tended to fade out in the lower part of her range, where much of Elizabeths music lies.
More damagingly, she was victimized by a quirk of David McVicars production that has Elizabeth lurching awkwardly about the stage for much of the evening, as if thrown off balance by John Macfarlanes elaborate period costumes. Perhaps this bizarre gait is intended to contrast with Marys immaculate poise, but it mainly proves distracting.
The opening scene in Elizabeths palace is garishly staged, with what look like red rafters hanging down from the ceiling and gratuitous acrobats in devil costumes, but once past this, matters improve. For the scene outside Fotheringay, Macfarlane fills the stage with spindly trees barren of leaves and provides a painted backdrop that evokes a cloudy landscape. The final tableau is also striking: Mary, shorn of her long hair and wearing a simple red dress, climbs a staircase with her back to the audience to meet her executioner and the chopping block.
Though the two queens dominate the opera, there are some other characters, and they are all in extremely good hands. Having the elegant tenor Matthew Polenzani take on the thankless role of the ineffectual Leicester is luxury casting indeed. Bass Matthew Rose is warmly sympathetic as Marys confessor, Talbot; baritone Joshua Hopkins sings with robust tone as her nemesis, Cecil; and mezzo Maria Zifchak lends her customary strong support as Marys attendant, Anna.
Maurizio Benini conducts a lithe and lively performance of the score, even if he cant quite disguise the fact that the second half of the opera is decidedly anti-climactic.