La liberté pour nous conspire? Guillaume Tell

Fighting over the future: Guillaume Tell, Act III. Photo © Bayerische Staatsoper

A confession, with apologies to those whose opera-related obsessions center on bel canto: thrillingly-sung Rossini is not a phrase that ordinarily trips from my tongue. For Wednesday night's performance of Guillaume Tell at the Bayerische Staatsoper, however, no less a word than thrilling would do. I went in with few concrete expectations, but I'd never heard Michael Volle live before, and having heard Bryan Hymel live once, I couldn't pass up the chance to do so again. So, after a morning on a train and an afternoon in the archives, I found myself directly under the ceiling of the sold-out house; following the example of fellow-students in the last row, I clambered up on the railing in front of our seats in order to see (disclaimer: my view was partial due to the angle, and occasionally interrupted due to the fact that my calf muscles could not handle constant rail-balancing.) Despite a production more impressive in concept than in execution, it was a musically and emotionally engaging evening, in which all the principal singers gave performances of remarkable passion and precision.

Ambizioso spirto tu sei, Macbetto

As Daniel Albright wrote in an article on Verdi's Macbeth, part of the power of Shakespeare's tragedies (and perhaps no small part) lies in their absurdity. For the witches, Macbeth's mad succession of horrors unfolds as a comedy, tremendous illogic driving a loyal nobleman to treachery, and a kingdom to internecine strife and the brink of self-destruction. Are the witches wise women who read Macbeth's character better than anyone else, or are they, as Banquo posits in the Verdi/Piave libretto, surrounding a lie with truths in order to tempt him to destruction? Adrian Noble's 2007 production makes them village women, who seem to have constructed an alternate community of sorts; but it also suggests that they are meddling with powers far beyond their own control. The visual language of the production flirted with surrealism--one of its most interesting hints was that Birnam Wood is always already at Dunsinane--in a WWII-era society, heavily militarized. Between the giddy, glamourous banquest guests and the bitter, exhausted refugees, I wish I'd gotten a better sense of who Macbeth's subjects are; another haunting suggestion is that Duncan's "popular support" is no more genuine, and no less based on intimidation, than Macbeth's own. Violent (dystopian?) realities were no more than hinted at, however; while visually sleek, I found the production less than satisfying.

Leading the orchestra, Gianandrea Noseda brought out beautiful sound in nuanced phrasing, playing with dynamics and the nerves of the audience (well, mine, anyway.) The eerie horror in the score was chillingly evoked. Still, I did sometimes find myself wishing for violence, more reckless impulsion. This is a "what's done is done" sort of opera, and the orchestra could have been steeped a bit further in blood. The chorus--which Verdi identified as one of the most important ingredients in the success of the opera--contributed stellar work as witches, murderers, banquet guests, and refugees. The desolate "Patria oppressa" was a highlight of the evening. Richard Cox was a bright-toned and authoritative Malcolm. As Macduff, Dimitri Pittas sounded on much better form than the last time I heard him, and he contributed strong, incisive singing. The orchestra made me tearier than the tenor did in "Ah! la paterna mano," but maybe that's just me. Günther Groissböck was a new discovery to me; as Banquo, he was elegant and assured, restrained in manner but vocally charismatic.