Royal Opera
22nd June
This was the first night, of the second cast. It was supposed, to be Angela Gheorghiu, as Tosca, but she changed, her mind, so, instead, Catherine Nagelstad, sang the role, for the first time. I do not know, whether the other singers, changed also. This was the new production, by Jonathan Kent, replacing that grand, eloquent, majesterious, production, by Zeferelli, which has been, the Royal Opera’s production, for so many years. Much of it, actually, looked very similar, to the old production. Both of them, are very dark, I do not know why. Perhaps, it needs to be night time, when Tosca, jumps to her death, so dramatically, but it need not, be so very dark, in the second act, in Scarpia’s flat, I am sure. I am not sure, though, why the synopsis is American, and calls his flat, his apartment. In the first act, it is incomprehensble, for it to be so dark, as Cavaradossi, needs light, in order to do his painting. The first act, has some very eligant staircases, I think I prefer them, to the old production. I would like to descend them, in full splendour, except, I know, I would not be able to decide, whether to go down, the left hand stairs, or the right. The third act, with its great, and terrible, plunge, looked misterius, and horrifying, but it did not, look like battlements, she looked more, as though she was throwing, herself from a cliff. Apart from that, it was such, a heart-rending performance, of such untold agonies, and Catherine Nagelstad, is not Angela, but I must confess, in my deepest hearts, I am actually wondering, whether Angela, is quite as good, as everyone proclaims. The other Primi Divi, not that they have, true depths, to their souls, rate her, with only limited height, and, I overheard comments, whilst at the u>performance, which suggested, that other patrons, those who spoke, might be, of the same mind, as they are. However, I cannot comment, on Angela’s peformance, there are no tickets, I was told, although, perhaps, we are seeing Catherine, because none of the others, desired, to see Angela, so perhaps, they did not, quite, speak the truth. Catherine, though, is a singer of true greatness, of such vulnerability, of such I have never seen, in a Tosca. She sings with such power, and with such sweetness, and it was, so, incandessantly moving, it cannot be described, by human voice. Cavaradossi, was Nicola Rossi Giordano, a tenor, of such, dark, brooding, Satanity, and a voice, of such, melting, fragility. The evil Scarpia, was sung, by Samuel Ramey, who strikes fear, into our very hearts, and treembling, into our very bodies, with his strength, and, even, masculinity, he looks far younger, than he is. Robert Gleadow, that handsome young bass, of such, glittering, promise, sang Sciarrone, with such passion. Carlo Cigni, was Angelotti, he was ravishing, at the beginning, when he first entered, he had nothing, with which to occupy himself, and no-one, with whom to converse, yet, as he walked on, he filled the stage, with tangible, fear, all eyes were upon him. The men, all, looked devastating, but Tosca’s dresses, I did not, could not, like. One was orange, at least, that was how it seemed, in the fading light, of the church. I cannot, but, despise, an orange dress.
Violetta
primi-divi at hotmail.co.uk