Tag Archives: suor Angelica

Two Women on the Verge in “Suor Angelica” & “Voix Humaine”

La Voix Humane_Sour Angelica
La Voix Humane_Sour Angelica

Nuccia Focile in La Voix Humaine (Photo: © Elise Bakketun)

Puccini’s Suor Angelica takes place in a convent in Italy. (Photo: © Elise Bakketun)

Rosalind Plowright as The Princess (Photo: © Elise Bakketun)

Maria Gavrilova as Suor Angelica (Photo: © Elise Bakketun)

This past Saturday, Seattle Opera opened a double bill of La Voix Humaine and Suor Angelica. The two, short operas will run through May 18 with five more performances. These are the last performances of the 2012 – 13 season and, sadly, they bring down the house on Seattle Opera subscription seasons as we have known them over the last 30 years. It was therefore a landmark night, though few noticed.

Since the mid-1980s, Seattle Opera has run five operas a season (though, as with this season, they have occasionally run two shorter operas together). Due to the lingering recession, a declining subscriber base, the inability to develop a larger, younger audience; and some major budget shortfalls, this will be the last five-opera subscriber series for the near future. This summer, the Opera will produce the Wagner Ring Festival, followed by a four-opera season, and in 2014, faithful subscribers will face famine with only three operas, plus have the chance to attend the International Wagner Competition, instead of a Meistersinger previously planned, along with their subscription season.

But if this is the end of an era, the Opera is going out on top. 2012-13 was one of the company’s best seasons in years. Seattle Opera presented a dazzling, exotic turn on Puccini’s Turandot; a somber, tense reading of Beethoven’s Fidelio; a rollicking, wickedly funny take on Rossini’s La Cenerentola; a breathtaking, beautiful conception of Puccini’s La bohème, and has concluded the season with this double-bill.

I don’t see how La Voix Humaine and Sour Angelica could be much better. Composed by Francis Poulenc in 1959, with a libretto by Jean Cocteau, La Voix Humaine is a short, powerful take on the end of a love affair. Only one performer takes the stage. In this case, Elle, the spurned lover who is caught in a long telephone call with her departed lover, carries the show.

Portrayed by the amazing Nuccia Focile, Elle is part courage, part anger, and partly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Focile navigates the story with uncommon acting chops and a luscious, supple voice that conveys both the depth of Elle’s despair and the character’s strong will. The story feels modern, and the music, under the sympathetic baton of conductor Gary Thor Wedow, is romantic, lustful, and complex.

The modernity, ironically, comes from its portrayal of 20th-century communications – how they tend to separate us and interfere with our emotions. Who among us hasn’t been on one of those calls where you would say anything to make a lover stay on the phone just a minute longer? Responding to her lover’s question about her possible suicide, Elle says, “Can you imagine me with a gun? I don’t even know where to get one.”

Focile, who has done magnificent work at Seattle Opera as Iphigénie in Iphigénie en Tauride and many others, moves around the single bedroom set with grace and excellence; at one point she wraps the phone cord around her neck and in the audience there is a chilling sense of doom. She is a revelation as both a singer and actor here.

Luckily, the composer and librettist give her a few moments of humor as the phone continually drops out or unseen callers join her party line. No one in the audience will miss the point that service assurance wasn’t any better for 50s-era French landlines than it is for 21st-century cell users. At one point, Elle even says, “Can you hear me now?”

With only one singer and one set, this opera can’t be very expensive to mount, and I wonder if Seattle Opera’s creative team couldn’t find other small opera gems to expand future seasons. Menotti’s The Medium, anyone? With someone as powerful as Focile, even modest opera is a wonder to behold.

The second half of the night’s double treat was a seldom-seen Puccini opera, Suor Angelica. Set in an abbey in 1600s Italy, the opera, with its all-women cast, presents us with the story of a humble nun who was once a princess. The young princess had a child out of wedlock, was separated from her son, and sent to a lifetime of penance as an abbess.

This one-act opera starts with Angelica working in the abbey’s garden. Other nuns gently tease her about her past, but, inwardly, she is desperate to hear news from her family. It has been seven long years since she last held her newborn. In a plot worthy of O’Neill or O. Henry, Angelica is visited by her aunt on official family business, who near the end of her visit offhandedly mentions to Angelica that her son is dead, a victim of an unidentified illness.

In her sorrow, Angelica makes the heart-rending decision to take her life. As the poison takes effect, she realizes she has committed a mortal sin.

General Director Speight Jenkins was canny to put these two operas together. Both are stories of discarded women who are robbed of everything they have, even their illusions. Maria Gavrilova sings the role of Sister Angelica with power and sadness. It would be easy to see Angelica as a victim, but Gavrilova steers the character out of the pits of despair and presents her as a strong-willed, but naïve woman.

Rosalind Plowright plays the pious aunt with bone-hard conviction and holier-than-thou righteousness. With acting skills to match her instrument, Plowright comes up with the best performance I’ve seen at Seattle Opera this year.

Also coming through with an amazing performance is the Seattle Opera chorus under the direction of chorusmaster Beth Kirchhoff. Kirchhoff is a jewel among music direction in Seattle or anywhere else. In Suor Angelica, she guides the women’s chorus through a triumphant reading of Puccini’s music, which has overtones of sacred vespers. It’s powerfully nostalgic if, like me, you were taught by Catholic nuns, who sang their morning devotions.

Despite the evening’s sad overtones, you walk out thinking about miracles — a happy presentation for all concerned.

A Conversation with Mezzo Soprano Rosalind Plowright

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Seattle Opera staging rehearsals for Suor Angelica.
Plowright Princess Teatro Massimo in Palermo

Rosalind Plowright

Rosalind Plowright as Suor Angelica (Photo: Teatro La Scala)

Rosalind Plowright sings the Princess during a staging rehearsal of Suor Angelica at Seattle Opera (Photo: Alan Alabastro)

Rosalind Plowright as the Princess (Photo: Teatro Massimo, Palermo)

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Seattle Opera staging rehearsals for Suor Angelica. thumbnail

This writer heard the great Italian tenor Beniamino Gigli in recital in Edinburgh when he was in his 60s. The voice had nothing like its earlier drawing power, but the artistry was still there. Likewise I heard the great French baritone Gérard Souzay in recital, also in his 60s, and the same pertained to him. You might say they were both in the twilight of their careers.

One-time soprano, currently mezzo soprano, Rosalind Plowright is also in her 60s, but no one would consider her in the twilight of her career. More like the glorious late afternoon. She’s here in Seattle to sing the role of La Zia Principessa in Puccini’s Suor Angelica for Seattle Opera (performances run May 4 to 18, in a double bill with Poulenc’s La Voix Humaine), and she talked about where she is now in her long and illustrious career. At times in the past Plowright has found herself having problems or at least some difficulties with her voice, and it has been her habit to search out a new teacher to deal with it.

Most recently, eight years ago, Plowright says she was attempting to sing Ortrud (in Wagner’s Lohengrin). She wasn’t having a problem exactly but it felt wrong and she ended up withdrawing from the production.

“Because of that, I decided it was time to do something about my technique.” Through a Swedish singer whose technique and singing she loved, Plowright found a British teacher, Anna Sims, who for decades has taught singers how to breathe. “She’s the reason I’m still here. Anna’s a breathing specialist and she’s given me this amazing routine.” Plowright demonstrates a bit of it, standing and bringing one arm from her side in a wide arc over her head, bending sideways as though with the wind and breathing in fast through her nose at the same time. Then she reverses the movement slowly, breathing out equally slowly through pursed lips.

“When things start to go wrong with the voice, you automatically go to working with it, doing lots of vocal exercises, and in many cases they don’t work. Until now, my breathing had never been addressed,” she says. “Anna teaches you to keep everything anchored and low. It has kept my voice in a healthy state for what I sing. She says ‘Do these exercises and sing, don’t vocalize!’ That’s why I’m still here.”

For many years performing soprano roles, in the middle-1990s Plowright felt her voice was changing, and in 1999 she began performing as a mezzo soprano.

As a singer with a reputation as an excellent actress as well, the Principessa is a role which suits her admirably. The Principessa is on stage for under ten minutes, but it’s a pivotal part of the opera, and Plowright has only that short time to put her character across, that of a chilly woman with a great sense of the noble family she represents and little sympathy for the young woman now a nun who brought shame upon that family name.

“Her entrance music says it all. It’s not a long role, but it’s very exposed,” says Plowright. “Puccini has a way of creating amazing atmospheres, and I find characters like that very much me.”

Indeed, she has described her current roles as “witches and bitches, bags and hags.” Among them are the role she last sang here in 2008, Klytemnestra in Richard Strauss’s Electra, (definitely a bitch), the Ortrud she wishes she had been able to sing (“She’s a witch. I would have liked to sing Ortrud—I probably could get away with it at a pinch, but the angst isn’t worth it”), as well as the beggar woman in Sweeney Todd, (“she‘s a bag and a hag as well”). “The real thing I do is mothers. Janacek wrote a lot of mad witch-like characters—evil stepmothers,” clearly roles Plowright enjoys.

In her earlier years, Plowright was known as a Verdi soprano. She had been inspired by Maria Callas and wanted to sing her repertoire. “It’s regrettable, now that I’ve come to Strauss. I could have done so much more when I was younger.”

Coming up for her the rest of this year are Madame de Croissy in Poulenc’s Dialogues des Carmélites in Paris, Mrs Sedley in Britten’s Peter Grimes in Lyons, a small role in Giordano’s Andrea Chénier at Covent Garden, and Herodias in Strauss’s Salome in Portland.

Mostly nowadays, she sings roles which are not enormously long or taxing but are important to the story. Klytemnestra is only on stage for 20 intense minutes, but is not singing all the time. Madame de Croissy in Poulenc’s Dialogues des Carmélites is in two scenes, “full on when you’re out there but not anything like the length of the roles I used to do.”

She’s discovered she likes this.”It’s befitting my age and I’m healthy. I still feel I can physically go on longer, but the parts I do don’t allow that. It took a while to accept a back seat so to speak. I spent years holding a Verdi opera together. To be honest I enjoy it a lot more now. There was a lot of pressure then and I used to feel very anxious. Now, at the end of the day, you’re on stage, it’s fun, no pressure, same fee—but I don’t do it for the fee. It keeps me young.”