In New York, the Metropolitan Opera has begun a monthlong winter break. Elsewhere on the East Coast, though, opera rarities have returned to the stage. The Boston Symphony Orchestra performed Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s “Die Tote Stadt” in concert, while Opera Philadelphia presented Joseph Bologne’s “L’Amant Anonyme.” Here are reviews of both.
‘Die Tote Stadt’
“Die Tote Stadt” continued its resurrection with two concert performances from the Boston Symphony Orchestra and its music director, Andris Nelsons, at Symphony Hall last week.
The opera, once consigned to history by Nazi antisemites and modernist opponents of late Romanticism, had its premiere in 1920 and was popular for years after; it has been experiencing a revival of late, as has Korngold more generally. Here it was again, granted a lavish, solid performance by an important ensemble, played under a conductor of stature, sung by prominent soloists who invested care and passion in its every note. Hearteningly, it drew a robust audience.
All of which raised a question: When do we stop thinking of a work of art as overlooked, or even forgotten, and treat it like an ordinary part of the repertoire?
“Die Tote Stadt” must at least be close, and probably deservedly so. The Boston Symphony’s performance, mounted as part of a welcome new collaboration with Boston Lyric Opera, confirmed it as a powerful work. Its depiction of a man, Paul, overcoming his grief for his dead wife, Marie, can be profoundly moving, as he processes his attraction to a dancer with a remarkable resemblance to her, uncannily named Marietta.
But redemption comes for Paul only after he dreams, all too realistically for comfort, of killing Marietta with a lock of Maria’s blond hair. Violence against women, alas, tends not to disqualify an opera from the canon.
The Boston Symphony’s performance on Saturday was made all the more unsettling for the soprano Christine Goerke’s complex, commanding account of the double role of Marie and Marietta. Lacking nothing in vocal force or subtlety, this was an exceptional portrayal that, in all its humanity and vulnerability, seemed determined to make Marietta a woman of her own, not just a figment of Paul’s imagination.
David Butt Philip was a late replacement as Paul, but there is a reason that he has risen fast among tenors, and his dramatic commitment, steadfast high notes and unstinting stamina were deeply impressive. Karen Cargill as Brigitta and Elliot Madore as Frank and Fritz — friends of Paul’s — ably led the rest of a cast without noticeable weak spots, including three separate choruses.
Nelsons has built his tenure in Boston around concert performances of opera. In the early days, events like these bolstered his reputation as one of the most satisfying, dynamic conductors around. But almost a decade has passed since his extraordinary “Elektra,” still by some distance his most enduring achievement with this orchestra, and only a little less time since his gorgeous “Rosenkavalier.” More recent efforts at “Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk” and especially “Wozzeck” have only added to growing frustrations as he begins his second decade in charge.
“Die Tote Stadt” was better than “Lady Macbeth” or “Wozzeck,” and there were moments when the orchestra in Nelsons’s hands sounded like the truly mighty instrument it still can be: the ghastly, squirming breakdown of the strings as Marietta saw herself in Marie’s portrait in the first act, as if the ground were sliding apart beneath her; her horrifying murder in the last act, brought out with savage power in the brass.
For the most part, Nelsons kept balances admirably in check, too, which is no small accomplishment given the forces involved and the concert hall setting. But there were also long, indifferent passages in which the sound picture fell out of focus, textures turned opaque, rhythms went slack, and phrases were left to fend for themselves.
Korngold is difficult to pull off, requiring a sense of style that goes far beyond the notes on the page. But there were times when this “Tote Stadt” was a reminder that the heritage this orchestra must tend is not simply to play music new and old, known and unknown. To be true to its past, the Boston Symphony must perform an ambitious variety of music with unrivaled quality and conviction, to be “the culmination of all orchestras,” as its erstwhile music director Charles Munch once said. Strong and bold though the ensemble remains in many respects, recapturing those heights sometimes still feels a ways off.
‘L’Amant Anonyme’
It wouldn’t be enough to just call Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, a composer. John Adams, the American founding father, wrote in his journal while visiting France that he was “the most accomplished man in Europe in Riding, Shooting, Fencing, dancing, Music.”
Bologne, born in Guadeloupe in the mid-1700s to a French plantation owner and an enslaved Black woman, lived a life worthy of opera, or least a fanciful biopic and a mythmaking 19th-century novel. As a child he was brought to France, where he received an elite education and a title from the king, and became a darling of Parisian society.
Although the color of his skin held him back from the heights of music, Bologne was an accomplished composer, collaborating with Pierre Choderlos de Laclos (of “Dangerous Liaisons” fame) on an opera and spinning out instrumental works of dazzling virtuosity, premiering many of them himself on the violin.
After his death, his music languished on the fringes of the repertoire. More recently, though, his stature has changed. A critical edition of his only surviving opera, “L’Amant Anonyme,” or “The Anonymous Lover,” from 1780, was published in 2020. That year, the murder of George Floyd surfaced long-simmering frustrations with representation in classical music. The works of Black composers re-emerged, including many of Bologne’s.
“L’Amant Anonyme” has since been performed in Los Angeles, Chicago and Boston. And it arrived this past week at Opera Philadelphia, inside the grand Academy of Music theater, where it was introduced as “basically an episode of ‘Bridgerton’ with better music” by the company’s new leader, Anthony Roth Costanzo.
He’s not wrong: “L’Amant Anonyme,” a romantic comedy about a secret admirer along the lines of “The Shop Around the Corner,” is frothy and fun, as easy and forgettable as an episode of “Bridgerton,” with enjoyable arias throughout its brisk 90 minutes. The plot nods to class difference without making anything meaningful of it. That would be too much friction for an opera that doesn’t appear to aspire to anything more than entertainment.
The staging at Opera Philadelphia, a co-production with Boston Lyric Opera, leans heavily into comedy. Called “The Anonymous Lover,” its spoken dialogue was adapted into English by the playwright Kirsten Greenidge, whose text, combined with Dennis Whitehead Darling’s direction, packs a laugh into every minute. (The arias, discordantly, remain in French.)
In the orchestra pit on Sunday afternoon, Kalena Bovell led a pleasantly flowing account of the score, as if it were an extended dance rather than a story punctuated by musical numbers. That’s fitting for a story that unfolds as a single gesture: Valcour, the anonymous lover of the title, revealing himself to his friend Léontine, after several years of gifts and letters. Léontine, like Meg Ryan in the “Shop Around the Corner”-inspired “You’ve Got Mail,” wanted it to be him so badly. They end up together, and happy.
The secondary characters also couple up: the scheming friends Ophémon and Dorothée, sung by the baritone Johnathan McCullough and the mezzo-soprano Sun-Ly Pierce, both with endless charisma, and the engaged lovers Colin and Jeannette, charmingly tender in the tenor Joshua Blue’s and the soprano Ashley Marie Robillard’s interpretations.
The most openhearted, dramatic arias are reserved for the central couple. The tenor Travon D. Walker’s Valcour was by turns burning with desire and endearing as he dithered on the way to declaring his love. As Léontine, the soprano Symone Harcum had a role that demanded more virtuosity, which she rose to with mixed success.
What, now, for “L’Amant Anonyme”? Its post-2020 wave of productions is ebbing, and unlike Bologne’s wonderful violin concertos, it is more skillful than original. As an opera, it’s also much more difficult to revive.
There’s no question, though, about whether it should return. The opera repertoire can be stubborn, but it needs the occasional confection like this. At the very least, “L’Amant Anonyme” doesn’t deserve to be ignored for so long again.
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