One of the best ways to discover more about the opera repertoire, find new composers and operas, is to be guided by a favourite artist. Although I enjoyed listening to and watching the Three Tenors, the first singer who really stood out was Thomas Allen.
Two things stood out for me (in fact two things that should stand out in any opera singer): his physical acting, and the beauty of the voice. He's fully absorbed in his character, very much alive to what's going on around him. And his baritone is rich, noble, dignified: warm. I met him again in a video of Puccini's Manon Lescaut: Manon has eloped with a young student, Des Grieux, much to the chagrin of an old admirer who had planned to do it himself. He finds her brother, Lescaut, (played by Sir Tom) at the card table but Lescaut assures the old man that they'll find his sister in Paris (no subtitles, unfortunately).
Allen's voice is quite light and lyrical and he has kept away from some of the heavier, more dramatic repertory: no Scarpias, for example. Some of his most celebrated roles include Beckmesser in Wagner's Die Meistersinger (1868), the title roles in Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin (1879) and Britten's Billy Budd (1951). He is, however, probably most famous for his Mozart roles: Count Almaviva in Le nozze di Figaro, The marriage of Figaro (1786), Don Alfonso in Cosi fan tutte (1790), Papageno in Die Zauberflote, The magic flute (1791) and, most especially, the title role in Don Giovanni (1787), of which he was one of the leading exponents for many years.
This is a nice compilation clip of the duet La ci darem la mano, when Don Giovanni seduces the peasant girl Zerlina, showing Allen in 30 years of the role:
(view the clip on youtube by clicking on the youtube icon to see the list of productions and Zerlinas.)
And here is a clip from Figaro: not the best sound but it was recorded off the television. Don't worry too much about the plot but the clip does throw up a couple of interesting features. First of all, the part of Cherubino, the page, is sung by a woman: this is not uncommon to show a youth, an unbroken male voice. Cherubino is perhaps the most famous, the other being Octavian in Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier (1911). These parts are often known as "trouser roles" or "en travesti" (hence, transvestite/ cross dressing).
Secondly, the clip begins with an example of recitative (or recit): the singers seem to be speaking more than they are singing, and are accompanied not by the orchestra, but only by a harpsichord. This is known as unaccompanied recitative. There is some freedom here of time and expression: an opportunity to use as many vocal colours as you wish and to take as long (or as little) as you want over the words and action. Traditionally, the recitative moved the plot along, while the musical numbers embellished deeper thoughts, emotions and situations, where mere dialogue was not enough.
You can watch a complete recording of Allen in Don Giovanni in 25 chunks here: Don Giovanni Royal Opera House 1988 or, another version in 27 chunks here: Don Giovanni Royal Opera House 1992
You can watch a fairly complete Marriage of Figaro here: Le Nozze di Figaro MET 1985
You can buy second hand copies of his book, Foreign Parts, a singer's journal at various online sites: it gives an insight into different roles and the day to day life and work of an opera singer.
You can listen to Allen on Desert Island Discs here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/features/desert-island-discs/castaway/232404b7
Yay! Sir Tom! I heartedly recommend his book..It's great for a newbie (like myself)cos he talks about the hectic schedule he has, flying all over the world, doing many different roles (often as the same time). He's also a very interesting bloke and a great storyteller (much like his lordship) :-)
ReplyDeleteHave now watched Tosca, and Marriage of Figaro, a day apart. Two very different operas. Not only in the 'everyone dies' of Tosca to the 'everyone loves' of MoF, but in what I'd call the whole style of the opera. (And not the tenor vs. bass, which was interesting in itself)
ReplyDeleteTosca seemed very individual, smaller cast, more singularly intense and almost laser focused.
MoF was a larger scale, and very physical in movement and stage presence.
How do the singers manage such a physically challenging role and still maintain their singing ability?
Is it difficult for them to sing their own part when so many others are singing at the same time, and singing different portions of the opera? Or when someone is singing into their ear while they are singing their part?
MoF worked, was hysterically funny, and I really enjoyed it, but it seemed a much more physically and vocal-concentration demanding performance than T.
And back to the conductor - how does he manage so many singers on stage, with different roles, at the same time?
Found the differences between the two very interesting. Loved Tosca, thoroughly enjoyed Marriage of Figaro.
Hi Sunny,
ReplyDeleteMost singers are aware that physically they now have to do a little bit more than simply stand and sing: how much they are comfortable doing physically will probably depend on them. I suppose that the key (as it is with most things singing-related) is breath control and support from the diaphragm: as long as you can keep your diaphragm supporting your breath then you can probably sing in most positions. (Whether you will be heard is another matter.) I have seen singers singing while dressing, abseiling, hanging upside down, lying on their backs, and trampolining, to name but a few. Most singers though would probably prefer to keep the movement to a minimum during singing, especially if it is going to affect their breathing.
Singing with others can be both a help and hindrance. I suppose that singers get used to being around others and listening to that volume, although singers are mainly projecting out to the audience rather than blasting at themselves. (By some natural acoustic trick, it seems then that the main volume of sound is heard less in the immediate vicinity and more further away.) Singing together can help to keep in tune (on pitch) and rhythm: unless, of course, one singer goes out of tune (off pitch) and others then try and work around this. Some musicians are blessed (or cursed) with perfect pitch so they will always stay in tune. You'll see how in most numbers with chorus, for example, how the chorus is usually placed upstage (at the back) with the soloists downstage (at the front): this helps the soloist's voice carry over the chorus, and the chorus can also hear each other (for example, see most stagings of the Te Deum at the end of the first act of Tosca. Scarpia is almost always downstage by himself).
The conductor will often simply keep time during complicated ensembles but will also tend to cue singers in: he is the one who has to follow the score, everyone else follows the conductor. This is especially important as, especially if there are many singers, those on the stage will not always hear the orchestra. To think of one particular example, in e lucevan le stelle, Cavaradossi is accompanied by the clarinet. But most clarinets will be sat under the stage in the orchestra pit: their sound travels up and out to the auditorium not back to the stage. So the chances are that the singer will hear the clarinet after the audience, and the clarinet player will barely hear the tenor. It is the conductor's job to keep both together.
Occasionally, an opera house will employ a prompter or second conductor. They often sit in a raised box at the front of the stage. Their jobs include: cueing in singers (if the conductor cannot), following the conductor's beat (if the singers cannot see the conductor), prompting the singers with words (try and remember several different roles in 3 different languages). The MET still tends to use a prompter in a box; Covent Garden rarely does. Both Domingo and Gheorghiu are singers known to often require the services (or comfort) of a prompter.
(One nice story concerns a prompter for La Boheme. In the last act, the bass has a short aria Vecchia zimarra in which he says goodbye to his coat. The orchestra pauses before the aria begins; then the orchestra and the bass begin together. The prompter gave the bass the opening line: nothing. The prompter repeated: again nothing. At the third prompt the bass hissed back, "I know the words. I've forgotten the bloody tune.")
We tend to think of comedies being more physical: more stage movement to reflect the movement in the score (more bouncy, jolly rhythms, for example), and so keeping everything pacey. Tragedies are, perhaps, more often concerned with thoughts and feelings than with actions.