Civic Auditorium,
1500 SW 3rd Ave., 241-1802.
7:30 pm Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, Oct. 6, 8 and 9.
The pharaohs, the splendor of the Nile, the goddess Isis--the
haunts of ancient Egypt have maintained a mystical hold on
Western culture. Maybe it's the beauty of an exotic locale,
the appeal of classical drama or the allure of hereditary
royalty (though the pharaohs out-glam the House of Windsor
by far). Or maybe it's that Egypt's greatest achievements,
like those of the West, came about as a result of the subjugation
of a people.
Whatever the reason, Giuseppe Verdi's Aïda,
a work in the verismo tradition that brings ancient Egypt
to opulent life on the operatic stage, has remained an enormous
hit since its first Cairo performance in 1871. It has had
more Metropolitan Opera performances than any other in the
repertoire and has remained a vehicle for both the rising
and falling stars of the opera world. With its potential
for fantastic staging, its skimpy costumes and its sweeping
music, Aïda has established itself as a surefire
blockbuster of Titanic proportions, what Portland
Opera director Robert Bailey calls "a magnificent war horse."
Time and again, Aïda has brought home the bacon
and replenished struggling opera budgets worldwide.
So how do you tart up the old girl? In Portland Opera's
case, you don't. You stick with the tried and true (and
financially sound). Bailey has revived the Portland Opera
production that worked so well 10 years ago by using the
same set, the same costumes, even the same elephant. In
an evening that started out with Bailey soliciting the opening-night
audience (always the one with the deepest pockets) to contribute
to Portland Opera's "Fresh Aria" endowment campaign, it
only made sense to trot out one of the company's resounding
triumphs of the past.
And why not? It works.
From the sparse beauty of the opening landscape screen
to the first-act set--four 20-foot-tall "stone" trapezoids
surrounding a brass cauldron of billowing flame at center
stage--you are transported to the dusty but glittering world
of the pharaohs and their fickle goddess Isis. In Verdi's
delicious opening prelude, Portland Opera music director
Louis Salemno conducts the orchestra through the themes
that snake their way throughout the work like vines on a
musical arbor. Brian Matthews as the high priest Ramfis
sings the opera's opening lines in the thick richness of
his stirring bass. And one awaits an exceptional production.
And so it is--except for the straining tenor of Ian DeNolfo's
Radamès. In fairness, the role of Radamès
is a thankless one, a one-dimensional hero tossed into the
conflicting world of his desire for glory and his desire
for love. He loves Aïda, the Ethiopian princess slave
of Amneris, the princess of Egypt. And Aïda loves him.
The problem is, so does Amneris. It's the old love triangle
that leaves them all looking foolish, Radamès most
of all. Through his love for Aïda he is duped into
betraying his country whose glory he covets. To negotiate
the turbulent emotional flip-flop of Radamès' transformation
from conquering hero to lovelorn sap to accused traitor
of the state takes a subtlety that is not accommodated by
the libretto. It has to be brought out in the nuance of
the performance.
DeNolfo, by all accounts a rousing Cavaradossi in Portland
Opera's 1997 production of Tosca, sounds flat and,
frankly, unheroic in his opening scenes. His voice fishes
for high notes, and he seems generally at a loss in his
first scenes on stage, lumbering on and off like a befuddled
bear. His seeming confusion lasts throughout Act I, dragging
the pace of the other players.
But the instrumental beauty of Elizabeth Byrne's well-sung
Aïda and the fiery singing and acting of Irina Mishura's
outstanding performance as Amneris more than compensate
for DeNolfo's uninspired Radamès. From the second
act's opening duet between Byrne and Mishura, the production
hits its stride. The English-born Byrne proves a powerful
singer in her debut with the Portland Opera, a sterling
soprano with a big voice. And the Russian mezzo-soprano
Mishura, also making her debut, shows why she's made a career
out of the role of Amneris. She bites into the opera's juiciest
role with the sensual bitterness of the scorned woman yet
manages to reveal the honorable resilience in Amneris that
has the audience questioning what it is the lughead Radamès
can't see in her.
From Act II forward it's smooth sailing--the sets are smashing,
the acting is inspired, and the dancers offer an athletic
alternative to the other less-finessed bodies on stage.
Tiki the elephant redeems herself after misbehaving a decade
earlier. The choruses, some of the most resoundingly beautiful
in all of opera, are a bright spot throughout. In Act II's
victory march, the chorus sings with a fervor befitting
a D-Day celebration. As they hail Radamès the conquering
hero and the subplots unfold their surprises one after the
other, the cast gels in true raucous splendor. Even Radamès'
tricky offstage trial is suitably suspenseful with the priests'
blind intonement of "Traditor" sending the onstage Amneris
writhing in horror.
Portland resident Richard Zeller displays fine acting and
good voice as Aïda's father, the Ethiopian king Amonasro.
Brian Matthews received the opening night's biggest ovation
for the rich vehemence of his Ramfis. Even DeNolfo transforms
his lackluster early showing. In the famous Nile trio between
Radamès, Aïda and Amonasro, he responds to the
overwhelming energy of Zeller and Byrne with a good performance.
And in the final, dramatic love duet between Radamès
and Aïda, DeNolfo plays the part with true resolve,
his voice strong beneath Byrne's angelic highs. Together,
they prove that there's plenty of life in the old girl yet.
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Willamette Week | originally
published October 6,
1999
|
