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Adriana Lecouvreur
2011 review for The Classical Review

by Marion Lignana Rosenberg

Adriana Lecouvreur, the opera by Francesco Cilea and Arturo Colautti presented in grand style by Opera Orchestra of New York on Tuesday, turned 109 years old on November 6. Its namesake Adrienne Lecouvreur (1692–1730), the most celebrated actress of her day, died under mysterious circumstances. In the opera, a poisoned posy (sent by a rival for the tenor’s love) is the improbable cause of her demise. The historical Adrienne suffered insult as well as injury: she was denied a Christian burial because the French Catholic Church of the time had long excommunicated theatre folk, deeming them akin to prostitutes.

The many illustrious sopranos who have portrayed the operatic Adriana—Claudia Muzio, Renata Scotto, and Dame Joan Sutherland among them—are themselves no ladies. They are divas, and divas never age: they just turn to Cilea’s potboiler, as flattering as a soft-focus lens and as glamorous as a cloud of perfume. Its grateful melodies, comfortable range, and built-in claque for its heroine (“Splendida!” “Sublime!”) make it a favorite of sopranos entering their elegant decline.

Their love for this bit of faux-rococo frippery is fierce. In 1937, when Edward Johnson refused to produce Adriana for her, Rosa Ponselle left the Metropolitan Opera. At the Met in 1968, the opera’s onstage venom and catfights spilled offstage when longtime rivals Renata Tebaldi and Maria Callas made peace of sorts following Tebaldi’s opening-night Adriana. Colleagues were concerned that Callas’s “evil eye” might unnerve Tebaldi, who for her part noted tartly that Callas had been “flattering to a degree” and had arrived for her impromptu visit with photographers in tow.

Opera Orchestra of New York, which champions less familiar works and showcases divas and divos for the greater joy of their admirers, has done well by Adriana. In 2002, the work’s centennial year, OONY’s founder and conductor laureate Eve Queler brought together Aprile Millo, Marcello Giordani, Dolora Zajick, and Anooshah Golesorkhi for a lusty and unforgettable Adriana. Those of us lucky enough to be there in 2002 might have thought that performance impossible to beat, but Tuesday’s Adriana at Carnegie Hall came close.

Giacomo Lauri-Volpi described the legendary Muzio’s voice as made of “tears and sighs and restrained inner fire.” Those words came to mind as I listened to Angela Gheorghiu as Adriana. Yes, she indulged in her customary who’s-in-charge-here taffy pull with the conductor (she was in charge), and early on her phrasing was as fussy as her handling of her chiffon train (at long last splayed artfully on the stage). But her voice is a satiny beam of moonlight, and with it Gheorghiu wrought wonders: a thrilling, full-throated volley of vitriol hurled at her rival the Princesse de Bouillon, a heartbroken filigree spun in “Poveri fiori.” Her final scene, with her timbre at once radiant with ecstasy and pale with the chill of death, was one for the ages. Frippery Adriana may be, but Gheorghiu transformed it into a queen’s array by means of the alchemy that only a diva can muster.

While admiring Jonas Kaufmann’s intelligence, musicianship, and dark, coppery tone, I have always found opera’s current “it” boy to be a wee bit of a Kravattentenor (a tenor who can sound like he is being strangled by his tie). Noble in intent, Kaufmann’s whisper-soft attacks in “La dolcissima effigie” were throaty and tortured, but he soon overcame those fleeting difficulties and won repeated (and rapturous) ovations. With easy charm and ringing, heroic sound, he gave an electrifying account of Maurizio’s mettle in battle (“Il russo Mencikoff”). In the opera’s final scene, he matched Gheorghiu frisson for frisson with his tender, inspired singing.

(Merchandise notes: A Decca DVD of Gheorghiu and Kaufmann in the 2010 Covent Garden production of Adriana Lecouvreur is scheduled to be released in early 2012. In the meantime, Gheorghiu sings “Poveri fiori” on her latest EMI CD, Homage to Maria Callas. The title is a shoddy marketing ploy: the disc has almost nothing to do with Callas, but it does showcase the Romanian soprano’s penetrating artistry.)

Casting Ambrogio Maestri, a great Falstaff of our time, as the lovelorn Michonnet is the kind of largesse that makes OONY such a cherished institution. His sound is lush and rolling, though he scaled it down to a gorgeous, buttery-soft mezza voce in “Ecco il monologo.” Like the rest of the cast, Maestri sometimes bellowed—because OONY audiences rejoice in decibel tournaments, and because OONY music director Alberto Veronesi occasionally conducted like a thug sent expressly to drown out the singers. I understood no more than two words sung by Anita Rachvelishvili as the conniving Princesse de Bouillon (a problem of enunciation, not of audibility). She has a huge, occasionally squally voice and an imposing seconda-donna manner.

Smaller parts were ably sung and played: Nicola Pamio was a deliciously catty Abbé de Chazeuil, and Craig Hart brought unusual dignity to the role of the princess’s cuckolded (or soon-to-be) spouse. As always, OONY cast plucky, gifted young singers in comprimario roles: Lázaro Calderón, Jennifer Feinstein, Alexander Lewis, Zachary Nelson, and Danielle Walker. The youngsters, though, suffered the most from Veronesi’s troubles with sound balance.

The New York Choral Ensemble under Donald Barnum sang little but admirably, the Opera Orchestra itself played Cilea’s syrupy score with gusto, and the evening belonged to Angela Gheorghiu, ageless and divine as the immortal Adrienne.

Opera Orchestra of New York’s season continues with a recital by Chiara Taigi on December 12, Wagner’s Rienzi on January 29, 2012, and a concert by Plácido Domingo on March 7, 2012. Opera Orchestra of New York; 212-906-9137.

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