2023-11-01 18:11:47
Maybe I say something reckless, but the baroque is not contemporary. I know: we live in chronologically confusing times, in which any butterscotch fixes your life with a helping of Seneca and a pinch of Marcus Aurelius. But believe me, a man from the 1700s is not talking to you.
Despite this, the arts have no choice but to continually dialogue with the past. The mess is over. Last night, he Royal Theater premiere Orlando, one of those operons that no longer exist. Three hours of warbling, repetitive arias, half-Olympus cameos and inconsistent dramatic structure. Heavy? It’s your fault for hearing him wrong. When Händel delivered the score, theaters were not the glanders they are today. The lights did not go out, the respectable man chatted and, if he intervened, he made eyes at the one in the box opposite. With this panorama, one understands that the composers didn’t give a damn about the coherence of the libretto. More so, when they knew that the aristocrats did not approach the theater intrigued by a new compositional feat, but rather to enjoy the vocal arsenal of the great divos of the moment: Senesino (Händel’s favorite), Francesca Cuzzoni, the Bordoni or the well-known Farinelli.
He predominance of the performer over the composer It brought some tension. If the castrato on duty felt that his role lacked pyrotechnics, he would ignore the staff to strut his stuff at ease. Tired of pulling each other’s hair, the parties reached an agreement: I’m writing you a very long aria; You sing the first part (a) verbatim, then we add a transition (b) and finally we repeat (a) so you can take it easy. The fix worked, but it makes one spend ten minutes polishing five or six verses. Then, on the harpsichord, a recitative enters that kicks the plot a few meters forward. The baroque goes to the tran tran.
let’s go back to Orlando. The story has no greater mystery: A hero is in love with a girl who does not correspond to him. She gives him a sirocco and even kills the punter. But we’re in the 18th century and stories here have a happy ending, so, actually… a magician did it. The group, alive and kicking, sings a moralizing punch line and the curtain falls. Real has commissioned Claus Guth (old acquaintance of the fans) to fix this script. He brings his usual repertoire: rotating stages, sectioned houses along Thirteen Rue del Percebe and bus shelters. The fans of the Coliseum Madrid (what a pretentious synonym) will remember these tricks: we already saw them in Rodelinda y Don Giovanni.
The brightest moments coincide, precisely, with the protagonist’s madness.”
To speed up the mythological nonsense and incomprehensible speeches, Guth sets the action in a motel on the outskirts of Miami, where he is staying. Orlando, a war veteran to the point of post-traumatic stress. The rage of the character is shown through video game scenes and migraines; In their descent into hell, guys with Doberman heads appear playing the goalkeeper. The ruse works despite its loopholes. The script, as I told you, is not enough either. The brightest moments coincide, precisely, with the protagonist’s madness. The rest, rather tedious: the food truck what a manager Dorinda and the suburban aesthetics don’t dazzle you no matter how much Guth spins them (what a mania for the spin button, boy).
In the pit, lead Bolton accompanied by Monteverdi Continuo Ensemble. I do not dare to amend his story to an expert level, but I had the impression that his direction, which offered us moments of great delicacy, fell into the parsimonious. I liked that the overtures were played with the curtain down. We already commented in Medea the ugly love of some registas by fill in the music with mountebanks. To compensate, the proposal allows certain musical licenses for the characters. Have you ever seen a drunk sorcerer? Florian Boesch’s Zoroaster was the big surprise of the night: a double character (elegant mercenary in Orlando’s mind, homeless drunk for the rest of the world) who gets drunk as the show progresses. His Between deep fogs beoda It seemed prodigious to me.
The main role fell to the countertenor Christophe DamauxWhat did a vocally meticulous Orlando, scarce in power, rich in the endings of the arias and outstanding in acting. I liked ‘the famous aria’ (Let me fight) and it dazzled me in the Vague pupils, don’t cry, no. Anna Prohaska She made an expressionless Angelica: one didn’t know if she was happy or depressed because she sings everything the same. Her shining moment was the trio Console yourself, beautiful, gentle shepherdess: needing reinforcements is a bad sign. Giulia Semenzato makes a magnificent Dorinda. They are When you explain your torments It was the most enjoyable part of the night, with the invaluable help of the orchestra’s violins, which mimic the songs of birds. Close the cast Anthony Roth Constazo in the role of a correct Medoro (which with these difficulties, is no small thing).
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