Musically, Orphée et Eurydice is a sumptuous feast for the ears, and before we open tonight I wanted to point out a couple of its special delights. Those of you who like to peer into the orchestra pit during the performance will see two instruments you don't always find in an opera orchestra: the theorbo, played by Stephen Stubbs (right), and harpsichord, played by Phil Kelsey (left).
The theorbo is a type of lute developed in Florence during the late sixteenth century. Typically it has fourteen courses (pairs) of strings and eight long single bass strings, stopped on frets. Given its size, the theorbo makes enough sound to be heard in a vast modern opera house. Stephen Stubbs, the international lute superstar and Artistic Director of Pacific Musicworks, alternates in these performances between it and baroque guitar.
Phil Kelsey, meanwhile, is playing a replica of an early 18th-century German harpsichord, built by David Calhoun of Seattle, owned by Tamara Friedman and George Bozarth, and maintained by Devin Zimmer. Phil, who is Seattle Opera's Assistant Conductor, spoke to us on Staff Chat recently; he also conducts the offstage banda during Acts 1 and 2 of Orphée:
In Act One, the banda (above, l to r, Matt McGrath (double bass), Chuck Jacot (cello), Penelope Crane (viola), Xiao-po Fei (violin), Timothy Garland (violin), Ben Hausmann (oboe)) echo the lamentations of the lonely Orphée, who keeps tossing his voice into the vast emptiness and hearing the sounds he makes come back to him courtesy of Ben Hausmann's oboe. In Act Two, the offstage banda is pizzicato strings and harp (played by Valerie Muzzolini-Gordon), as Orphée plucks away at the heart-strings of the terrible Furies in their great confrontation:
After Orphée makes it past the Furies, he heads for the Elysian Fields, where we hear the famous "Dance of the Blessed Spirits," featuring a solo performed by Demarre McGill, principal flute player of Seattle Symphony.
During this solo, the Blessed Spirits, as danced by (l to r) Daniel Howerton, Kate Chamberlin, Scott Bartell, Marissa Quimby, Demetrius Tabron, Roxanne Foster, and Kyle Johnson, welcome us to Elysium.
Showcasing the stately sophistication of Gluck’s miraculous music, the trailer video of our new production includes footage of Orpheus lamenting his lost love, confronting the Furies, basking in the tranquility of the Elysian Fields and, with help from Amore, leading Eurydice out of the underworld to a joyous reunion. Compelling choreography, splendid choruses, evocative scenery, and spirited singing enhance this classic story in which love conquers all.
Time now to check in with our wonderful Orphée et Eurydice director, Jose Maria Condemi (left), who has also been involved in the design of this new production every step of the way. Jose Maria has been associated with Seattle Opera for about ten years. When he and I spoke last week, we remembered ancient history, talked about some of the design choices you’ll see in our production, and about the importance of willpower, both to avoid looking at Eurydice and to resist the temptation to scarf Oreo cookies.
Jose Maria, first tell us about your history with this opera.
I staged Orfeo ed Euridice, the Italian version, four years ago at a small opera company in Palo Alto. We had a very small budget, so we really had to strive for simplicity because there wasn’t much by way of resources. But that’s what Gluck wanted to do—his concept was ‘noble simplicity,’ and so the budgetary constraints became something powerful for the piece. When this opportunity came up, to do the French version for Seattle, with a little more money, I wanted to keep it simple.
What other operas share this aesthetic of ‘noble simplicity’? Dido and Aeneas, let’s see, Carlisle Floyd’s Susannah. In those the minimal approach helps concentrate the juices.
Is it possible for a production to interfere with the opera by getting too busy?
Everything depends on whether the story is well-told. It can be told many ways. Bob Wilson did a very static Orphée, and it can also work with Baroque eccentricity. The older I get the more I realize that the real question is, does the approach strengthen the story-telling, or does it distract from it? For instance, now we’re doing the French version of Gluck’s Orphée, and in the score, after the last vocal cutoff, there’s 20 pages of dancing. After the story is over. For me, cutting that was a no-brainer. The dances earlier in the opera, we use for story-telling. But once the story is over, there’s no reason for these dances to go on and on. We want to concentrate it. It’s like when you make a really good marinara sauce, you slow-cook it for a long time, and concentrate the juices over many hours.
Let’s talk about your history with Seattle Opera.
Yes, I first came here more than ten years ago. I was the assistant for Salome and Un ballo in maschera—
Whoa, that was a long time ago!
--and then after that I came to do the full-year residency with Mourning Becomes Electra, Carmen, and Ariadne, and Fanciulla, the first year in the new hall.
And you directed Così fan tutte for the Young Artists Program in there.
Yes. I loved that year! To get to work with so many directors, and I loved doing the Così for the Young Artists.
What were some of the things you learned from the directors you assisted?
One of those shows, I worked with a fantastic theater director who didn’t have that much experience directing opera. So that was about watching somebody try to find a way of translating that work—even the language is different, you talk to an opera singer differently than you do to an actor. You use different words. With Mourning Becomes Electra, well, Bart Sher was great, and Lauren Flanigan is a dramatic powerhouse, so the discussions between them were juicy. It was great to assist Bernard Uzan, who has a lot of experience, knows exactly what he wants, and is very practical and to-the-point. And with Chris Alexander on Ariadne, it was fascinating to see him weave his way through. I learned a lot by watching people do what I do now, in their own different styles.
Jose Maria Condemi in rehearsal (Alan Alabastro, photo)
Then, in 2007, you made your debut as director with La bohème. Yes, with that dream cast, with Nuccia Focile. I love working in Seattle—it’s difficult, because usually you have the two different casts, but it’s great because it keeps a director humble. I can have the best ideas for an opera, but if I don’t know how to communicate them well, it ends up being just great ideas. But here, where you have two different casts, it tests whether you’re really good at communicating your ideas. Because one performer might get it, and the other might not. And that’s not their fault—maybe I need to find an alternative way of saying it, or getting one particular performer to the same place I got the other one. That’s wonderful. It’s hard. It requires flexibility, to negotiate ideas with two very different casts. This time, with Orphée, it’s the first time in Seattle I’ve had only one cast. I feel a little like: “Where’s the Silver cast?”
Which would you rather direct: an opera like Orphée, which is abstract and dreamlike, or an opera like La bohème, which is almost cinematic in its realistic specificity?
They are different challenges. With Orphée, which is almost Baroque, the challenge is to avoid letting people sing beautifully without telling a story. You have to really dig into the material and sometimes even add layers that are not there. Because otherwise, when you present these operas to a twenty-first-century audience, they can feel a little dated: “I already got the point, why are you nailing it over and over to me?” That’s the challenge, you have to be respectful, but you have to take what’s in the music, and use it to tell a story. It’s about finding 25 different shades of gray. Whereas with a piece like Bohème, most of the fun for me is to challenge the performers to think about what they take for granted. With an opera like that, people get too used to it, and then they don’t think about it—it loses freshness. What you want is for the staging to become a choice, instead of something they repeat just because it’s what you’re supposed to do.
Are there any operas that you absolutely refuse to direct?
I hate Werther. Don’t ask me why. I just want to give him a gun and tell him to go and use it.
The production team works on the Orphée designs. L to r: Connie Yun (Lighting Designer), Heidi Zamora (Costume Designer), Susan Davis (Costume Shop Manager), Jose Maria Condemi (Director), and Robert Schaub (Technical Director) (Alan Alabastro, photo)
Can you tell us a bit about our Orphée production? I hear we’re using the trap door, and according to the production notes we seem to have lots of mud and bowls of water and flower petals...
The mud, I wanted to find something universal, for the first scene, about how people grieve. I don’t want to set this production in any specific time or place, but a lot of communities throughout the ages, and throughout the world, have used mud, applied to the body, as a way of cleansing grief. You give yourself grief to take away grief, you use mud to clean your body. As for the trap door, that’s part of our story-telling: I mean, he does go down into the underworld! I think it helps organize the story. On the journey back, when Orphée is leading Eurydice back to the upper world, they’re coming up through the trap. I’m excited about the design, I think it’s simple but effective for the story and should still leave a lot of room for interpretation—so people can bring what they want to bring. If they want to see the pastoral, which is in the piece, they can. If they want humor, well, we’re playing the human qualities of the gods.
Of Amour, the god/goddess of love.
Amour, but also Orphée. He’s a demigod, but here we play him just as a guy. We were just talking about The Queen, the movie starring Helen Mirren, and I think the power of that movie is that it presents Queen Elizabeth as a person. In most poignant moment in that movie she’s driving and her jeep breaks down, and she has to call for help. Orpheus may be divine, but he’s dealing with a very human problem: grief, what do you do when the person you love dies?
Rehearsing Orphée et Eurydice: Davinia Rodriguez (Eurydice), William Burden (Orphée), and Jose Maria Condemi (Alan Alabastro, photo)
What do you make of the big struggle in Act Two, when Eurydice keeps asking “Why aren’t you looking at me?” and Orpheus keeps saying “No, I must not look at you!” That’s the biggest challenge for Orphée. He gets through the Furies with ease. What ought to be the hardest part of his quest, to convince the Furies to let him go down to Hades, he does like that [snaps fingers]. But there’s this little fine print the gods gave him, this condition: You can talk to her, but you cannot look at her in the eye and you cannot tell her why. You can speak with her—in fact they have a long conversation—but you cannot say “the reason why I can’t look at you is because you will die.” It’s about restraint. Can you control yourself, can you delay gratification? Amour says very clearly, “If you do this, you WILL have a happy ending!” Yet Orphée is really struggling. It’s the same thing with me and the Oreo cookies that tempted me yesterday—some people are good at dieting, some are not! I know that sounds a little pedestrian, but that’s what it’s about. That’s what keeps us interested in that scene—will Orphée be strong enough not to look at Eurydice?
What’s the biggest surprise about working on this production so far, to you?
It’s not just this production, but people have these ideas about what Baroque opera is—that it’s either a frilly little thing, like an eighteenth-century painting with little Cupids in the corners, or that it’s extremely modern, something they saw on YouTube from a European production. There are these extremes. The one we’re doing here—I don’t really call it modern. Nobody doing anything that you could pinpoint to a specific time. It’s just general human behavior.
Will it remind Seattle Opera audiences of your La bohème or Il trovatore?
No, not in the slightest.
In rehearsal, Director Jose Maria Condemi and Choreographer Yannis Adoniou check a still photograph for reference (Alan Alabastro, photo)
One last question: what is the role of still photography in your work as a stage director?
I love photography, and I love photography-as-storytelling...when an image tells a complete story.
But you’re aren’t a photographer, yourself?
No. I collect photos. Sometimes one image becomes the gesture for an entire production. The trick is, can I to tell my performers why? It’s almost like a gut feeling...that what I’m seeing speaks to what I feel about a piece. I was watching today as Yannis Adoniou, our choreographer, worked with the dancers. They have these hoods, in the Furies scene, but when they pull them back you see the contour of their faces. And it’s exactly the image of the Pompeii casts, which was one of our dramaturgical source-photos for this production. You know, the corpses at Pompeii. They’re obviously dead, but they were caught in a very life-like position. That always felt to me like the Furies, but I didn’t know exactly how it was going to play in the production. Between how the costumes turned out, and what Yannis is having them do, it has worked out exactly.
For more from Jose Maria Condemi, as well as a sneak peek of Orphée et Eurydice rehearsals, watch his recent Director's Talk video below:
2/22 Update: This week's tickets have been claimed, at Dusty Strings in Fremont! We figured an instrument shop would be the perfect place to hide Orphée et Eurydice tickets--but where will we hide next week's pair? That's top secret, but come back on Monday for another round of clues!
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Originally posted on Monday, February 21, 2012, at 10 a.m.
Our first "Orpheus Odyssey" hunt lasted only a day, thanks to winner Nick G., a diehard fan of The Simpsons who quickly figured out our first clue, a reference to a Krusty the Clown quote that pointed to That's Amore! Italian Cafe in Mt. Baker. But now we start fresh, and there's another free pair of Orphée et Eurydice tickets stashed somewhere in Seattle, just waiting for you. If you need a refresher on how these treasure hunts work, check out this post. If you're ready to travel on, here are clues for Week 2's Orphic mystery:
CLUE #1 (posted 2/20) There’s something a bit bovine about this sunbeam and litigator.
CLUE #2 (posted 2/21) Gateway to dulcet melody of the mountains
CLUE #3 (posted 2/22) Ashes to Ashes, This on These Subatomic Particles
WEEK 2 PASSWORD "Luck (forgot the umlaut!)"
Know which business this is referring to? If so, a pair of tickets to the March 10 performance of Orphée et Eurydice await, available for claiming this week from 10 a.m.-6 p.m. this Monday through Saturday, or 12-5 p.m. on Sunday.
If you're stumped, fear not...Orpheus and other Greek heroes found many entrances to the Underworld. Just come back to this blog every morning this week (or check out our Facebook or Twitter pages) for a NEW CLUE, until the tickets have been won. A new hunt begins next Monday.
Gary Thor Wedow returns to Seattle Opera to conduct Orphée et Eurydice this season, after last season’s The Magic Flute—another opera about the supernatural power of music. A warm, inspiring presence on the podium who never lets his vast store of knowledge get in the way of communicating emotion musically, Wedow has led almost all of Seattle Opera’s recent excursions into 18th-century music, including Handel’s Giulio Cesare and Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride. We spoke to him about the spooky voices our chorus will use while portraying demons on the path to hell, the brilliant high notes sung by our Orphée, William Burden, and what Orphée et Eurydice has to do with Valentine’s Day.
First off, let’s talk about the actual notes in the score. How does modern pitch differ from what Gluck’s audience might have heard at the first Orphée et Eurydice in 1774?
Pitch changed and was different in every century. Every town had its pitch, and lots of towns had church pitch, which was fixed because it had to agree with their organ. Then there was concert pitch, where the pitch could coordinate with the instruments in the concert.
The pitch at the Paris Opera, where Orphée premiered, was much lower than most of Europe, but right after the premiere, the pitch started dramatically rising there. It was actually Goebbels, Hitler’s propaganda minister, who standardized European pitch in 1938. Previously, in the 19th century, Verdi had tried to legislate a slightly lower pitch. So it’s been a big discussion over the years.
So how do you think this high pitch sits with William Burden, our Orphée?
It sits beautifully with Bill’s voice. He’s a true high tenor, and his voice just glows up there. But that’s not the only component of this role. It’s famous for its high sections, but there are also low sections and there are huge dramatic recitatives that more or less take place in the range of spoken human voice. These composers tried to imitate famous actors of the day, and actors of the day sang their speeches more than they spoke them. “To BE! Or NOT to be!” You know, that sort of thing. Even David Garrick, who was famous for his naturalistic acting, performed in a much more declamatory fashion than we would ever expect an actor to do today.
You know, when the head of the orchestra of the Comédie-Française got bored in the orchestra pit, when he wasn’t playing, he would notate the intonation of famous actresses’ speeches. And he saw that they never varied from their pitch centers. Once they learned a speech they didn’t vary; it was like learning a melody.
Davinia Rodríguez (Eurydice) and Gary Thor Wedow, in rehearsals for Seattle Opera's upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice.
Photo by Alan Alabastro
How much play do you usually get, as conductor, to ask your singers to disguise or color or otherwise transform the voice they’re using?
Gluck felt that every passion that was expressed in the poetry could be expressed with a timbre or a color of the human voice. So that’s what we’re looking for, constantly shifting timbres—not a bel canto uniformity. For example, when the Furies are singing in hell, I’ve asked them to sing with hell voices, The Exorcist voices. The way their voice teachers hate. We have an exceptional cast of people who are not only wonderful singers but wonderful actors, so they’re very eager to find these different colors.
That goes for the chorus, too? The chorus is really the star of Orphée. They are three different characters. They’re the nymphs and the shepherds who are friends of Orphée and Eurydice in the first scene, and then in the second scene we’re in hell and they’re the Furies. And even in that scene as they soften, the musical writing changes—they have to change from this hellish voice to the most beautiful plaintive singing, and then we go to Elysium, where everyone must sing beautifully.
We’re doing this story with a male leading a female out of the underworld. But does the story make sense with other genders in those roles? Absolutely. There’s not a culture in the world that does not have a myth of someone going into the underworld to reclaim the person they love. It’s in all of our dreams. Anybody who has ever loved can imagine parting from their beloved. The story of Jesus Christ follows this pattern, going into the underworld and coming out again. In the Greek myth of Orpheus, Orpheus was a man, so this is the love of a man, a tender man, for a woman. It’s actually a little confused with Orpheus, because Orpheus was considered by many to be the prototype of the homosexual man. Earlier in his life he had been a lover of Apollo. Our version of Orpheus and Euridice has a happy ending, but in the traditional myth he comes back without Euridice and then rejects love of any kind; so the Bacchantes, women who worshipped Bacchus, are so infuriated by this rejection that they tear him limb from limb.
Gary Thor Wedow working with musicians in the pit for Seattle Opera's 2007 production of Giulio Cesare in Egitto.
Photo by Chris Bennion
Why does Gluck’s version have this deus ex machina happy ending?
It was the nature of the theater at that time, in 1774, the audiences demanded a happy ending. It’s like Hollywood in the ‘30s, all movies had to have happy endings. I’m conducting three different Orpheus operas this year; Gluck’s Orphée here, then in May I’m going home to New York to conduct Orpheus by Telemann, which is a very different version of the story. In that opera, Eurydice has a rival, kind of a mad queen who Orpheus works for, and she organizes it that Eurydice gets bit by the snake, thinking that Orpheus will then love her, which he doesn’t. And she then has him ripped to shreds in the end. So it’s a very different story! And then I’m doing a workshop at Queen’s College of Rossi’s Orfeo from 1647. So I’m immersed in Orpheus!
Do you like the happy ending in our version? We have to accept that it was convention. But also, Cupid, that is Amour in this opera, says a very interesting thing. She says, “The virtue of your love, the very high quality of your love for Eurydice, has changed our mind. That’s why the gods are taking pity on you.” I can get behind that because I’m all for love. My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day. I love it. Boy, if there were a lot more love in the world, we’d have a much better world. It’s what makes the world go round. For me, rather than looking at the way the myth really ended, the story here is that if love is good enough and pure enough, it can conquer anything. Even Greek mythology.
Speight Jenkins writes in our Orphée program, “Gluck would spin in his grave to know they’re calling him a Baroque composer nowadays.” What do you think?
You know the story about Gluck and Handel? Gluck adored Handel, and until his dying day he had Handel’s portrait in his bedroom. They met once, in London, and Gluck [the younger composer] showed Handel his music. What Handel supposedly said was “keep it simple,” and Gluck took that very much to heart. And then, Handel is supposed to have told people, “My cook knows more about counterpoint than Mr. Gluck!” Which maybe isn’t as bad as it sounds because Handel’s cook was actually a singer and a musician, and he really did know a lot about counterpoint.
But I think Gluck, and Calzabigi, his librettist and director, and Noverre, their choreographer, they were very conscious of seeking a new kind of realism, what they called “a noble simplicity.” They were rejecting complicated counterpoint, complicated music, and attempting to try and get back to a kind of Greek simplicity, almost a primitivism. Art with a manifesto. That’s why I’m delighted we’re doing this the final version of this opera, because it’s a much better piece than the original version. But it’s not Baroque music. It kind of fits into the cracks. Neoclassism, if you want to call it that. But unfortunately what happened is, Gluck rejected Handel and had this tremendous success with this new kind of music; but then, who comes along next but Mozart, who wrote in a very complex way and was a master of counterpoint. So I feel kind of sorry for Gluck in a way, because his tremendous reforms only lasted for a minute. Handel was so popular until his death, and Bach—and then Gluck had this shining moment of glory, noble simplicity—and then Mozart came along with, as Emperor Joseph II said so famously, “too many notes.” But of course they are glorious notes.
On Saturday Seattle Opera supporters enjoyed a magnificent Gala, “A Perfect Pairing,” celebrating Valentine’s Day, the immortal love of Orpheus and Eurydice, and our exceptional education and community engagement programs and Young Artists program. Here are some memories of a delightful evening:
The Gala took place in Woodinville, at the historic Chateau Ste. Michelle winery on the banks of the lovely Sammamish River. (Alan Alabastro, photo)
The evening began with a reception in the Barrel Room. Here Michael Souter, Karen Souter, Rosemary Willman, Seattle Opera trustee Ken Willman, and Patricia Caves enjoy a tasting of Chateau Ste. Michelle reserve wines. (Scott Squire, photo)
In addition to the exclusive wine-tasting, Gala attendees enjoyed a special tour of the winery and superb wine pairings with dinner: Chateau Ste. Michelle’s 2010 Cold Creek Riesling and 2010 Chardonnay from Columbia Valley, and 2006 Late Harvest Chenin Blanc from Horse Heaven Hills. (Alan Alabastro, photo)
The dinner included butter lettuce with apples, white cheddar and toasted hazelnuts tossed with a creamy apple cider dressing, followed by slow-roasted New York strip loin with bourguignon sauce, white truffle mashed potatoes, and seasonal vegetables; dessert was a caramel cake with milk chocolate mousse and hazelnut florentine. (Alan Alabastro, photo)
Tenor William Burden, who returns to Seattle Opera’s stage next week as Orphée in Gluck’s Orphée et Eurydice, sang Lensky’s aria from Eugene Onegin for the guests. (Alan Alabastro, photo)
Baritone Joseph Lattanzi, a member of Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program, then joined Burden for the beautiful duet “Au fond du temple saint” from Bizet’s Pearl Fishers. Young Artist Christopher Lade accompanied the singers, who were enthusiastically cheered by the audience. (Alan Alabastro, photo)
Attendees (including Trustee Ron Hosogi, Dean Tweeddale, Jiawen Shi, Board President William T. Weyerhaeuser, and David Jones, pictured here) supported Seattle Opera at the Gala. Net proceeds, which will help Seattle Opera bring the joy of song, dance, and visual art to students, teachers, and adults throughout our community as we cultivate the next generation of professional opera singers, amounted to nearly $170,000. (Alan Alabastro, photo)
JJ McKay and Sandra Dunn enjoy dancing to the music of the Dudley Manlove Quartet, which concluded the Gala. (Scott Squire, photo)
I spoke the other day with Yannis Adoniou, the choreographer who makes his Seattle Opera debut with Orphée et Eurydice (right, photo by Alan Alabastro). Seattle-area opera fans can get a sneak peek at the work of Yannis, and his marvelous dancers, if they join KING-5’s studio audience Monday morning, February 20, for the live taping of “New Day Northwest:” Yannis, Stage Director Jose Maria Condemi, and four of the dancers will be on the show to introduce the opera and perform a brief scene in which some of the Blessed Spirits warn Orpheus what will happen if he looks at Eurydice. Yannis and I talked about the role dance plays in the opera, his career, and why everyone should dance more.
You’re new to Seattle Opera: welcome! We’d like to know a little about your background—where you were born, and how you became a choreographer. Thanks. I was born in Athens, Greece. My family is still there.
Oh, so you should be able to tell us: is there anything Greek about this opera? The libretto says it takes place in Greece... It is Greek! I knew this story growing up, my grandmother used to tell us these stories. These myths are Greek, but they’re also universal, that’s what is so beautiful about it.
You’ve come a long way from Greece yourself. Yes, I live now in San Francisco. I began dance training in Athens, when I was a teenager, then went to Hamburg Ballet School in Germany.
You didn’t begin training until you were a teen? That seems late. Around here, at our Pacific Northwest Ballet school, they start them early... Yeah, well, Greek culture, we start dancing the day we’re born. In our families it’s different—every event finishes with some kind of dance, dinner parties, birthdays, name-day parties, whatever it is.
Yannis in rehearsal with dancers (l to r) Daniel Howerton, Kyle Johnson, Demetrius Tabron, and Scott Bartell (Alan Alabastro, photo)
And how did you decide to become a professional dancer? I was always interested in being creative: with my voice, with my body. When I was 16, I met a girl who was a trained ballet dancer, and that made me want to get my body more defined as an instrument. Accidently, I found out through a magazine about some free dance classes for men. So I started taking classes, and half a year later the national ballet school in Athens accepted me as a talent. I had wanted to become an interior designer or an architect, and I was painting as well, so it was a big decision. I was very serious: “I don’t want to do it if I’m not good at it.” But they said they believed I could have a real career, so that’s how it started, and from there I have followed my heart and my brain.
How do you come to be in San Francisco? After training in Hamburg I was dancing in Bonn, with a classical ballet company, doing Swan Lakes and that stuff. But I was unhappy...I didn’t want to be in a form where everything had been determined by someone else a hundred years back. I was interested in today. So someone who saw my choreography said, “You should talk to Alonzo King, this choreographer in the Bay Area, because the way you move, he’d be very interested.” So I met him and he invited me to come to San Francisco. I danced with the Alonzo King LINES Ballet for seven years, and then started my own company.
And how did you first get involved with Orphée et Eurydice? I had the pleasure to work with San Francisco Opera for fifteen years as a dancer as well. They have a corps de ballet on staff—it is one of the best contracts, for a dancer. It was interesting because in Europe I had worked in big opera houses, but when I came to the US and started doing contemporary dance, you don’t get that scale of production, with live music. But working for San Francisco Opera brought back that memory. Although I felt the conflict that happens at times between opera and dance.
Dance came from opera, originally; the reason for dance was to support the opera. But then they split, and would only come together when it was necessary. With Orphée, [Stage Director] Jose Maria [Condemi] knew me from San Francisco Opera, and when he first produced Orphée with West Bay Opera, he invited me to work with him and we found a compatible approach, a very collaborative process. Gluck’s music for Orphée is absolutely made for dance.
Dancers Scott Bartell and Kyle Johnson practice lifting Kate Chamberlin while Yannis, in back, instructs (Alan Alabastro, photo)
There are some operas where although the dance music may be good, the dances aren't relevant to the plot, so if you’re an opera company on a tight budget, you cut them. But here it seems the story of the opera continues during the dance numbers.
Dance used to function just as entertainment, you know, fresh meat, something to stimulate the eye--there's all this activity onstage, all of a sudden! Which is fine, it’s always good to be stimulating. But Jose Maria and I are interested in moving the story along: finding a purpose for everything, a way for these different forms to come together.
Here, the dance is part of the story; but for me it’s more the energy of the story. So if Orpheus is talking about his love for Eurydice, the dancers portray the energy of that love. And it’s not so much about what we see, it’s what we feel. With the Furies, it’s a struggle for survival, about pushing through the most difficult, uncomfortable experience in your life. And then there’s a different energy in the Elysian Fields, one that just takes you, it guides you, says “This is where love is, this is where happiness is.”
An experience everyone should be able to share. Which brings me to another topic: can everybody dance? Of course. I heard this woman talking on TV today: “Get your kids to paint before they become conscious about it, before they begin worrying that they may not be good painters and they stop painting.” It’s the same with dance. People stop dancing when they say, “Oh, maybe I’m not good at this.” If we didn’t have this consciousness, everybody would be dancing much more, with better results.
Yannis Adoniou explains a dance move to Davinia Rodríguez, who sings Eurydice (Alan Alabastro, photo)
Is this phenomenon worse in America than it is in Greece? Oh, my goodness. Dance is a social thing—it is friction, it is manipulation of time and space. By way of answering your question, one thing I notice when I see people in the U.S., here we never cross paths. You go to the supermarket and you want to get your biscuits, or whatever, and when someone comes in front of you, you say “Excuse me,” and you get out of the way—you avoid that person. This is dance. Actually, it’s a technique we call ‘avoidance.’ In the U.S., you’re not going to cross that person’s energy. People here avoid that friction, whereas in Greece, yes, people touch each other all the time, they push each other, they are more familiar with expressing themselves through movement. And again, at the end of any festivity everyone will dance. Are they better dancers? Not necessarily. And it’s the men, not the women. In many parts of the Middle East, men are the better dancers because the society is all about men dancing. Whereas in the West, men don’t dance. You know, they say if you dance you’re gay.
I noticed that, as an American tourist in the Middle East, my gay-dar didn’t work: you’d see guys holding hands or hanging on to each other, which here would indicate they were a couple—but in fact all it meant was friendship, that they belong together. Yes, even kissing. In the Middle East, you kiss someone, a man or a woman, to show your respect. Here you’re not going to kiss someone unless it’s sentimental or sexual.
That’s interesting. And it reminds me—you can do this opera with either a male or a female Orpheus. Yes, there was a female singer when we did it in West Bay, a mezzo soprano. She was dressed as a male, and I think the public understood. That’s the lovely thing about theater: you can do things onstage that you might not be able to do in real life. For instance, in the end they kiss each other, and it’s one of the most beautiful, juicy kisses. And both women were straight! That was amazing to see: two women kissing onstage, and no one was offended. Now, we were in the Bay Area, and it’s diverse and all that, but it’s interesting to be able to see it as a love story between two women and have it be absolutely appropriate.
Would the story work if it were about a girl going to hell to retrieve a guy, and he was the one saying “Look at me, look at me, look at me!” And she was saying “No, no, I must not!” I think it would work. I believe love is strong, it doesn’t matter which direction. Also, when you walk down the street, you don’t think, “I’m male, I’m tall, I’m short, I’m hairy, I’m not hairy, I’m wearing red or green.” This is what other people see. But as you walk, you’re just you, an energy. I don’t think we’re constantly saying to ourselves, “I’m a man!” It’s when we get beyond that exterior body, the part that’s choreographed by society, that we’re able to reach common ground. That’s where it’s more true, more real, more universal.
Though she's a familiar face at Seattle Opera, Heidi Zamora is actually making her debut as Costume Designer with our upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice. We spoke with Heidi about working in the Costume Shop, about sources of inspiration for this exciting new production, and about what the ancient myth of Orpheus means to her.
You’ve worked in our Costume Shop for quite some time, but this is your first proper credit as Costume Designer for Seattle Opera. Can you explain what your role in the Shop has been prior to this?
My official title is Assistant Costume Shop Manager, but one of the big parts of that job is I act as Design Coordinator for the shows that we rent or remount. If we have a set of costumes in our stock and we’re going to remount that production and the original designer isn't coming to Seattle to oversee everything, then I’ll be the de facto designer. I’ll be the one in the fittings, choosing new buttons, telling the Shop that the hem should be higher or lower, and a lot of times there are costumes that need to be redesigned because they don’t fit the new director’s vision of what the show is. Or, sometimes our principal costumes don’t fit our new singers so, since we need to make new costumes anyway, we’ll design something new. I do a lot of ghost designing and redesigning around here.
What are some recent examples of costumes you’ve worked on?
The last show I worked on here was Carmen, with costumes originally designed by James Schuette back in 2004. This time around we had new singers and a new director so I designed all of Carmen’s new costumes, except for her last look which was the original look James Schuette designed. I also designed a new Micaëla dress and the Cigarette Girls’ costumes.
Zamora's design for Carmen's Act One costume and Anita Rachvelishvili wearing the finished costume (Elise Bakketun, photo)
We're excited to see your name in the Orphée et Eurydice program book! What has the costume design process for this production been like for you?
It’s been a long process—we’ve been working on it for over a year. I started by listening to the opera and reading the libretto. There was also a production of Orphée that our director, Jose Maria Condemi, directed at West Bay Opera, so I watched a video of that production to see where he was coming from. Then when he came to town, we met along with set designer Phillip Lienau and lighting designer Connie Yun, and shared images of stuff that inspired us or felt like the piece.
The design team discusses Orphée et Eurydice. Left to right, Set Designer Phillip Lienau, Lighting Designer Connie Yun, Costume Designer Heidi Zamora, Costume Shop Manager Susan Davis, Director Jose Maria Condemi, Technical Director Robert Schaub, and Production Director Vincent Feraudo (Alan Alabastro, photo)
Then there were several more rounds of research and sketches, until it was finally time for me to purchase fabrics and decide which costumes we were actually going to build ourselves and which could be shopped [purchased off the rack].
Where did you get the inspiration for your final looks?
All over the place. We wanted a production that felt earthy and natural, so when we were thinking of scenery, we looked at the artist Andy Goldsworthy, who does a lot of installation of natural elements in an ordered fashion. For example, he’ll take rocks and stack them or arrange sticks in a spiral shape.
Collage of work by Andy Goldsworthy
That partially inspired the direction the costumes were going in, too. I also looked at a lot of fashion research for inspiration. I looked at a lot of Greek and neoclassical fashion, and a lot of modern clothes that felt Greek or neoclassical in how they were draped. And the inspiration for the Furies costumes came from modern dancer Martha Graham, who did a pretty famous dance inside a stretchy tube of fabric.
The whole idea was that the chorus should be enclosed in a cocoon shape, originally inspired by the ruins of Pompeii, where people have been encased in ash for thousands of years.
Visitors at Pompeii
That felt like Hades to us, and that went through a number of iterations before we landed where we did. You don’t really see that Pompeii inspiration in what we ended up with, but that’s very much where it started.
Costume design by Heidi Zamora for the Furies
Do you have a favorite costume in this production?
I think I do. I like the Furies a lot because I think it will be really striking on stage, but I think my favorite costume is Eurydice’s because it’s very simple.
Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Eurydice
Davinia Rodríguez is a beautiful girl, very easy to dress, and the design is clean, simple, and very balanced. When you do things that are simple, it’s hard to get it perfect because all the little details really show that much more. But I think it looks like an Oscar dress, and it looks great on her. The ice blue color is going to look amazing on stage, and it was such a hard color to find. Everything was either bright blue or gray; it took weeks to find the right color.
Where do you shop for fabrics?
Sometimes, on a larger show, Costume Shop Manager Susan Davis and the costume designer will take a trip to New York. Other times we’ll hire a swatcher in New York, which is what we did this time. I’ll tell them what kinds of fabrics I’m looking for, and they’ll go around New York and fill bags of fabric swatches and send them to me. I select the ones I want and the fabric store—Mood or New York Elegant, for example—will send what we need.
That’s a long way to go for fabric!
Well, people don’t make clothes like they used to! Local fabric stores tend to gear toward quilters and though they have some fabrics from dressmaking, it’s not like it is in New York, which has Broadway and film and a dressmaking industry that exists in a way it doesn’t here. There are some stores in L.A. that are great, too, and sometimes we swatch there. But there are a lot of supplies the Costume Shop needs that aren’t available in Seattle. Like buttons! You might think we can just go to the fabric store here and get whatever buttons we need, and sometimes we do, but a lot of time it’s not the right button. You need the perfect button.
Costume design by Heidi Zamora for Amour.
What are some considerations you need to take into account when designing specifically for singers, as opposed to non-singing actors?
Well, they need to be able to breathe—which seems like a simple request, you would think, because actors need to breathe, too. But singers breathe differently and they breathe differently from each other. Some do so from their chest, some from down low, so they need to have the appropriate movement in their costumes. Some singers really like to wear a corset because that supports their breath, and some people can’t. So we really need to account for that and make sure they’re comfortable so they can do their best work.
Since you’ve had to examine this opera so closely, what would you say its story means to you?
Obviously, it’s about love and loss. Being a new mom and being relatively recently married, my little family is such a huge part of me now, so the idea of losing my husband or losing my son is unimaginable. I think about it briefly and I feel like I get punched in the stomach. That feeling, to me, is what Orphée is going through. He’ll do anything to have his wife back, and I totally understand that. And I think anybody would understand that. I think people will start crying in Act 1, if William Burden is doing his job—and he will. He will break your heart; he just has such a beautiful, warm voice. But in the end of this version, Orphée is reunited with Eurydice, which is great.
2/14 Update: The first week's tickets have been claimed! They were found at That's Amore! Italian Cafe in Mt. Baker. Thanks to everyone who played this week, and don't worry--you still have four more chances to win. Stay tuned for another round of clues, coming up this Monday.
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Originally posted on Monday, February 13, 2012, at 10:30 a.m.
We officially kick off the first week of Seattle Opera's "Orpheus Odyssey" treasure hunt! Besides true love, the greatest thing in the universe is free opera tickets, and four pairs of tickets to Seattle Opera's Orphée et Eurydice, hidden in different parts of the city, await the dauntless, the devious, the persuasive.
When you've figured out where in Seattle the tickets are hidden, your job is to journey forth and use the password posted here to entreat the Furies at each location to yield up their treasure (during business hours only!). Please read the full details and rules here.
And now, as promised, we reveal the first clue. Further clues will follow each day this week until the tickets are found.
CLUE #1 (posted 2/13)
Allegedly inspired during a flight of the “I’m-on-a-rolla-Gay”
CLUE #2 (posted 2/14)
She laid down the law to Orfeo in Vienna
WEEK 1 PASSWORD "Green Mountain"
A pair of tickets to the March 10 performance of Orphée et Eurydice await, available for claiming this week from 5-9 p.m. Monday through Friday, and 4-10 p.m. on Saturday.
If you're stumped, fear not...Orpheus and other Greek heroes found many entrances to the Underworld. Just come back to this blog every morning this week (or check out our Facebook or Twitter pages) for a NEW CLUE, until the tickets have been won. A new hunt begins next Monday.
Good luck! Happy hunting! May you find opera tickets AND true love!
See the Orpheus drama unfold in rehearsal. Stage Director Jose Maria Condemi shows the singers at work, explains the storyline, and gives us a peek at the dancer choreography. If you are on the fence about seeing this opera, then watch this video!.
Inspired by the touching story of Orpheus, the famous musician who journeyed to hell and back in search of true love, Seattle Opera launches another treasure-hunt beginning next week. Our "Orpheus Odyssey" will lead intrepid adventurers around Seattle, rewarding bravery, brains, and persuasive power with the only thing better than true love: tickets to the closing performance of Orphée et Eurydice on Saturday, March 10, at 7:30 p.m.
How it Works
Each Monday for the next four weeks—February 13, 20, 27, and March 5—Seattle Opera will leave tickets to the 3/10 performance at a different business in the city of Seattle, and post clues that tell you how to retrieve these tickets on this blog, as well as on our Facebook and Twitter pages.
The first person to identify and reach the location (during their business hours) must use the password, posted with each clue, to persuade the dire guardians of the tickets to let you have them. Truly Orphic heroes will also immortalize their adventure in a photo of themselves taken at the location, and send us a copy for the blog!
In addition, a fifth pair of tickets will be offered, the final week (week of March 5) to the one who solves the riddle of the passwords. The first person to arrive at Seattle Opera’s administrative offices, at 1020 John St. in South Lake Union, and successfully explain to the all-knowing sages of Seattle Opera’s Box Office staff what connects the four weeks' passwords, will win the fifth set of tickets. In honor of our mythic hero, riddle-explanations MUST be musical.
The first clue will be posted this coming Monday by 10 a.m., with additional clues released daily throughout the week until the tickets have been retrieved. If you don't find them the first week, don't worry: new searches in new locations begin on February 20, 27, and March 5.
The Rules
The "Orpheus Odyssey" contest is open to those who are at least eighteen years of age or older. No purchase necessary. Employees of Seattle Opera as well as immediate family (spouses, domestic partners, parents, siblings, and children) and household members of such employees are not eligible, nor are employees of businesses participating in the Odyssey. One winner per household. Participation in Seattle Opera’s "Orpheus Odyssey" Contest constitutes entrant's consent to Seattle Opera’s use of entrant's name, likeness, photograph, voice, and opinion for promotional purposes in any media, without payment.
Any Questions?
Leave us a comment and let us know. Or, send an e-mail to Tamara Vallejos, Seattle Opera's Public Programs and Media Associate, at tamara.vallejos@seattleopera.org.
General Director Speight Jenkins sat down with Orpheus star William Burden (fresh off the airplane) when he arrived in Seattle for rehearsals. The two discuss the success of this opera, what it takes to sing in French, and more.
Seattle Opera is holding auditions for our upcoming production of Puccini’s Turandot, directed and choreographed by Renaud Doucet. The production opens the 2012/13 season on August 4, 2012, and runs through August 18, 2012.
Seattle Opera is casting:
6 women who are classical/contemporary dancers with strong classical ballet and modern techniques
and 1 woman actor, possessing martial arts skills and between the heights of 5’10” and 6’
All positions are paid, and daytime availability for rehearsals is required. The show begins rehearsing on July 6, 2012.
Auditions will be Monday, February 27, 2012. For more information and to sign up, please phone Paula Podemski, Seattle Opera's Production Supervisor, at (206) 676-5812.
The sets for Orpheus have the challenge that they must portray two worlds: above-ground earth and the underworld. Go behind-the-scenes as the Scene Shop builds an 800 pound tree -- both its above ground earthly stature and its unruly underworld root system.
A great voice is to the ears what a fine wine is to the palate—which is why Seattle Opera’s 2012 Gala, “A Perfect Pairing,” is at the lovely Chateau Ste. Michelle in Woodinville (pictured above). We’re all looking forward to this black-tie evening, on Saturday, February 11, and not just for the delicious wines.
A benefit event for Seattle Opera’s education and community engagement programs and our Young Artists Program, “A Perfect Pairing” will feature a gourmet dinner, dancing to the music of the Dudley Manlove Quartet, and performances by celebrated tenor William Burden and promising Young Artist Joseph Lattanzi.
William Burden as Edgardo in Seattle Opera's 2010 Lucia di Lammermoor.
You may recognize Burden from a number of recent Seattle Opera productions, including his moving portrayal of Edgardo in last season’s Lucia di Lammermoor. Next month, he’ll sing the role of Orphée in our upcoming production of Orphée et Eurydice, Gluck’s take on the Greek myth of Orpheus. Baritone and current Young Artist Joseph Lattanzi recently made his mainstage debut as Moralès in Carmen, and he’ll join Burden for the duet “Au fond du temple saint” from Bizet’s The Pearl Fishers, accompanied by YAP Pianist Christopher Lade. And as for the dancing? The Dudley Manlove Quartet has been called “the quintessential party band” by the Seattle PI.
For more info on our 2012 gala—only two weeks away!—visit www.seattleopera.org/gala/. The different ticket levels come with a variety of great benefits, including an exclusive winery tour, tickets to an Orphée et Eurydice dress rehearsal, meet-and-greets, and more.
Finnish bass Mika Kares is not only making his Seattle Opera debut as Attila on January 22, he’s also making his American debut following several years performing primarily in Germany. We recently chatted with Kares about the opera scene in Finland, how Seattle compares to his homeland, and what direction his promising career is taking now that he’s traveling the world and taking on heftier roles.
Welcome to Seattle Opera! This is your company debut, so can you tell us where you’re from and how you began in opera?
I’m from Finland, which is far away from Seattle! It was a long way to get here, but it’s nice to be here; this is actually my American debut. I’ve been mainly singing in Europe. I sang in Germany for five years and now I’ve been traveling for roles. I sing in Spain, France, and even in China. I hope, now, I can sing more frequently in North America. I would love to be here more.
I started singing when I was 22, so I started late. I was an actor before I started to sing; I started acting when I was 15. All of a sudden I was on stage, and no one could get me off! After one show, I was singing in the shower and another actor overheard and said, “You know, you have a voice.” And I said, “OK…” and then he said, “You should get some lessons,” and I thought, “Well, why not?” So I tried, and everything went pretty fast after that. After four years of studying I was already in Germany working. I worked there for five years and now I have done this work as a freelancer for three years. So it all started pretty fast.
What is the opera scene like in Finland?
Well, we only have one opera house, the National Opera in Helsinki, and we have one big festival, in Savonlinna, so we don’t have too many singers but the ones we have are of good quality. We have some big stars who are giving us youngsters an example of how to do this work. So it’s nice, and we have a good spirit. We have Finnish operas, too, and Finnish National Opera does maybe one or two per year.
Mika Kares as Attila in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun
Is the Finnish language a difficult one for singers?
Well, if you don’t know it already, it’s a really difficult language. In a way it’s pretty close to Russian, so if you know that, it can help a bit. But for me, it’s my mother tongue and I can really get to those special colors. It’s always so painful when I’m singing Italian or something, and I just want to get specific colors, and then I see an Italian singer do it amazingly.
Do you still make your home in Finland?
At the moment I have an apartment in Helsinki but I’m travelling a lot. This season, I’m spending nine months away from Finland, so I only sort of live in Finland. I pay my taxes to Finland! But that’s normal for an artist.
This is your American debut, but have you ever visited the United States before?
Actually, this is my first time in America. I’ve never been here, never even for a holiday. I’m a little bit surprised by Seattle; it has so many Scandinavian roots, and it shows! People are really friendly here, and the weather is pretty much the same as it is in Finland. It’s different, but not as different as I expected.
Have you had any experience with Attila prior to this production?
No, this is my role debut. Before this, I’d not even seen a performance. I’ve only seen the DVD, the famous Samuel Ramey one. But I’ve been singing Attila’s aria for a long time already, it’s a really great aria for a bass. It’s sort of bass-baritone, but you also have to give it this dark sound, too.
What’s also interesting is I went through the whole history of Attila, and every history book says he was a small man, but John Relyea and I are both big—I think I’m 6’5” or something; in Europe I’d say I’m 196 centimeters.
Odabella (Susan Neves) takes her revenge on Attila (Mika Kares) in this scene from Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun
Do you have a favorite moment in Attila? Attila’s big aria is great but I just love right after that, when the bishop arrives and Attila is thinking, “Is this a dream, is this reality?” The music is so beautiful, and Attila is oddly fragile, and then strong again, and then fragile. I really like that.
Do you ever feel limited in the kind of roles you can take on as a bass? Are there any roles you dream of one day doing?
That’s a tough one, but I would love to do Don Giovanni once in my life. It’s not so often done with a bass, but it could be done with a bass, and I would love to do that. And also Scarpia in Tosca. Most of the time, though, I’m just “King.” I was looking through my calendar recently and it was like, OK, last year I was the kings of Scotland and Egypt, and now I have King of the Huns, and the King of Spain next season. So that’s pretty normal for a bass. You’re the king, a priest, or a bad guy. But I sing all kind of repertoire at the moment because I’m only 33, and everyone calls me Baby Bass. I’m getting there, I’m Teenage Bass now. So I sing lots of Wagner right now, because the celebration year is coming, in 2013. I’ve done the whole Ring like 6 times already. And I sing lots of Verdi—mostly the priest in Aida, or the King of Spain in Don Carlo, but I also sing Handel and early music. So I’m now deciding what direction to take in my career, because the next four or five years are pretty important for me. I’m jumping into the big roles and seeing what happens.
It’s been nearly a decade since tenor Russell Thomas was last in Seattle—as a Seattle Opera Young Artist. Now he returns to sing Foresto in the alternate Attila cast, performing on Sunday, January 22. We talk to Thomas about his character, his experience with the Metropolitan Opera’s 2010 production of Attila, and how young artists programs have helped him kick off his career.
You were a Young Artist in the 2002/03 season. Where has your career taken you since?
When I left Seattle Opera’s Young Artists Program in 2003, I was invited by the Metropolitan Opera to join the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program. I was there for three seasons, made my debut, and had a great meeting with the director Peter Sellers. He invited to do a production with him, and then he introduced me to John Adams, the American composer. After that, John Adams invited me to do a world premiere with him, and those things sort of kicked off my career.
What’s it like to return to Seattle after all this time?
A lot has changed in the South Lake Union neighborhood [where Seattle Opera’s offices and rehearsal space are located] since 2003! There are a lot more buildings and new construction and restaurants that weren’t here before. But even though it’s been nine years, the city is still very familiar to me. I can get myself around.
Russell Thomas as Foresto in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun
Let’s talk about Foresto, your character in Attila. On a positive note, he’s an inspirational leader to his people—but he also has a jealous, angry streak when it comes to Odabella. Our opening night Foresto, Antonello Palombi, says Foresto is just confused by her actions, and not really a jealous guy. What do you think?
I think it’s a bit of both. Without the jealousy, he becomes Don Ottavio, and not a person who really is a hero and is about to start the city of Venice. He also has this whole other issue, where he's afraid Odabella is being held captive—but when he finally sees her among the Huns, it looks like she’s just there of free will, like she wants to be there with Attila. So he is confused, yes, but at the same time, once she explains herself, he doesn’t buy it, because in the next scene when he’s ready to poison Attila, she stops him. So there is some confusion. There’s an angle of jealousy as well.
What was your involvement with the Met’s recent production of Attila? What was your experience like?
I sang Foresto in a couple performances, but I also sang the role of Uldino, the other tenor role in the opera. The production was a bit difficult to grasp, but the best part of it and the experience was having Riccardo Muti there. He was amazing, and he was so nice to me. He gave me so much of his time, because Ramón Vargas, the first cast Foresto, got sick, so I had to do a lot of the singing in rehearsals. He really tried to help me sing this role in a healthy way, in an Italian way, because who knows that better than Riccardo Muti? So now I get to try to bring that expertise here.
Another reason everyone put so much hype on the Met production was the costumes designed by Prada, but the only things that really looked like the Prada style were the coats and the boots and shoes, which were admittedly pretty cool. I actually prefer the costumes here in Seattle, because you can more easily tell by how each character is dressed and their color scheme which group of people in the story—the refugees, the Romans, the Huns—they belong to.
Susan Neves (Odabella) and Russell Thomas (Foresto) in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun
How seriously should we take this opera? The plight of the refugees feels extremely real; but as in a lot of bel canto operas, the grim story inspired lots of peppy, jolly music.
The music being peppy and jolly was just a style; this is where they were musically. This is a transition from Donizetti and Rossini to the Verdi style that we get to know later down the line, in Don Carlo and Otello and so on. This is sort of in-between, like Verdi’s trying to stick to those traditional bel canto roots but at the same time build his own signature sound. That’s why the music is the boom-cha-cha that people know, and it’s up to the singer to make something happen beyond that. That was the point of bel canto: the orchestra stayed out of their way so the singers could show off what they could do technically.
As for the story, it is very serious. Especially the first few scenes when they’re starting Venice, that’s a very big deal. And when Ezio’s character talks about saving Rome, maybe he’s trying to being a traitor to his people—that’s what Attila calls him—but I feel like he’s trying to save his people while getting something for himself at the same time.
As a former Young Artist, have you had the opportunity to interact with any of our current Young Artists?
Only Jason Slayden, who sings Uldino in Attila, and only in terms of our interactions on stage, but not much.
It’s a recent development that our Young Artists have the opportunity to perform in mainstage productions.
The year that Seattle Opera did Norma, us YAP tenors thought, “Why aren’t we doing Flavio, instead of hiring an outside singer?” [Laughs] It probably would have saved a little money! But the whole point of young artists programs is to get young artists familiar with a company and its tradition, so when they get older, you can perhaps bring them back.
Soprano Susan Neves’ turn as Odabella on January 22 is her Seattle Opera debut, but she’s been with the company before, covering in the 1995 Ring. Since then, she’s made the switch from Wagner to Verdi and we ask her about her past experience with Attila, and find out why she thinks sword-wielding Odabella is secretly a big softie.
Welcome back to Seattle Opera! You were last here covering Marilyn Zschau as Brünnhilde in our ’95 Ring. Have you been singing much Wagner since then?
No, actually not. I was doing Wagner then because at that point that’s what the Met had offered me. But I’ve been singing all Italian opera, basically, since then. My specialty is Verdi; I’ve been singing Attila, Nabucco, Macbeth, Aida, and Un ballo in maschera.
What is it about Verdi that appeals to you so much?
Everything. I love the music, and I love the fact that Verdi gives the singer a beautiful line and makes it each individual character’s own creation. The orchestra does its oom-cha-cha and you have the beautiful melodies on top, so each artist gets to put in their own special sound—within the bounds of the musical line of course. I love it, I love it.
Odabella (Susan Neves in Seattle Opera's production of Attila) vows to use her father's sword to avenge his death.
Photo by Elise Bakketun
What about Attila in particular?
There are some incredibly beautiful arias. Odabella’s second aria is like “Casta diva” from Norma, with these long beautiful phrases. The opera is relatively short, there are really only four principles, so we each get an aria or an aria and a half to show our stuff, and then we just sing duets or trios or quartets, and it’s just lovely. I’m thrilled I’m getting to do this here.
You were involved with the Metropolitan Opera’s buzzed-about 2010 production of Attila. What was that experience like?
I was covering Odabella, so I was there from Day 1, when it was created and then during the creation. It was extremely modern, and we’re doing a modern production here, too, but at the Met it was more about the set and the production then the actual characters and the music.
We’ve heard a lot about the Met’s use of Prada-designed costumes. What was it like wearing couture on stage?
It was odd, to say the least. Odabella looked like Marge Simpson. We had this gold costume for the banquet scene that kind of looked like a big Ferrero Rocher chocolate, but then we had this big long Marge Simpson wig that, instead of being blue, was grayish-blonde, but it looked exactly like her style. Here in Seattle, it’s a totally different look, a modern look. And I don’t mind doing things modern, but you become an opera singer so you can play dress up and wear pretty gowns ! [Laughs] But that’s not this production, and that’s fine. I’ll wear a pretty gown next time.
Susan Neves as Odabella in Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun
Odabella, like Abigaille and Lady Macbeth, is reputed to be a fearsome role to sing. Do you find it very challenging?
Well, her first aria is extremely difficult; it’s a coloratura showpiece, and you walk out and have got to show what you’ve got in the first 10 minutes on stage. But my specialty is Nabucco, and Abigaille is a much longer part and much more difficult. So, I love singing Odabella because once I get the first aria over with, I can just have fun and enjoy singing the rest of it.
We see Odabella in many moods: in the opening she’s proud and ferocious, then in her aria she’s sad and nostalgic, then religious, then devious, and finally driven to desperation. Which side of her character comes easiest to you?
The loving side of Odabella, which is what every reaction she has in the whole opera is based on—love for either her country, her father, or her boyfriend. Her anger that her father has been killed is because she loves her father. She gets upset with Foresto because she loves him and he thinks she’s betrayed him. At the end, even before she kills Attila, she says, “Father, I’m making this sacrifice for you.” Whereas, for example, Abigaille in Nabucco is very conniving and she’s looking out for herself. But in Odabella, I don’t see that. She’s not a mean person, and I don’t think she’s a violent person at all.
What other roles have you sung where you get to kill someone?
Well, I do sing Turandot. So I’ve had several tenors who have not given me the right answers and who have therefore lost their heads. I’ve sung Tosca and she kills Scarpia. More often, I’ve killed myself, in Il trovatore and Norma. But I don’t play murderesses too much.
Odabella (Susan Neves) takes her revenge on Attila (Mika Kares) in this scene from Seattle Opera's production of Attila.
Photo by Elise Bakketun
What about other roles where you’ve wielded a sword?
Abigaille. And when I did Valkyries, we didn’t so much carry swords, but we had spears and shields. But I’ve carried lots of swords as Abigaille. In one of our staging rehearsals here for Attila, I was waving around the sword and director Bernard Uzan said, “Uh uh uh! This is not Nabucco, sweetie!” Because the Abigaille and warrior woman in me came out. But Odabella is not, I think, a warrior woman, so I’ve got to watch it. I like to play her softer. I want the feminine part to come out. Everything about her character is the fact that she’s a woman and she loves deeply, and I really like that.
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William Burden as Edgardo in Seattle Opera's 2010 Lucia di Lammermoor.
