You are a bit of everything: musicologist, critic, music dramatist, producer, music director, librettist, composer…Can we have it in descending order, most important first?
I don’t see them in a vertical shape, I see them horizontally. There are two elements: the performing one - singing, conducting, staging as a producer and assistant producer - and the creative one which includes both academic and not-so-academic endeavours. My properly creative work is as a librettist, or song writer, or composer. The academic things are criticism and research, editing of early music and re-discovering scores.
I think they all go together, although generally these days there is a lot of separation in responsibilities. I think they feed each other very well, especially in early music or early theatre, where the academic activity is always sustained by performing. I think it should also be justifiable in contemporary music. Why shouldn’t one be allowed to do everything?
My Italian teachers say you cannot do everything well. You’ll end up doing a lot of things and a lot of them will be bad. I say, well, there’s nothing you can do about it.
But how do you introduce yourself ?
I guess it depends on which hat I am wearing at that moment… Most of the time I get introduced as a journalist because I work a lot as a critic. Or often as an academic, which is a bit boring…Or I would say that I am a musicosophist, which means that I cultivate a philosophical approach to music, but it's a bit of a joke.
Do you have a stunningly musical background? Were all your ancestors in the music business?
Not at all. No one in my family plays any instruments, no one has any interest in making music. But my parents used to go every year to the Arena di Verona. We also had a collection of old records, His Master’s Voice recordings of operas, with Beniamino Gigli, Maria Caniglia, Ebe Stignani, Tulio Serafin conducting. A Rigoletto, a Barber of Seville, a Traviata conducted by Toscanini. I listened a lot to them and this is how I got my operatic education. We also had a collection of opera libretti.
It must be partly cultural. In Italy we are exposed to opera whatever we do.
I have just discovered that my great grandmother, born in 1880, used to go to the opera, although she lived in a very small village. My great grandfather would take the cart and drive to town to listen to opera. We still have her opera glasses.
What was your first opera?
It was Parsifal in Turin. What an introduction! I went through a very serious Wagner stage when I was thirteen. My father gave me a recording of Parsifal for Christmas because I really wanted it. I was also very interested in the medieval poems of the Arthurian cycle. I studied Greek literature and I was fascinated by Greek mythology and Greek theatre. I had read that Wagner was very inspired by Greek theatre.
When my father gave me the recording of Parsifal, he teamed it with Rossini’s overtures, because he was worried about my interest in Wagner and he thought I needed to lighten up.
And what did you think when you saw your first opera?
I saw Aida at the Arena di Verona and I was really disappointed because it just did not seem right. What were those people doing? They were not very convincing. My mother thought I would get beaten up by the audience because I disapproved very loudly.
But you know, all those people just standing there, being totally unrealistic about what they were doing. I hated that.
I was much more interested in musical theatre, like Broadway, because I thought it was much more realistic. There was still music, they were still singing, but they were convincing and the stories were not absurd.
I am not really interested in opera as a genre or as the highest form of theatre. I don’t care. As long as there is energy going through, as long as it is consistent and has great impact on the audience, everything is fine.
How on earth did you end up loving opera?
Handel did it!
Contrary to the common perception in the UK, it is not so easy to get
opera tickets in Italy. Therefore it is not so easy to get to see it. I went a couple of times to Verona (and saw Aida which I know backwards because it was one of the first recordings I ever came across). For a few years I had a season ticket for the Turin Opera House. But that meant I had no choice what I saw.
Turin Opera has always been famous for being quite experimental, so I ended up seeing obscure Verdi, Attila, I due foscari, and then Khovanschina (that was an experience and a very long one) and Thais. Eventually I managed to see La Boheme and Manon Lescault. Really, the listener in Turin had no chance to build up a repertoire in a systematic way.
I used to watch all opera broadcasts. There was Carmen from Naples, Pavarotti in La Boheme…I remember I got really upset because Pavarotti was far too fat to kneel and look for that key, so to get around it they just strolled on the stage. I went beserk: this guy should not be allowed on stage if he cannot move!
Then, I came to London. Opera is much more accessible here than it is in Italy.
I was at university, doing a course on 18th-century music and we had a field trip to ENO, to see Xerxes. I had no idea what Handel was like. At that stage I was mad about theatre and had given up on opera.
Handel was my reconciliation with opera. Nicholas Hytner’s production was the most amazing revelation. I saw it six times in a row.
What was so fascinating about it?
It was unsurpassed. The complete theatricality! The cleverness of it! Although a baroque opera, it wasn’t staged in the traditionally static way that is so boring to the audiences. With his theatrical instinct, Hytner didn’t add anything to the story of Xerxes; he just got the whole measure of it and coloured it. The setting and the costumes were fantastic. He created a fabulous frame for the piece to come out in all its wittiness and drama. Nothing went against the music. It was consistent and completely coherent. It was the most theatrical production of all. It also featured some amazing performers. Mackerras was conducting. Ann Murray and Yvonne Kenny, Christopher Robson and Rosa Mannion all understood what was going on and instead of playing it as opera seria, they played it - I was going to say like a Broadway musical - as a piece of theatre.
Six times!
Yes. But then I saw Mary Stuart ten times. Actually, I have seen Xerxes eight times by now, because it keeps coming back. I checked it two years later because I wanted to see if it was really that good. The jokes surprised me yet again; the timing was perfect. I have never tired of seeing it.
Why see the same thing over and over again?
I had this discussion once with a friend who studies psychology. Why do we go to see the same work over and over again?. And I think we
don't really care to see different productions. Most opera goers, when they see a good production that satisfies them, would be happy to see it again and again.
I think that the emphasis on production these days comes with the misunderstanding of the art form. I don’t really think that the audience is so fussed about having new productions as long as the ones they have are convincing.
The reason people go to see the same opera many times is that the
emotional satisfaction increases with increased knowledge. It is rooted in the psychological need for catharsis.
As you know the ending of the opera, on some level it is safe to get
involved. You know what's going to happen, there's not going to be a big
shock at the end, so you can allow yourself to be emotionally more open,
to feel your emotions in a safe environment.
For the Italian Male, opera is the only situation where it is socially acceptable to be seen crying. Crying at the opera is perfectly fine; that’s what opera is for. It is an opportunity for emotional cleansing. Opera is not an intellectual art form. It works on the instinctive level. It reaches the emotional corners that are often not easily reached.
As you know the ending of the opera, on some level it is safe to get involved. You know what’s going to happen, there’s not going to be a big shock at the end, so you can allow yourself to be emotionally more open, to feel your emotions in a safe environment.
Has ENO changed? You are not so excited about them at the moment.
Well, every company has its highs and lows. ENO had an amazing period, with some of the productions still on. Actually, it is sad to say that most of the more interesting operas that we have recently seen were inherited from the Power House years.
Then there were very daring directors like David Poutney, a powerful producer at the peak of his creativity. There was Mark Elder, one of the best music directors, who never ceases to surprise me with his understanding of operatic scores and theatre, and mostly of voices.
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One of the most perfect castings I ever heard was Elder’s Linda di Chamonix with the Orchestra of The Age Of Enlightment. Not only were the voices right for the part they sang but also they matched each other perfectly. It doesn’t always happen.
Elder understands the main operatic repertoire. His Donizetti and Verdi, for example his Attila at Covent Garden lately, were really something. You cannot conduct an opera in a metronomic way, you really need your ritenuto and allargando to match the dramatic situation on stage. Very few conductors have the knack! And you have to accompany the singer at the same time. You should not conduct the singer.
Although I understand it is more reliable to have measured performances, especially from the point of view of the recording industry, than to give artistic license to your performers.
To have a combination of a really fantastic music director, an ingenious and creative producer and a chief executive happy to take chances, it is a rare situation that cannot be easily recreated.
And it has to be said that lately ENO has been using far too young voices for that huge space in their theatre. Young voices are not set enough not to push in that kind of environment.
What other things in opera are misunderstood?
There is a misconception about acting and opera singers. Yes, they should be able to act with their body but predominantly they act with their voice. The most important thing in opera is to act with the voice, to use colour. Although the composer has already measured it for you, there are a lot of opportunities to use tempi and to use text. An opera singer does not have to leap around and look convincing.
Another misconception is opera as a grand form. Well, it can be, but mainly it’s not. Opera is a very intimate art form. In most cases you are actually dealing with very few characters in a very intimate environment. Yes, you do get the big choruses and big scenes but they are just on the side. The situation remains private. And yet the prevailing opinion among audiences is that opera is big and loud!
You have to scale it down to what it is supposed to be, from those 3,000-seaters to a venue the size of Wigmore Hall. Then you'll understand what kind of acting is required - it is something definitely more subtle. It is much more about using the voice than ‘acting’, whatever that means.
How would you cast your favourite opera?
It would have to be La clemenza di Tito. The best Tito must be Stuart Burrows, whose use of text was just fantastic. There are two or three kinds of Mozart tenor; Tito is heroic, an 18th century Heldentenor. Burrows had that kind of grain in the voice.
Sesto would be Ann Murray. The role is just perfect for her. Sesto was written for a castrato who was famous for his long breath; he was very good at sustaining long phrases and giving them great emotional impact. Ann Murray can do that.
I would cast Lucia Pop as both Servilia and Vittelia. She recorded both the roles beautifully. Then probably the young Brigitte Fassbaender as Annio.
The conductor would be Colin Davies. There is this triumphant scene at the end of the opera, after Non piu di fiori, and Davies moves me to tears every single time. He makes Mozart three-dimensional; he manages to build space between lines inside the orchestra and his choice of tempi is just perfect. The producer… that would have to be me!
And if you were to cast Parsifal?
Oh, no. I really dislike Wagner these days. He has this self-indulgent attitude: he’s not really interested in anything else but himself. All the roles are himself. All the heroes are projections of himself. I don’t care to hear anything he has to say.
But don’t you go and review Wagner productions for some very serious publications?
Yes. And I have to say that the Tristan und Isolde I reviewed in Glyndebourne this year was fabulous. I actually enjoyed the experience rather than suffered through it.
I didn’t mean I don’t know anything about Wagner - I just meant that I don’t like it.
In Glyndebourne, because of the size of the theatre, they had to keep the orchestra down - and all of a sudden the sound was completely different. Often performances of Wagner or even Strauss are just for the conductor who wants a good ride with a big orchestra. Wagner is a fantastic opportunity for them. However, this performance was scaled down and it revealed a great abundance of colours, with subtle nuances and amazing pianissimos. Never overpowering, it was a great reading of the score.
The production took a lot from the classical theatre; there was a lot of stillness about it. The producer wasn’t scared to rely on his performers. Unlike many others, he left the singers to themselves and resisted making them do things often completely useless and against the music.
All in all, it was a very powerful experience.
Is there anything that you would like to say but have never had the chance?
In opera producing, there is this predominant fear of letting the piece and the performer speak for themselves. Producers resort to a lot of gimmicks- and gimmicks are just what they are. Rather than strengthen the performance, they undermine it.
What do you think about contemporary opera?
There is no real culture of contemporary opera writing; most of the time it is a bit of an accident. It is true that a good opera composer is a very, very, very rare thing. It has to be someone who is a very good musician, has a considerable flair for good melodies, and most importantly, understands dramatic timing and dramatic structure. For an opera to work, you must have a solid, tight, consistent structure, upon which you build your text and your music.
That structure is libretto. It is often assumed that libretto is the words - and that’s not what it is. Verdi once said that Rigoletto was the best libretto in the world, save for the poetry. With Puccini’s librettists Giacosa and Illica, one wrote the verses and the other the structure.
Opera needs a common musical language in order to work while contemporary composers are all very interested in their own language. There is not enough space in one evening to assert your own language to the point that the audience will be able to perceive strong dramatic differences within the nuances of his own limited, specific language. In my perception, opera works on the dramatic impact of the nuances. In their absence, all becomes gray. It does not make sense from the dramatic point of view. It cannot touch you on the deeper, emotional level, which is what opera is supposed to do. That’s a real shame.
If you look at the most important 20th century composers, Strauss and Britten (leaving out Puccini for the moment) , they both relied on traditional language. They made allowances for development, but they still relied on conventional language. There are not enough composers nowadays who are willing to take that risk and be almost obvious in what they want to do with theatre.
Sophie’s Choice last year was a perfect example. It was more like a play with music. Far too much text. The action should not be conveyed through the text but through the music. Britten said that in opera it is the music that expresses what goes on in the mind and heart of the characters, not the text. Also, Nicolas Maw was too scared to write an aria. What’s the point of having it in an opera house then?
There is this idea that you have to be original, and if you are not, that’s very wrong. Originality is highly overrated. Being efficient in dramatic terms and being able to move the audience is much more important. There seem to be very few composers who wish to take a risk and be obvious.
There is a lot in contemporary life that is worth an opera and it doesn’t have to be big and dramatic. You don’t have to have archetypes everywhere. There is space for comedy! Composers don’t even try to write comic opera nowadays.
Then, I want melodies I can whistle when I come out of the theatre. I don’t want pastiche.
Contemporary opera should take itself much less seriously. There’s too much clever stuff going on. It's false cleverness.
What do you do when you aren't dealing with music?
I am Italian - it is all food, football and opera. I am a good cook, but my grandfather, a patissiere, was a real artist. He made cakes, desserts and ice-cream. People would drive miles to come and buy his artefacts. It always amazed me that whenever he baked, he sang. It is so nice to know that the cake you’re eating has been sung to while being created.
I always watch Formula 1 with my friends. There is something hypnotic in watching those cars go round and round. There is something really beautiful about the aerodynamics, the technology, the power. I have mixed feelings about it though, as it‘s a waste of natural resources. But in Italy it is a cultural thing, we all learned to drive as soon as we could. I absolutely adore driving. I’m not sure it’s a compliment but I was told I drive like a man. Well, most Italian men drive like they are out to kill…
View B.A Diana's page HERE...
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