Domingo conducts Verdi

International opera legend Placido Domingo took a prominent place in the orchestra pit last night as he conducted a performance of Washington National Opera's new production of Giuseppe Verdi's I Vespri Siciliani at Washington's Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.

I had a fabulous view not only of the stage but of Maestro Domingo and his conducting—my seat was on the right side of the first row, just about even with the side line of the proscenium opening. With the orchestra below me, I was right by the tympanist, and my feet could feel his playing through the vibration of the floor. Because of the curvature of the pit and front row, I had an excellent profile view of Domingo. He loomed over the orchestra, sometimes cajoling them, sometimes singing to them, sometimes making love to them; he must be a singer's dream conductor, because he was very engaged with the stage during the difficult ensembles.

I Vespri Siciliani opens the 50th anniversary season of Washington National Opera. The season opener was a week and a half ago, but I didn't have the $650 for the ticket or the $1500 to contribute to be able to be eligible to buy a $650 ticket (plus my tuxedo is dirty). Even after the gala openings, though, WNO is very expensive—the "good" tickets at a Saturday night performance usually run about $290 (which is more than the $268 the Metropolitan Opera charges in New York City!), so I felt fortunate to have been able to score a front row ticket yesterday at a reasonable cost, especially since the house was nearly full last night.

The Washington National Opera Orchestra was in fine form last night. They play very well and very responsively for Mo. Domingo. After the overture, Domingo even took a moment to have them stand and acknowledge the audience's substantial applause.

This is the 150th anniversary of the premiere of I Vespri Siciliani, but it remains a relatively unknown opera in the United States, overshadowed by other Verdi works such as Aida, Rigoletto, La Traviata, Il Trovatore, and many others. The storyline is typically Verdian: it's a convoluted love story with a tragic ending, in five acts. Set in French-occupied Sicily in 1282, nationalistic Sicilian patriot Procida returns from exile to lead a rebellion. Procida's young lieutenant Arrigo gets himself arrested by the French governor Monforte, who shocks Arrigo when Monforte reveals that he is Arrigo's father. Torn by his long-time hatred of the French and his uncertainty over his filial duty, Arrigo saves his father from assassination. His compatriots—including Duchess Elena, his fellow rebel and the woman he loves—are arrested and condemned to death, while they condemn Arrigo as a traitor. Monforte agrees to pardon the rebels if Arrigo will acknowledge him as his father. Once Arrigo finally breaks down and acknowledges Monforte, Monforte declares that Arrigo and Elena shall be wed as a sign of the unification of the French and Sicilian peoples. Procida uses the wedding, though, as an opportunity to complete his rebellion. Now, the title of the opera translates as "Sicilian Vespers," but I really have no idea how that title ties in to the plot.

As with many Verdi operas, this opera is led by four primary singers with huge, difficult singing roles. Leading the cast as Elena is mezzo-soprano Maria Guleghina, a sturdy singer from Armenia who seemed a bit too old to me to be playing the ingenue. She had an absolutely amazing voice, though, and a great mastery of technique which a younger singer would not have had. The voice was heavy but huge; in one scene (the fourth act finale), the entire chorus, all of the principals, and the large orchestra were all singing and playing full blast, and I could hear Miss Guleghina's voice soaring above the din. I was particularly impressed with the voice of Ukrainian bass Vitalij Kowaljow, who sang the role of Procida. His soliloquy to open act two was powerful and virtuosic, earning him a prolonged ovation and plenty of bravos, including, I noticed, some applause from Maestro Domingo. Procida is a big part and it really exercises the lower range of the bass, a task which Kowaljow made simple and fluid. The baritone singing Monforte was Lado Ataneli, yet another eastern European, from Georgia. Verdi baritone parts can be misleadingly simple, sometimes soaring up into tenor registers, sometimes having a punishing tessitura, but Ataneli's interpretation just oozed with the smarmy self-confidence of a wealthy political despot. While his voice carried the timbre of a cavalier baritone, he handled his high notes easily and never appeared to be covering above the passagio. His soliloquy opening the third act also met with audience bravos. The tenor role of Arrigo was sung by Frano Farina (an American, name notwithstanding). The leading tenor role in a Verdi opera is always so demanding and so difficult, I hesitate to say that I was disappointed or unimpressed with Farina, so I will have to leave it at saying that he was not quite in the same league as the other three principals. In many of the ensembles, Farina's voice was buried under the other Russians. At one point, Farina was staged right by me and Miss Guleghina was standing on the opposite side of the stage and facing away, yet still her voice overpowered his. I wonder, also, if maybe he didn't get a little tired during the performance: his fourth act opening soliloquy was rather blasé and met only lukewarm applause from the audience.

None of the singers in the production were familiar to me, which kind of surprised me. Usually there's at least someone with whom I've previously sung. Anyway, other cast members included Erin Elizabeth Smith as Ninetta, Robert Baker as Danieli, Corey Evan Rotz as Tebaldo, James Shaffran as Roberto, John Marcus Bindel as Bethune, Benjamin von Atrops as Vaudemont (watch for this fine young bass in the future!), and J. Austin Bitner as Manfredo.

The Washington National Opera Chorus had a major presence in this production, with some 70 singers on stage, supplemented by two dozen supernumeraries. The singing was pretty good, with only one spot where the men were getting out of sequence with the stick. My complaints with the chorus, though, were with the stage director. The "acting" was that bad "opera stage business" which always looks so fake and I kept seeing recognizable personalities even though the chorus had changed costumes to portray different characters. The biggest problem, though, is that this stage director just doesn't have the gift of handling crowd scenes. The stage was too crowded and people were on top of one another. I think the actors were uncomfortable with all the steps (including some principals!), because they often looked uneasy moving around had to look down and lift their skirts and capes so as not to trip. In some of the party and dance scenes, the chorus, supernumeraries, and dancers were trying to move around and be active, but they were constrained by the vast numbers on stage, the set design, and bad direction, and they ended up looking like they were running in circles.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that the opening of act five must have been a lady chorister's dream. As Elena prepares for her wedding to Arrigo, she and all of her "friends" (some two dozen-plus female members of the chorus) sing and dance all over the stage, each wearing a unique, gorgeous, cream colored wedding dress.

Paulo Miccichè served as both stage and visual director of the production. I think he spent too much time worrying about the "visual" direction and not enough time thinking about the stage direction. The Sicilian Mr. Miccichè is known for experimenting with moving lights and film projectors to create "virtual sets" and backdrops on stage. Well, I hope he gets over his experimental phase soon, because I hate what he's doing. It was extremely distracting and it very much detracted from the singing and the music. His vision no doubt forced set designer Antonio Mastromattei to meet Miccichè's bizarre requirements, leading to an absolutely hideous, difficult, and undesirable set. And I have no idea when this opera was supposed to be set. Verdi and his librettist set the work in the 13th century. The costumes all appeared to be 19th century. The sets appeared to be almost futuristic.

So, let's talk about the set. A series of five stark, "stone" black, contemporary, rectangular arches framed the stage from front to back. Runs of three to four steps in black, stage-wide staircases, beginning with three steps below the first arch, continued all the way upstage, with a few landings to allow for some action, and a more substantial landing about mid-stage where two large movable black staircases could be moved from place to place. A large black scrim (scrims are those special flat curtains which can either be opaque or see-through, depending upon the lighting) was hanging in the first arch. During the overture, the stage lights came up a bit, revealing through the scrim three enormous empty picture frames floating over the set: a horizontal frame centered up stage, a vertical frame down right, and a vertical frame set on the diagonal mid-stage left. During the course the evening, the frames would appear and reappear. The horizontal frame was on ropes, so it could go up and down. The two vertical frames were on rollers, but rather than being mechanically controlled, they were pushed on and off by stage hands in "costume" shirts, but with their blue jeans and work boots visible underneath. As the overture came to a conclusion, a stage-wide, transparent portrait of Verdi was rolled up and projected on to the front scrim.

Once the singing started, old-style photographs of Sicily were projected on to the backdrop up stage. As the action shifted, the photographs moved laterally to reveal different sections of the panorama. It made me seasick. Later, when the director was wanting to reflect the emotion being sung by a soloist or small ensemble, he would project photographs of old medieval and Renaissance era Sicilian paintings or sculptures. During a love duet between Elena and Arrigo, the painting was of two medieval lovers locked in a deep kiss. When Monforte gave Arrigo a letter from his mother explaining that Monforte was Arrigo's father, "handwriting" was projected over the entire stage. Sometimes sections of paintings would be highlighted and projected on shades which rolled down from the tops of the frames, while the full painting was projected in back. In several sections of the show, a white scrim with multiple vertical cuts along the bottom (to allow for the occasional "dramatic" entrance) was lowered about mid stage and used as both scrim and projection screen.

I found all the "high tech" and projections to be highly distracting, and I would discard Miccichè's concept. I think Verdi is a good enough composer to be able to convey his message and the emotion of the characters without needing projected visual clues to tell the audience what to think or feel. Yes, the opera was sung in its original Italian, but the English translations were projected on to the top of the downstage proscenium arch (and I seldom looked at them). Sometimes the high tech malfunctioned, though, and that was disasterous: in one particularly poignant fourth act quartet, the projector shining a painting over the entire stage was shaking, and I could not look at the stage without experiencing vertigo.

Some of the basic technical aspects of the staging were also disappointing, given the stature and expense of Washington National Opera. Now, we know that it is common practice to use a scrim to hide scene changes while other singing is going on down stage. People and props have to get on and off stage. And, of course, you can't expect an opera singer to walk on and off a stage set (especially one with a lot of stairs) when it is pitch black. For those of you unfamiliar with stagecraft and the operation of a scrim, a scrim is opaque to the audience when there is a light shining on it from the front and the set is dark in back—you make whatever is behind it visible by illuminating the scene back there. So, we certainly know that if stage lights are raised enough to allow actors to get on and off the set, the audience is going to be able to see a hazy vision of what's going on. The simple solution to that is to use what we call a "black out curtain"—typically a rubberized sheet—in conjunction with the scrim that is flown back out as soon as the scene is set and the lights lowered again. Well, they didn't use black out curtains last night, so many of the scene changes were faintly visible and that distracted us from the singing in front. And, at the end of several acts, the lights came down and curtains began to come in from the top, only to have to stop midway down to allow the actors to clear the stage before they could finish closing. Now, how unprofessional does that look?

So, I think I can sum up the performance by saying the music was divine and the staging and sets sucked.

A great deal of the opera experience, though, doesn't happen inside the auditorium. I love to people watch! And the Kennedy Center is a perfect place for that, because not only do they have an opera house, they have a concert hall, a big stage theater, and several smaller theaters, plus a couple of gourmet restaurants and a big gift shop. During major concerts and performances, additional tables are set up to sell refreshments and drinks, including a new martini bar I discovered last night. The lobbies are so huge they are often used for receptions and other gatherings, and last night was no exception.

I'm not sure exactly who was doing what, but the press was teeming all over the place, because actress Angelina Jolie supposedly was coming for some event. There were crowds behind ropes outside the doors waiting for a glimpse of Miss Jolie, just like at the Academy Awards. I'm not sure if I was supposed to have gone that way, but I walked on the red carpet, straight up the stairs, past the crowds, and into the Hall of Nations. As I went up the stairs, I heard someone behind the ropes calling "Mark! Mark!" and turned to see one of my condo employees, who wanted to know if I was there for "the Event." Joan Rivers wasn't there to stop and interview me, but had she asked, I was wearing Armani: I'd chosen a navy pinstriped suit and white broadcloth French-cuffed shirt by Brooks Brothers with a light grey tie spotted with blue mitochondria-like figures by Giorgio Armani.

Fashions were very mixed last night. Of course, it wasn't opening night, so the formality wasn't there and it was a typical night out in Washington. As is so unfortunately typical these days, one sees a broad variety of clothing at these public events. I only saw two men in tuxedoes, but their accompanying women were quite unfortunately attired in outfits which were not only way too casual for black tie but hideous in and of themselves. Most of the men seemed to be in dark blue or grey suits, a pleasant thing since I've been to the opera in places like St. Louis where most of the men were in tacky brown suits or blue blazer and khaki trouser combinations (if they were even wearing a tie). Suits are still standard two piece numbers with no vests, and most of the men are avoiding that currently vogue three-buttons buttoned up look on ventless suit jackets. I also saw probably a majority of the men in blue shirts, though I'm not seeing as many French cuffs as I was earlier in the year.

Women's fashions were far, far more varied. I really only noticed a few trends. First, I saw a lot of knee-length black dresses and black suits topped with very colorful shawls and oversized scarves in both solid and multicolor blues, greens, and fuschias. Soft, smooth, thin woolens with elegant tailored lines also seem to be in, and I noticed a lot of dresses and skirt-top combinations with jackets, all in the same fabric. Some of these suits were black, but I also saw a lot of grey, beige, and soft pink. Chiffon-type fabrics also seemed popular for dresses with full skirts and high heeled shoes dyed to match. The vast majority of the women were in knee-length dresses, with the younger women wearing mid-knee hemlines and the more mature women's hems resting just below the knee. No one seemed to be wearing sequins, beaded fabrics, or shiny things (though it is still a bit early in the season for that). Hair is a little longer and smoothly coiffed. Jewelry was restrained, and simple pearl stands seemed popular again. Brooches were popular on suit jackets (hints of Madeleine Albright). There were a few ladies in long skirts (not dresses), but I didn't find them looking particularly formal or elegant. Most were ankle length and very, very colorful with boring tops. Those ladies particularly seemed to have difficulty selecting stylish and appropriate footware to go with their long skirts. I also saw a few older women in evening pants, typically with very colorful tops with long, draping sleeves and back. There weren't many young women in the audience at all. The few I saw obviously have not yet acquired a sense of taste or style, and neither had their boyfriends. I also saw some younger stag females wandering around in ill-fitting pant suits, and all I can say is fat and sloppy isn't going to land you a husband, sweetie. I sat next to an English lady now living in Canada who had a short, coiffed hairdo and wore simple diamond clip-on earrings to offset her cocktail length, pink chiffon dress, matching pink light woolen cape trimmed in pink fur, and dyed-to-match shoes with grosgrain bows. She was very interesting, and seems to be quite a Domingo fan. She's also gone to every performance of I Vespri Siciliani, and says she plans to see the remaining four performances.

I don't know about seeing all four of the remaining shows, but if you get a chances, this is a great opportunity to see a dramatic and rarely performed opera, and the soprano and bass alone make the ticket price worth the expense. Steel yourself for a long evening, though—running time, including two intermissions, was three hours and 45 minutes!