Events predicted
Amal Choucri Catta delights in the season's end
Un ballo in maschera, Verdi; Cairo Opera Company, Cairo Opera Orchestra, Chorus and Ballet; cond. David Crescenzi; director Jehane Morsi; Cairo Opera, Main Hall, 14 -16 June, 9pm
The rising curtain revealed a mask-studded backdrop before which prima-ballerina Alexandra Volkhovskaya performed a pas-de-trois while two dancers introduced the theme of love, deceit and death, the subjects of "A masked ball", Verdi's three act opera with a libretto by Antonino Somma based on Eugene Scribe's drama Gustave III ou le bal masque. The production was aired for three nights at Cairo Opera's Main Hall, with the Opera Orchestra, Chorus and Ballet. The conductor was the Italian David Crescenzi, loved and applauded by Cairene audiences, his excellent baton already admired in Rossini's Il barbiere di Siviglia, Puccini's Turandot and Donizetti's L'elisir d'amore also at the Opera's Main Hall.
The dancers disappeared to the wings as the prelude came to a close and the mask-studded backdrop lifted, affording a view into Riccardo's palace. Aristocratic, grand, the blue hues turned to lilac, on sets borrowed from Rigoletto and other operas staged in the Main Hall. The costumes, too, had seen earlier outings, though given their provenance both sets and costumes worked reasonably well. Once again director Jehane Morsi had done a good job.
When first performed here, in 1993, Bulgarian director Kuzman Popov chose a rather subdued, nondescript scenography, an odd mixture of old aristocracy with nouveau-riche tendencies. Jehane Morsi has, however, added more colour and luxury, coupled with a splash of extravaganza. This time she had the king's throne, a super-sized armchair in cobalt-blue and gold, strategically placed at a higher level at the very centre of the stage, signifying the monarch's eminence in this masked-ball-game.
The action, however, was not taking place at the palace of Gustav III, the Swedish king, but at the Boston residence of Richard, Count of Warwick and governor of New England in 18th century America. When Verdi submitted his first libretto to San Carlo Theatre in Naples the censor protested that the assassination of a king could not be shown on stage and asked for a change, or for a new libretto. A furious Verdi changed the locale from Stockholm to Boston. A king's throne, however, remained on Cairo's stage, even for an American governor. Which did not seem to disturb tenor Walid Korayem, singing the part of Richard -- Riccardo -- on opening night.
He performed Riccardo the part at the Cairo Premiere in 1993, together with soprano Iman Mustafa as Amelia. And here they were again, ten years later, singing their parts for a single performance, the other two performances being sung by the excellent Italians, Sergio Panajia as Loredana Toniazzi.
Korayem was reasonably convincing as Riccardo, generally singing as if he did not have a care in the world. A bon vivant, he is secretly in love with his best friend Renato's wife. Italian baritone Mauro Augustini was perfect as Renato: he was replaced, for one performance by the equally talented Egyptian Mustafa Mohamed, who gave a thrilling interpretation of the role.
When Oscar, the page, announces that Ulrica the fortune-teller is being exiled, Riccardo decides to visit her in disguise. He invites all the courtiers to the cave and cautions his friends to come in disguise and not to reveal his identity.
Oscar is generally sung by a soprano in trousers: in 1993 Mona Rafla premiered the role in Cairo with extraordinary success. She was lively, funny, vivacious and unanimously loved for her exquisite performance. Rafla, a ravishing singer and one of Egypt's best opera performers, has somewhat outgrown the part and should be considered for more demanding, adult roles. A new, magnificent Oscar has, however, found his, or rather her way onto Cairo's Main Stage: the young soprano Dalia Farouk, who performed Oscar some time ago, then with questionable success. This time her performance was splendid. She was lively, vivacious, even managing to excite sudden merriment among the audience, while her radiant soprano seems to be soaring to luminous heights.
This time we had a different Oscar for each of the three nights: the third being young Inji Mohsen, who still has a long way to go. Oscar is too important a part to be distributed among beginners, with next to no experience on the main stage. Two Oscars would certainly have been sufficient for this show.
In the second scene of the first act we discovered the wonderful mezzo-soprano Hanan El- Guindy as Ulrica, the fortune-teller. This scene was mainly mauve and lilac, with steam seeping out of a kettle hanging on a pothook facing a purple backdrop. Ulrica was queen in her cave singing her superb aria: "King of the abyss, present thyself". And they did appear: three little red devils emerging from the underground flames. They were soon to disappear and Ulrica, in her immense black robes with her immensely dramatic voice, was as bewitching as ever. Her presence on stage is extremely powerful, her singing consistently rich: Hanan El-Guindy has captivated her audiences as Carmen, as Amneris, as Azucena and in many other parts performed on local and international stages.
Ulrica's counsel is sought by Amelia, alluringly performed by Iman Mustafa. She is tormented by her love for Riccardo and to dispel her lust Ulrica tells her to gather a herb at midnight, at the foot of the public gallows. Riccardo, who has entered the cave hiding behind some bushes, swears to be there also. He then pretends to be a mariner and, emerging from the bushes, presents his hand to Ulrica who shocks the entire assembly, announcing that he will die by the first person who shakes his hand. Making light of the omen Riccardo goes around, offering his hand to everybody. The crowd shrinks back when Renato, his best friend, suddenly enters and takes Riccardo's extended hand while Ulrica sings "Thus it is written above". All join at this point in the lovely melody, closing the first act superbly.
Act two opens onto grey hues and dark mists in the cemetery where Amelia has come to collect the herbs prescribed by Ulrica. She is surprised by Riccardo and both confess their love for each other just as her husband Renato enters the graveyard to warn the governor of an imminent ambush. He insists Riccardo should escape and exchanges his cape with his friend's, who finally submits to his insistence, asking him, however, to conduct the veiled lady "incognito" back to town and making him promise not to seek her identity. When the conspirators arrive they insist on unveiling the lady and are amused to discover she is Renato's wife. "Ha, ha, ha" goes their song as they depart, leaving Amelia in anguish and a furious Renato swearing revenge.
This is the most difficult act of the opera, based mainly on solo arias and duos -- with the exception of the chorus of conspirators who arrive towards the end there is not much to enhance the grey monotony of the rather long scene. It therefore requires strong acting, powerful singing and an excessive portion of "feeling". A weak performance can destroy the act.
The first night's performance was mostly on the weak side. Of the three nights the second was best, with Mauro Augustini as Renato, Sergio Panajia as Riccardo and Loredana Toniazzi as Amelia.
The monotony was gone in the third act when Renato, having successfully plotted Riccardo's death, kills his friend at the masked ball and then discovers that Amelia and Riccardo's love had never been consummated and that the governor, in making amends, had promoted Renato, sending him to England with his wife. As Riccardo dies he pardons the conspirators and his friend, realising that Ulrica's prediction had come true.
A commendable performance which brought the operatic season to a charming close.
