From Madness to Mozart

For those of you keeping track, I am now, officially, at the halfway point of my 4-month long excursion overseas! So far, my Martha Stewart-inspired packing job is serving me well, apart from a newly torn pair of jeans (thanks to a day of staging Dejanira’s mad scene), and I think I may just make it to the end! However, after having spent 2 (TWO!) months in various hotels, getting into an actual apartment here in Geneva felt like winning the lottery! Each time I start a new job, it usually means a new apartment, and there is always a sense of dread as to whether or not it will be clean, stocked, manageable, and perhaps, hopefully, as a bonus: comfortable. I would say I luck out about 60% of the time; the rest of the time I try to simply grin and bear it. However, this time I’ve lucked out – a piano, BBC, lots of light, and (best of all) REAL VIRGIN OLIVE OIL direct from the owner’s B&B in Tuscany! The very first thing I did was to rip open a loaf of crusty bread and tear into that green aromatic heaven!! Just what a tired body and soul needs to get recharged!

I’ve arrived here to begin my very first attempt at the role of Sesto in La Clemenza di Tito. Back in 1995 I first learned the aria “Parto, Parto” for my apprenticeship in Santa Fe. It was an incredibly difficult undertaking at the time, and I know that I was simply trying to stay afloat with it for quite a while. It’s been in my head for over 10 years, (as well as his second aria) and I have been ANXIOUSLY awaiting the chance to actually turn those tiny nuggets of music into a real flesh and blood character. Finally, I’m getting that chance, and it just feels incredible. Is there one single excessive note in this score?

I have been very relieved to see that the production could be truly stunning and incredibly moving, as the director has such a deep and loving approach to these characters and to telling the story simply, yet compellingly, always in accord with the music that Mozart gave us; and the conductor seems to be a superior musician eager to use the music to theatrical effect. (Yannis, the director, began as a set and costume designer, and found himself drawn more and more to opera; his approach to making contemporary audiences engage completely with these ‘old stories’, is to keep a modern look at them, but always in conjunction with the music – I think his approach is completely on the money.) It feels wonderful to walk into a staging and have my ideas of the character be very much on the same page as every other person in the room. It’s not always the case, and I find that it makes me feel much more free to risk and attempt a lot of different options for the character, which I think is essential to fleshing out the details of the dialogue and the character’s sub-text.


(Photo: rehearsing with Anna Caterina Antonacci as Vitelia)

It is a huge help when you’re putting a character on its feet for the first time to have the support of everyone in the rehearsal room; the image of a newborn calf or colt taking it’s first steps is the most perfect illustration for what I feel like in the first days of staging for a new role: I’m incredibly self-conscious of trying things out, of taking emotions too far – or not far enough, of missing lines, or of simply over singing in the excitement. It feels like you’re falling down, over and over! But I do think one of the lessons I’m learning about the rehearsal process (which I love), is that the sooner you can start to risk things, the sooner you’ll find something very real and multi-layered. I simply adore the challenge.

There is no doubt that Clemenza is a masterpiece, and that Sesto is one of the most tortured characters in opera. There is a big discussion as to whether he is weak or not, and I can’t wait to search for the answer. **I think the fact is that he may appear weak in certain situations in the opera, but I’m quite certain that if I approach him as weak, my characterization will fall apart completely. After the first week of rehearsal (and over 10 years of singing his arias), I don’t think he’s weak AT ALL: I think he’s blinded by passion, completely torn between loyalty to the friend and ruler that he loves, and the woman that he loves.** I can’t wait to find out what happens.


(Photo: the owners of the best pizza shop in Geneva, AND they stay open late -- a real rarity in this town!)

If you’ll forgive me, I would like to also say one final thing about Dejanira, and my Hercules experience. It was quite funny, in a way, to sing this role in London so quickly after my appearance there in January as Rosina, in a role and production about as COMPLETELY OPPOSITE as you could possibly find. For me, it wasn’t any kind of special feat to pull off two such different roles, as I love them both and tried to do my best with each of them, but to people who have only seen me in one capacity, i.e. the “perky Rosina”, I could tell there was a bit of confusion on their faces. I’m sorry if it’s confusing, but I have to tell you, it’s deliberate on my part, and I LOVE it. I think there is a very dangerous trend in Opera (as well as in showbusiness, for example), where people are entirely too quick to put people into a tiny little box, and say “this is what X does.” And then before we know it, it’s the gospel truth. I think it’s so wrong. I RELISH singing such varied roles and varied styles of music, and the more I do it, the more convinced I am that the modern pieces I’ve sung INFORM the Rossini that I do, which informs the Mozart I sing, which informs absolutely everything else I do. I feel it makes me a stronger musician, and feeds my artistic curiosity. I don’t know that I sing everything perfectly and totally in the ‘correct’ style, whatever that means, but I DO know it feeds my need to stretch and explore and pursue different experiences. (I just saw Capote last night with the extraordinary Phillip Seymour Hoffman. What a shattering, perfectly crafted portrayal from an actor who CAN absolutely inhabit such a wide variety of characters. What a model of an artist who risks, and categorically refuses to be put into a tiny, repressive box!)

When my management first took me on in 1998, one of the very first things Simon and I talked about was that Rossini would probably be my ticket into a number of theaters. But we were VERY aware of the fact that if we only pursued the Rossini roles, my career would be very limited and short lived. (And that’s not even taking into account my desire and love of performing varied roles and repertoire.) It was a very conscious career decision from the start, and one I’m thrilled to be living. One goal that I have, is that when people come to the theater and see a performance of mine, they will sit down in the seat, take out their opera glasses and say, “I wonder what this is going to be like.” I can absolutely guarantee you that some of the time I’ll hit the bull’s-eye, some of the time I’ll miss the mark by a mile, some of the time it will be to some people’s taste, and other times not – but I’ll always give it everything I have, and in the end, I’m sure every experience will inform my artistic growth. For the time being, I’m in this for the long haul, which means I want every outing on the stage to teach me something and enlighten my development as an artist.

That all sounds very grand and a bit put-on I’ll admit, but it really is how I feel. The bottom line is also that I LOVE inhabiting such a wide range of characters, situations and musical languages. Certainly Dejanira will long be remembered in my mind as a cornerstone of my career in so many ways, and I was very sad to close the show, to say goodbye to all the extraordinary musicians around me, to the beautiful music, and walk away. But here’s the beautiful thing: I’m walking into Mozart’s Clemenza – actually sounds like heaven to me!

Madness in Brooklyn

Everyone should have the chance to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge one time in his or her life. Having stayed in Manhattan countless times, I’ve never viewed it from that perspective before, and it’s seems to be a completely different island when seen in near sub-zero temperature, wind blowing, with a crescent moon peaking over the skyline. It’s beautiful. Makes me believe all the more in the necessity of looking at things from different angles.

Happily, I’m getting the chance to take another look at a character that I simply love, as complicated as she may be. I had the incredible pleasure of performing Dajanira, the rather tortured wife of Hercules, in a masterpiece of the same name by Handel in Province and Paris just over a year ago. Putting the role away for that time and bringing it back out has taught me an enormous amount, and I find that I can dig even deeper into her journey. I think time may be one of the greatest interpretive tools we have at our disposal.


When I first opened the score to this piece, to say that I was a bit overwhelmed would be an understatement. Not only is it an enormous musical undertaking, but also more than that, it is a true challenge to make her a flesh and blood woman, skirting the risk of making her into a mere characture. Dajanira starts the opera in a state of depression, and essentially goes downhill from there. The beauty of having 6 weeks of rehearsal on a piece like this is that I really had the time to flesh out what is hopefully a genuine arc of emotional truth, so that when she ends up at the mad scene in the 3rd act, it’s true, and it is inevitable. I think the key is to keep finding the humanity in the music (which Handel delivers in spades every time), and believe in her journey every step of the way. The time between performances has given me even more chance to find her depth and to tell her story a bit more strongly with each performance.

This is what I hope, anyway! The other wonderful benefit of coming back to a production is reuniting with your colleagues! One of the most difficult adjustments I first had in this career was the experience leaving a close group of friends when the show came to an end. You see, in this business of intensive rehearsals, emotional performances, and exploration, you can form very close bonds with your colleagues; and yet at the end, you simply say goodbye and everyone goes back to their daily lives in the next city. At first I used to question whether these quick and concentrated friendships where actually genuine. Then, after a few years’ learning curve, I’ve learned that in fact they ARE real, they are genuine, but they are definitely unconventional. This cast came back together after a year’s break, and it’s as if no time has passed. For example, there is the brilliant and dashing bass baritone, Simon Kirkbride*, singing our Priest of Jupiter, who insists on calling me a ‘mezzo-buffo’; that aside, it’s still lovely to work with him again and a pure musical delight to hear his mad scene in the 4th act. (wink!)

Anyone who has had the chance to experience a Les Arts Florissants performance live will understand what I’m about to explain, but it truly is an incredible event to behold. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt an orchestra’s commitment to the drama as palpably as I do with this group. It feels as if every single player is living the drama with us onstage, and that makes all the difference in the world to those of us ‘living out’ the roles. The same must be said for the chorus, which inhabits a very difficult ‘role’ in this piece: each singer invests so much of themselves into their winding fugues and tricky harmonies making the chorus an absolutely vital and integral part of the drama.


Can you tell I’m a fan?

Honestly, this is one of those experiences where I can only pinch myself. It was always a dream of mine to be able to make music in one way or another in my life. And while in all honesty I never believed I would have a biography that reads as it does, to be given the chance to do a role such as this, by a composer I love more by the day, with a group and cast that make music with such commitment, excellence and integrity? It is one of the greatest privileges I can possibly imagine.

I’m not one to do too much self-promotion (although since you’re reading this on my website, that may seem a bit ironic), BUT that aside, I will say that if you are at all inclined to indulge in Handel the least bit, and if this piece is unknown to you, I HIGHLY recommend that you go out on a limb and either get to Brooklyn very quickly, (or to the Barbican next month) OR find our newly released DVD to watch at your leisure. I don’t know that all opera works well on video, as sometimes you miss the larger scope of the production, but I have to say that genuinely I think this one works masterfully, (perhaps even slightly better than on the stage?), because it is intensely subtle and intimate. To my thinking it is one of Handel’s least known and yet greatest masterpieces.

So there! It’s your chance to not only see Hercules from a different perspective, but definitely to see and hear Handel from a different angle. I say don’t miss it.

(Photos: Getting into makeup for the mad scene; Les Arts Florissants on their homey tour bus after the performance -- BRAVI!)