In 1987, Barenboim performed the three works together (apparently, the first time anyone has done so) with the Israel Philharmonic in Tel Aviv. Last week he brought his dream to Chicago, leading a fully staged Mozart-Da Ponte cycle. (In a 14-day span, they will do three complete cycles.) Similarities easily overlooked when the operas are seen separately suddenly loom large. These works share important themes: challenging the accepted order, switched identities, forgiveness. They even have hints of connections: in “Figaro,” the first opera, a character sings the phrase “Cosi fan tutte”; “Don Giovanni” has a musical quote from “Figaro.” Barenboim is aware of “the danger of super-imposing connections,” but he and the production team have made adroit choices. Paul Steinberg’s stark unit set serves all three operas. Using high-contrast lighting, Heather Carson often transforms the action into a kaleidoscopic shadow play, which directors Christopher and David Alden exploit effectively. Though their direction is occasionally muddled, it’s also sometimes inspired.
Much of the success rests on the singers, many of whom appear in at least two operas, which must, in large measure, account for the fine ensemble work. Bass Ferruccio Furlanetto, who has three starring roles, is a sleekly dangerous Don Giovanni; soprano Joan Rodgers, who is also in all three operas, is best as a tarty maid in “Cosi.” As Dorabella, a lovestruck girl in “Cosi,” mezzo Cecilia Bartoli eliminates opera’s usual adolescent credibility gap. One of two CSO ensembles, each with about 48 players, played each opera. Their clarity was astonishing because they had to sit in shallow rows, the strings massed on one side. Barenboim, who is sometimes a more interesting thinker than conductor, led here with compelling, confident passion.
True artists make us reconsider works that we may have come to regard with the warm familiarity of a pair of old sneakers. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if we agree with their vision. After one CSO performance, an elderly woman said, “I’ll never think of this opera the same way again.” Barenboim couldn’t ask for more.
PHOTO: A different kind of ring cycle: Lella Cuberli in ‘Figaro’ (GEORGE MOTT)
In Chicago’s “Figaro,” Cecilia Bartoli pops onstage through a trap door. It’s a deliciously appropriate entrance for the 25-year-old Italian mezzo, who has been surprising audiences and crusty critics since she appeared on the music scene at 21. She’s surprised herself, too. Once wary of a vocal career (“With both parents singers, I said, ‘Oh, no, not me!’ “), she took up flamenco dancing. At conservatory, her curriculum included two years of trombone: “It wasn’t yet clear about my voice.”
It’s clear now that she’s a rare bird, a mezzo with coloratura facility and a distinctive sound. At the bottom, her voice is like Concord grapes; at the top, it’s champagne. From the start, powerful forces, including Barenboim and Herbert von Karajan, took notice. “Karajan taught me about legato and tranquillity,” she says; with Barenboim, she soaked up Mozart.
Irrepressible onstage, Bartoli is practical off it. Now she does nothing heavier than Mozart and Rossini - “I don’t know how my voice will develop” - and she doesn’t oversing: “I adore holidays.” Still, Bartoli has a savvy ambitiousness. At a group audition for Metropolitan Opera artistic director James Levine, she intended to do an aria that showed off her agility. When a woman sang Wagner, full throttle, Bartoli changed her tune. “She had a huge voice but not much expressiveness, so I decided to do a character part with a recitative. That caught his attention.” The part: Despina from “Cosi.” And now? The Met is discussing with Bartoli a possible debut in: “Cosi.
