DCist Goes to the Opera: Tamerlano

According to an article in the Post earlier this week, we have David Daniels to thank for it, because he suggested the opera to Domingo. Of the cast of six, Daniels was the only singer who truly felt at home in this music, comfortable with its extravagant demands for florid singing, with its embellishments. Although he is not one of my favorite countertenors, he was in excellent voice and nailed the loathsome arrogance of the title role. Only in his big aria in Act III did some threads show, at least until he had convinced conductor William Lacey to move the orchestra at the faster pace he wanted. Andronico, the more important castrato role created by the legendary Senesino, was entrusted to mezzo-soprano Patricia Bordon, who also sang with Domingo in his Madrid debut of the role. In her Washington debut, she displayed an athletic, robust voice and incisive color, with what sounded like an aborted cadenza in her first aria as the only misstep.

David Daniels (Tamerlano) and Sarah Coburn (Asteria) in Tamerlano, Washington National Opera, 2008 (photo by Karin Cooper)

Domingo, costumed in bright robes reminiscent of his turn in The First Emperor (costumes by David Zinn), was a compelling Bajazet by his presence. He had a few memory slips in this new role, also noted by Hugh Canning at the Madrid debut, but the éminence grise of the opera world towered in stature over the rest of the cast. Domingo struck a regal figure as the defeated sovereign, making his suicide scene terrifying and tragic to behold. He is still in incredibly impressive voice for someone in his late 60s, although his handling of the Baroque line can hardly be called idiomatic. Soprano Sarah Coburn was a vision as Asteria, causing many a gasp of admiration when she appeared in a wedding gown for the marriage scene. Vocally she had a rough start, but her nerves settled except for a bit of a neurotic buzz at the edge of her tone. Andrew Foster-Williams received big ovations as Leone, for his accurate and resonant singing, but also perhaps just because the audience was so relieved to hear the bass vocal register for a change. Claudia Huckle, a Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist, was a bitchy Irene, but her breath support and overall ease in the role were limited, causing some intonational ambiguity.

The production, directed by Chas Rader-Shieber, seemed to have been modeled on some of the minimalist stagings common for Baroque opera in Europe. The sets and costumes by David Zinn placed the story in an unspecified autocratic state, the interiors of a stark white marble Italian fascist palazzo policed by immobile Gestapo lookalikes. Tamerlano and his often unwilling ally Andronico were costumed in plain gray suits, against which only the exotic colors of Bajazet and his daughter Asteria provided any relief. Lighting by Christopher Akerlind provided a sense of the progress of time in each act, from morning brilliance to dusky evening. It was ugly, but few fascist regimes are known for their aesthetic tastes.

If anything, it allowed us to focus on Handel's score, which has some exquisite moments, especially in the second and third acts. The small orchestra, raised up on a platform so that we could hear the gentle timbres of harpsichord and two theorbos (their necks jutting up into the stage sight lines), played with stylistic sensitivity and unity, especially the oboes, bassoons, and flutes. Conductor William Lacey seems to be favored for this sort of work, although he had the same stuck-in-the-mud manner noted on previous occasions, something like an agitated marionnette trapped in coagulating molasses. His awkward gesture did not seem to communicate effectively with the players, leading to some ragged openings of phrases especially.

The direction of the singers was generally strong, playing the story for its drama instead of resorting to distanced irony. The only exception was the ending of the opera, which caused many in the audience to laugh as Tamerlano suddenly changed moral direction after Bajazet's suicide. One must blame Rader-Shieber for that stupid laughter, since by having Daniels simply sit by as Bajazet died made the transition more ridiculous than it should have been. Suddenly, Tamerlano stood up and was emotionally overcome, which did not make sense. If he were listening to the death scene and moved by it as much as we in the audience, the happy ending would ring much less false.

Handel's Tamerlano will be repeated tonight (May 2, 7:30 p.m.), as well as on May 4, 12, 20, and 22, in the Kennedy Center Opera House. Good luck finding a ticket.