With Precision and Playfulness, ‘La Fille du Regiment’ Considers Love, Loyalty and the Absurdities of War

Erin Morley dazzles as the ultimate guys’ gal in Laurent Pelly’s revival production at the Met.

by Gabrielle Ferraru

OBSERVER

If I were allowed to be a chorus member in any Met opera production, my first choice very well might be Laurent Pelly’s La Fille du Regiment. Who wouldn’t want to be a saucepan-helmeted townsperson, a bumbling drunken soldier, or a pearl-clutching little old lady in this unabashedly adorable comedy about a foul-mouthed military brat and the men who love her?

Pelly’s production, which debuted in 2008 and has retained its looks, is directed with precision to produce maximum whimsy and delight, from the rigorously choreographed chorus scenes to the numerous visual gags to every stomp, swear and harrumph that comes out of Marie’s potty mouth. Rendered as a mountain landscape made of maps, Chantal Thomas’s sets lean into the fantasy; it may be set during World War One, but this is the lightest of comedies. It is marvelously entertaining from first to last, even including the overture, which was exceptionally lively under Giacomo Sagripanti’s baton. A notary pops out of a fireplace when his services are required, Tonio rides in on a teeny-tiny tank to get his girl, while Sandra Oh—yes, that Sandra Oh—kitted out in a padded posterior and enormous fan as the Duchess du Krakenthorp, aims little kicks at the maids. No comedic opportunity is lost and one gets the sense that everyone onstage is enjoying themselves just as much as the audience is.

Erin Morley’s Marie, whom we meet as she karate-chops laundry into neat squares, is a unique character in the operatic canon: a good girl but not a feminine one. She prefers regimental songs to the pretty airs women are expected to sing and trousers to dresses, but she can still sing fabulous bouts of coloratura. In other words, she’s an absolute breath of fresh air, blowing strong from 1840. The men of the regiment are right to be enamored.

Morley, a soprano who has been at the top of her game for so long that it’s easy to forget her genius, delivered a perfect vocal performance here. Every note was vividly in tune, highly polished and sung with deceptive ease, even as she soared to the upper limits above the ledger line. Oh and she’s also funny, wrenching every bit of physical comedy out of her character, from her boyish walk to her occasional butt scratches. One particularly delightful moment: in a fight with father figure Sulpice, Morley shut herself behind an invisible door with a cry of “Slam!”

Tenor Lawrence Brownlee was not quite as perfect vocally, but his Tonio was no less lovable than Morley’s Marie. Tonio’s famous “Ah mes amis,” with its nine high C’s, was sufficiently thrilling—the C’s were excellent but not effortless—but his second aria, the calmer “Pour me rapprocher de Marie,” was a more underrated showpiece, allowing for a more relaxed sound to emerge. Brownlee is a natural-born charmer; his dazzling white smile and fine comedic instincts make his Tonio positively effervescent. His final charge to rescue Marie was met with both laughter and cheers.

Peter Kálman, as Marie’s beloved “papa” Sulpice, had a warm, generous bass-baritone to match his loving, if bumbling, character. He also contributed another running comic bit by never quite remembering the Marquise de Berkenfield’s name: Birkenstock, is it? Or Birkin Bag? The second-act trio, when Marie, Tonio and Sulpice are finally reunited, was a high point, with all three moving in choreographed glee.

It’s hard to say who is having the most fun in Pelly’s production, but a case could be made for a tie between Susan Graham and Sandra Oh—the Marquise de Berkenfield and the Duchess du Krakenthorp. Each of these dueling dames has her weapons; Graham’s Marquise whaps her servant (Paul Corona, amusing as the lone straight man in this comedy) in the face with an impossibly long fox-fur stole and wields her towering height. Oh’s Krakenthorp has her fan, her padded rear and what seems to be a vaguely erotic fascination with the Marquise’s maids. Each is visibly reveling in her role, as only first-class artists in hammy bit parts can. I could have watched them face off for at least another hour.

Giacomo Sagripanti conducts Donizetti with boundless verve, bringing out its crispness and wit and, with it, the orchestra’s full colors. The three hours simply fly by with Sagripanti at the helm. The Met Opera chorus, always good, is exceptional here. They stomp and dance with vigor and especially for the men of the regiment, each chorus member feels alive and individual. They all love their Marie, but it’s a testament both to their skill and to the care with which this production is directed that we get the sense they all love her in slightly different ways. The scene where they bid her goodbye with hugs and little trinkets was truly touching.

The singing is wonderful, the production is darling and the French accents are of variable quality. What more can a guy’s girl want? So, break out the drums—there’s only one thing left to sing: Rataplan!

Review: The Met Opera Has Another Bel Canto Hit With ‘La Fille’

CRITIC’S PICK

Earlier this month, the Metropolitan Opera opened “La Sonnambula.” Now, it is offering another bel canto classic: “La Fille du Régiment.”

The New York Times

by Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim

The set for Laurent Pelly’s sparkling production of Donizetti’s “La Fille du Régiment” at the Metropolitan Opera, designed by Chantal Thomas, is dominated by two mountain ranges.

One is made of giant military maps; the other, of billowing piles of regimental laundry that Marie — the adopted mascot and the title’s “daughter of the regiment” — must conquer. A third summit looms, unseen, in the music: the aria “Ah! mes amis,” sung by Tonio, the Tyrolean mountain boy who upends Marie’s world. With its barrage of nine high C’s, it has been called the Mount Everest of tenor arias.

On Thursday, a beaming Lawrence Brownlee scaled it with radiant confidence, the top notes shooting out strong, bright and even. Then, as the ovation roared, he cocked his head, flashed a grin and sang it again.

Welcome to the Met’s second bel canto hit of the season, after Bellini’s “La Sonnambula” earlier this month. With Nadine Sierra and Xabier Anduaga in that opera, and Brownlee and the soprano Erin Morley in “Fille,” the Met has found casts who act as vividly as they sing.

As Marie, Morley is making her debut in her 16th Met role. In recent seasons, she has shone in quietly dignified parts such as Pamina in Mozart’s “The Magic Flute” and Sophie in Strauss’s “Der Rosenkavalier.” Here, she nails the gamine charm of a foulmouthed orphan, raised by doting soldiers, who irons and folds underwear with rhythmically precise karate chops. At every turn she connects Donizetti’s virtuosic leaps and trills to the physical comedy of the action.

Morley’s voice commands attention less through sheer power than through its spine: an uprightness and sincerity that project even across a full orchestra. In the melancholy aria “Il faut partir,” when Marie is torn from her military family by the woman who will reveal herself as her mother, her tone deepened into richer hues. She shaped each repetition of “adieu” like a detour taken to delay an unwanted journey.

Brownlee was as persuasive in lyrical numbers like “Pour me rapprocher de Marie,” poured out in thick-flowing legato, as in athletic showstoppers. He and Morley recently released a duet album that includes the opera’s aria “Quoi! Vous m’aimez?” and are seasoned partners. On Thursday, their coordination was occasionally tested by the busy staging, but their rapport and musical synergy came through.

As Sergeant Sulpice, the sonorous Hungarian bass-baritone Peter Kalman was an outstanding comic foil. The mezzo-soprano Susan Graham brought fine acting to the Marquise of Berkenfield, torn between social status and maternal love, though the role lies uncomfortably low for her voice.

There were moments of strain between the orchestra, led by Giacomo Sagripanti, and the chorus, whose intricate choreography sometimes seemed to scramble communication with the pit. Still, that imbalance felt like a refreshing reversal of operatic routine: For once, theater came first.

In her Met debut, the actress Sandra Oh made for a deliciously haughty Duchess of Krakenthorp, spicing her lines with ad-libs and wielding her bustle like a weapon. Her speaking part comes with its own top note, an indignant screech protesting the happy union of Marie and Tonio that rang out with impressive, acidic power. It was a far cry from bel canto, but one of the many details in this production that polish the facets of Donizetti’s comic gem and help it sparkle well beyond the singing.

Encores, Virtuosic High Notes & Great Singing Are Displayed by Erin Morley & Lawrence Brownlee

OPERAWIRE

by Francisco Salazar

Bel Canto is having a bit of a resurgence at the Metropolitan Opera this year, with the company, after years of giving one or no offering per season, currently showcasing two works from the composers of this era.

What is clear from both experiences is that the audience is responding in ways that the Met has not seen in years.

On the evening of Oct. 23, the Met held its second performance of “La Fille du Régiment,” an evening that was filled with laughter, virtuosic roulades and high notes, and yes, an encore that stopped the show for several moments.

A Masterpiece

I will not talk too much about Laurent Pelly’s 2008 production as I reviewed it back in 2018-19, 11 years after premiering at the Met. What I can say from my experience on this evening is that in the right hands and the right performers, this production continues to feel fresh. From the choreography to the backdrop of a French map, it all feels organically placed, allowing the action to flow without any unnecessary interruptions.

What makes this production even more interesting is that it allows its interpreters to play, particularly in Act two with the Duchess of Krakenthorp and the Marquise, who seem to always get a chance to interpolate or improvise something new in each performance. In this case, we got to see Susan Graham and Sandra Oh bring in random English words with Graham partially singing “Yesterday.” That is what truly makes each one of these revivals thoroughly new and special, and what makes this Pelly production timeless.

Vocal Fireworks

In the title role, Erin Morley sang her first Marie ever. The soprano has performed at the Met since 2008 in over 150 performances, but had to this point not been given a platform to show off her Bel Canto skills. This absence was all the more notable, given that the soprano had made an impression in “Chacun le sait, chacun le dit” in the Met’s at Home gala during COVID. The soprano’s performance of this aria was so stunning that it was inevitable that this role would eventually make it to her repertoire. And finally, five years later, she is getting a chance to shine in what, in my opinion, is her best role at the Met to date.

Marie is a role that shows off a soprano’s vocal prowess, singing extreme high notes and singing some complicated coloratura roulades. But she also has some of the most tender moments of the opera. For me, as an audience member, I knew Morley could sing those roulades and display High Gs and E Flats with ease and flexibility. What impressed me most was the emotional “Il faut partir!,” which started with a tender and nostalgic sound and a round legato line. In the repetition, Morley added some gorgeously placed interpolations that always connected beautifully with the musical line. Her sound grew in each repetition of “Il Faut Partir” and her cadenza was dispatched with flexibility and emotion. As the chorus was added to the piece, Morley’s voice rang with even more yearning quality. Her final cadenza as she sang “Mes Amis,” saw the soprano reach stratospheric high notes that resonated with power into the Met.

The subsequent ensemble as she sang “Plus d’avenir ! plus d’espérance!” alongside Lawrence Brownlee gave a certain desperation, and as the final ensemble ended, Morley interpolated an extended High D sideways in the air as she was rushed off the stage.

The other moment that impressed me most was her aria, “Par le rang et par l’opulence,” where Morley once again showed off a fully lyrical sound and some splendid legato phrasing, holding out notes that floated with ethereal sound into the space. She was able to portray Marie’s sentimentality for her home as well as her youthful innocence in the phrase “O vous à qui je fus ravie” before repeating the opening melody in “Je vais signer, hélas ! mon malheur qui s’apprête!.” This time, she delivered the melody with even more longing, especially during her cadenza, holding the final notes and diminuedoing to a piano, the sound dying out as the cello entered for its final bars. “Salut a la France” was a showstopper as she interpolated the “Marseillaise” in a cadenza-like figure before commencing the main melody. Morley inserted some spectacular roulades and brought out that energetic, youthful quality as she moved about the stage, even banging on the piano early on per the directions. Her final High E Flat, once again, was sung as she was suspended in the air by the chorus.

In her more virtuosic music, Morley threw out High Gs and some Fs in her opening duet with Sulpice, all while ironing shirts, running around the hilly stage, and playing with pistols. In the opening of “Chacun le sait, chacun le dit,” her opening cadenza on “Tra la, la, la,” Morley delivered some extremely high notes and robotic movement that called back to her famed interpretation of Olympia in “Les Contes d’Hoffmann.” But then, as she sang the aria, she moved about the stage, high-fiving the troops and later dancing alongside them. Her voice shone with flexibility, and the high notes poured out with seeming ease. She ended the aria with the famed High F she pulled off during the at-home gala. In the Act two trio, “Le jour naissait dans le bocage,” Morley began the ensemble with a nasal and out-of-tune sound before going towards a more forceful and accented phrase that elicited laughter. She also twirled in exaggerated ways before repeating the melody on “Cet amant, à qui Vénus même” where she started to interpolate high notes in more forceful ways, adding to the comic nature of the scene. On the third repeat of the song, Morley’s Marie started banging on the piano and singing the “Tra la la la” with a chesty voice, and later went up to her high range, singing a cadenza that saw her once again imitate a doll-like character. Morley got to play once again with her striking top, reaching the highest extremes of her voice.

This interpretation was exactly what you’d expect from an opera star of the highest order – energized and virtuosic, but exceedingly nuanced and sublime in its execution.

18 High Cs 

In the role of Tonio, Lawrence Brownlee had his moment to shine in what was a truly showstopping  “A mes amis,” singing high notes to the back of the audience and holding them for some time. His physicality with the chorus showed Tonio’s innocence and happiness, as he continued singing one virtuosic legato line after the next. But what everyone was waiting for were his nine High Cs in “Pour mon âme.” Brownlee had a blast singing each one with effortless clarity and gleaming color.  Each time, he held the notes longer until he sang his final one with a smile on his face. The audience went wild, stopping the show dead in its tracks. As Brownlee glanced over at the conductor, the communication could not be clearer. The audience erupted into applause and then died away instantly to give way to the encore, which was just as virtuosic as the first time, with Brownlee relishing every moment, throwing off one High C after another with similar ease and prowess. He sounded as fresh as he had during the first round of “Pour mon âme.” He received another ovation that was even more enthusiastic following the encore. We knew he wouldn’t do it a third time, but the audience certainly sounded like it wanted one.

If Tonio has one of the most delightful and showstopping arias in the opera, he also has one of the most heartfelt moments that sometimes gets overlooked by the virtuosic prowess of his first aria.  “Pour me rapprocher de Marie” is one of the most emotionally felt arias that Donizetti ever wrote, and Brownlee sang this with care and exquisite legato phrases. One could really feel Tonio’s plea to the Marquise as he shaped each phrase and grew in intensity. Brownlee’s final High C# was filled with desperation and sentiment. It was another show-stopping moment for the tenor, and the audience responded in kind.

Impeccable Chemistry

While Morley and Brownlee gave incredible individual performances, their chemistry was undeniable. The two, who recently released an album and collaborated on “The Magic Flute” a few seasons ago, displayed this as they ran around the stage each time looking at one another with tenderness and emotion. The smiles in their interaction were infectious and in their duet, “Quoi! Vous m’aimez? … De cet aveu si tendre,” they played beautifully off of one another. Brownlee’s infectious “Depuis l’instant où, dans mes bras,” was sung with clarity and beauty and he smiled throughout. Morley reacted to each of his phrases and at one point lay down out of joy. When they sang the second melody, “De cet aveu si tendre” their voices blended perfectly, singing the roulades with accuracy and always following their phrases to perfection. As Morley sang the first melody, “Longtemps coquette, heureuse et vive,” her voice caressed the phrase with excitement. You could sense this was Marie’s first love.  The repetition of “De cet aveu si tendre” once again displayed how well-matched they were, ending in a virtuosic high note.

Comic Timing

Peter Kálmán was a standout as Sulpice, bringing out a booming baritone to the stage. It was the biggest voice of the evening, but he knew how to scale it back as he was performing with his colleagues. His patter was remarkable in the “Au bruit de la guerre” as he and Morley ran around the stage with rifles. In the Act two trio, he was also a great counterpart for Graham as he imitated Morley’s phrases in falsetto, making fun of the song she was singing and then egging her on with the “Rataplan.” In the subsequent trio with Marie and Tonio, “Tous les trois réunis,” Kálmán got to show off his legato line as well as his flexibility in singing patter, all while dancing to the choreographed staging. His interactions with Susan Graham’s Marquise were also full of lightness and flirtation, and with Paul Corona’s Hortensius, Kálmán got to play tough guy, scaring Corona’s character each time.

In the role of the Marquise of Berkenfield, Susan Graham showed off her comic timing with some exquisite French dialogue and some physicality that really brought her character to life. Her interpolation of The Beatles’ “Yesterday” was also a showstopping moment that, while not sung, completely made the audience go wild.  Vocally, it’s clear that the mezzo’s voice has gotten a bit smaller, and that was displayed in her short aria “Pour une femme de mon nom.” While she sang with rhythmic accuracy, her voice sometimes got drowned out by the orchestra. That said, she did make the most of the moment, giving the text some comic exaggeration and displaying some fine coloratura as well as accurate patter. In the trio in Act two, Graham’s piano playing was hilarious as she played some of the notes with marked accents and attempted to overemphasize some of the phrasing for Morley’s Marie to follow her.

The Metropolitan Opera has launched a major campaign surrounding the debut of Sandra Oh, who will be playing the Duchess of Krakenthrop. Known for her comic chops and dramatic roles, the Golden Globe-winning actress didn’t disappoint as she walked on stage with an imposing force, delivering her monologue with incredible comic timing and impeccable finesse. She looked at the furniture with disdain and even interacted with conductor Giacomo Saprgipanti when the violins began playing flat. Her facial expressions clearly told everyone she was affected by the terrible playing. Then, in her second entrance with the chorus, she swayed around with exaggerated movements, following every move of the chorus before letting out a shriek when she realized the marriage was no longer happening. That moment made the entire audience giggle as she raced off stage.

Paul Corona’s Horentsius was a great counterpart to Graham’s Marquise, while Yohan Yi’s Corporal showed a strong voice in his small but crucial choral moment.

In the pit, Giacomo Sagripanti led an energetic overture that foreshadowed what the evening would feel like. The Italian conductor displayed great care with each of his singers, always following their tempi and being a great support each time by noticeably applauding their arias. He was even game for the encore of “Pour mon âme,” accompanying Brownlee with the same enthusiasm as the first time. The most outstanding moment of the evening for Sagripanti was Marie’s aria, “Par le rang et par l’opulence,” which saw the conductor and solo cellist follow each of Morley’s phrasings to perfection. It felt like a duet between cello and soprano accompanied by the orchestra.  The cellist also had some great moments, especially in the intro, where he really dug into the slides as he opened the nostalgic melody.

In all, this was a triumph and the true return of Bel Canto at the Metropolitan Opera. Hopefully, as the run continues, audiences will get wind and fill up the hall.

Avec la victoire, l’instant du bonheur

Buoyed by a strong cast, The Metropolitan Opera continues its autumn bel canto streak with a winning revival of Donizetti’s La fille du regiment.

PARTERRE

by Emma Hoffman

Laurent Pelly’s production, directed in revival by Gregory Keller, has conquered opera stages worldwide with its zany rendering of World War I aesthetics since its 2007 premiere at Covent Garden. (Opera goers in Milan and New York settled in for the same production last Friday night, and it will return to the Royal Opera House in July.) There is no barbed wire here: only lines of laundry bobbing across giant, Anthropolgie-esque maps of the Tyrol. Yet, the production’s quirks and gags felt fresh, due in large part to the cohesive ensemble work of its cast.

Erin Morley brought a gamine charm and her pert soprano to her role debut as Marie, the titular cantinière. Galumphing around the stage in britches and suspenders, she nonetheless dispatched with the role’s barrage of ornamentation with an appealing lightness and pearly high notes, capping off a spirited “Chacun le sait” with a secure high F. She was affecting during “Il faut partir,” though the middle of her voice did not quite have the same presence or power as her upper register. By the second act, however, her soprano had bloomed across its register, and “Par le rang et par l’opulence” melded graceful phrasing with an opalescent tone. She executed her spoken dialogue with gusto, landing a particularly funny ad-lib (which I will not spoil).

Lawrence Brownlee is no stranger to this production, having sung the role of Tonio in it in several revivals at different houses. If he has at all tired of it, it did not show—in fact, he seemed to be having a blast, the warmth of his grin matched only by that of his tenor. His high Cs during “Ah mes amis” were reliably thrilling, but he shone most in “Pour me rapprocher de Marie,” where his velvety tone and subtle dynamics conveyed an earnest ardor. Brownlee and Morley, who recently released an album together, had an easy, congenial rapport onstage, resulting in a charming, seamlessly blended “Quoi? Vous m’aimez.”

Peter Kálmán was a hearty Sulpice. Some shaky entrances notwithstanding, he is quickly proving himself to be an asset to the Met’s buffo repertoire since his debut in last season’s Il barbiere di Siviglia. The Marquise of Berkenfield’s tessitura sits perhaps a bit too low for Susan Graham; her mezzo soprano retains its glow towards its top but lacks heft and volume as it descends. Still, regality came naturally to her. It was less apparent in Sandra Oh in her much-publicized cameo as the Duchess of Krakenthorp. Her slightly eccentric sounding (Canadian?) French made for a kookier, less commanding antagonist, but her camp sensibility compensated.

Giacomo Sagripanti returned to lead the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, bringing out rich hues in the more plaintive moments of Donizetti’s score. There were some unfortunate coordination issues during Act I’s “Rataplan,” leading the men’s chorus to come across a bit tentatively.

Part of the joy of any successful musical comedy—operatic or otherwise—is feeling that the folks onstage are enjoying themselves just as much as those in the audience. That feeling can sometimes be more involving than the grandest of tragic gestures. And this revival conveyed it with aplomb—a decisive victory, to be sure.

Morley, Brownlee spark the fireworks in Met’s “La fille” as Graham anchors the evening

NY CLASSICAL REVIEW

by David Wright

The Laurent Pelly production of Donizetti’s La fille du regiment returned to the Metropolitan Opera Friday night with two stars known for their exploration of the vocal stratosphere, soprano Erin Morley as Marie and tenor Lawrence Brownlee as her swain Tonio.

While neither singer displayed a room-filling voice, an attentive listener could pick up many a pearl of inflection and coloratura, especially from Morley, who at stressful moments in the story even managed some singerly sparkles in her spoken dialogue.

For all her ability to spray high notes effortlessly into the air, the soprano’s most memorable moments came in thoughtful arias like “Par le rang et par l’opulence,” where the ironies of her situation—a wartime foundling, potentially a duchess, yet torn away from her true love—was reflected in finely nuanced phrasing.

Knockabout action was her character’s default mode in Act I, which made her aunt’s smothering her in petticoats in Act II seem particularly misguided. To show what Marie thought about her stuffy singing lessons, Morley recycled some of her robot-doll moves from last season’s Les Les Contes d’Hoffmann.

By design, listening to a tenor sing the part Donizetti wrote for Tonio is like watching a steeplechase—will the horse clear all the barriers? On Friday night, Brownlee cleared them.

More importantly, did he do what it took to make the story feel real? Singing the hearty cavatina “Ah! mes amis,” Brownlee managed to include his soldier comrades in the scene even while facing the audience most of the time. His voice was consistent in tone throughout and well supported, making a pleasing and characterful performance. As for how many high C’s he hit in the process, you’ll have to turn to the sports page for that.

The production benefited immensely from the stage presence of mezzo-soprano Susan Graham as the Marquise of Berkenfield, Marie’s “aunt” (later revealed to be her mother). (Graham replaced the originally slated Alice Coote, who bowed out due to “unforeseen personal circumstances.”) The story, such as it is, pivots around the Marquise and her various actions and revelations. Graham’s clear voice provided a firm foundation for ensembles, and while lovers, soldiers and servants bounced around the stage, her economical acting helped keep things centered.

One wondered, though, whether her character would wear such a plain (though flattering) long dress to a meeting with the ornate Duchess of Krakenthorp. It seemed a needlessly gross way for Pelly, who also designed the costumes, to emphasize the two characters’ difference in rank. The rest of the production design, moved up from the Napoleonic Wars to World War I, seemed spot on. (Does anyone ever set an opera production in a period before the one indicated in the libretto?)

Speaking of stage presence, the actress Sandra Oh was a sight to behold in the speaking role of the aforementioned Duchess, her much-publicized Met debut. The audience applauded her first entrance, swathed in indigo from large hat to toe, then laughed as she sashayed around the Marquise’s music room, fanning herself. They also liked her few scripted lines and interpolated wisecracks.

Peter Kálmán projected the hard-soft role of Sergeant Sulpice, Marie’s prime daddy in a regiment of daddies, in a suitably gruff bass-baritone. Another bass-baritone, Paul Corona, effectively portrayed Sulpice’s exact opposite, the Marquise’s officious and judgmental servant Hortensius. Stephan Varnier was well-dressed and efficient in the speaking role of the Notary preparing the contract for Marie’s marriage (to the other guy, oh no!).

This being an opera with spoken dialogue, most of the plot’s twists and reveals happened while people were talking, so the orchestra, conducted by Giacomo Sagripanti, didn’t play much of a role in advancing the story. The overture set the Alpine scene with horn calls, then sputtered a bit in the allegro before hitting its stride in the frothy coda. Sagripanti accompanied the showy arias and ensembles alertly, and wrapped the softer ones in cushiony woodwinds.