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.