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.