Fidelio, Opera by L. van Beethoven - Vienna State Opera - 24.05.2017 Wed - Vienna Opera Tickets - Opera - All Performances 02.06.2017 Fri Fidelio, Opera by L. van Beethoven Fidelio, Ludwig van Beethoven’s sole opera, contains one of the most dramatic stories in the genre. Its heroine, Leonora, disguised as a man - the Fidelio of the title - inveigles her way into the prison where her husband, Florestan, is held captive. With the impending arrival of the minister of justice, Don Fernando, the prison governor, Don Pizarro, decides to kill Florestan rather than risk the fact that he is being detained illegally coming to light. Forced to dig Florestan’s grave, ahead of his assassination, only Leonora stands in the way of Pizarro carrying out his plans. When Fidelio received its premiere on 20 November 1805, the Theater an der Wien was virtually empty; Napoleon Bonaparte’s troops were at the gates of Vienna and many of Ludwig van Beethoven’s patrons had fled the city.

Two nights later, the opera’s first run came to an inauspicious end. That might have spelt the end of Fidelio, but astonishingly, some eight years later, as Napoleon’s grip on Europe began to loosen, Beethoven was invited to revive the opera. Famously intolerant of anyone meddling with his music, he had revised the work under sufferance in 1806 to create a version that only lasted two performances. This time, however, he gladly insisted on making changes, resulting in the opera we know today and delivering its greatest moment, Florestan’s aria, "In des Lebens Frühlingstagen", in which the prisoner’s delirium makes him see his wife as an angel come to release him from his turmoil. Premiered at Vienna’s Kärntnertortheater on 23 May 1814, the definitive version of Fidelio was at last a success and has enjoyed many memorable performances at the Wiener Staatsoper. Now set to grace the stage of the Vienna State Opera once again, Fidelio is Beethoven at his most defiant.

Conductor: Cornelius Meister Fest Gives Beethoven Opera an Airing - latimes Fest Gives Beethoven Opera an Airing August 02, 1996 |MARK SWED | TIMES MUSIC CRITIC NEW YORK — In 1805, Beethoven gave the world his only opera. He called it "Leonora" after its heroine, and through her, he gave voice to a bursting revolutionary fervor that opera, and little else in art, had scarcely before imagined. But the opera was a mess, and its premiere a disaster. Nine years later, Beethoven refashioned it as "Fidelio" and made an even bigger muck of it dramatically. Now, however, its vision had become so grand, its themes of freedom and universal brotherhood so overpowering, that it became an irrepressible anthem for the populist political aspirations of the 19th century. And it remained a potent symbol well into our frightening century. Hitler tried to appropriate it for his own ends; postwar Germany retaliated by using it to proclaim release from Nazi oppression. But heroism isn't what it used to be, and neither is Beethoven.

And there could be no more vivid proof of that than the fascinating experiment by Lincoln Center Festival 96, in which the two versions of the opera were given back-to-back concert performances. Tuesday night in Alice Tully Hall, "Leonora" was the occasion for the American debut of John Eliot Gardiner's period-instrument Orchestre Revolutionnaire et Romantique (which had also, over the weekend, performed Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, televised on PBS, and "Missa Solemnis"). "Fidelio" was entrusted the next evening in Avery Fisher Hall to the New York Philharmonic, under its music director, Kurt Masur. Gardiner relied on light, flexible voices; Masur trusted old-fashioned operatic might with the likes of Deborah Voigt and Gary Lakes. For some years now the early music movement has been undertaking a guerrilla action against the traditional big guns approach to Beethoven, and it is winning the battle.

The Beethoven symphony period recordings of Gardiner are bestsellers, as were Nikolaus Harnoncourt's and Roger Norrington's before him, whereas the Beethoven recordings of Masur and just about all the other music directors of major orchestras are hard to unload even as remainders. Novelty accounts for some of the popularity of the hooting sounds of old instruments and the super-fast tempos (with nearly 100 recordings of Beethoven's Ninth in the catalog, you have to do something different). * But the real attraction is imagination. Conductors such as Gardiner have been rethinking everything there is to rethink in performing Beethoven. And nowhere is there greater need for creative solutions than in the opera Beethoven's public and history have dismissed. Gardiner's activist approach included making his own performance version of the score (there is the original 1805 version and a desperately revised version a year later that Beethoven hoped would salvage the opera, but that only made the situation worse). And it involved making creative choices as to how to present the work. Gardiner did not completely vindicate "Leonora"; there is no question that it is too long and lacks consistent inspiration.

But Gardiner found what life there is in it by always making the drama the starting point. The semi-staged production by Annabel Arden had the feisty soloists and Gardiner's superlative Monteverdi Choir fully enacting the libretto in a semi-circle behind the orchestra. Because the smallish period-instrument orchestra's dynamics are not too daunting, soprano Hillevi Martinpelto (Leonora) and tenor Kim Begley (Florestan) could be believably heroic without big voices. * Evil works better, too, with old instruments, Detlef Roth's Don Pizarro seethed in a way you could actually hear. And what other orchestra can boast a violinist who doubles as off-stage trumpet, as Pauline Nobes does? Beethoven's "Fidelio" is the more trenchant opera. Three uninspired numbers are gone, nearly every scene is rewritten; the acts are reduced from three to two, and both the finales are new and extraordinary. Masur oversaw a tight and hard-driven performance that allowed little opportunity to breathe. The singers, who sang without acting, were pressed.

Voigt (Leonora) triumphed, but her triumph was that of her voice (which included a ringing high B) more than her characterization. Lakes (Florestan) made a big beefy sound but was also dramatically unconvincing. An inexperienced singer like Grier Grimsley (who replaced a suddenly indisposed Simon Estes as Don Pizarro) didn't have a chance to drive in his notes or nastiness. But neither was there much breathing room for soprano Dominique Labelle (Marzelline), tenor Gordon Gietz (Jaquino) or bass Paul Plishka (Rocco), who all have lighter numbers to sing. Their counterparts in "Leonora" (soprano Christiane Oelze, tenor Michael Schade and bass Franz Hawlata) all shined. Neither Gardiner nor Masur knew what to do about the dialogue spoken between the numbers, as in a musical comedy (neither, of course, did Beethoven, who tried to transform the comic Singspiel form into something terribly serious).

Gardiner's solution was to use Beethoven, as impersonated by an actor, Daniel Massey, to tell the story, a postmodern touch that was theatrical but hokey. Masur didn't even try; he cut the dialogue to the bare bones, and took the opera as if it were an oratorio. MORE: Beethoven: Leonora no 3 - Burgess Hill Symphony Orchestra Burgess Hill Symphony Orchestra Contact Beethoven: Leonora no 3 Beethoven wrote four overtures to his only Opera Fidelio, the action of which is set in Spain. It originally bore the title Leonora, the name of the heroine. We know the first three overtures that he wrote as Leonoras Nos. I, II and III, and the fourth as Fidelio. Number I was discarded before the opera’s première in 1805, for which he wrote No. II. Number III preceded the revised production of 1806, and the year 1814 saw the final revision and the change of title. Unfortunately the cosy chronological numbering and use of the four overtures has been challenged by more recent scholarship. Of the four overtures, No. III must be regarded as the most noble.

It has been dubbed the “first orchestral tone poem of the early Romantic Era”. The Overture is based on Sonata form – symphonic structure. Following the slow dramatic opening, allusions are made to Florestan’s Act III aria and the great quartet of Act III. The critical point of the overture is the trumpet call which, when heard during the on-stage action, heralds the turning point in the fortune of the ill-used Don Florestan. Imprisoned, and being slowly starved to death by his political enemy and Governor of the Prison Don Pizzarro, Florestan is to be saved by the ingenuity and resolve of his wife Leonora disguised as a boy calling herself Fidelio. At the trumpet call, the Minister Don Fernando enters and crowns Leonora’s heroic efforts by ordering Florestan’s release. Pizzaro is made the prisoner.

Review: 'Fidelio' at The In Series - DCMetroTheaterArts You are here: Home › Locations › DC › DC Metro Area › Music › Opera Coverage › Reviews › Review: ‘Fidelio’ at The In Series Review: ‘Fidelio’ at The In Series By Jessica Vaughan on June 19, 2016 The In Series ends their season with Beethoven’s only opera, Fidelio, a surprisingly modern tale of faith – particularly between husband and wife. This is their biggest production ever and one of the most challenging operas to mount musically. The In Series pulls it off with aplomb. Ludwig van Beethoven wrote the music with an original libretto by Joseph Sonnleithner and Georg Friedrich Treitschke. The opera premiered in 1805. The cast of ‘Fidelio.’ Photo by Rx Loft Photography. Much of the credit belongs to Director Nick Olcott who has also written a new English libretto, which sets the opera in a South American country ruled by a military junta in the 1970’s. It works really well.

The story of Leonora trying to break her husband out of prison feels more like a modern thriller than a Victorian drama with this update. The drama is helped by an impressive set by Elizabeth McFadden made of sheet metal and barbed wire with dramatic back lit columns by Lighting Designer Marianne Meadows. Costume Designer Donna Breslin summons the seventies with military uniforms and prison uniforms that add to the setting. One reason Fidelio is not performed as often as many other operas is how challenging the score is. Stanley Thurston and his 14-person orchestra conjure a complete symphony for the complicated and affecting pieces including an extended overture. Many of Beethoven’s more popular works are echoed in the dramatic timpani and precise rhythms of the piece. Beethoven more often composed choral pieces and that four part harmony shines in this opera with multiple trios and quartets singing in round or against each other, presenting a particular challenge for the singers, especially on “In this dark cell, we’ve come to know each other” and the overwhelming finale, “If in love you’ve found true glory.” The heart of the opera is the couple Leonora (Sarah Greenspan) and Florestan (Joe Haughton).

Greenspan begins the opera in drag, trying to break into the prison holding her husband while fending off the advances of Marcelita (Randa Rouweyha), who in turn is fending off the advances of Joaquino (Jesus D. Hernandez). Hernandez opens the opera in a strong tenor with “Chiquilla! I’m glad that you’re here!” Rouweyha shines early on with the vocally tricky and comedic, “Amor! Amor! Fidelio!” Finally, we see Florestan in act two in a stunning performance of the aria “Oh, this barren cell!” His duet “I lived each day in fear and yearning!” with Greenspan is another moving moment. Robert S. Harrelson (Rocco). Photo by Rx Loft Photography. The villains Rocco and Pizarro (Robert S. Harrelson and Kenneth Derby) are a delightful addition. Harrelson has a fine voice and shines on his aria, “Did I raise you to believe this?” Derby clearly relishes his evil role on “So! So! What we fear have come!” Another highlight is the prisoner’s chorus.

Members Nicholas Carratura, Elliot Matheny, Alex Alburqueque, Sam Jones, DeCarlo Raspberry, and David Wolff bring the house down on both “This freedom was too good to last” and “What do I see? What do I feel?” Male Chorus and Randa Rouweyha (Marcelita). Photo by Rx Loft Photography. Leonora is a unique heroine in opera. For one, she lives through it, and not only that, she is a true hero, saving her husband, freeing the prisoners, and forging a happy ending. From the story, to the gorgeous score, to the talented musicians and singers onstage, this opera has everything you could want. The In Series is growing more ambitious and it’s paying huge dividends. Fidelio is one of the best I’ve seen from them. Running time: Two hours and 30 minutes, with one 15-minute intermission. Fidelio plays through June 26, 2016 at The In Series performing at Lang Theater at the Atlas Performing Arts Center – 1333 H Street, NE, in Washington, DC.

For tickets, call the box office at (202) 399-7993, or purchase them online . RATING: Fidelio: The Problem of Beethoven and his Only Opera – Lesson 1 ~ THE MUSICIAN'S LOUNGE Lesson One: Composition and Disastrous Premiere(s) by Luke Howard It might seem strange that one of the most innovative and talented composers in the history of Western music, the man who single-handedly revolutionized the symphony, string quartet, and piano sonata in the early 19th century, should write only one opera. Music seemed to flow naturally from Beethoven. It’s true that, unlike Mozart, his music did not emerge with seemingly effortless facility; we know from his sketchbooks and letters something of the struggles he endured to compose. But it was almost always produced with supreme artistry and, yes, genius. Nobody questions Beethoven’s gift. So why only one opera? And why should he feel the need to revise it so frequently? Why are there four different overtures for the opera? Clearly, the gestation of Fidelio was a challenge that created more than the usual amount of trouble for the composer.

Joseph Sonnleithner and Jean-Nicolas Bouilly Beethoven started work on Fidelio in early 1804, but it was not premiered until 1805. It was revised the following year (and performed with almost exactly the same cast), and revised again in 1814. All three versions were published together as his Op. 72. The libretto Beethoven used in the 1805 version was by Joseph Sonnleithner, based on a French libretto by Jean-Nicolas Bouilly for the 1798 opera Léonore, ou L’amour conjugal composed by Pierre Gaveaux. (According to some sources, the original plot is based on a true story.) Bouilly’s libretto also served as the basis for the 1804 opera Leonora by Ferdinando Paer. At some point Beethoven procured a copy of Paer’s score for his own library, but no one is certain whether he had heard Paer’s opera yet or had access to the score while working on his own version.

Certainly, he had begun thinking about his own opera before Paer’s was produced in Dresden in October 1804. Pierre Gaveaux and Ferdinando Paer These various versions of the opera tell a roughly similar story. Leonore, disguised as a young (male) prison guard named Fidelio, manages to find her husband, Florestan, who has been kept as a political prisoner under the orders of a malevolent governor. She rescues him just as he is about to be murdered by the governor, and the couple are happily reunited. These kinds of “rescue” operas, very popular in post-revolutionary France, were enjoying a renewed vogue as Napoleon’s army swept across Europe in the first decade of the 19th century. Although the plot is primarily about Leonore’s courage and her love for Florestan, the political undercurrents—highlighted in Beethoven’s version, especially—added some historical depth to the story. Fidelio was premiered at the Theater an der Wien in November 1805, only days after Napoleon and his army had occupied Vienna.

With a popular storyline, contemporary political relevance, and nearly two years of effort by Europe’s leading composer of the day, Fidelio seemed to have all the ingredients for a success. But the performances were a disaster, attended by almost no one except for some of the composer’s friends and a handful of stray French soldiers. (Ironically, Beethoven’s Third Symphony, the “Eroica,” which expressed both admiration for and disappointment with Napoleon, had been premiered in the same theater several months earlier in 1805.) Problems with the libretto, and Beethoven’s inherent difficulty with producing convincing music for the stage, were the main issues. When he revised the opera the following year, it was performed by almost the same cast, and was slightly more successful. Beethoven had composed a new overture for the 1806 revision (now known as the “Leonore Overture No. 3”—the original 1805 overture is usually designated “Leonore Overture No. 2”), and tightened up the libretto, especially in the first half of the opera. It would have had a longer run had not Beethoven run into difficulties with the theater management.

For a planned 1808 revival in Prague, Beethoven wrote a third overture (“Leonore Overture No. 1”), but the production was cancelled. Then, with the help of Georg Freidrich Treitschke, Beethoven revised the opera yet again in 1814, including another new overture (the “Fidelio Overture”). This final version was, at last, a great success, even though (as Beethoven remarked to Treitschke) it had emerged with difficulty over a long period of time. The composer wrote: “I assure you, dear Treitschke, that this opera will win me a martyr’s crown. You have by your co-operation saved what is best from the shipwreck. For all this I shall be eternally grateful to you.” Lesson 2 of 3 will be posted on Friday, September 23rd. Stay tuned! This entry was posted in Utah Symphony . Bookmark the permalink .

Opera detail A fascinating evening Opera, October 2008 Pierre Gaveaux’s French revolutionary opera Leonore ou L’Amour conjugal, which appeared at the Theatre feydeau in 1798, and was published, had three successors in 1804-5: Ferdinando Paer’s Leonora ossia L’amore conjugale in Dresden in October; Beethoven’s Leonore oder Die eheliche Liebe at the Theater an der Wien a month later (the title Beethoven wanted, though the management changed it to Fidelio); and Simone Mayr’s L’amore conjugale in Padua in July. Paer’s Leonora had a Viennese private performance at the Lobkowitz Palace in 1806, and 12 performances (in German translation) at the Burgtheater in 1809-10. Beethoven attended, and scholars have speculated whether it may have influenced his 1814 revision of Leonore into the familiar Fidelio.

After a live encounter with Paer’s opera, my conclusion is that it probably did – but chiefly in confirming the composer’s convictions about what not to do, what to avoid, when refashioning his own great, serious opera. This was the first British performance of Paer’s work. Attending a Bampton performance is often essential for enthusiasts, but it’s not for the faint-hearted. No way of getting there except by motoring is listed on its website (whereas Glyndebourne is reachable, and indeed encourages access, by public transport). If we wish to sit during the performance, we are instructed to bring our own chairs. (Garsington provides tiered seating, some shelter from the British summer, and picnic tents and tables). So we lugged our chairs to the Deanery lawn, umbrellas in readiness (but there was only a drop or two on the first night), and on a cold, damp evening shivered beneath rugs and shawls as we prepared to enjoy the opera. Enjoy it we did. Bampton Classical Opera offers operas that one wants to hear, albeit in modest stagings.

Arne’s Alfred, Benda’s Romeo und Julie, Gazzaniga’s Don Giovanni, Salieri’s Falstaff figure in its annals. Promising young singers appear in its casts. Paer’s Leonora began well. The overture, led by Robin Newton, was eloquent. So was the prelude to the second act, and many another instrumental contribution in a score remarkable for its varied obbligatos. The orchestra played in a tent to the right of the stage whence the players couldn’t see the singers, and they occasionally lost contact. Bampton’s open-air acoustics, entirely without resonance, are curious. The first impression may suggest an acoustic recording played on a portable gramophone; but the ear swiftly attunes, and then welcomes an honesty of excellently audible sound. Paer’s instrumental inventiveness was again and again striking. Everything was clearly heard. And the sung drama began well: Marcellina and Giacchino’s opening utterances were delivered, by Emily Rowley Jones and Samuel Evans, with every word clear. Bampton knows that opera ‘makes sense’ when the listeners understand what the singers are saying. Verbal communicativeness continued to inform the Bampton performance.

Cara McHardy, the Leonora, though underpowered in the heroine’s biggest moments, didn’t push into stridency, and she matched Marcellina well in the flibbertigibbet flights that Paer write for them. Michael Bracegirdle was the Florestan, Adrian Powter the Rocco, Jonathan Stoughton the Pizarro (a tenor, with no aria), and John Upperton the Don Fernando. The action, directed by Jeremy Gray, was shifted from Spain to revolutionary Paris, and Gray was also the designer; his back-of-stage guillotine won a laugh when it made its first chippy-chippy-chop descent. The English translation, by Gilly French and Gray, had some Gilbertian rhymed moments but sang fluently and matched Paer’s music well enough, except when Rocco sang a jarring ‘OK’ and ‘get cracking’. Most of Paer’s numbers begin well. The arias for Leonora and for Florestan are large-scale bigger than those in Beethoven’s opera; and the introduction to Florestan’s is particularly striking.

(‘Paer at his least insipid’, Winton Dean called it.) Most of the numbers – though not these two – fail to sustain interest, go on too long, are extended by cliché. It was a fascinating evening, honestly, decently and ambitiously performed: a page of musical history brought to life, a first encounter that for opera-goers with long memories recalled the rewarding St Pancras adventures long ago. Andrew Porter a high quality cast Opera Now, November/December 2008 Bampton Classical Opera makes a habit of putting on less well-known operas. Ferdinando Paer’s Leonora, despite being the most famous of his 55 operas, thus received its UK premiere here. The story is based on the same plot as Beethoven’s work, and so comparisons are inevitable. Though this performance was sung in English, its Italian origins are shown in the continuity of its sung recitative, not the spoken dialogue of Beethoven’s Singspiel; a larger difference is more of a focus on the intimate relationships of the main characters that Beethoven’s epic portrayal of freedom.

Paer was, by all accounts, a thoroughly unpleasant character, not thinking twice at slandering his fellow composers and, according to contemporary sources, frequently putting away a staggering amount of booze with seemingly no effect. Notwithstanding these faults, his operas were extremely popular; the premiere of Paer’s Leonora was considerably more successful than Beethoven’s. Into his struggle for freedom, Paer intersperses a fair amount of humorous moments, particularly seen in the comically turbulent relationship between Marcellina, Leonora and Giacchino, something that creates a reasonably well-rounded drama. Unfortunately, the arias hold up this drama to the extent that much of the sense of movement or dramatic tension is lost. Paer’s musical style is pleasant enough – much closer to Mozart than to Beethoven – but there’s something of a lack of variety here, and all those extended perfect cadences and repeats get a little wearing by the end. The singers, however, brought the music to life. Marcellina (Emily Rowley Jones) was a pleasure to watch and hear; her voice was freash and enticing and she had a clarity that was beguiling.

What Cara McHardy (Leonora) occasionally lacked in accuracy she made up for in power and richness of tone; their second-act duet was the stand-out highlight of the night. The jailer Rocco (Adrian Powter) was excellent, as was Michael Bracegirdle as Florestan, who only appeared in act II, but who made up for it by singing a succession of high-tessitura and high-tension arias with admirable strength and stamina. Samuel Evans and Jonathan Stoughton (Giacchino and the villain Don Pizzarro) were perhaps slightly less convincing, but this was a high-quality cast. Robin Newton did his best with the orchestra – it can’t be easy playing in a tent to the side of the stage as the sun and temperature go down; the set was simple but effective. I’m not sure I’d rush to hear Paer again, but the singers made the evening worthwhile. this imaginative, focused production Opera Today, 22 September 2008 Musically and dramatically Ferdinando Paer’s Leonora and Beethoven’s Fidelio might be said to belong respectively to pre- and post-revolutionary ages.

Based, like its more well-known successor, upon Jean Nicolas Bouilly’s play Léonore, ou L’amour conjugal, Paer’s opera has many textual similarities with Beethoven’s drama of heroic rescue and noble sentiments. The faithful wife who disguises herself as a boy in order to reach and rescue her unjustly imprisoned husband forms the core of both works; yet, in Paer’s opera it is not Leonora but the flighty daughter of the jailor who actually releases him from bondage. Indeed, from the light-weight dalliances of the opening moments to the exuberant, self-satisfied moralising of the final sextet (echoes of Don Giovanni or Cosí?), Paer reveals himself to be more comfortable with the world of petty intrigue and human foibles than with the exalted idealism of Beethoven’s utopian aspirations. That said, this imaginative, focused production by Bampton Classical Opera, directed and designed by Jeremy Gray – and first presented under gloomy summer skies at Bampton Deanery on 18 July – made a strong case, both musically and dramatically, for this infrequently performed work.

Act 2, in particular, revealed serious musical and dramatic intent, the dramatic momentum of the recitative and the emotional intensity of Florestan’s long opening aria of darkness and suffering, proving surprisingly progressive. Paer makes little distinction between the music of the two female roles, Marcellina and Leonora/Fidele; both are high sopranos, but the star on this occasion was Emily Rowley Jones, who expertly conveyed the spirited passion, tempered by an essential kindness and innocence, of the jailor’s daughter. Rowley Jones possessed the stamina required of this demanding role, and her voice remained well-centred and sweet throughout; virtuosic flourishes were dispatched with apparent ease, and intelligently nuanced to serve the dramatic situation. She brought Mozartian grace and wit to the opening scenes; her movements on the small stage were well-choreographed and deftly executed. It was through the dynamic contrast between Marcellina’s unrequited passion for ‘Fidele’ and her impatient dismissal of Giacchino’s courtship that the drama gained vitality.

Both female roles demand a wide range and much staying power – Marcellina requires the compass of a Queen of the Night; in the title role, Cara McHardy initially seemed ill-at-ease, her breath control a little insecure and the more virtuosic passages not always firmly controlled. However, as the performance progresses she showed herself on occasion more than capable of rising to the challenges of the taxing coloratura and bringing both meaning and beauty to her interpretation. Unfortunately her lack of confidence dramatically was noticeable in the ensembles where she appeared uncomfortable and at times vocally subdued. As in previous Bampton productions, Adrian Powter, as Rocco, revealed his instinct for the dramatic moment, moving confidently and establishing a strong stage presence. He injected appropriate weight and bluff into his boasting tirades, which benefited also from excellent diction. Samuel Evans, as the hapless prison janitor, Giacchino, similarly demonstrated sound comic timing and nuance, and together they significantly contributed to the dramatic momentum, which might have been hampered by the many long reflective arias and by the extensive duet for Marcellina and Leonora in Act 2.

The challenges of the twenty-minute aria for Florestan which opens Act 2 are many; but Michael Bracegirdle proved himself able to shape the various sections of his painful, desolate lament on his lengthy suffering in the darkness into a convincing whole, employing an extensive dynamic range and sensitive tonal variations. Despite the foreboding guillotine and imposing dungeon walls which dominated the set, it was difficult for the cast to inject any real menace into Paer’s drama. There is no prisoners’ chorus to emphasise the themes of imprisonment and despair; and Pizarro, the prison governor, is a rather unconvincing stage-villain – his comic arrogance emphasised here by his Napoleonic cape and eye-patch. His bluster may be less than threatening, but Jonathan Stoughton sang securely if a little blandly. It was not Stoughton’s fault that, following a rather feeble confrontation with Leonora, Pizarro found himself cast in chains, and one immediately forgot about him.

Indeed, there is a deflation of dramatic tension towards the close of Act 2: the arrival of Marcellina, demanding a marriage proposal from ‘Fedele’ somewhat dispels the threat of violence, and the arrival of Don Fernando, sung here with warm radiance by John Upperton, swiftly and effortlessly restores harmony and accord. However, Paer’s opera does have many notable features, not least its strong melodic character. This is evident from the first bars of the overture, a seemingly simple medley of forthcoming themes, which has an original feature in the heroine’s romantic ‘motto’ theme, heard three times here and subsequently reiterated most effectively at crucial points in the action. Throughout the orchestration surprises and delights: while the rather clichéd trumpet call introducing the sinister dungeon setting and the three percussive chimes announcing the hour of Florestan’s murder may fail to send a shiver up the spine, overall the writing revealed some striking colours, exploiting unusual instrumental combinations, especially for the woodwind. The score was well-executed by the London Mozart Players.

Situated behind the imposing set, conductor Robin Newton led them in lively fashion; indeed, he set off at a pace which left the singers somewhat trailing in the orchestra’s wake, anxiously glancing at the distantly-placed monitors; but secure ensemble was quickly restored and the overall balance between soloists and orchestra was well-judged. Paer’s Leonora is an excellent example of its genre – a semi-seria opera, in which the frivolous and tragic co-exist and interact. It may be that the comic plot slightly overshadows the high drama of wrongful imprisonment and tyranny, but this intelligent, well-paced production by Bampton Classical Opera made a convincing case for the composer’s melodic lyricism and left this listener eager for another opportunity to hear this unfairly neglected work. something out of the ordinary The Oxford Times, 25 July 2008 For those who haven't been, Bampton Classical Opera is rather eccentric, in an English sort of way. The audience bring their own chairs and the organisation has a charmingly quality. The singers are professional, however, and the repertoire usually provides an opportunity to hear something out of the ordinary. Saturday's offering was Leonora, by Ferdinando Paer, a contemporary of Beethoven.

The work is based on the same literary source as Fidelio. Paer specialised in semiseria operas with two plot lines - one serious and dramatic, the other comic. The wrongfully imprisoned Florestano and his wife Leonora (disguised as a man - Fidelio) provide the high drama, while Marcellina, the gaoler's daughter, and her suitor Giacchino deliver the comedy. Dramas involving prisoners being rescued by faithful spouses were popular around the time of the French Revolution and the play on which this opera and Fidelio are based is a typical example of this genre. The central plot is overly melodramatic and plods along towards an outcome which is never in doubt. Leonora has two affecting arias in the middle of the first act which temporarily elevate the overall tone, and Florestano sings a moving aria in which he pleads for water. There is also a fine dramatic moment in Act II when three chimes ring out from the percussion announcing the hour of Florestano's appointed murder. Otherwise the show is stolen by the comic subplot.

It was with Marcellina's unrequited passion for Fidelio, and Giacchino's clumsy wooing, that this production came to life. For me the young Emily Rowley Jones as Marcellina was the star of the piece. Both her singing and her acting were delightful. Adrian Powter was persuasive as Rocco and Cara McHardy (Leonora) was in fine voice in the arias in Act I, and in the lovely duet with Marcellina in Act II. The rest of the cast gave capable performances, and the orchestra provided good support. X Historical fact or musical fiction?

“An excellent and jolly fellow” was the estimation by the Irish tenor and raconteur Michael Kelly of the character of Ferdinando Paer (1771-1839), whom he met in Paris in 1814: what’s more, Kelly was much impressed by the Italian composer’s ability to consume significant quantities of champagne, burgundy, coffee and brandy, and still to be able to sit down at the piano and accompany himself singing “with infinite grace and expression, as sober as a judge.” Not all found Paer so amenable, and his apparently dissolute life and tendency to undermine his rivals made him a frequent target for criticism and defamation. Most acknowledged, however grudgingly, his talents, and Paer was a far more important composer than the current paucity of performances indicates - indubitably one of the dominant figures in Italian music between the generation of Cimarosa and Paisiello, and that of Rossini. Having established his reputation in his home-town of Parma (and where his godfather was conveniently the Grand Duke Ferdinand), he moved to Vienna in 1797 to assume musical direction of the Kärntnertortheater.

By this date he had 23 operas under his belt - to say nothing of the “women of the theatre” with whom he liked to pass his time. Four years in Vienna led to the creation of several significant works, including Camilla, or the Underground Vault, a semi-seria opera based on a French revolutionary libretto, and replete with fashionably gloomy gothic imagery, anticipating several aspects of character and setting which were later to be explored in Leonora. Vienna also brought opportunities to study the music of Mozart, and to meet his contemporary Beethoven, and it is recorded that here “his harmony became more vigorous, his instrumentation richer, his modulation more varied”. Perhaps his own German ancestry (his name was variously spelt Paër, Pär or Per) enabled him to marry Italian grace and energy with a Germanic sophistication of orchestration and tonal richness. Paer was wise however not to put down too many roots as mobility between the courts and theatres of Europe was usually the best way for an ambitious composer to achieve status and wealth.

Via Prague in 1801, he moved to Dresden as court Kapellmeister to the Elector of Saxony, and here Leonora was written and first performed at the Kleines Kurfürstlichestheater on 3 October 1804, with Paer’s wife Francesca Riccardi taking the title rôle. Here he came to the admiring attention of Napoleon who attended a performance of Achille in 1807 and consequently persuaded Paer and his wife to join his retinue during his Polish campaigns. Taking Paer back to Paris (where his wife left him), Napoleon appointed him ‘Composer to the Emperor’ on a very grand salary. Napoleon’s fall in 1814 inevitably led to something of a demise and his influence and prestige waned further in the 1820s, partly thanks to the arrival and success of Rossini. However, as musical director of the Théâtre-Italien from 1812 until 1827, Paer was well-placed to attempt to damage the reputation of his younger rival and he waged a virtual war against him, and other rivals, for several years.

Even Beethoven was the victim of his conceit, as Berlioz recorded, describing him as “the crafty Italian, who claimed to have known Beethoven, and told stories about him more or less discreditable to the great man and favourable to himself.” It is of course thanks to Beethoven that Paer’s dramma semiserio, Leonora, ossia L’amore coniugale has emerged as effectively the only one of his 55 or so operas to bring him lasting fame. Paer’s choice of subject and text was fashionably topical in the aftermath of the French Revolution.

His Italian libretto was by Giovanni Schmidt, a dominant figure in Neapolitan opera who later worked for Rossini: another composer-collaborator, Pacini, says that “misery was Schmidt’s constant companion, so that his personality, distressing beyond description, inspired melancholy just on seeing him.” Schmidt’s text for Paer was not an original work, but a fairly close translation of the play Léonore, ou L’amour conjugal by Jean-Nicolas Bouilly (1763-1842), which had already been set to music by Pierre Gaveaux in Paris in 1798. Bouilly’s text was also to serve another Italian librettist Gaetano Rossi, working for the composer Simon Mayr in 1805 (L’amor coniugale). Rossi and Mayr took greater liberties with the text which they recast into a single act farsa sentimentale, moving the action to ‘exotic’ Poland, and changing the names of the characters.

Significantly the motivation of Pizare (renamed Moroski) in imprisoning Florestan (Amorveno) is his lust for Amorveno’s wife Leonore (Zeliska). The opera contains some glorious music, especially Zeliska’s outburst aria Rende il consorte amato, a constant feature in all the versions, and some fast-moving and exciting ensembles. But, notwithstanding the fact that the Marceline/Jacquino sub-plot is cut, perhaps there is less sense of the weight and sublimity which are implicit in the original story. Bouilly, the original librettist of Léonore, was keen to provide his text with the piquant topicality of historical truth. Although expediently relocating the action to fifteenth-century Spain, the author enhanced the reality appeal of his narrative through the appellation ‘fait historique’: those who had lived through the recent years of French terror, whatever their political colour, would have empathized with its theme of unjust and tyrannical imprisonment thwarted by marital bravery effected through daring disguise.

The risky duplicity adopted by Bouilly’s eponymous heroine, who in her male disguise as an orphaned stranger gains entrance not only to the prison where she hopes to find her incarcerated husband but also to the besotted heart of the jailor’s daughter Marceline, was undoubtedly a skill shared by the author. Juggling a career as a lawyer and man of letters, Bouilly himself played a dangerous role through the traumatic years of Revolution; if he had stayed in Paris in 1791 (where his four-act Pierre le grand with music by Grétry had been well received at the Théâtre-Italien), his Rousseauesque liberalism and support for the concept of benign royalty could well have singled him out for revolutionary suspicion. Wisely retreating to his birthplace of Tours, he progressively reinvented himself as a leading judicial figure in the burgeoning revolutionary committees of the district. At the Festival of the Unity and Indivisibility of the Republic in August 1793 and in his official legal capacity he publicly hurled despised symbols and portraits of royalty into a purging bonfire.

By early 1794, the months of Robespierre’s Reign of Terror, he had become a public prosecutor and president of the Touraine Commission Militaire, and his duties including signing death-warrants for anti-Revolutionaries. Yet, if his autobiographical memoirs of 1836-7 are to be believed – and there is plenty of evidence to suggest that Bouilly was not adverse to embroidering fact with fantasy – this fervent agent of revolution was using his official duties as a mask for a double-life as a protector of the citizens of his home-town from the worst excesses of this tumultuous period. He claimed to be one of a band of ten courageous citizens who – Scarlet Pimpernel-like – put their own lives at risk in order to protect the safety of those under threat.

As a regular visitor at La Plaine, the recently-acquired estate of the wealthy Mercier family from Paris, Bouilly basked in his dangerous infamy: “Once night had covered the beautiful banks of the Loire with its protective shadow, I would walk along them for an hour in secret, and so arrived for a delightful visit to la Plaine, where I could free myself from the cares of the day and where I could recount what I had been doing… alleviating the lot of prisoners and calming the fear of accused innocents.” One of the undoubted attractions of La Plaine was the beautiful Eugénie Rével, a young relative of Elisabeth Mercier and who was to become Bouilly’s wife in November 1793. The elegant Madame Mercier however is of greater significance in the gestation of Léonore. Bouilly’s friendship with the Merciers had originated through a series of circumstances which bear some resemblance to his “fait historique”. As Touraine judge, Bouilly had received a denunciation against the Merciers from Louis-Julien-Simon Héron, an unscrupulous police agent of the Parisian Committee of Public Safety.

On investigating the case, Bouilly discovered that Héron, who owed significant sums of money to M. Mercier in Paris, had repaid the kindness by attempting to seduce his wife. Elisabeth had resisted him strenuously and Héron consequently sought revenge: ‘full of resentment against an honest woman, who had remained faithful to her vows rather than surrender to a vile intriguer, [he] now took vengeance by seeking her execution.’ Bouilly helped to protect the Merciers and revealed Héron’s duplicity to the Parisian authorities. Here then, perhaps, was a model of depravity for the character Pizare, and Elisabeth’s fidelity finds echo in the virtue of l’amour conjugal displayed so resourcefully by Léonore. Bouilly’s specific claim for his play Léonore was that it was based on ‘a sublime act of heroism and devotion by one of the Touraine ladies whose noble efforts I had the pleasure of assisting’. Whether this was a further reference to the story of Elisabeth Mercier, ‘cette femme adorable’, he never explicitly stated.

Léonore, completed by the time Bouilly and his new wife returned to a slightly calmer Paris in 1795, may indeed therefore have had some basis in history. In returning to the capital, he was anxious to recover his former career as a dramatic writer, and in creating what was ultimately to become his most famous story, he was also taking up a topical theme. Rescue dramas and operas in which, often, an innocent prisoner is liberated through the bravery of a spouse, were becoming staple fare in the Parisian theatres. Such stories pitted selfless bravery and virtue against the machinations of tyranny, and drew on a growing taste for the gothic sublime, expressed in the frisson of gloomy towers and dank dungeons. But Bouilly’s text would have remained an unimportant example of the genre had he not met and nurtured the successful singer-composer Pierre Gaveaux in 1797. Gaveaux was persuaded to set the play, which opened as an opera comique at the Théâtre Feydeau on 19 February 1798. Gaveaux himself created the role of Florestan and acclaim for both text and music was considerable.

It remained in the repertory for eight years, although Bouilly was to crown this success with one even greater when his Les deux journées was given operatic treatment by the most original operatic composer in Paris at the end of the century, Luigi Cherubini. Bouilly’s lasting fame with Léonore was however thanks not to Gaveaux but to its ultimate transformation into the text wrestled with by Beethoven and a series of librettists over several years to become Fidelio. Beethoven first worked on the theme in a German version by Joseph Sonnleithner in 1804 leading to a disastrous first performance (the version we now call Leonora) in Vienna in November 1805. His revised second version followed four months later, and the final version, the Fidelio now generally known, was first performed in May 1814. Despite its dramaturgical and even musical flaws, Fidelio has become a cornerstone of the operatic repertory and it is inevitable that most listeners to Paer’s Leonora will seek comparisons with Beethoven’s profound and formidable work.

One of the main criticisms levelled against Beethoven is the fact that he seems ill-at-ease with the subplot of the avaricious jailor Rocco, his flighty daughter Marzelline and her frustrated and petulant would-be fiancé Jaquino. The opening numbers of Fidelio are considered by some to be light-weight, and somehow unworthy of the profound seriousness which permeates Leonora/Fidelio and her noble mission of liberation. Petty domesticity sits uneasily when juxtaposed with the sublime universal of freedom and “the triumph of married love”. Paer, whose musical language was much closer to Mozart than was Beethoven’s, clearly relished this inherent clash of social strata and mood. Even in the overture (which could qualify for the title “Leonora No 4”), after the initial statement, later reiterated, of the noble theme which represents Leonora’s courageous determination, and which reappears in the introduction to her formidable Act 1 aria as well as in the Act 2 trio, he moves into an allegro of almost Haydnesque playfulness.

Marcellina’s opening aria in which she declares her infatuation for ‘Fidelio’ and her subsequent argument with Giacchino is highly reminiscent of the music and character of Susanna and Figaro, and that spirit returns in the ironic Act 2 duet when Marcellina, having stolen the keys to the dungeon, tries to persuade ‘Fidelio’ to leave, forcing protestations of love from Leonora in the presence of her hapless husband. The virtuosic music for Marcellina in any case renders her a much more prominent seconda donna than in the Beethoven, and the overall dramaturgy of the plot, however unlikely, gains integration and even a realism of sorts as a result. The relationships between the four Leonora/Fidelio operas have been much debated and they form a fascinating sequence of literary and musical transformation. It has been argued that Beethoven knew the published score of Gaveaux and he certainly heard Paer’s work in 1808; a score was in his studio when he died.

A number of points of similarity, although dismissed by some scholars, suggest that he could have known Paer’s opera at the time he was working on his first drafts – the two composers had met as early as 1797. As Peter Maag has commented, “those who know and love Fidelio are in for a strange experience when they renew acquaintance with the familiar characters in Pizzarro’s prison illuminated by entirely different music.” Points of familiarity include the knocks on the gate which interrupt Giacchino’s attempt to woo Marcellina, the serene entrance of ‘Fidelio’ bearing the chains, the powerful heroism expressed in the huge (even longer than in Fidelio) solo scenas for Leonora and Florestan, the Act 2 trio about the piece of bread, and the trumpet-call announcing the arrival of the Minister. But striking differences give the work its own colour and integrity - as an Italian opera it benefits from the continuity of sung recitative rather than the spoken dialogue of Beethoven’s Singspiel, and Pizzarro is a sung role rather than the spoken character in Fidelio.

Most significantly, with no chorus of prisoners and no final return to the light, Leonora is more concerned with an intimate ‘conjugal love’ than with epic freedom, and the bold lyricism of Paer’s style paints and elaborates that theme with expressive beauty and verisimilitude. In recent years many directors have sought to give universal relevance to Beethoven’s Fidelio through updating to settings such as the prisons of the Third Reich or Guantanamo Bay. Bouilly’s text, whatever its origin or historical context, is indeed a parable for all times. A current (June 2008) Amnesty International leaflet highlights the ongoing plight of political repression in a major modern state - “In August 2007, X was chained to an iron bed for six days. His arms and legs were stretched so tightly he couldn’t move… At the time, he had not been charged with any crime. He had been detained solely for his involvement in raising a petition… After eight months in detention, he was sentenced to five years imprisonment for ‘inciting subversion of state power.’ ” Florestan – sadly – remains a child of our time.

Down-to-earth diva Christine Goerke Down-to-earth diva Christine Goerke Opera star Christine Goerke looks inside her character of Leonora in Beethoven's 'Fidelio" Post to Facebook Down-to-earth diva Christine Goerke Opera star Christine Goerke looks inside her character of Leonora in Beethoven's 'Fidelio" Check out this story on cincinnati.com: CancelSend A link has been sent to your friend's email address. Posted! A link has been posted to your Facebook feed. 1 Down-to-earth diva Christine Goerke Janelle Gelfand , jgelfand@enquirer.com 10:20 a.m. ET June 30, 2016 Soprano Christine Goerke, the star of Cincinnati Opera’s Fidelio, in Washington Park just before her performance in the Opera in the Park concert last Sunday.. (Photo: Provided/David N Martin/ © MKphotography.) Christine Goerke’s favorite moment in Beethoven’s opera “Fidelio” has nothing to do with her character, Leonore.

She was in a Cincinnati Opera rehearsal, listening to “The Prisoner’s Chorus,” a heartbreakingly beautiful number in the opera. It was shortly after the massacre at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. “My brother is on the police force and the SWAT team in Orlando. So all of that was very fresh in my mind. I sat there listening to this chorus, that is pleading for freedom and hoping for peace and praying,” she said. “I just started crying in the room. I thought, 'This piece of music will always be relevant.' ” Goerke was chatting in a dressing room between rehearsals of “Fidelio,” presented by Cincinnati Opera on July 7 and 9 at the Aronoff Center, Downtown. She’s a down-to-earth diva with a big personality and a voice to match. Last Sunday, she wowed listeners with the power and luster of her voice in the aria "O don fatale" from Verdi’s “Don Carlo” and a robust “God Bless America” during “Opera in the Park,” an outdoor concert in Washington Park. Her biggest fans – her husband and daughters aged 7 and 9 – were in the front row.

The next morning, her day started at 6 a.m. as she fixed breakfast for her children. Being a mom has changed her perspective on the role of Leonore, the heroine of Beethoven’s opera, she said. In the story, Leonore’s husband, Florestan, is a political prisoner. She has disguised herself as a man (named Fidelio) and taken a job as assistant to the jailer in order to find – and ultimately rescue – her husband. “When I had my kids, you have this fierce, protective thing that happens to you,” she said. “There is a primal thing, that women have to take care of their families. I feel like that has to be underneath all of this. It kicks in for Leonore, especially in the second half of the opera.” The updated production of "Fidelio," which is set in the present, connects the story with a struggle for justice that could occur anywhere. It works, she believes. “It’s very simple, very clear, and it tells the story exactly as if it were set when it was written. It's the story of a family, of a husband and wife being torn apart.

It tells the story of politics gone awry, the story of corruption,” she said. “There’s nothing that would take away from the meaning of the drama.” Goerke’s path to opera began on Long Island, where she grew up in a non-musical family with a dad who was a huge fan of clarinetist/bandleader Artie Shaw. He encouraged her to play the clarinet, and by the end of high school, she had also learned to play every other woodwind instrument. "Except the bassoon. It’s still a disaster," she laughed. “I decided I wanted to be a high school band teacher, because my teacher was so infectious. I thought, 'I want to do that for kids.' " But her teachers were more impressed with her voice than her clarinet playing. After changing her career path again to choral conducting, she finally determined that she should sing for a living. Within two years of graduating from State University at Stony Brook, the soprano was singing in coveted young artist programs, including the Metropolitan Opera’s Lindemann Young Artist Development Program. Her resume grew impressively very quickly, as opera companies began calling her.

Her role in "Fidelio" calls for a dramatic soprano, one of opera’s most exciting voice types, able to cut through a large Beethoven-sized orchestra. Much of the time, she now sings roles for thrillingly big voices in operas by Richard Strauss and Wagner. She also enjoys the role of the ice princess in Puccini’s “Turandot." But her voice wasn’t always big. For more than a decade, she performed mainly Mozart and Handel. She last visited Cincinnati as Donna Elvira in Mozart’s “Don Giovanni" in 1999. “I do miss that, I have to say,” she said, recalling that the role of Don Giovanni was sung by Peter Mattei in his United States debut. She’ll be revisiting Mozart in New York's Lincoln Center at the end of July with Mattei and the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra conducted by Louis Langrée, who also leads the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra. Beethoven writes for her voice, ironically, “like a clarinet,” she said. “Beethoven was not the most vocal of writers. It seems to me that everything he wrote was written in a very instrumental way,” she said. “It’s a very heroic role.

There’s a lot of brass. I’m often paired up with the horns.” Her character is the devoted wife who must disguise herself as a male jailer. It’s not often that the soprano gets to sing a “pants” role – a woman playing a man. But mostly, she is intrigued by this strong heroine, who accomplishes remarkable things for a woman of her time. (The opera premiered in 1805.) “To infiltrate a prison – this is remarkable for anybody. But at the time Beethoven wrote this, for a woman, that’s gigantic," she said. "In the end, she does rescue her husband, but it comes at a cost. She has hurt people. It was never what she intended, but she knew she had to do the right thing. She’s a very strong feminine character. That’s what I like the most about her.” If you go What: Cincinnati Opera presents Beethoven’s “Fidelio.” Jun Märkl, conductor; Chris Alexander, director When: 7:30 p.m.

July 7 and 9 Where: Procter & Gamble Hall, Aronoff Center, Downtown Tickets: 513-241-2742, my.cincinnatiopera.org ; also at Aronoff Center Box Office. 89 CONNECT TWEET 2 LINKEDIN 1 COMMENTEMAILMORE Read or Share this story: Opera review: Leonore | Global | The Guardian Share on Messenger Close This first version of Beethoven's only opera is rarely aired - and usually out of curiosity rather than anything else. Leonore was premiered, and flopped disastrously, in Vienna in 1805. It took the composer and a new librettist another nine years to revise and reshape it into the form in which we know it today, Fidelio. And for all its strengths, Welsh National Opera's new production cannot disguise the problems of the original score. With three acts rather than the familiar two, there is too much marking of time, when the drama really needs to be moved along. Beethoven's second thoughts were invariably more focused than his first.

The differences between the two versions are clear from the outset, when the opera is launched with what we now know as the Leonora Overture No 2. This is an epic miniature drama in its own right, and was wonderfully conducted in Cardiff by Yves Abel, but pre-empts much of what is to follow. There is extraneous material in the exchanges between Marzelline, Jacquino and Rocco, and a ramshackle sequence of numbers leading up to the Prisoners' Chorus. In the final act, Rocco disarms Leonore after she has confronted Pizzarro (which makes him seem an even more pusillanimous creep than in Fidelio), and the reunion between her and Florestan is achingly protracted, just as the final scene holds fire while the chorus debates Pizzarro's fate with Don Fernando. The ending blazes, as with Fidelio, but it's a long time coming. Patrice Caurier and Moshe Leiser have already directed Fidelio for WNO, but this is a separately conceived production: a bare wooden floor, some strikingly blue flats and early 19th-century costumes. It's effective and unfussy, and the cast is carefully directed.

Franzita Whelan's Leonore is touching and tough minded, but a little under strain in some of the more demanding moments; in this version she gets a much flashier, extended version of her big aria. Par Lindskog's Florestan is robust but not particularly ingratiating. Donald McIntyre (uncertain vocally) is the elderly Rocco, Robert Hayward the stentorian Pizzarro, Natalie Christie a fetching Marzalline, and Wynne Evans a suitably boorish Jacquino. Best of all is Abel's conducting - urgent and dramatically incisive, even when the score is working against him.  Further performances on September 19 and October 4 (box office: 029-2087 8889), then touring.

Question: Leonora is the heroine of which opera premiered in 1805?
Answer: FIDELIO