Famously, Rossini was asked what three things a singer most needs. He answered, “Voice, voice, and voice.” That is certainly true of his opera Semiramide, staged at the Met last night in a 1990 production by John Copley.
And yet there is an orchestra, isn’t there? And it plays an overture, one of the most famous by Rossini, and therefore one of the most famous by anyone. It is a little masterpiece. In the pit last night was Maurizio Benini, a veteran Italian. He and the orchestra handled the overture very well, as they would the opera that follows.
The overture begins with anticipation—a tip-toed anticipation. It continues with an array of other qualities, for ten or twelve minutes. Benini & Co. brought off this little masterpiece with true satisfaction.
And then the singing begins. What do you want in a Semiramide, the soprano singing the title role? I want a strong, preferably beautiful voice, capable of singing long lines. That, Angela Meade provided. There were also bonuses.
She sang in tune. She executed her passagework. She sang high pianos, including from a standing start (that is, with no lower notes to push off from). She sang miles above the staff. Her singing, at its loudest, had a physical effect on the listener. Some people call this “bone vibration.” Also, Meade imparted a dramatic sense. She did this through her singing, which an opera performer is entitled to do (indeed, required to do).
The mezzo, portraying Arsace, was Elizabeth DeShong. I think of this as “the Marilyn Horne role.” The great mezzo sang many military commanders, such as Arsace. Not for nothing did they call her “General Horne.” DeShong sang with a very good sound, although I might have wanted more of it, here and there. Her chest voice was especially good. From her, you got a sense of security, which is a desirable thing to get from a singer. You felt she would not misstep.
Our tenor was Javier Camarena, singing Idreno. He was rugged, occasionally beautiful, sometimes a little pinched, capable, and brave. Assur was Ildar Abdrazakov, the veteran bass. He showed a little tremulousness I had never heard in him before—but only a little, and fleeting. Generally, he was his burnished, secure self. Rossini does not exempt basses from passagework—and Abdrazakov handled his admirably.
Does Ryan Speedo Green have the coolest name in opera? Maybe, and he was effective as Oroe, deploying his smoky bass-baritone. Sarah Shafer, an American soprano, was Azema. She expressed what her character ought to have, namely dearness.
Honestly, I hardly gave a thought to Maestro Benini in the pit. You could forget about him. That was his gift to you. He was conducting correctly and stylishly all through. What you heard was Rossini, not the conducting. I did notice the orchestra’s horns, which were stable and even beautiful.
The Met put on a real bel canto show last night. As I left the house, I thought, “What more could you reasonably ask of a Semiramide today? In terms of cast, orchestra, conductor, production—what more could you reasonably ask?” The answer, I thought, was not a lot.
Let me leave you with a footnote. Early in the opera, I heard—or thought I heard—Rossini’s wonderful little chestnut of a song, the Canzonetta spagnuola. Right there in Semiramide. Would you like to hear Marilyn Horne sing it, and see her, too? Go here.