Postcard from Washington, DC | Mozart: Idomeneo

Washington Concert Opera’s (WCO) inaugural performance was Bizet’s Les pêcheurs de perles in 1987 at Lisner Auditorium, a venue dating from 1946 on the campus of George Washington University. The seats are uncomfortable, there’s almost no leg room, and the tiny restroom facilities are inadequate for a theater seating 1,350. The acoustics are great, however. Even thirty rows back the voices and instrumental details are right in your ear. WCO presents three operas each season, usually from the fringes of the standard repertory. Two of the features next season are Haydn’s Armida and Massenet’s Don Quichotte, works you rarely encounter. (I vividly remember WCO’s excavation of Massenet’s magnificent Esclarmonde in 2005.)

Mozart’s Idomeneo, re di Creta (1781) is not as popular as Don Giovanni, Le Nozze di Figaro or the other three standard Mozart repertory staples. He was 24 when he composed it. Two vivacious gentlemen sitting nearby insisted Idomeneo was Mozart’s first opera, which it isn’t, having already composed and premiered twelve such works (Singspiel, seria, buffa) before composing Idomeneo. Those earlier works are revived from time to time – Philadelphia Opera is staging Mitridate, re di Ponto (1770) this year, and Lucio Silla (1772) surfaces now and then in Europe. I saw the 1775 La Finta Giardiniera (“The Girl Disguised as a Gardner”) in Berlin a few years ago. It was pleasant but unmemorable. Idomeneo is monumental by comparison, a work of depth, drama, and melodic invention, and one I’d rather hear than Die Entführung aus dem Serail or Die Zauberflöte.

The opera is set in the aftermath of the Trojan War. A terrible storm threatens to destroy Idomeneo’s fleet, and he vows to Neptune that he’ll sacrifice the first person he sees if he and his crew survive. Fate intervenes when that person turns out to be his own son, Idamante. As Idomeneo struggles with the devastating vow he’s made, a web of love and jealousy unfolds: Idamante and the Trojan princess Ilia fall deeply in love, while the unstable Elettra, daughter of Agamemnon, burns with jealous desire for Idamante. Idomeneo tries to save his son by sending him far away with Elettra, but Neptune summons a sea monster to ravage Crete. (Double Jeopardy – Operatic Reptiles Run Amok.) News comes that the streets are running with blood as Reptilicus munches his way through the city. The High Priest demands Idomeneo reveal the name of the person whose sacrifice Neptune requires to stop the rampage. The populace is horrified, Idomeneo fesses up, and the sacrificial altar is set. Idamante slays Reptilicus and says farewell as he goes to the altar. Ilia, however, offers herself in Idamante’s place. This deeply touches Neptune, who orders Idomeneo to abdicate and appoints Idamante and Ilia as Crete’s new rulers. Everyone is relieved except Elettra, who goes berserk.

There was much to enjoy Saturday night, beginning with conductor/Artistic Director Antony Walker’s thorough preparation of the orchestra and shaping of the music. Walker is equally accomplished at working with singers and is considerate of breath, pacing, and phrasing. Although the overture lacked urgency, the pace became energized once the singing began. 

The soloists – with one exception – ranged from good to outstanding. Tenor David Portillo sang the title role. I had previously heard him as Jaquino (Fidelio) and Pirro (Rossini’s Ermione), the latter being a florid, over-the-top character on the verge of losing his marbles. Portillo brought an unexpected amount of dignity and gravity to the character. He has a bright, slightly nasal sound with a rapid vibrato, and he really projects the words. He gave us the longer, more elaborate version of “Fuor del mar” with remarkable agility and deserved the ovation he received. 

Stephanie Doche’s Idamante was also impressive. She has regal bearing and a large voice of attractive color. Like Portillo, she was invested in the character. Each time Idomeneo spurned Idamante, she interestingly conveyed noble decorum and agitated anxiety at the same time. Midway in act 3 the voice tired and some hooty, colorless sounds emerged. With more experience she’d make a formidable Octavian.

Elettra is the juiciest role in the opera. While she gets great music to sing, the role demands a certain grandeur interwoven with a flaming inner demon always on the edge of exploding. Soprano Aviva Fortunata brought us this and more. She created a real character from the moment she entered. She interacted with the other characters very effectively – disdainful of her rival Ilia, respectful of Idomeneo, and obsessed with winning Idamante’s affection. Fortunata’s voice has a ripe, colorful vibrato and travels up and down the scale with ease. I last encountered her in 2017 when she was the last-minute replacement for Elza van den Heever as Norma in Dallas. I remember a placid, soft, safe performance. The intervening years appear to have transformed and focused her talents. This Elettra could have dispatched Ilia with one swat. In her frantic mad scene “Oh smania…D’oreste, d’ajace” Elettra describes scorpions gnawing at her (Final Jeopardy – Operatic Arachnids Run Amok) and says either a sword or sorrow will end her despair. This fabulous scene brought the house down.

Tenor Matthew Hill was a forthright and clear toned Arbace. He got his first aria (“Se il tuo duol”) but his long, dramatic scene in act 3 was unfortunately cut. (Walker also cut the joyful ballet music that concludes the opera.) David Artz effectively intoned the High Priest’s dire pronouncements, and Jim Williams boomed the offstage voice of the Oracle.

Only one soloist disappointed. The Ilia, soprano Amanda Forsythe, is a Baroque specialist in Handel, Purcell, and Vivaldi. She relied heavily on a Baroque “affectation” of narrow, straight tone without vibrato, while treating vibrato as a special effect or brief ornament only at the end of a note. I know this is a respected technique for singers specializing in early music/Baroque repertory. As no other soloists employed this technique all evening, Ms. Forsythe’s “affectation” caused undue prominence and made an already small, white voice seem cold and detached. There was little exploration of Ilia’s plight and no sound at the bottom of the voice to enhance the emotions. The heavy dark eye makeup, fire engine red lipstick, and black Medusa-style fright wig did her no favors. (If it wasn’t a wig, I apologize.)

My next report will come from the Canadian Opera Company in Toronto. Massenet’s Werther one night, followed by a double bill of Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle and Schönberg’s Erwartung the next.

HWCII