Met's "Enchanted Island' in HD-Live

Recently I cited Handel's Rodelinda as the most successful of all operatic simulcasts, because a big screen renders the subtle gestures of a Baroque opera readily accessible. The big-screen version of the faux Baroque opera Enchanted Island, on the other hand, gets a little too much in your face for comfort.

Its Baroque music is excellent; its scenery is clever, and its cast does some spectacular singing. But at three-and-a-half hours, Enchanted Island is too long. It contains an unwieldy number of characters and a complicated story, over-filled with magic spells and potions. Worst of all, its exaggerated acting goes too far over the top, especially if you're watching it in a movie theater.

This 18th-Century reincarnation of pastiche evenings, where excerpts from various operas were co-joined with a new libretto, gave us a chance to hear examples of music from George Frederic Handel, Antonio Vivaldi, Jean-Philippe Rameau, André Campra, Jean-Marie Leclair, Henry Purcell, Jean-Féry Rebel and Giovanni Battista Ferrandini. It also provided opportunities for a new generation of singers to explore the repertoire.

Ponderous idea

That combination made for fascinating listening. Many of Jeremy Sams's lyrics are mellifluous and witty, full of rhyming couplets that trip lightly off the tongue. And Sam's astute decision to end with a variation on the Bard's "Our revels now are ended" provided a welcome introspective contrast with the joyous final chorus taken from Handel's oratorio Judas Maccabaeus: "Now a bright new day is dawning."

But it seemed as if the creative team wanted to include nearly every example of Baroque music in one overlong concert.

Sams's blending of two good plays was a ponderous idea that mashed together characters from The Tempest and A Midsummer Night's Dream and brought the honeymooning couples to Prospero's island by means of a shipwreck.

Meanwhile, stage director Phelim McDermott told the cast to act broadly, to "go for it, this is opera." But in hamming things up, he missed the point that opera and subtlety aren't necessarily mutually exclusive.

Brassy sorceress

McDermott's overbearing direction caused the soprano Joyce DiDonato to sing lines about how positions had come around full-circle while pantomiming a skipper turning a large steering wheel, which conjured images of the wrecked Costa cruise ship off the Italian coast. Talk about wretched excess!

The best of Enchanted Island was seen in the person of DiDonato, who practically stole the show as the brassy sorceress, Sycorax. DiDonato tossed off the most florid passages with big volume and joyous élan. She also used some exquisite pianissimi, as in the way she began her aria, "Maybe soon, maybe now" (originally from Handel's Teseo), with a thrilling messa di voce, swelling and then diminishing on one extended note.

Elizabeth DeShong as Hermia also was sensational, flinging out her passages convincingly. Her solo scene that opened Act II was Dejanira's mad scene from Handel's Hercules. (I mention the source of these arias because you might want to seek the original works.)

David Daniels as Prospero impressed me with his quiet authority and the long elegant lines of his countertenor singing. Alone among the soloists, he let his face express human feelings. His "Chaos, confusion, What have I done?" ("Pena tiranna" from Handel's Amadigi, with a lovely bassoon obbligato), at the end of Act I, and his "Forgive me" (from Handel's Partenope), near the opera's close, were high points.

Anthony Roth Costanzo as Ferdinand exhibited tenor artistry that would be welcome in any era.

Facial contortions

On the other hand, Danielle de Niese as the sprite Ariel exemplified the worst side of this experiment. Snarling, grimacing, contorting her face and flinging her arms, de Niese made me yearn for a smaller screen. Maybe de Niese gets away with these excesses in the 4,000-seat Met, but they're excruciating to watch in close-ups.

Ariel is a delightful Shakespeare character, and de Niese is an attractive singer. But her performance was the most annoying I've seen in years of High Definition opera on big screens.

If you kept your eyes closed, her sound was impressive in Ariel's last-act coloratura showpiece, "Can you feel the heavens are reeling?" from Vivaldi's Griselda.

The over-elaborate costumes designed by Kevin Pollard for de Niese, and for others, also look bad when enlarged.

As Neptune, Placido Domingo played himself, as it were: a god in his universe. His seriousness was a welcome counteraction in a production filled with excess. Luca Pisaroni as Caliban straddled the fence stylistically: His extroverted singing was effective without overdoing the lurching primitivism that this part calls for.

Heavy-handed jokes

In an opera house, the predominant visual element is the set and, after that, the costumes if they're sufficiently colorful to be seen beyond the first few rows. But in a cinema what's most noticeable isn't the scenery but the faces. That's precisely where this production goes aground.

Shakespeare understood that comedy is funniest when it's played with sincerity. This production has its participants knocking us over the head with their jokes.

To be sure, the production's video projections were magical. A voyage to the bottom of the sea brought us undulating waves and flying mermaids. Since everyone there was flying or swimming— not trying to "act"— that scene was entirely a pleasure.

William Christie's conducting lacked the sparkle I expected from this Baroque specialist. Harry Bicket did a better job leading Handel's Rodelinda recently.

Work in progress?

In an interview at intermission, Domingo remarked that Enchanted Island is a work in progress, and he hopes for major changes. I agree, although my changes may differ from what Domingo has in mind.

The opera should be shortened. Graciela Daniele's choreography was fun, and the dance music was catchy, but the long ballet in the second act impeded the opera's flow. And please— eliminate all that mugging.