Opera Company's "Otello' (3rd review)

The Opera Company of Philadelphia has mounted a suitably respectful production to Verdi's Otello, one of the greatest of all operas. It's the first ever production of Otello by this company and by the conductor, Corrado Rovaris. The sets and costumes are elegant in 16th-Century style, and the larger-than-normal chorus and orchestra performed with accuracy and delicacy.

What the production lacked, however, was violence. From the crashing chords of the opening storm to the Act III fury of the jealous Otello, the singers and orchestra held back. Passion is there in Verdi's magnificent music, and in the Italian words that Arrigo Boito re-fashioned from Shakespeare's tragedy. But conductor Rovaris was so careful to maintain the beautiful singing and playing that terror took a back seat.

Because two tenors alternated in the title role, I attended this production twice. Clifton Forbis, who sang Otello on October 6, struck me as adequate. His voice packs the essential metal and ringing high notes but grows thinner in the lower passages. Allan Glassman, on October 3, possessed a warmer sound than Forbis but less control of the vocal line. His farewell to glory, "Ora per sempre addio," sounded like a series of choppy gasps. Neither man approached the volcanic power that's necessary for the role.

A role that demands greatness

Of all the roles in opera, Otello may well be the most difficult. It requires great acting as well as singing that bestrides the range of tenor and baritone. Most of the great Otellos have been physically imposing, like Giovanni Martinelli, Jon Vickers and James McCracken. Another successful Otello, Mario Del Monaco, was short of stature but strutted like Napoleon; he was handsome and charismatic, too.

Otello needs to impress audiences from his first appearance, to convince us that he was a man held in awe by virtually everyone. If we aren't convinced of his greatness, there's insufficient tragedy in his fall. Neither Forbis nor Glassman established that aura.

Black, or just tanned?

We also need to see his insecurity. Verdi and Boito eliminated Shakespeare's first act, in which we witnessed the racial prejudice that Otello overcame when he married the fair Desdemona. In this operatic version, we need to instantly see what makes Otello different, without being able to hear an explanation of it. In short, we need to see that he is black.

Yet director Robert Driver chose to give Forbis and Glassman light bronze makeup, suggesting an outdoorsman but not the fact that he belongs to a different race than his wife and the men he commands. Without seeing that difference, it's hard to understand how quickly Otello believes that his wife is unfaithful.

Desdemona prolongs

As that wife, Norah Amsellem is a beautiful woman with a warm spinto voice, halfway between a lyric and a dramatic. She impressively floated stunning phrases without ever sounding forced or strident. Her last-act arias were lovely and, a few minutes later, she gave us an even greater moment. As she lay on her back after Otello strangled her, Amsellem emitted a beautiful high F, plaintive and haunting, just before dying. At that moment a fermata "“ a lingering "“ is permissible, because this is a solo, unaccompanied note.

But there's a big difference between sustaining that note and holding on to notes at other times where the orchestra and the other singers are involved. Unfortunately, Ansellem elected to prolong some of her top tones in the duet of Act III, with the assent of Maestro Rovaris.

And in the big ensemble after the arrival of the Venetian ambassador, she held on to three crucial notes on the word lagrima for more than twice the time specified by Verdi. This vocal device interrupted the forward flow of music and action, and broke up the dramatic line. These instances marred what was otherwise an excellent performance.

Quest for color

Ansellem could add some dark color to her voice on the low-lying passage after Otello has thrown her to the ground in front of the ambassador and the assembled throng. When she sings: "I lie here, I weep, and the shudder of my dying soul chills me," the soprano should express the heaviness in her soul with a heavier application of her voice. Verdi's score fails to offer a big range on the scale for Desdemona here, and the repetitive notes cry out for special coloring to communicate their meaning.

More color and inflection were needed in the rest of that big ensemble that closes Act III. The women's and children's choruses needed more lilt than what they achieved, and Rovaris failed to sufficiently build to the scene's shattering climax.

I felt no reservations at all about Mark Delavan, who sang and acted Iago impressively. Delavan moved nimbly and dominated the stage, even more remarkable because he underwent meniscus surgery after suffering an injury in the dress rehearsal. Delavan carried a cane in case he might need steadying, but he barely needed it at either performance. At the October 6 Otello, Delavan twirled the cane like a virtuoso. His performance that night had even more spirit than on October 3, and certainly more than on the opening night, October 1, when he sang Iago from a wheelchair.

Positioning the crowd

Even if you closed your eyes, there was plenty to admire in Delavan's singing "“ a smooth legato, delicacy of grace notes and ringing high tones. Margaret Mezzacappa, as Emilia, showed the results of her good training at the Academy of Vocal Arts.

The sets and costumes, as well as Desdemona's medieval-styled hair, were beautiful and convincing. Robert Driver's direction moved the characters into proper prominence amidst the crowd scenes; he was especially adept at positioning Otello, Iago and Cassio in the scene with the handkerchief, where Otello thinks he sees proof that his wife cheated on him.

One unusual touch: In the opera's final minute, the kiss motif returns in the orchestra and Otello reaches out to give the murdered Desdemona one final kiss. Driver directed it so the dying Otello cannot drag himself close enough to do so. He dies, aptly, unable to deliver that final kiss.♦


To read another review by Dan Rottenberg, click here.
To read another review by Robert Zaller, click here.