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Wexford’s Enduring Magic: Opera, Friendship and Celebration Wexford
National Opera House
10/25/2026 -
Franz Lehár: “Lippen schweigen” from Die lustige Witwe [1]
Gaetano Donizetti: “Ah ! mes amis, quel jour de fête !” from La Fille du regiment [2]
Jisoo Lee: Ariryo [3]
Richard Wagner: “Dich, teure Halle” from Tannhäuser [4]
Traditional Armenian song: Qani vur janım [5]
Cole Porter: “Well, Did You Evah” from Du Barry Was a Lady [6]
Pietro Mascagni: Serenata “O Lola ch’ai di latti la cammisa” and Intermezzo from Cavalleria rusticana [7]
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: “What Is Our Life? A Game!” from The Queen of Spades [8]
Alfredo Catalani: “Ebben? Ne andrò lontana” from La Wally [9]
Richard Rodgers: “Some Enchanted Evening” from South Pacific [10]
Gioachino Rossini: “Don Basilio! Cosa veggo” from Il barbiere di Siviglia [11]
Giacomo Puccini: “Addio, dolce svegliare” [12] & “O soave fanciulla” [13] from La bohème
Georges Bizet: “La fleur que tu m’avais jetée” from Carmen [14]
Giuseppe Verdi: “Libiamo ne’ lieti calici” from La traviata (finale)
Leyla Gu [9, 12, 13], Sophie Gordeladze [4], Hanna O’Brien [1] (sopranos), Hilary Ginther [11, 12] (soprano, mezzo-soprano), Sebastian Mach [2, 11], Igor Onishchenko [8, 13], Taras Prysiazhniuk [14], Sean Tester [6], Yu Shao [7, 12] (tenors), Stefan Astakhov [12], Gurgen Baveyan [5, 11], Jolyon Loy [10], Rory Musgrave [1, 6], Fraser Robinson [11] (baritones), Jihoon Kim [3, 11] (bass), Nate Ben‑Horin [1, 3], Giorgio D’Alonzo [9, 11‑13], Fraser Hickland [2], Pantesilena Jaho [10], Ellen Jansson [7], Christopher Knopp [4, 6], Ella Nagy [7], Liuba Orfenova [8, 14], Orlaith Sharkey [7], Rebecca Warren [5] (piano)
Nausikáa Maldari, Veronica Morello, Miryam Tomé (dancers), Luisa Baldinetti (choreography) [7]
Rosetta Cucchi and Marty Whelan (hosts)
(© Padraig Grant)
Wexford Festival Opera has made its name by rescuing operatic rarities from undeserved obscurity, but its annual gala serves an altogether different purpose. Eschewing the unfamiliar titles that constitute the festival’s principal raison d’être, it offers a succession of celebrated arias, duets and ensembles, interspersed with operetta, musical theatre and other lighter fare. This is, in part, an expression of gratitude towards the local community, whose steadfast support is indispensable to the festival’s survival and flourishing. There is something particularly endearing about this aspect of Wexford’s identity: an institution internationally renowned for its artistic ambitions remains conscious of the people whose loyalty sustains it.
The evening’s hosts were Rosetta Cucchi, the festival’s artistic director, and Marty Whelan, the familiar Irish radio and television personality. Cucchi explained that the selections had been made by the young singers themselves. The result was a programme that allowed them to step beyond the demands of their festival assignments and display other facets of their artistry. Such freedom is welcome, although a singer’s personal predilections do not invariably coincide with the repertoire best suited to his or her vocal and stylistic attributes. The evening offered ample evidence of both possibilities.
Hanna O’Brien and Irish baritone Rory Musgrave opened with the duet “Lippen schweigen” from Lehár’s Die lustige Witwe. It was charm personified, delivered with just the right measure of elegance and affection, without lapsing into excessive schmaltz. Musgrave, who had already distinguished himself as Don Pedro in Balfe’s The Rose of Castille and Mr Astley in Prokofiev’s The Gambler, possesses the stage presence and acting ability to make an impression well beyond the purely vocal. Here, partnered by O’Brien, he demonstrated a welcome aptitude for the lighter Viennese repertory.
Sebastian Mach, the Polish tenor who had appeared as Ermanno in Rossini’s L’equivoco stravagante, was less convincingly cast in Donizetti’s “Ah ! mes amis, quel jour de fête !” from La Fille du regiment. His technical accomplishment was evident in his negotiation of the aria’s notorious high notes, and the audience responded enthusiastically to this familiar showpiece. Yet the performance remained stylistically unpersuasive. Mach’s voice lacks the warmth and Italianate quality that would lend the bel canto writing its requisite suppleness, while his Italian diction had already proved less than idiomatic in the Rossini opera. French, a language whose demands on the singer are hardly less exacting, proved an even greater obstacle: his diction was decidedly poor. Although the top notes were forthcoming, their arrival alone could not compensate for the absence of stylistic refinement. Mach has good looks, stage presence and considerable acting potential; one hopes that further attention to diction and a more judicious choice of repertoire will allow his evident assets to develop to their fullest.
A very different impression was made by Jihoon Kim in Ariryo, a popular Korean song. The choice suited his deep, virile bass admirably, allowing him to draw upon the warmth and authority of his instrument without the stylistic constraints imposed by the operatic repertory. The song’s appeal brought to mind “Ol’ Man River” from Kern and Hammerstein’s Show Boat, another number whose emotional weight depends upon a voice of ample depth and unforced dignity. Kim invested the piece with an affecting personal warmth.
Georgian soprano Sophie Gordeladze, whose portrayal of Polina in The Gambler had been one of that production’s revelations, chose Elisabeth’s “Dich, teure Halle” from Wagner’s Tannhäuser. It was an inspired decision. Like Polina, Elisabeth is a character whose inner life must emerge through more than overt vocal display; Gordeladze possesses the psychological sensitivity to suggest that interiority without sacrificing the music’s expansive lyricism. The aria also demonstrated the breadth of her vocal range and the security with which she negotiates its demands. Her accompanist, Christopher Knopp, deserves particular mention. The Canadian pianist served as music director for this year’s Stanford opera, Much Ado About Nothing, as well as last year’s Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Zemlinsky’s The Dwarf. In these operas with elaborate orchestration, he demonstrated his ability to evoke an entire orchestra from the piano. His sensitive support of Gordeladze was entirely in keeping with that accomplishment.
Armenian baritone Gurgen Baveyan is a singer to watch. His appealing virility and dark‑hued instrument are matched by an exceptional dramatic instinct. Having impressed me as Harlekin in Ariadne auf Naxos in Vicenza in 2024 and in recital in Pesaro the following year, he proved equally persuasive as Buralicchio in Wexford’s L’equivoco stravagante. Few singers encountered in recent seasons possess such an instinct for brûler les planches: Baveyan has the rare ability to command the stage through sheer theatrical vitality. For the gala, he chose “Qani vur janım”, a traditional Armenian love song. Though unable to understand the words, I found the performance profoundly moving. The contrast with his portrayal of Rossini’s prickly, vain and thoroughly ridiculous Buralicchio was striking. Here was a singer who could set aside comic exaggeration and reveal a more intimate, lyrical sensibility. Such versatility, supported by an unmistakable dramatic gift, makes Baveyan an especially compelling artist.
Cole Porter’s “Well, Did You Evah”, from Du Barry Was a Lady, provided another welcome change of register. Sean Tester and Musgrave brought considerable charisma to this witty duet, whose success depends as much on timing and personality as on vocal accomplishment. Tester had already stood out as Brian, the opera‑loving gay office clerk in Alberto Caruso’s The First Festival, where his natural stage presence and sweet, distinctly coloured lyric tenor made an impression. He and Musgrave clearly relished Porter’s urbane repartee, demonstrating that a well‑judged excursion into musical theatre can be every bit as effective as an operatic showpiece.
Dance has been another notable component of Wexford’s productions this season. The choreography in Mascagni’s Iris, enhanced by acrobatic elements, was spectacular, while the dancing in The Gambler contributed significantly to the production’s dramatic atmosphere. The festival paid tribute to this contribution by inviting Nausikáa Maldari, Veronica Morello and Miryam Tomé to perform to the Intermezzo from Cavalleria rusticana. Their appearance was accompanied by Yu Shao’s rendition of the opera’s Serenata, “O Lola ch’ai di latti la cammisa”.
The Paris-based Chinese tenor had impressed the previous day as Gianni, the womanising and thoroughly obnoxious tenor in The First Festival. He brought a comparable seductive flair to Mascagni’s Sicilian serenade, lending the music an apt regional inflection. Shao understands the theatrical implications of the repertory and knows how to exploit his stage presence. His performance provided an engaging musical counterpart to the dancers’ contribution.
Igor Onishchenko, one of the two tenors undertaking the taxing role of Alexei in The Gambler, chose Hermann’s “What Is Our Life? A Game!” from Tchaikovsky’s The Queen of Spades. The choice was psychologically apt: Hermann, too, is consumed by gambling, and Onishchenko appears particularly drawn to characters whose obsessions eventually overwhelm them. The aria allowed him to explore the dark dramatic territory with which he has become associated at Wexford. It also provided a welcome reminder of the festival’s capacity to bring its performers together in repertory that resonates across otherwise disparate productions.
Jolyon Loy, the Irish-English baritone who portrayed Kyoto in Iris, offered one of the evening’s more intriguing contrasts. On stage, he had made Kyoto a menacingly sinuous presence. His rich, dark timbre gives the character a predatory quality, more threatening than warmly seductive, and he moves convincingly from smooth persuasion to open intimidation. It was refreshing, therefore, to hear him in Richard Rodgers’s “Some Enchanted Evening” from South Pacific. Loy possesses a virile, handsome baritone and a natural gift for phrasing, qualities that allowed him to reveal the charm beneath the menace. He made the song sound genuinely inviting rather than merely declamatory, and his performance suggested a promising affinity with repertoire that demands both vocal richness and an instinct for seduction. One would welcome the opportunity to hear him as Don Giovanni.
Rossini’s “Don Basilio! Cosa veggo” from Il barbiere di Siviglia offered a welcome dose of comic relief after the preceding sequence of love, longing and passion. Baveyan once again demonstrated his remarkable versatility, turning his considerable comic gifts to good account in a musical context that recalled his triumph as Buralicchio. Jihoon Kim was equally delightful as Basilio, relishing every moment as the unscrupulous intriguer discovers that he is being outmanoeuvred, only to find that his services may nevertheless be remunerated. Hilary Ginther, Sebastian Mach and Fraser Robinson completed the ensemble as Rosina, Count Almaviva and Don Bartolo, respectively. The quintet’s cumulative theatrical energy provided a satisfying reminder of Rossini’s ability to make musical ingenuity and farcical machinations inseparable.
Puccini’s “Addio, dolce svegliare” from La bohème was among the evening’s most beautiful moments. One of my favourite passages in Puccini’s opera, the ensemble requires an unusually delicate balance between four distinct personalities, each confronting the prospect of separation. Leyla Gu possesses both the vocal resources and the temperament for Mimì, while Shao, having displayed his seductive credentials earlier in the evening, here relinquished them in favour of a sensitive, almost timid Rodolfo. The transformation was persuasive, and the two singers established a touching rapport. American mezzo Hilary Ginther, in the role of Musetta, a light soprano role, brought precisely the temperament required, even if the writing here does not depend on the extreme high notes often associated with the part. Stefan Astakhov supplied Marcello’s virile presence and prickly character, providing a robust counterweight to the more tender exchanges. The result was a well‑balanced ensemble in which the individual voices retained their identities while contributing to a shared emotional trajectory.
One of the gala’s outstanding performances came from another Ukrainian tenor, Taras Prysiazhniuk, in Don José’s Flower Song, “La fleur que tu m’avais jetée”, from Bizet’s Carmen. The Donetsk‑born singer impressed with his command of French vocal style, clear diction and beautiful timbre. Although he chose not to observe the aria’s concluding diminuendo, his interpretation was compelling both vocally and dramatically. One could feel Don José’s desperate passion and vulnerability, qualities that are too often obscured by an overly emphatic approach to this celebrated number. Prysiazhniuk had impressed the previous evening as Alexei in The Gambler. His portrayal of Prokofiev’s protagonist was particularly penetrating: initially poised and seemingly modest, a man conscious of his inferior social position among those around him, Alexei gradually becomes consumed by gambling, with devastating consequences. The psychological progression was subtle, and the eventual collapse all the more affecting for the restraint with which it had been prepared. Prysiazhniuk has the vocal beauty, stylistic intelligence and dramatic insight to make him one of the tenors worth following beyond Wexford.
Both Prysiazhniuk’s aria and Onishchenko’s excerpt from The Queen of Spades were accompanied by Liuba Orfenova, a veteran pianist invited to return for this celebration of the festival’s seventy‑five years. Cucchi recalled having met her when she first came to Wexford. The anecdote encapsulated something essential about the festival: its history is not merely a succession of productions, but a web of enduring artistic relationships. The loyalty of its audiences, many of whom have attended for decades, and the continuing involvement of the local community are equally integral to its identity. Wexford’s atmosphere is welcoming and unpretentious without sacrificing elegance or artistic ambition, a combination that is increasingly precious.
The programme concluded with one of opera’s most beloved love duets, “O soave fanciulla” from La bohème. Gu again demonstrated her suitability for Mimì, combining brilliant high notes with an appealing sense of fragility. Onishchenko was her Rodolfo. The Odessa‑born singer has recently moved from baritone to tenor, and his vocal agility and occasional mellifluousness are not in doubt. There remains, however, a certain hoarseness in the voice, which is less consequential in the dramatically taxing role of Alexei, where psychological complexity can compensate for a lack of vocal polish. Rodolfo is another matter. Vocal beauty, sustained lyricism and an instinctive Italianate manner are fundamental to the character, and Onishchenko has not yet fully acquired the tenor’s requisite qualities. The duet’s final soaring phrases, which ought to have provided an ecstatic culmination, consequently fell short of their full effect. This was a question of repertoire and vocal development rather than a denial of the singer’s dramatic potential.
As is customary on such celebratory occasions, the performers gathered for the final brindisi, “Libiamo ne’ lieti calici” from Verdi’s La traviata. The convivial conclusion was entirely in keeping with the spirit of the evening. One small staging decision, however, was less felicitous: the tenors and sopranos occupied the front, while the mezzos, baritones and basses were relegated to the back. Although the original opera naturally gives prominence to Violetta and Alfredo, a gala celebrating the collective achievements of a festival hardly needs to reproduce that hierarchy. The arrangement felt unnecessarily punitive, especially since several of the evening’s most compelling performers belonged to the latter group. The juxtaposition of the four tenors also made their differing vocal strengths more apparent, with some voices proving less ideally suited to the demands of Italian lyricism than others.
Such reservations did little to diminish the overall pleasure of the occasion. The gala offered an engaging panorama of the young artists who had animated Wexford’s productions, while allowing them to display talents that their respective roles might not always have revealed. Some choices were more judicious than others, but the evening’s strongest performances were genuinely memorable, and the mixture of operatic staples, popular song, musical theatre and dance ensured that the celebration never became merely a parade of familiar numbers.
Ultimately, the gala succeeded because it reflected the qualities that make Wexford Festival Opera distinctive. Artistic discovery remains its principal vocation, but the festival’s achievement rests equally on its ability to foster lasting relationships between performers, audiences and the town that welcomes them. In celebrating seventy‑five years of opera in Wexford, the evening paid tribute not simply to an institution, but to a community whose enthusiasm has helped make its extraordinary undertaking possible. That spirit of continuity, generosity and shared enjoyment was perhaps the most valuable gift of all.
Ossama el Naggar
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