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Bel canto Candies Rather than Musical Caviar New York
Alliance française
07/23/2025 - & July 26 (Lanaudière), 29 (Toronto), 2025
Gioachino Rossini: Tancredi: Sinfonia – Aureliano in Palmira: Sinfonia & Scena, arie e cabaletta di Arsace: “Dolci silvestri orrori... Ah! Che sento... Non lasciarmi in tal momento” – Il viaggio a Reims: Act 3 Finale
Giuseppe Nicolini: Traiano in Dacia : Aria di Decebalo: “Ah se mi lasci o cara” – Carlo Magno: Scena e rondò di Vitekindo: “Ecco o numi compiuto... Ah quando cesserà... Lo sdegno io non pavento”
Paolo Bonfichi: Attila: Scena e cavatina di Lotario: “Qual mi circonda e agghiaccia... Dolenti e care immagini... Vedrai quest’anima”
Pierre Rode: Concerto for violin n° 1 in D minor, op. 3: 3. Final (Polonaise)
Niccolò Antonio Zingarelli: Giulietta e Romeo: Overture
Saverio Mercadante: Andronico: Cavatina di Andronico: “Dove m’aggiro... Era felice un dì... Sì bel contento in giubilo”
Franco Fagioli (Counter-Tenor)
Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal de Versailles, Stefan Plewniak (Violinist & Conductor)
F. Fagioli/S. Plewniak(© Buster A. Dog)
“The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung by an Athenian eunuch with the harp.”
William Shakespeare, Midsummer Night’s Dream
“You were wonderful singing my aria. I even think I recognized one or two of my notes.”
Gioachino Rossini, to a castrato soloist in one of his operas.
The Versailles Royal Opera Orchestra gave their preview showing on July 21. Last night, though, they gave their first concert, this in the Alliance française auditorium The contrast was great. One was a quasi-costumed jour de fête ball with a few musical interludes in a tasteful (if gaudy) French department store. The performance last night had a more informal audience, the background of a French Baroque mirrored wall and a two‑hour performance showing off a splendid 18th Century orchestra.
This was an evening without costumes yet the artistry was as sparkling as their bel canto music. While the program didn’t state it (Death of Classical is remarkably parsimonious in their programs), the concert was an homage to one of the illustrious opera castrati of the 19th Century, Giovanni Battista Velluti. No recordings exist (he died in 1861 after 80 remarkable years), but the works sung here showed what must have been a remarkable androgynous artist.
His place was taken here by the Italian counter‑tenor Franco Fagioli, singing Velutti’s golden oldies. Rossini was of course best known, and here we heard the proof. Other composers showed Mr. Fagioli swooping up and down the scale from what seemed to be a high A down to the range of a tenor.
But the Rossini arias had more than gymnastics–even more than the omnipresent crescendos. Mr. Fagioli delivered his torrent of Rossini notes with actual tunes, actual dramatic power.
The other composers here have disappeared into operatic obscurity, like Rumanian teenage gymnasts who disappear a few years after their fame. Obviously the arias are revered by Mr. Fagioli. Such bel canto floridity was marvelous to hear. If only early Italian-opera scholars could remember the notational athleticisms of Nicolini and Bonfichi, we still had the Rossini arias and orchestral works for delectation.
S. Plewniak/G. B. Velluti (© Buster A Dog)
The Versailles Royal Opera Orchestra itself would not have pleased Louis XIV–he slept through operas even by Lully and Charpentier, preferring ballets and dances in which he could participate. But the sounds of the 60‑plus orchestra, founded less than a decade ago, would, one would imagine, have the sounds and excitement of Rossini’s Naples pit‑orchestra.
Not radiant or blazoning, but with all the bass drum oop‑pah‑pah, solo winds and a lively note‑perfect string section.
Then we have conductor Stefan Plewniak, the apotheosis of an early 19th Century leader. No baton for him (was he fearful of Lully’s stick‑infected death?), no tux or suited. No, Mr. Plewniak, dressed in a Mephistophelean black cloak, straggling hair and beard, lifted his orchestra into the spirit of bel canto.
The Rossini overtures were exciting enough. But when Mr. Plewniak took up his fiddle for a concerto by one Pierre Rode–a contemporary of Paganini, a favorite of Beethoven–his bow and fingers did all their work.
Like the castrato arias, this was music for wonderment rather than philosophical meandering. But one can’t play or hear Bach and Mozart every night. So if Mr. Plewniak gave us candy rather than caviar for a midsummer Manhattan evening, the luscious ultra-honeyed taste more than sufficed.
Harry Rolnick
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