Customer Reviews

Thomas Adès: The Tempest

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Ades has composed some truly wonderful music, and while there are certainly beautiful solos for all of the cast members, it is in the ensembles that his true gift shows. The writing proved both passionate and compassionate, though I feared for Miss Seiden in her exposed relentlessly high tessitura a couple of times, but she was magnificent. The final scene had me smiling through tears - which is how I like my operas to end!

Ades score could not possibly more different - in every regard - from his breakthrough opera, "Powder Her Face" (which I love for entirely other reasons). I heard strong influences of Birtwistle (especially in the brass writing - some wonderful special note sliding effects that in and of itself adds an almost Shakespearean sound quality difficult to describe in words (but I know it when I hear it!).

I find just a bit of amusement in that while Ades is composing music of such lyrical beauty not too many decades ago, composers like Gian Carlo Menotti were berated and raked over the coals for producing scores that didn't sound "modern enough." Things do go in cycles, don't they.

During the world premiere of the work an intermission feature (which I wish were present in this recording as an "extra") I had to laugh as various members of the production team mentioned how there were no modern operatic versions of "The Tempest."

"Well, Germany produced a number of attempts . . . Mozart was interested in the libretto, but never lived long enough to be able to set it." Etc., etc.

I guess being on the other side of the pond, the English can be forgiven for not being aware of Lee Hoiby's glorious treatment of "The Tempest" which is enjoying a new lease on life and has recently been revived, and available in recording as well.

Mr. Ades was lucky in his cast - every role seemingly written for whomever went on to sing it. This is true nowhere more than in Simon Keenlyside's powerful turn as Prospero; it is an absolutely stunning performance. Ian Bostridge, a singer I never fully warmed up to in the past, was heartbreakingly and entirely believable as Caliban.

A wonderful effort and successful effort by all accounts and very highly recommended.

The only thing wrong with this wonderful release is the fact that a video version exists and this is just audio. I saw a production in Santa Fe and was knocked over. Still, if you can only listen, this is the way to do it. From the first notes, the most noticeable thing about the music is how beautiful it is. Not the "new" Romantic safe let's-just-write-like-they-wrote-in-the-past kind of beautiful, but a modern use of Twentieth Century tonalities. Each Act has a definite shape, almost symphonic in its formal dimensions (you hear more of this the more often you listen to it.) But it seems flexible and mercurial and magical, like the play it derives from. No, it's not Shakespeare's verse. It's Meredith Oakes' rhymed verse BASED on Shakespeare. Once you stop trying to make it something it's not, you succumb and it's a joy to hear how the music fills out the libretto. It may not be genius, but the music makes its case because of it, not despite it. And what great music! Really. Lovely. Full. Rich. Complex, multi-layered (literally and figuratively.) Written for music lovers with knowledge and love of the past century. The performances could hardly be bettered. Simon Keenlyside is a Prospero of one's dreams. As my live experience made clear, this is not an easy sing. But you would never know it from Keenlyside's performance. And Cyndia Sieden as Ariel and Ian Bostridge as Caliban are his marvelous partners in magic. You hear this strange one-of-a-kind music and realize the technique required to sing it and you can only be amazed. Every role is cast like this. A "miracle" of casting that so infrequently happens, especially with such a large cast. Even the voices that are merely functional as sound are brought to musical life by great musicianship. Chorus and Orchestra of Covent Garden under the composer are magnificent. Such a pleasure. Buy this now.

Ades's reputation had preceded him so fulsomely that I was drawn to attend the U.S. premiere of "The Tempest" in Santa Fe, which substantially duplicated the original cast at Covent Garden, and I later followed this up by attending a revival during the recent Ades festival in London. He is the cynosure of every eye, without a doubt, attracting the cream of London singers and musicians. On both occasions the audience seemed engrossed (admittedly, the Covent Garden ticket prices were at a special huge discount). The staging in both opera houses was strikingly hyper-modern, full of gimmicks, machinery, and color. Ades's talent for theatricality seems unstinting.

The opera has a tremendous deficit in Meredith Oakes's clumsy doggerel verse libretto, which makes matters worse by cribbing phrases from Shakespeare but otherwise wanders off on its own. In the same vein the Hamlet opera by Ambroise Thomas contained attractive music and a simulation of Shakespeare's plot line. That's not enough, and yet Ades relies essentially on the same strategy. Britten had the courage to set A Midsummer Night's Dream to the verse form which it cannot be severed, and The Tempest deserves the same respect. The gimmick of using a stratospheric coloratura for Ariel blotted out every word she sang, and Ian Bostridge's naked Caliban defies credibility -- has anyone ever thought that this drunken, anarchic child of nature was a lyric English tenor? It's painful to hear this great poetic creation whine, "You scorn me, you spite me, but you used to like me," to which Prospero banally replies, "Mind your place." Yipes.

All of the detriments made me impatient with the opera, but I made an effort to take the music on its own terms.
When embedded in a staged production, Ades's score works dramatically to paint vivid scenes. Even there, the effects are hit and miss. Propsero is given a strong line, both musically and dramatically. It's not exactly right to make him a bare-chested hunk, but oh well. Calibana's growling underpinnings in the orchestra are telling. On their own, shorn of stage action, many of Ades's musical inventions feel like time-filling, adept as they are. His great gift for orchestration never fails him. Even as the vocal line mindlessly jumps from interval to interval, the glittering accompaniments keep the ear entranced. I must say, however, that when heard nakedly, Ariel's high-flown lines are mostly irritating.

In the end, this was a theater piece as much as an opera. That's a good thing, of course, but it gets more dubious when the theatrical effects are more than half the achievement. I suppose we must consign Ades's "Tempest" to the same category as the operas of Philip glass, which are unlistenable off the stage. Ades's score isn't unlistenable. It contains many striking episodes, yet I wonder how many listeners are making it form beginning to end of this recording with undiminished delight?

This is simply awful. And I'm a huge Ades fan. heard all his concerts here in NY the last 4 or so years, his solo recital at Carnegie was one of the best I've ever heard and I've heard live Horowitz, Serkin a/o, am going twice to hear his Piano Concerto with NY Philharmonic in January.

Bit this is terrible. Opera he can't write, but neither can anyone else anymore. This is not as bad as Adams' Dr. Atomic, and I'm huge fan of Adams....Sorry, but opera in late 20th century or early 21st can't be someone carrying on a conversation with static Straussian harmony behind them. Ades, like Adams can't write a singable melody. no shame, it's just that this stuff doesn't work anymore which is why people go to hear Boheme or good old Wagner, Verdi, Mozart, Bellini,a/o.

I have listened to this recording over and over and over. It just gets better. As the libretto, sometimes hard to decipher at first, gets familiar, the story and its emotional impact become deeper. Shakespeare's play (always my favorite) appears here in its most magical, most heart-rending, and most delicious retelling. I can't imagine a more perfect cast of singers for this composition.

I will definitely like the product once I receive it - so far I haven't. Please forward it to me, it's been a while since I ordered and paid!

At once the situation is described as Hell and the characters as devils. This diabolization of the situation is original to this opera. Prospero and Miranda brings up the vengeance based on the rivalry and even strife between two brothers, Prospero and Anthony. The music is both dramatic and violent though Prospero gets to a calm and soothing tone at the end to pacify Miranda, but when Ariel brings some erratic and very sharp, unstable, chaotic and shrill vocal effects. Caliban next is another story. Caliban tries to save Prospero and his voice is fuller and deeper than Ariel's, his vocal effects more balanced, nearly pacifying in the fear or awe they express and Prospero has to be forbidding and condescending to send Caliban away, as if he were shaming him in his desire to save him and Prospero calls Ariel again. Prospero wants to have Ferdinand brought to Him by Ariel who resists this idea and then nearly mourns about what he is going to do in a newly acquired vocal depth, in slower, longer notes, less shrill too. Ferdinand appears then, a survivor from the shipwreck and he sounds rather disoriented. And he discovers and meets Miranda who herself discovers what a man looks like and she is moved in her sexual emotions, just as much as Ferdinand is about Miranda. Prospero then comes in and expresses his desire to get avenged but Ferdinand expresses his desire for Miranda who is trying to pacify her father. The strife is expressed by the singing one on top and over the others in this section. Prospero calls for Ariel who is confused and divided between Prospero and Miranda, as well as Ferdinand he had saved after all. The second act takes us to the survived court on the island after the shipwreck. They believe Ferdinand is dead and they show their divided beliefs and loyalties. A real eruption of hatred and fear and greed. That's when Caliban comes in and he tries to plead with them into some kind of peace but they mock him and try to make him like a foolish monster. When Ariel arrives the court literally explodes into some kind of totally disorganized behaviour. And then Caliban pacifies them with a sound and calm long aria with a prediction of a wealthy and comfortable future. Caliban tries to get some kind of alliance with the surviving court against Prospero who stole his land and his kingdom. He describes Prospero has some kind of dangerous magician, if not a sorcerer. But Sebastian rejects him as a liar and a drunk monster and Gonzalo and the Court promise to go and find Ferdinand though the King of Naples does not believe Ferdinand is still alive. Ariel is leading the King of Naples and Gonzalo in their looking for Ferdinand. Caliban stays behind with those who do not believe Ferdinand is still alive. Prospero in an aside curses them into getting insane. But Caliban suggests Stefano gets Prospero's daughter, marries her and helps him Caliban recapture his kingdom. They don't believe him. We then shift to Ferdinand enslaved and tied down by Prospero. Miranda wants to help but she wants to know if Ferdinand loves her. Ferdinand declares his love. She tells him her name and the loving bondage is tied up. The duet there is magic in many ways with a light nearly bucolic music that evokes peace and satisfaction, happiness and stability. And Prospero concludes that second act with his defeat because he cannot fight against his own daughter, when moved by love and love is stronger than his own force moved by hatred and vengeance. The third act starts with the drunk Caliban, Stefano and Trinculo. Stefano is already celebrating his taking Miranda, nearly by force, and becoming the next king by killing Miranda's father. During that time Ariel is reporting the state of the rest of the court, weak and lost, wasted by Ariel who made them err around. Sebastian and Antonio are plotting together to seize the crown from Gonzalo appointed by the old king. That's when Prospero and Ariel provide them with some banquet. Gonzalo describes the world he wants to build, peaceful and satiated in all its needs and yet no trade and no engines. The plotters make fun of this idealistic vision. Ariel comes to haunt and accuse them with their primal crime: banning Prospero and causing what they think was his death. Their old guilt immediately comes back to the surface. It is Prospero's triumph. Prospero has had his vengeance and he is going to get his kingdom again, says Ariel who disappears, with the promise to destroy the whole world. That's when Caliban arrives and demands Prospero's daughter. Prospero refuses and Miranda too. Prospero appears to the court and reveals himself. The King of Naples begs for forgiveness now his son is dead. But Ferdinand appears and tells his father he is married to Prospero's daughter Miranda. The duet then is absolutely celestial and heavenly. A perfect union in which the King, Prospero and Gonzalo join. Prospero provides a new ship with a little of magic. It all ends with some Italian unity between Milan and Naples. Prospero has to forgive and accept to go back to Milan. He breaks his magic stave and Ariel leaves him. And Caliban recuperates his kingdom while Ariel stays here too, in the wings. Thomas Adès has slightly simplified Shakespeare's play and has more or less made it in a way a distant relation to Faustus, some kind of alternative ending to Marlowe's version and Goethe's Second Faust with a moment of grace when everything goes back to normal in real life and not in some fantasized world. The music is there to accompany the tale, quite often a background accompaniment that stands in contrast with the voices.

Dr Jacques COULARDEAU, University Paris 1 Pantheon Sorbonne, University Paris 8 Saint Denis, University Paris 12 Créteil, CEGID