Jennifer Larmore

For his first opera production, Dario Fo, the theatre director known for his brilliant wit, chose to stage Rossini's Il barbiere di Siviglia for the Netherlands Opera. First mounted in 1987, it was a huge success and a live recording of its revival in May 1992, the 200th anniversary of Rossini's birth, has been made. Fo has said that 'Rossini is the musician of eating and love. He composes music rich in herbs and aromas, in which you find olives, tomatoes, fish, grapes, roses and rosemary, sheets and tablecloths, dry wine and the laughter of girls.' His 'Barbiere' is a joyful carnival. During the overture he fills the stage with carnival revellers and immediately the commedia dell'arte origins of opera buffa are restored.

In an audio recording, the distinctive quality of this Netherlands Opera production of The Barber of Seville would go unnoticed, and a lot of people might like it better without pictures. The singing is first-class, with a pert, smart, visually appealing Rosina (Jennifer Larmore), a Count who can spin out bel canto melodies and also do a good drunk scene (Richard Croft), and a Figaro with lots of personality (David Malis). Conductor Alberto Zedda is an expert in the music of Rossini, but video reveals that, for better or for worse, this Barber of Seville differs radically from other treatments of Rossini's comic masterpiece… –Joe McLellan

Arthaus presents a production of Rossini’s L’Italiana in Algeri by renowned opera stage director Andrei Serban and conducted by Bruno Campanella from the prestigious Opéra National de Paris.
The excellent cast of singer-actors was led by international mezzo-star Jennifer Larmore who, with her unaffected contact with the audience, beautiful voice and excellent acting, is central to this staging. The American singer has acquired a reputation as a Rossini specialist, and is no stranger to inventive stagings of the composer’s comedies…

For one of Bellini's less popular works, I Capuleti has seen a remarkable number of recordings, with some of the starriest stars in the operatic firmament taking part. A self-recommending and self-damning bastardized version from the 1960s in which the role of Romeo was transposed from mezzo to tenor (by Claudio Abbado) can still be found with Giacomo Aragall as Romeo, Renata Scotto (or Margarita Rinaldi, in another pirate) as Giulietta, and Luciano Pavarotti as Tebaldo. Muti's set with Gruberova and Baltsa manages to be both exciting and sterile at the same time, a couple of other entries have come and gone (where is the Sills?), and the only competition for this current release is RCA's with the marvelous, expressive Vesalina Kasarova as Romeo and the pretty, fragile Giulietta of Eva Mei. But for my ears, this one, handsomely led by Donald Runnicles, takes the lead.

This latest version of Gluck’s masterpiece is something of a double hybrid: its starting point is the Berlioz version, which combines what Berlioz regarded as the best of the Italian original and the French revision (and using a contralto Orpheus), and then it is modified further, with a number of reorderings and some music restored, as well as revised orchestration. It isn’t very ‘authentic’, in terms of Gluck No. 1, Gluck No. 2 or Berlioz, but that of course doesn’t much matter as long as it works.

Bianca e Falliero has enough fine music to get the blood boiling, the toes tapping, and the hands clapping. It is strong in rhythmically exciting pieces and showy, virtuosic singing, both of which are in ample supply in this performance. Jennifer Larmore gets through Falliero's music with incredible aplomb and a truly handsome tone. Majella Cullagh's Bianca is just as technically fine as Larmore's Falliero, and she, too, pays close attention to expressing her predicament. Contareno, Bianca's cruel father, is sung by the exciting, accomplished tenor Barry Banks, who seems to understand that Rossini occasionally uses high notes and difficult roulades as expressive weapons. The others in the cast don't let us down. David Parry conducts with an inner tension that keeps the listener riveted. (Robert Levine)