In review: Danielle de Niese and Julius Drake

Review

The pair gave us songs by Wolf, Bizet, and Grieg. A personal favourite of ours, the Wolf songs were where Drake sang the most. His playing guided us through these densely packed songs, noting every subtle detail in Wolf's writing without belabouring. De Niese was funny, touching, and real, and Drake pulled off the "bad violin" gag in "Wie lange schon war immer mein Verlangen" from the Italienisches Liederbuch.

In review: And London Burned

Review

It was the stories of the Londoners, represented by Gwilym Bowen, Aoife O'Sullivan, and Andrew Rupp (who also sang the Duke of York and Dryden), that earned even more fear than the tale of the fire itself; they were the horrifying story of *people* during a disaster. There were the carters who inflated their prices to evil proportions; there were those who wasted time blaming the fire on sin or the Dutch or the year 1666; there were looters, racists, and useless officials. It's terrifying to consider, in a disaster, how a city is at the mercy of its citizens.

In review: Jamie Barton at Wigmore Hall

Review

Barton's big smile is infectious, and her singing is totally satisfying. She left us heavy in our seats during Brahms' "Unbewegte laue Luft," and Dvořák's "Songs My Mother Taught Me," and she seemed to be making a good case for a definitive performance of Turina's Homenaje and the Sibelius songs.

In review: Dido and Aeneas

Review

Speaking of the Ballet, this is some of the most athletic dancing I've seen them do yet. An actor friend of mine once described period dancing as "just fancy walking". This is proof of the opposite. The lines, shapes and footwork were energetic, clean, and emotionally executed. For once I found the ladies large skirts accented and enhanced their choreography, rather than getting the way of me enjoying their fancy footwork.

Jaw-dropping: The Nose at ROH

Review

The Nose - particularly in Kosky's production - is truly an ensemble opera, and every single detail felt part of a curious world, one hard to describe, yet perfectly recognizable. The dancers, the Royal Opera House chorus, even the curious balalaika player in exaggerated traditional costume - it was completely, delightfully, ridiculous.

In review: The Pearl Fishers at ENO

Review

The ENO Chorus had a busy night, and they delivered solid, precise crowd scenes, full of sparkling individuality. With the booming James Creswell as Nourabad, they created a world that drew us in. Under maestro Roland Böer, the ENO Orchestra had a lush, rich sound; at times it overpowered, yet perhaps it was only a problem for the orchestra-level seats.

Thrilling nights: Boys of Paradise

Review

The contemporary story of highs and lows is smartly encased in the very old story of the Phoenix, where Twink embodies the bird who is reborn out of his own ashes. Boys of Paradise could have been an opportunity for camp, shock value, and lame attempts at drug and sex imagery; yet there was something ironically polished about this dirty, uncomfortable story that allows the audience to sympathise, judge, and experience catharsis all at once.

Ariodante, or the Hebridean Handel

Review

As Dalinda, Ambur Braid delivers the most nuanced and moving performance. As the meek and quiet and withdrawn maiden, you're drawn in to her from the moment the curtain rises. Then she sings, and she pours every ounce of Dalinda's yearning, innocence, and devotion into every note she sang. She had the remarkable ability to blend into the scenery and be all you can see at the same time.

Review: Sondra slays in Bellini masterwork

Review

Obviously, Canadian-American soprano sensation Sondra Radvanovsky knocked it out of the park. The instrument is astounding, the acting is on point. Watching Radvanovsky sing this role is guaranteed to remain a highlight of the season, not just for me, but for Toronto as a whole. I could go on and on (and on), but the only way you're going to understand is really to get your butt down and hear it.

"A dove, as you know, is respected."

Review

At the back of the Natural History gallery, soprano Christine Buras was found in pigeon-like garb, curiously inspecting the listeners with twitching movements and unsettling direct eye contact. The story unfolded of a pigeon, whose feet had been cruelly severed by "country folk," and put "in the pockets of farm boys," as a good luck charm.