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当人们谈论起芝加哥歌剧院的新制作《莎乐美》时,可以津津乐道于美国著名女高音黛博拉"沃伊特当初因为穿不下导演为角色设想的“小黑裙”而被科文特花园皇家歌剧院除名,也可以调侃一下现代减肥手术的好处和弊端。
It was no surprise that the formerly fat lady sang - and magnificently - in the opening of Richard Strauss' "Salome" at Lyric Opera of Chicago.
Soprano Deborah Voigt is a celebrated Strauss specialist, so her vocal glory was almost a given. But Voigt showed off some considerable acting skill Saturday night, as well; and she also got to dance and disrobe - at least partially.
And even when she died, as all Salomes must, Voigt did so with a difference.
Voigt, 46, has portrayed the perverse biblical teenager before, but only in concert, so her stage debut in the role was highly anticipated. And most of that anticipation had more to do with her figure than with her voice, which was never in question.
Voigt made unhappy headlines in 2003 when London's Covent Garden fired her from a less sexually charged Strauss role because her weight wouldn't let her fit into a dress her character was required to wear. She underwent radical stomach surgery in 2004 and has since lost a reported 140 pounds.
So "Salome" represented both a coming-out and a challenge.
Ever since its debut at Dresden in 1905, "Salome" has been a nightmare for opera casting directors. The title character is supposed to be a teenager, but Strauss wrote the role for dramatic soprano, which is rarely a young woman's voice. And to ride over the composer's large German orchestra, the singer needs almost Wagnerian power, which is usually accompanied by Wagnerian girth.
The relatively slender Phyllis Curtin achieved fame in the early 1950s by being the first Salome in decades who more or less looked the part. And perhaps the most vocally distinguished Salome of the past half-century was the late Birgit Nilsson, who was never suspected of anorexia.
But even Nilsson's legion of devoted fans tend to dismiss her rendition of the crucial "Dance of the Seven Veils" as "a game attempt."
Voigt, however, pushed the dance as far as she could. When she swirled around before English tenor Kim Begley's Tetrarch Herod, Voigt had erotic power, though it was quite crudely expressed at some moments. She really didn't take much off while dancing, but she ended the routine in a flesh-colored body stocking, doing a full-frontal pelvic thrust - albeit through a semitransparent scrim.
Voigt is a far better singer than she is a dancer, but choreographer Jane Comfort did her best to disguise that fact.
Voigt clearly reveled in the physicality of the role. She used her now healthy-looking body to create a convincing illusion of a most unhealthy-minded young lady.
That unhealthiness is important. "Salome" was a shocker in 1905; and in the right hands, which it was Saturday night, it still is. Despite its biblical origins, "Salome" is not family entertainment. The family it depicts would probably be rejected by Jerry Springer or Maury Povich for questions of taste. The background adultery of Herod and his now-wife, Herodias (sung by Canadian mezzo Judith Forst), would be fine. But Herod's incestuous yen for Salome, who is both his stepdaughter and his niece, might be iffy. And Salome's necrophiliac scene with the severed head of John the Baptist wouldn't make the cut at all.
"Salome" has its roots in Mark 6:21-29 (where the depraved Judean princess is never named). But it's filtered through the sensibilities of Oscar Wilde, who wrote the play on which it is based, and of Strauss himself. Wilde, wisely considering the reaction of British censors, wrote his original in French. And although Strauss later mellowed into musical conservatism and subtler story lines, in 1905 he was still in a phase described by H.L. Mencken as "Old Home Week in Gomorrah."
In depicting Salome, Voigt relied on well-chosen movements and the power and subtleties of her voice. She was helped by the psychological skill of Strauss' orchestration, which is thunderous at times, but is pared down to muffled timpani and the skittering of a solo oboe at telling moments.
She made the listener understand her character, and that can be a frightening thing. The audience members shot up at the end for an automatic standing ovation, and they clapped and cheered for 12 minutes before the stage lights were turned off.
As Jochanaan (John the Baptist), American bass-baritone Alan Held was an imposing physical presence and a good vocal match for Voigt, but his dreadlocked wig brought laughter that broke the spell for a moment when Salome was enraptured over the beauty of his hair.
Begley, who was singing his first Herod, did a fine job of bringing out his character's weakness and vanity, and Forst, a veteran Herodias, was hampered only by a silly costume. And young Canadian tenor Joseph Kaiser was affecting as Narraboth, the smitten captain of the guard who kills himself over Salome.
Music director Sir Andrew Davis handled the complex score extremely well, and the expressionist white-muslin sets by designer George Tsypin added to the magic.
But it was Voigt's night.
And to keep the Illinois soprano in the spotlight to the very last, stage director Francesca Zambello changed the ending, when the horrified Herod orders Salome's death. The princess is normally crushed to death under soldiers' shields. But Zambello had Voigt stand alone on stage as the mute executioner strangled her with a rope once used to bind Jochanaan.

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