IN REVIEW:
FROM AROUND THE WORLD
January 25, 1997
FROM AROUND THE WORLD
January 25, 1997
Taken on its own terms, Roberto
Alagna's voice
is attractive and healthy; while his acting is stiff,
it was hard to resist his youthful high spirits.
is attractive and healthy; while his acting is stiff,
it was hard to resist his youthful high spirits.
NEW YORK CITY
The Met's first L'Elisir d'Amore of the season (Nov. 6) said
much more about Roberto Alagna than his disastrous debut last spring in
La Bohème, and the news is mostly good. Alagna is no more
Italian in style as Nemorino than he was as Rodolfo: his very French tenor
is metallic to the point of glare, and he sings sharp so often that his
vocal method must be at fault. Nor is he a subtle singer: he trundled along
at a comfortable mezzo-forte for pages at a stretch, and "Una
furtiva lagrima" was noteworthy for lack of shading. But taken on
its own terms, Alagna's voice is both attractive and healthy, and while
his acting is stiff, it was hard to resist his youthful high spirits.
Soprano Barbara Bonney, on the other hand, left nothing to be desired as Adina: sweet but not sugary, with high Cs that pinged like bells and a bright, lively presence that caught and held the eye. It was her marvelous energy that caused this Elisir to take wing. As Belcore, baritone Simon Keenlyside (company debut) was right behind her. Though he failed to make a memorable vocal impression (partly Donizetti's fault -- the tessitura is awkward), this Schubert specialist turned out to be a highly accomplished slapstick comedian, and he and Alagna seemed to be having the time of their lives.
Also debuting was Anita Johnson as Giannetta, an engaging beauty with a silvery soprano. Paul Plishka's Dulcamara was decidedly in the Baccaloni manner, and his buffo charm easily overcame the frayed state of his voice. The only weak link was Carlo Rizzi's routine conducting.
TERRY TEACHOUT
While the tenor is the star of Umberto Giordano's Andrea Chénier, the composer's No. 2 work, Fedora, is a vehicle for the soprano and has been popular with artists of the grande-dame school (Gianna Pederzini, Maria Caniglia, Magda Olivero). Singing the title role at the Metropolitan Opera, Mirella Freni brought a special stateliness and taste to her part, matched by the elegance of Plácido Domingo for most of the performances. When Domingo left the role of Loris (to assume Don José in the new Carmen), he was replaced by Fabio Armiliato. The young Italian tenor (seen Oct. 25) might have been more at home with one of the old-school prima donnas, his acting skills and lusty singing sharply contrasting with the cooler Freni. Armiliato squeezed every drop out of his role, the voice alternating a ringing squillo with moments of tenderness and sweetness. Roberto Abbado conducted a fluent, idiomatic performance, and Beppe De Tomasi's staging was appropriately traditional, with some omissions, such as no flowers in Act I.
Following his season debut as Nemorino, tenor Roberto Alagna stepped into the reprise of the company's 1989 production of Rigoletto, as the Duke of Mantua (Nov. 16). He looked properly youthful and charming, but despite his evident vocal suitability, he never seemed quite at ease. The cause of this edginess could be laid partly at the door of Carlo Rizzi, whose conducting was uneven and unhelpful. In the first act he drove "Questa o quella" so relentlessly that any sense of lighthearted song was completely lost ("La donna è mobile" emerged a bit more supple), and the unfortunate laughter that Alagna inserted here and elsewhere sounded forced, nervous, anything but carefree. The tenor will be a fine Duke, but he is not there quite yet.
The duet in Scene 2 had more appeal, thanks also to the secure contribution of Ruth Ann Swenson, a confident, astral Gilda. In Act II, the Duke's cabaletta was cut (Alagna replaced it with another unwelcome bit of laughter). In the quartet, the debuting Robynne Redmon as Maddalena displayed a warm, sultry mezzo, more characterful than her stock acting, while Alagna, Swenson and the solid, somber Juan Pons in the title role blended their voices splendidly with hers.
Meanwhile, across the plaza at Lincoln Center, New York City Opera offered a new Les Contes d'Hoffmann. Offenbach died before completing the opera that he meant to be the culminating serious masterwork of his rich career. His heirs arranged for completion and performance of the score, but more recent scholars, dissatisfied, have been able to examine Offenbach's confusing wealth of manuscripts, conflicting notes and countless other documents. Michael Kaye, after years of thoughtful work, has published the results of his studies, providing a performing score of what he has called the "grand opera version" (seen Nov. 10). Only a fellow scholar with something approaching Kaye's expertise could write usefully about the version; but even to the outsider, some achievements were immediately perceptible. More than additions to the score (new music for the Muse, a recast Giulietta act, and so on), what struck me at once was the difference in hue; this Hoffmann is a darker, even more sinister work than the familiar one, and if perhaps it does not have the same sparkle, it has a new intensity and depth, brought out by the informed, dramatic conducting of Robert Duerr.
The singers (Allan Glassman as Hoffmann, Mark Delavan as the villains, Patricia Johnson as Antonia, Maria Fortuna as Giulietta, Emily Manhart as the Muse/ Nicklausse) were all better than good, with the Olympia of Olga Makarina outstanding, and they worked as a coherent team, despite Beth Greenberg's befuddling direction and the ugly muddle of scenery devised by John Conklin within the framework of the 1978 Ming Cho Lee set. Perhaps some of the clutter can be cleared away before this Hoffmann is revived, enabling the next audiences to concentrate on the freshly fascinating drama.
WILLIAM WEAVER
BALTIMORE
Baltimore Opera's staging of Ponchielli's La Gioconda was a centenary
tribute to Rosa Ponselle, a singer closely associated with the title role
and among the company's founders. Though Ghena Dimitrova produced some
glorious, resonant singing in the title role, she seemed stressed by Ponchielli's
demanding vocal line, and her tendency to scoop up to notes was disturbing.
Nina Terentieva used her full, fluent mezzo and graceful movement in a
perceptive portrayal of Laura, her "Stella del marinar" supercharged
with emotion. On October 10, the rivalry between the two women was intensely
played. Corina Circa sang La Cieca better than she acted her character,
but director Dejan Miladinovic should take part of the blame (he also left
the chorus to founder on its own).
Lacking the dramatic strength for Enzo, Ermanno Mauro gave his music little warmth and grace of phrasing, always displaying a forced edge to his voice. Sigmund Cowan made a frighteningly credible Barnaba, his baritone exuding robust, well-modulated tone. He and Louis Lebherz (Alvise) exhibited mature understanding of word and music, as well as captivating presence.
Anton Guadagno inspired passionate playing from his orchestra but not enough precision, and the chorus sang reliably. The Dance of the Hours was executed adequately in Baayork Lee's choreography. Allen Charles Klein's sets and John Lehmeyer's costumes stressed the "grand" in grand opera, and Donald Thomas' lighting effectively captured the atmosphere of Venice.
SORAB MODI
ORLANDO
It's easy to take Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore for granted, but a thoughtful staging will reveal, not far beneath the surface, a touching tale about the expectations and realities of love. Orlando Opera did so, in a consistently engaging, satisfying production (Nov. 5). Within the picturesque confines of Constantinos Kritikos' unit set, Ken Cazan directed the action with refreshing naturalness. The jokes were neatly timed, and no opportunity for a little shtick was missed, but there was nothing heavy-handed or crude in his approach. Carrying out the deftly detailed, prettily costumed business was a cast offering keen theatrical instincts and unfailing musicality.
As Nemorino, Tito Beltran was a combination nebbish and teddy bear -- one minute painfully shy and awkward, the next nimbly doing handstands. His large, vibrant voice, with an easy, high-wattage top, brought out an intriguing earthiness in the character; it sounded sometimes as if a Turiddu were lurking inside this lovesick bumpkin. His full-out account of "Una furtiva lagrima" was remarkably affecting, even without a soft, melting tone.
Kathryn Gamberoni's Adina was a charmer. Whether she was shooing Nemorino away or trying to rouse his jealousy, her true feelings could be detected as much in her eyes as in her sweetly shaded soprano. She caressed the lines of her Act II aria with exquisite nuance. Justin White's deliciously vain Belcore constantly checked every angle of his sex appeal with a little mirror. Luckily, the characterization never veered over the top, and the baritone's singing had sufficient heft and color. Thomas Hammons made something freshly appealing out of Dulcamara's bluster, in a contagiously waggish performance, backed by sturdy, imaginative vocalism.
The chorus was reliable; for the most part, so was the orchestra. Presiding over the score with minimum fuss and maximum feeling was veteran Anton Coppola, who applied judicious, telling rubato and encouraged the singers to milk penultimate notes of the big numbers (as few conductors today seem willing to do) without losing momentum.
TIM SMITH
SAN FRANCISCO
Forced out of the War Memorial Opera House by seismic repairs for its first season since 1932, San Francisco Opera had the choice of folding its tents or trying to carry on in other local venues. The Orpheum Theater, with its tiny pit (sixty players) but requiring no amplification, worked well for Ambroise Thomas' Hamlet (Sept. 12), Rossini's Il Barbiere di Siviglia (Oct. 10, 11) and Stewart Wallace's Harvey Milk (Nov. 9).
Hamlet was the most successful musically, despite an uninvolved performance in the pit from Yves Abel. Thomas Hampson lacks the febrile edge one expects from a true French baritone, but his prince was handsomely sung and seriously melancholy. Ruth Ann Swenson, the fey Ophélie, offered a touching mad scene, while Judith Forst (Gertrude) and Robert Lloyd (Claudius) were the slightly campy adulterous couple. Gerard Howland's wooden unit set tilted at an alarming angle, suggesting that the earthquake had taken place in Denmark, not San Francisco. Colin Graham directed, and Robert Perdziola supplied ugly Victorian costumes.
Harvey Milk, revised since its 1995 Houston premiere, is still a pièce d'occasion best appreciated by those who lived through the awful days of Supervisor Milk's assassination; it has virtually no musical substance. Thinning the viscous orchestration right up to curtain time, conductor Donald Runnicles did everything to make the piece swing. Repeating their sturdy world premiere performances -- in Christopher Alden's staging and Paul Steinberg's set -- were Robert Orth (Milk), Raymond Very (Dan White), James Maddalena (Messenger), Bradley Williams (Scott), Juliana Gondek (Dianne Feinstein) and Randall Wong (Henry).
Il Barbiere, in John Copley's vulgar conception, was interesting only because of the contrasting casts. On October 10, Jennifer Larmore (Rosina) and Dmitri Hvorostovsky (Figaro) flattened everything in their path with loud, aggressive characterizations. Bruce Ford (Almaviva), John Del Carlo (Bartolo) and Alastair Miles (Basilio) brought up the rear in this coarse, manic performance, complacently conducted by Bruno Campanella. On October 11, Patrick Summers played a different overture, Mika Shigematsu interpolated "Tanti affetti" in the lesson scene, Roberto Saccà made an impressive U.S. opera debut as a masculine-toned but artistically sensitive Almaviva, and Earle Patriarco was the sunny, adorable Figaro.
The Civic Auditorium, with 4,177 seats, a tin roof and creaking risers, required "sound enhancement." The object was to achieve maximum audibility from all parts of the 180-degree thrust stage (and the orchestra above the stage) without distortion. Depending on where you sat -- those closest to the stage seemed happiest -- this ideal was realized about half the time. Often, when singers turned away, their voices went with them, but except for a few isolated incidents, the sound was natural and not overamplified.
Prince Igor (Sept. 6) had a fluid scaffolding (designed by Zack Brown) on which Francesca Zambello mounted a series of epic tableaux right out of Les Misérables. The chorus couldn't stay in phase with conductor Alexander Anissimov (visible to them only on monitors). Bass-baritone Jeffrey Wells (Galitsky) and soprano Lauren Flanigan (Yaroslavna) gave energetic, realistic performances. In the Polovtsian scene, with the dances rearranged to suit Zambello's gory scenario, in which Borodin's clement Khan murders Igor's son (bawled by tenor Mark Baker), mezzo Elena Zaremba vocalized a voluptuous Konchakovna, while Paata Burchuladze (Khan Konchak) made agreeable bass noises, few of them on the correct pitches. Two former Moiseyev dancers -- Badri Esatia and Teimuraz Koridze -- performed spectacularly in Alphonse Poulin's ballet.
More unforgiving than the War Memorial, the Civic revealed its salient artistic feature in Prince Igor. The hall ruthlessly separates great voices from perfectly adequate singers. In Igor, the title role was taken by baritone Sergei Leiferkus in a magisterial display of vocal and artistic puissance. Handsome and commanding, in costumes that made him look like Czar Nicholas (an unneeded historical anachronism), he sang Igor's military music nobly, his love music tenderly and the great aria of remorse with open emotion and glowing tone.
Despite Laurie Feldman's silly concept (a feminist Elsa lives on to guide the fortunes of Brabant) and the raucous, provincial performances of Elizabeth Connell (Ortrud) and Tom Fox (Telramund), Lohengrin should have been better than it was. Runnicles provided lyrical propulsion, but the hall's acoustical handicaps negated Wagner's carefully calibrated sound picture. With no swan to sing farewell to and an incipient throat infection that felled him during the third performance, Ben Heppner still managed a triumphant third act (Sept. 28). His replacement, Swede Thomas Sunnegårdh (heard Oct. 6, Act III only), displayed a bright, strong, Gedda-like tenor and admirable courage, as he didn't know he'd be singing without a prompter or conductor in front of him. Karita Mattila was the radiant Elsa, but Jan-Hendrik Rootering as King Henry and David Okerlund as the Herald were vocally weak.
Lotfi Mansouri's slick Carmen (Oct. 22), in red-scaffolding sets by Michael Yeargan, featured Olga Borodina's first outing in the title role. Every note was perfectly placed, teasing and voluptuous. The Russian mezzo looked smashing in Thierry Bosquet's colorful costumes, danced and even played the castanets. Her French was subtle and seductive. (The Guiraud recitatives were used.) José Cura as Don José made a rough, sexy foil to Borodina's insinuating Gypsy. A good actor and indecently handsome, he proved vocally amateurish and uncertain in pitch, shouting the Flower Song, rawly convincing only in the final scene. Mary Mills sang a conventional Micaela, and Richard Paul Fink contributed an unspeakably smarmy Escamillo.
Howland, saving his best effort for Les Contes d'Hoffmann (Nov. 17), filled the stage floor with a parchment from which rose a huge quill pen, blood seeping from its point. All that open space freed the orchestral acoustics; the sound was natural and well balanced, though Steven Mercurio's flaccid conducting was as out of synch with the stage as any all season. Director Christopher Alden kept Hoffmann (Jerry Hadley) onstage throughout; as a result, the tenor ran out of gas in the final act, but otherwise he sang and acted a lively, appealing poet.
The great performance came from U.S. opera debutante Ruxandra Donose, whose impersonation of the Muse/Nicklausse made one glad SFO had restored her music, while employing the traditional Choudens version of Offenbach's score (orchestration and recits by Guiraud). A clean, vibrant mezzo and slender, animated figure make Donose a natural for trouser roles. Samuel Ramey sang the villains, and Michel Sénéchal chirped the comic tenors. Three different women played Hoffmann's loves -- though he really appeared to be in love with Nicklausse: Tracy Dahl (a sparkly Olympia), Patricia Racette (a passionately deranged Antonia) and Catherine Keen (a blowsy Giulietta). Elizabeth Bishop was the gorgeous voice of Antonia's mother.
STEPHANIE VON BUCHAU
SAN JOSE, CA
Opera San José opened its thirteenth season with the company's first staging of Handel's Xerxes. Its Reader's Digest version of the work -- the September 29 performance lasted only two and a half hours, including a fifteen-minute intermission -- was a big hit with the audience, which began chuckling as characters wandered onto the stage during the overture while projected titles explained their part in the plot. Resident stage director Daniel Helfgot's production was deft, and aside from a few vulgar touches, such as Atalanta shaking her breasts while trilling, appropriate. Joe Ragey's set and Cathleen Edwards' costumes worked wonderfully.
The company cast a tenor (John Bellemer) as Xerxes, originally written for castrato, and a baritone (Nmon Ford-Livene) as Arsamene, originally a contralto. Embellishments were used lavishly, both in the pit and onstage. Even though the singers had written their own stylish ornamentations, mostly the cast sounded as if it was trying to wear a vocal shoe one size too big. The Montgomery Street Theater seats only 549, but most of the singers shouted and blustered, pushing their voices unmercifully. Only mezzo Layna Chianakas as Amastre simply sang, phrasing her music elegantly. Barbara Day Turner, the company's resident conductor and artistic administrator, seldom lingered over the music, and the sixteen-member orchestra often sounded out of tune, especially in rapid scale passages.
PAUL THOMASON
CLEVELAND
Cleveland Opera began its twenty-first season (Oct. 18 at State Theatre) with Gounod's Faust. Director David Bamberger's charming, old-fashioned production emphasized nostalgic romanticism, with plenty of magic tricks but no distracting gimmicks. Méphistophélès flicked small fireballs through the air, and Marguerite slowly ascended stairs to a cloud-filled heaven for a rousing grand finale. The Walpurgis Night and other traditional cuts were observed.
With a black-hued bass, elegant phrasing and exquisite French diction, William Powers dominated the stage as Méphistophélès. A light sense of humor, coupled with Gallic wit and charm, kept this devil buoyant and in control. Joseph Evans' seasoned, dark tenor and stage savvy made Faust romantically engaging. Cynthia Clayton's beautifully intoned Marguerite was no simple village maiden but a truly tragic heroine. Jeff Mattsey used his massive baritone shrewdly, giving Valentin a full, assured sound that was nevertheless touchingly human. Kate Butler sang strongly as Siebel. A languid prelude, a hectic waltz and fluffy forte attacks notwithstanding, conductor Scott Bergeson accompanied his singers with care. The small chorus produced voluminous sound, and clever placement by Bamberger made it look as if there were many more singers.
CHARLES H. PARSONS
CATANIA
Korngold's lush Die Tote Stadt (1920) is not to everyone's taste, and one could argue that the full psychological implications of this story of obsession and hallucination, set in the "dead city" of Bruges, were beyond the grasp of a twenty-three-year-old composer. Though Korngold failed to make the protagonist, Paul, a truly memorable character, the work remains theatrically engrossing from start to finish and makes intelligent use of the expressive potential of the voice. The Teatro Bellini audience responded enthusiastically to this first-ever Italian production of the work (seen Nov. 5).
Conductor Ralf Weikert's reading was assured, idiomatic and unobtrusive; the orchestra seemed to delight in playing it, and the singing was never less than expressive. Finnish tenor Jyrki Niskanen was an outstanding Paul, effortlessly sustaining the high tessitura without sacrificing legato or dynamic shading, and Oliver Widmer made much of Fritz' famous waltz. Cynthia Makris in the double role of Marietta/Marie was convincing in gesture (though the Act I dance did not quite come off) and vocally fluent, in spite of an intrusive wobble throughout the range. Wolfgang Schöne (Frank) phrased tellingly, and Tiziana Tramonti brought quiet dignity to Brigitta.
Giancarlo Cobelli's production, with sets and costumes by Paolo Tommasi, conveyed little sensual abandon at the end of Act I and eschewed any direct evocation of Bruges in Act II but was otherwise cogent and revealing, particularly in the last act, where the religious procession invaded the front of the stage, and Paul's final departure (with his friend Frank) proved poetically uplifting.
STEPHEN HASTINGS
MELBOURNE
Victoria State Opera's season opened July 9 with a spectacular modern musical -- Don Giovanni. Placing it, Broadway-style, in Casablanca in 1940, director Simon Phillips produced a perfect vehicle for newcomers to opera. Ian Aitken's sets adapted readily to the different scenes, and the Bogart/Bergman principals stood out even among the colorful crowds, dressed by Tracy Grant. The statue was called to dine in a packed restaurant, and Zerlina stripped while singing "Batti, batti," seducing Masetto in her bedroom.
The few musical shortcomings included David Kram's careful conducting. And though he was vocally secure, handsome Michele Bianchini seemed far from ready to be a convincing Giovanni. Gary Rowley (Leporello) was indisposed, and as Ottavio, Adrian McEniery had an attack of mal aria in "Il mio tesoro." Of the men, only Nicholas Todorovic, as Masetto, was in fine fettle. All three ladies displayed well-balanced voices, lacking only the finish that more experience will bring. Kate Ladner's Anna was tall and slim, Nicole Youl's Elvira lovely but not quite on the same level. As Zerlina, Alison Rae Jones did not look out of place on top of a grand piano at curtain rise.
Lindy Hume's new Lakmé (July 15) made the old warhorse work to full effect, with two strong principals justifying the money spent on elaborate sets and costumes by Dan Potra. The arrival of the Brits on bicycles was an improvement, but replacing the essential river with a red-brick road made nonsense of "Sous le dôme épais." Jennifer McGregor's splendid soprano seemed ideally suited to Lakmé, and Thomas Randle had the right French timbre for Gérald, along with plenty of power. Ronald Macqueen's Nilakantha was more rough than ready, and young Catherine Carby sang Mallika's duet with Lakmé with pleasing tone. Warwick Stengards conducted idiomatically.
Nicholas Hytner-David Fielding's English National Opera Xerxes found its way to Melbourne on July 27. Conductor Richard Divall did well to give some variety to the work's many repeats. The near-faultless cast boasted Elizabeth Campbell's fine contralto Serse and countertenor Graham Pushee's thoroughly masculine Arsamene. Kathryn McCusker (Romilda) continues to show promise; Rodney Macann sang well and acted Ariodate/Elviro's transvestite scenes hilariously. Sally-Anne Russell's Amastre and Christine Douglas' Atalanta were wonderful.
Michael Edwards' new Aida (Aug. 6) took the middle path between intimacy and spectacle, with only one intermission to break the narrative. Brian Thomson devised a set of small squares with lit centers that enlarged or reduced scenes as wanted, with a minimum of literal Egyptian backgrounds. Not everything worked, but Sue Field's costumes were appropriate, even if a post-Napoleonic feel (Amonasro in uniform) seemed anachronistic. Almost all the cast was up to the high standard set by tenor Richard Margison's seamless Radamès. Lisa Gasteen's Aida moved easily between forte and piano. As Amneris, Bernadette Cullen used her fine, soft-grained mezzo to portray a woman in love, not a virago. Daniel Sumego made an imposing Ramfis, Roger Hall a good Amonasro. Two questions, though: how could the otherwise efficient conductor, Brian Stacey (soon afterward to die in a traffic accident), allow the small but vital part of the King to be sung by a diminutive, small-voiced bass? And why in his program note did Edwards draw a parallel between the death of Aida and Radamès and that of two male lovers dying of AIDS?
VSO's season ended with two Australian firsts -- the world premiere of an opera based on Australia's most famous play, The Summer of the Seventeenth Doll (Oct. 19), and the Hockney-Cox production of Die Frau ohne Schatten (Oct. 10). The latter was imported from Los Angeles for the Melbourne Festival, which issued only ten press tickets for its three performances, admitting all other critics to the dress rehearsal on condition that it not be reviewed.
The importance of Richard Mills' The Summer of the Seventeenth Doll cannot be conceived elsewhere. The fact that no major serious play on an Australian subject was written before Ray Lawler's Doll in 1953 reflects the colonial attitude that native culture could not be better than the imported article, and it was Lawler's play that gave confidence to the now blooming local theater, opera and ballet. Transferring Doll to the musical idiom was not easy, but it was immensely successful. Judicious cuts would make it even better, and chances for revival are excellent.
The story concerns cane-cutters, isolated in subtropical Queensland for seven months out of the year. The other five are spent in rainy Melbourne, where each has a part-time "wife" who loves the arrangement. The tragedy of Doll, the title referring to a toy given each year by Roo to Olive during their seventeen summers together, is that when Roo (because of quarrels among the work gang) proposes full-time marriage, in a beautifully written scene, she rejects him, preferring the excitement of annual expectations of bliss. Librettist Peter Goldsworthy has kept the Aussie slang, occasionally waxing more poetic than Lawler. The work is through-composed, in a non-modernistic way, with lengthy passages of sung speech between traditional arias and ensembles. There are two major finales.
The cast of seven, no chorus, could not be faulted, and though the story revolves around Olive and Roo, this is an ensemble opera, based on an ensemble play. Gillian Sullivan sang well as Olive, and the final dramatic scene with Roo was truly powerful, thanks largely to Gary Rowley's fine acting. Barry Ryan (Barney) and Elizabeth Campbell (Pearl) had the best duet in the score. Eileen Hannan (Emma) joined various scenes admirably as a kind of Greek chorus. The young lovers, Natalie Jones and Nicholas Todorovic, also were fine. Julie Lynch's costumes and Brian Thomson's 1950s set were just right, even if the latter was too antiseptically clean. The composer conducted.
JOHN CARGHER
photo: (Alagna, Bonney) © Beth Bergman 1997
OPERA NEWS, January 25, 1997 Copyright © 1997 The Metropolitan Opera Guild, Inc.