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| Dmitri Hvorostovsky with the CSO | ||||||||||
| August 5, 2002 | ||||||||||
| The Chicago Sun | ||||||||||
| BY Wynne Delacoma | ||||||||||
| 'He's doing a Pavarotti,'' said a woman in the large, ecstatic audience Saturday night in the Ravinia Festival's pavilion. | ||||||||||
| Music Director Christoph Eschenbach had picked up his baton, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra had struck a few Neapolitan-sounding chords and the evening's star soloist, baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky had launched into the first of his two encores,"O sole mio.'' | ||||||||||
| A Pavarotti signature tune, maybe, but the resemblance between the two stars ended there. First of all, Hvorostovsky showed up as announced. Secondly, he took on the kind of extra musical load that Pavarotti, who has phoned in his share of performances in recent years, wouldn't begin to contemplate. The Siberian baritone was supposed to share the stage with Karita Mattila, a Finnish soprano and the talk of the opera world, who would be making her Ravinia debut. Mattila canceled due to illness, though she hopes to sing her scheduled solo recital at Ravinia on Wednesday. Hvorostovsky filled in the gaps generously, adding three arias to the three he had already prepared. Mattila is a major talent, one Ravinia audiences should hear sooner rather than later. But the evening of Tchaikovsky, Rossini and Verdi arias from one of opera's most riveting stars left no cause for complaint. | ||||||||||
| After a dozen years on the international scene, Hvorostovsky is quite simply everything a discriminating opera lover could ask for. Trim, with a cascade of snow-white hair, boyish smile and languorous eyes, he is that operatic rarity, a truly sexy-looking leading man. An understated, compelling actor, he commands the stage whether as Tchaikovsky's arrogant young Onegin or Verdi's elderly, judgmental Germont. | ||||||||||
| Most important, of course, is his voice, which has become an instrument of extraordinary color and seemingly limitless technical ease. Hvorostovsky's sound has a rich, velvety depth, but the voice is also flexible with a youthful bloom in the top register. Few baritones spin a lyrical line as seamlessly or to greater emotional effect. In Onegin's despairing aria from the final scene of Tchaikovsky's "Eugene Onegin,'' he was a rapt figure, unfurling the lush, melancholy vocal line with a passion that allowed no room for rest or breath. In "Pieta, rispetto, amore'' from Verdi's "Macbeth,'' he was alternately fierce and agonized, a highly complex character created in the space of a single aria. | ||||||||||
| In a brief change of pace, Hvorostovsky and Eschenbach had great fun with the jolly, self-admiring patter of Figaro's "Largo al factotum'' from Rossini's "The Barber of Seville.'' Striding onstage with a barber's towel slung over his arm and a bottle of water that he handed to Eschenbach after taking a swig, Hvorostovsky's Figaro was a man with places to go and people to meet. The aria was a late addition to the program, and the singing was little rough in spots, but aided by the CSO's relentless hectic nudges, Hvorostovsky's Figaro had irresistible verve. | ||||||||||