Aikaisemmat tuotantoarvostelut
2For no other opera is the gap between scholars and public opinion so wide. Since 1876, when Amilcare Ponchielli’s La Gioconda debuted at La Scala in Milan with a success of unheard-of proportions, every time this drama is set up in some Italian theatre, its popular fortune is renewed. Yet also the diffidence of the musicography in this colourful work, taken from Angelo, tyran de Padoue that Victor Hugo had written forty years before, remains unchanged. Nevertheless, audiences are subjugated by the opulence of the music of this small-town grand opera, which is not devoid of sections of undoubted effect and a wise musical construction. The problem is that in La Gioconda the characters have minimal psychological depth, being more like the representation of extreme feelings rather than credible dramatic characters. <i> The Mona Lisa </i> © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni The Gioconda © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Only part of the plot of Hugo’s historical drama is respected by the librettist Arrigo Boito, who identified himself as Tobia Gorrio in this work. In his convoluted verses and in Ponchielli’s music the main protagonist is the city of Venice, “great and terrible, full of darkness, where one does not die on the scaffold, but disappears” in the Orphan Canal or in the Dead Canal. Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni A director of La Gioconda today can choose two antithetical approaches for its mise en scène: either a parody of the story by staging “something else” (one wonders what Claus Guth or Krzysztof Warlikowski or even Damiano Michieletto might do with this plot!) or a traditional interpretation, a postcard design of Venice. Federico Bertolani doesn’t choose the first way, but takes into account the increasingly limited theatre budget with a simplified staging purified of tinsel and papier-mâché. Andrea Belli’s scenery tended to hint at rather than to describe the lagoon city: the water element was always present – even if from the stalls the spectators could not notice it, were it not for the light reflections and the splashes. Wooden walkways formed the scenery of Acts 1 and 4. A mast, two sails and ropes were the brigantine on which not only Laura’s perdition took place in Act 2, but also Gioconda’s transformation into a vindictive female. This was not the only conversion: she then became a compassionate woman and finally a martyr. Act 3 was less effective: the Ca’ d’Oro was made up with too many red drapes that conflicted with the ugly, translucent plastic sheeting that elsewhere was effective in hinting at the liquid element of the city. What’s more, forcing Laura to lie a good half hour stretched on her catafalque covered with a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramatic point of view. Conductor Daniele Callegari reinstated all the pages of this complex score, even those that are traditionally cut. He delivered an infectious performance, underlining the dark and sombre moments, but also not skimping on the sound volumes when necessary, without ever prevaricating on the singers. Too bad that the three intervals diluted the dramatic tension and made some spectators go home after more than four hours of the performance. The total of 60 minutes of intervals for the changes of an essentially minimalist scenery seemed hardly justified. Saioa Hernández (La Gioconda) and Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Saioa Hernández (La Gioconda) and Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Gioconda has three climaxes in the opera: the duet with the rival Laura, the moment of the excruciating “Suicidio!” and the final scene. In all three Saioa Hernández showed great temperament and vocal technique along with a particular, powerful timbre that makes her suitable for this repertoire. The other highlight of the evening was the character of Enzo Grimaldo, here sung by Francesco Meli whose characteristic commitment was appreciated by the audience, which responded with thunderous applause. Great experience and temperament are Anna Maria Chiuri’s talents and, despite some harshness in the low register, she effectively portrayed a tortured Laura. Giacomo Prestia’s performance as Alvise Badoero was generous , even if his bass is a bit worn. After his treacherous Giovanni in Marco Tutino’s Two Women, Sebastian Catana returned to another villain; his Barnaba a sort of Iago whose perfidy here was even stronger. The rest of the supporting singers and the two choirs were equally good. Sebastian Catana (Barnaba) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Sebastian Catana (Barnaba) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni The choreographer Monica Casadei and the company Artemis effectively performed the famous “Dance of the Hours”, a naive concession to the conventions of the Transalpine grand opera of the time. In the small space between the chorus and the orchestra pit, only six dancers illustrated with apt movements the gears and the hands of a clock in the the galloping and frisky themes of this page, whose character is totally remote from the nocturnal and mysterious atmospheres of the rest of the opera. <i> The Mona Lisa </i> © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni The Gioconda © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni La Gioconda in Modena: an ever popular provincial grand opera For no other work is the gap between the opinions of critics and the public so clear. Since 1876, when Amilcare Ponchielli's La Gioconda was presented at the Scala in Milan with a success of unprecedented proportions, every time this drama is staged in some Italian theater its popular fortune is renewed. But the reserves of the musicography on this strongly colored feuilleton from Angelo, tyran de Padoue that Victor Hugo had written forty years earlier also remain unchanged . The public is however subdued by the opulence of the music of this grand-opera of the province of skilful musical construction which is not lacking in pages of undoubted effect. The fact is that the characters of La Gioconda they have a minimal psychological depth, being more than anything else the representation on stage of extreme feelings rather than characters with credible dramaturgy. Only in part the plot of Hugo's historical drama is respected by the librettist Arrigo Boito, who signed Tobia Gorro here. In his refined verses and in Ponchielli's music the main protagonist is the city of Venice, "great and terrible, full of darkness, where one does not die on the scaffold, but disappears" in Canal Orfano or Canal Morto ... The director of La Giocondatoday he has two antithetical ways of staging before him: either a parody of the story by staging "something else" (who knows what Claus Guth or Krzysztof Warlikowski or Damiano Michieletto would do with it!) or a completely traditional setting with a Venice as a postcard as a scenography. Federico Bertolani does not choose the first way: his is a mise-en-scène in any case simplified and purified of trappings and papier-mâché that takes into account the needs of increasingly limited budgets. In Andrea Belli's scenography, more is hinted than describing the lagoon city with water as an ever-present element, even if the spectators of the stalls hardly notice it were it not for the reflections of light and the splashes. Wooden walkways form the rooms of the first and fourth act; a tree, two sails and ropes form the brig on which Laura's perdition and the transformation of the Mona Lisa into an avenging woman takes place - but it will not be the only conversion: she will then become merciful and finally a martyr. Less effective is the scene of the third act, the interior of the Ca 'd'Oro, made with too many red drapes that contrast with the ugly translucent plastic sheets that in the other acts effectively hint at the liquid element of the city. The fact that Laura is then forced to stay a good half hour lying on her bier covered by a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramaturgical point of view. interior of the Ca 'd'Oro, made with too many red drapes that contrast with the ugly translucent plastic sheets that in the other acts effectively hint at the liquid element of the city. The fact that Laura is then forced to stay a good half hour lying on her bier covered by a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramaturgical point of view. interior of the Ca 'd'Oro, made with too many red drapes that contrast with the ugly translucent plastic sheets that in the other acts effectively hint at the liquid element of the city. The fact that Laura is then forced to stay a good half hour lying on her bier covered by a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramaturgical point of view. The conductor Daniele Callegari restores all the pages of a complex score, even those that are traditionally cut at the second and fourth act, and gives a captivating reading, emphasizes the crepuscular moments, but does not skimp on the sound volumes when necessary, without never overpower the singers, however. Too bad that the three intervals dilute the dramatic tension a lot and make the spectators go home after more than four hours. The total sixty minutes of intervals are not justified for the changes of an essentially minimalist scene. There are three culminating moments in Gioconda's character: the duet with rival Laura, the moment of the excruciating «Suicide!» and the final scene. In all three Saioa Hernandez showed great temperament and vocal technique together with considerable sound volume and a particular timbre that makes her suitable for this type of repertoire. The other highlight of the evening is the character of Enzo Grimaldo, supported here by Francesco Meli whose usual commitment the audience appreciated with abundant applause. Great experience and temperament are the qualities of Anna Maria Chiuri who, despite some harshness in the low register, effectively outlined a suffered Laura. Alvise Badoero's tools by Giacomo Prestia were a little worn, his performance was generous but tired. One more role fromvilain for Sebastian Catana, who after the perfidious Giovanni de La ciociara by Marco Tutino plays the part of Barnaba, a Jago whose perfidy here is even more unreasonable. Good the rest of the supporting actors as well as the choirs. Monica Casadei with the Artemis company has effectively solved the famous “Dance of the Hours”, a naive concession to the needs of the transalpine grand-opera. In the small space between the choir and the orchestral pit the only six dancers illustrated with movements alluding to the movements of gears or those of the hands of a clock, the galop and the lively themes of this page whose character is totally detached from the nocturnal and mysterious atmospheres of the rest of the 'Opera.
A revival of the 1993/94 Gilbert Deflo production of Rigoletto is enjoying a sweeping success at Milan’s Teatro alla Scala, where baritone Leo Nucci interrupted a long standing tradition, and encored the duet ‘Sí vendetta’ at the end of the second act, together with soprano Nadine Sierra. This gave rise to long discussions in the local media and among opera fans: as is well known, several conductors at La Scala have discouraged encores, starting with Toscanini. Muti had the same approach, even though he himself encored the chorus ‘Va pensiero’ in a Nabucco performance in 1986. That was the last encore heard in a Verdi opera and, notably, it was not by individual singers. Only Juan Diego Flórez encored the aria ‘Ah mes amis’ in Donizetti’s La fille du régiment in 2007 (but it would have been an exception for him not to encore that aria). The ongoing discussion had aroused the audience’s expectations, and at the second performance there were pressing requests for encores addressed to Nucci as early as the first act, along with much applause throughout. At the end of the second act, the curtain fell. Nucci and Sierra remained on the forestage and again decided to repay their fans’ appreciation: they quickly consulted with the maestro and the general manager with a simple eye contact and encored the duet, to the audience’s enthusiasm. Nucci has sung Rigoletto about 500 times and the baritone is by now a leading exponent in this role and identifies with it completely. At his side, American soprano Nadine Sierra, making her company debut, was a compelling Gilda: her youthful looks and her lightly colored voice proved especially appropriate for the naive and idealistic young daughter of the hunchback (who, by the way, did not have a hunch in this production). Tenor Vittorio Grigolo was the Duke. This singer can rely on a sizable voice, evenly colored throughout the range, with long breaths and good technique, but unfortunately his taste leaves much to be desired, and so does his discipline, as he often did not comply with the conductor’s choice of tempi. Bass Carlo Colombara, making his role debut, was a good Sparafucile, while mezzosoprano Annalisa Stroppa's small voice made her barely audible during the third act quartet. The classic sets and costumes by Ezio Frigerio and Franca Squarciapino offer a visually convincing setting for the action, and have the merit that they follow strictly the libretto. It is not easy to bring something new to the conducting of Rigoletto at La Scala, but Nicola Luisotti’s reading of the score was refreshing, and his brisk tempi captivated the audience. At the end, all the singers received a tribute of applause, especially rich for Nadine Sierra, and with a real triumph for Leo Nucci.
