Past Production Reviews
13Molto curati i ruoli di fianco, che hanno una forte rilevanza drammaturgica e musicale: tra gli altri, il Principe Alexis del tenore Giorgio Misseri, che mantiene Stephana e viene mortalmente ferito da Vassili, motivo poi della condanna ai lavori forzati in Siberia, il mezzosoprano Caterina Piva, la governante Nikona madrina di Vassili che tenta invano di interporsi tra lui e Stephana e, nel cameo del secondo atto il promettente soprano Caterina Meldolesi, la fanciulla in cerca del padre.
davvero eccellenti i comprimari fra i quali bisogna citare almeno i due meno comprimari degli altri, Giorgio Misseri che fa Alexis e Caterina Piva che fa Nikona, la cameriera di Stephana, più Caterina Meldolesi che ha lasciato un’ottima impressione nella scena della Fanciulla del terzo atto, un bozzetto patetico cui evidentemente Giordano non riusciva a rinunciare, quasi un pendant della micidiale sceneggiata della vecchia Madelon dello Chénier.
Ensemblemitglied Josh Lovell wird von Einsatz zu Einsatz besser, sein heller, jugendlich frischer Tenor gewinnt an Durchschlagskraft und Farbigkeit. Als Arturo begegnet er den Hauptakteuren auf Augenhöhe und ist ein nicht unsympathischer, von Enrico auserwählter Bräutigam Lucias.
Vocally, there was a great deal to admire. The opera can hardly be considered anyone’s favourite Verdi, but is certainly a fine vehicle for Verdian voices. Christian Gerhaher, best known for Schubert Lieder and modern works, sang the role for the first time last year, and I felt that – fine as a singer he undoubtedly is – he is not quite right for Simon. Tézier’s rich, deep voice is, however, simply perfect for the role, and each note a feast for the ears. Gerhaher may be the more nuanced actor, but give me the voice each time. Jennifer Rowley continued to impress as Amelia after a slightly bumpy start – top notes spot on. Christof Fischesser was in very fine voice, his low notes always something to look forward to. The strong baritone of Nicholas Brownlee as Paolo added to the excellent vocal mix. Brent Michael Smith as Pietro was a firm bass. The sextet at the end of Act I was glorious.
Marco Armiliato led the Philharmonia Zürich in a very energetic rendition, at times with a heavy hand. This was especially noticeable in the cavatina of the soprano “Come in quest’ora bruna”, where the orchestra “rolls”, imitating the waves of the sea. Here, the result was more a train running over the delicate, sweet rendition of Jennifer Rowley (Amelia). Globally, however, the orchestra was exciting and engaging, with sweeping phrasing and remarkable brass sound.
The pairing of Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci seems to resist any attempt to decouple, which could be a result of clinging to tradition or, more likely, because they really fit well together. The two stories are of similar nature, and they share a musical language rooted in verismo. Conductor Paolo Carignani gave a truthful interpretation of this shared language, leading the Philharmonia Zürich in an emotional, passionate reading of the scores. The chorus in both operas has a very prominent role, and their part is particularly difficult, both vocally and rhythmically. The voices were excellent, showing no strain even in the most arduous passages, but they struggled at times with the rhythm: Carignani had to work hard to keep the chorus at the same tempo as the orchestra. Perhaps this was due to reduced rehearsal time in a reprise; hopefully these snags will be ironed out in the rest of the run.
Wie soll man als Rezensent einen solchen Opernabend würdigen, bei dem Superlative nicht auszureichen scheinen, um den gewaltigen emotionalen Eindrücken, denen man ausgesetzt war, gerecht zu werden? Von den mit bewegender Sensibilität intonierten Passagen der Streicher in der Introduktion zu Mascagnis CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA bis zur erschütternden Feststellung des Doppelmörders Canio am Ende von PAGLIACCI "La commedia è finita!" war man einem bis ins Knochenmark ergreifenden, ununterbrochenen Gefühlsstrudel ausgesetzt, an einem Abend, bei dem einfach alles passte, szenisch UND musikalisch. Grischa Asagaroffs Inszenierung in der Ausstattung Luigi Peregos hat seit ihrer Premiere vor 13 Jahren nichts an Stimmigkeit verloren, ja eher noch an Intensität dazugewonnen. Die genaue Charakterisierung der Rollen, die detailreiche Führung des Chors und das genaue Setting trugen zur überwältigenden Gesamtwirkung der beiden veristischen Reisser entscheidend bei. (Näheres zur Inszenierung kann man in meinen Berichten zur Premiere von 2009 und den Wiederaufnahmen nachlesen.)
George Petean sang mit weich timbrierten und kultiviertem Bariton einen mitreissenden Macbeth, dessen ausgezeichnete Technik und markante Bühnenpräsenz insbesondere in der grossen Szene des Macbeth mit den Hexen im dritten Akt, in dieser Inszenierung als inneren Monolog gestaltet, wahrlich beeindrucken konnte. Auch die grosse Schlussarie «Pieta, Rispetto, amore» schaffte es beinahe Mitleid mit diesem blutrünstigen Charakter zu erwecken.
Côté régie, le célèbre patron de la Komische Oper de Berlin, Barrie Kosky, propose une vision particulièrement sombre et noire de Macbeth, au propre comme au figuré, avec un plateau dénué de tout élément de décor et plongé dans l’obscurité. De simples faisceaux lumineux formant une ligne de fuite vers le fond de la scène, et un abat-jour sous lequel les deux protagonistes se réfugient la soirée durant, sont les seules sources de lumière en même temps que les seuls éléments scénographiques – si l’on excepte quelques chaises qui servent également de perchoir à des corbeaux. Des oiseaux, ou plutôt leurs cadavres, que l’on retrouve sur le corps inanimé de Macbeth pendant que résonne l’ouverture, qui voit aussi une masse compacte de corps nus (les sorcières) émerger des ténèbres du fond de la scène, pour se rapprocher progressivement, à pas lents, vers le héros (photo), et l’engloutir de leurs corps flasques (parmi lesquels de nombreux transsexuels ou personnes âgées). Les chœurs (magnifiques !) sont eux cachés en coulisse, pour mieux mettre le couple damné au centre de l'action, de même que cette masse informe de corps obscènes, que les éclairages de Klaus Grünberg rendent encore plus fantomatiques. Une vision glaçante et mortifère, tout en visions cauchemardesques, qui dit et répand la solitude et le néant.
Bakanova is undeniably the star of the show. Her voice, pure and clean, dips and rises above the orchestra. She exudes a simmering balance of gentility and intensity, weakness and strength. Her dramatization of Violetta is as brilliant and vibrant as her voice, and the emotion she injects into her arias, particularly Amami, Alfredo and the haunting Addio, del passato, is palpable. Ayan, in comparison, is less remarkable, as Bakanova is so mesmerising, but he is also a fine actor and an even better tenor. He is commanding and forthcoming as Alfredo, and perhaps with a little more warmth towards Violetta, the chemistry between the pair wouldn’t have felt as flat in the first act. However, their interactions improve in vigour and sincerity towards the end of the piece, and it becomes devastating to listen as they make plans in vain in Parigi, o cara at the end of the third act. Baritone Nicola Alaimo as Giorgio Germont sometimes goes unheard beneath the orchestra, while Doctor Grenvil (David Shipley) performs his few lines with surprising power and clarity. Designer Bob Crowley’s set is simple and understated, and not at all overbearing. During the final act, the wide-open space and Parisian shutters, with peeling walls of washed-out grey make the perfect space for Violetta. The lighting design by Jean Kalman is stunning, from the ominous shadow cast over Giorgio during the second act, to Violetta’s apartment awash with blue light as silhouettes of carnival revellers are seen passing by outside. La Traviata is so tragic it is almost painful, but in the most exquisite way. The tale of a fallen woman, struck by an incurable affliction in the prime of her life, is sure to pull at your heartstrings. If you’ve never been to the opera, as I hadn’t before seeing La Traviata, then I whole-heartedly recommend it. It’s grandiose, it’s a spectacle, and the cast and orchestra are obviously sublimely talented. Don’t be put off by the running time of three hours and forty-five minutes, as it’s all over far too quickly. This production of La Traviata is tender, heart-breaking, and simply beautiful.
Kristina Mkhitaryan, appearing in Zurich for the first time, is an exquisite Violetta. She turned Hermann’s portrayal into her own; she was desperate to host a party in Act I without cracking up, she was taken aback by Liparit Avetisyan’s Alfredo as he offered unwelcome and genuine love, and she was launched into brief and nescient bliss in Act II in her untenable household. Be it said that Mkhitaryan’s topmost coloratura flirted with harshness on this evening, and that her ‘Sempre libera’ high E flat was ever so briefly pinged before she eagerly descended back to safety. Yet even would-be blemishes served her portrayal – more vocal confidence would have undercut her Violetta’s uncertain rage and tantrums. (This Violetta hits on waiters at her banquet when confronted with her implicit demise.) Mkhitaryan is otherwise sumptuous: lithe Italian, mature control of dynamics, and a way of inhabiting each line and phrase, giving it all real meaning. She managed to deliver three distinct stages of life over three acts by means of subtle stylistic variation. Do I have to mention how hard that is?
