Verdi - Don Carlos (Vienna, 2020)

Giuseppe Verdi - Don Carlos

Wiener Staatsoper, 2020

Bertrand de Billy, Peter Konwitschny, Vera Nemirova, Michele Pertusi, Jonas Kaufmann, Igor Golovatenko, Roberto Scandiuzzi, Malin Byström, Eve-Maud Hubeaux, Dan Paul Dumitrescu, Virginie Verrez, Robert Bartneck, Johanna Wallroth, Katie La Folle

Vienna State Opera Live - 4th October 2020

Don Carlos, the full Five-Act French version, is probably Verdi's most ambitious work, and if it was never quite a success its flaws only add to its fascination. In the right hands those flaws don't necessarily need to be weaknesses, and like much mid-period Verdi, with judicious cuts, good singers and some creative directorial ideas, the genius of the work is very much in evidence. Unfortunately if you don't have one of those elements, or indeed all of them, you're in for a struggle with this work. With this Vienna State Opera production of the full-length French version of Don Carlos clocking in at 5 hours including intervals, it's a glorious epic nonetheless even if it seems that the director Peter Konwitschny does more to highlight the opera's flaws than find a way to make them work.

Even so, I wouldn't say that the Vienna production is a struggle by any means. It's got a cast that is hard to fault and a conductor and director who should be capable of bringing fire to the work, but rather than seek to mitigate against or even exploit the works flaws, somehow Konwitschny just seems to emphasise them. What is most evidently lacking however is any kind of central idea to give it purpose, drive, energy and momentum. It has moments of excitement, mainly due to Verdi's scoring and the inner fire of the work that still smoulders, but you're left with the feeling that it should be so much more. That however is a not an uncommon feeling to have with Verdi operas of this period.

It's not as if there is any shortage of themes to latch onto in Don Carlos; love versus duty, personal lives and public faces, honour versus betrayal, family, friendship, politics and religion, war and peace, wielding power over a kingdom but having no control over human feelings and emotions. Any one of these can be expanded upon and Verdi provides the means to do so with stirring music that has strong dramatic drive and character definition, even if it's perhaps not always the most subtle. The opening Fontainebleau scene in this version can provide vital context for the love that Don Carlos has for his "mother" that Verdi melodramatically characterises as incestuous, but here it feels long drawn out and emotionally distant, Byström and Kaufmann failing to igniting any genuine passion. 

Subsequent acts show little of interest or imagination, the background is plain, costumes are traditional style, the whole things very monochrome. A tree planted at Fontainebleau remains lit throughout at front of stage, a symbol perhaps of a new life, the potential of a new beginning, one that may be closer to nature, but the tree and idea never really takes root - which may be the intention. There are a few curiously exaggerated nods and winks to the audience, particularly in the dead Charles V disguised as a monk, but there is also a lot of just plain bad acting, particularly on part of Kaufmann. Don Carlos needs control, direction and purpose to find a way through the abundance of themes and personalities, and notwithstanding the strengths of Verdi's score, it just won't work if it doesn't have adequate dramatic conviction to support them.

If there's little evidence of a directorial hand in the first half, the production shows a little more ambition after the interval. Unfortunately those are more in the nature of little touches rather than serving any grand scheme or purpose, as if to give the audience a moment's respite from the heaviness of the melodrama. This is particularly evident in the French version's unfamiliar and rarely performed ballet sequence. Entitled Eboli's Dream, it takes a more modern outlook, updating the setting to a comfortable little mid-twentieth century home. Eboli is a pregnant wife cooking for her husband Carlos when he returns home tired from work, getting ready for a little family dinner party with in-laws, the king and queen. It's played mainly for laughs, Carlos is tired and clumsy, the cooking is inevitably a disaster and they have to order in pizza. It's quite silly, but a welcome change of tone and it's always a treat to have the ballet music included in Verdi's French operas.

What Peter Konwitschny brings out then is not so much the dramatic character as emphasise the dramatic colour of the work, which being a French Verdi opera has all the range and ability of the composer in it. It may not necessarily make the best use of it, and it rather demonstrates that it is hard to match the drama with the music without it appearing very heavy-handed. Colour there certainly is though, even if some of those touches often feel distracting. In the context of a mostly through-composed opera, the Spanish colouration of the music in the friendship of Carlos and Rodrigo (and its maudlin reprises), the Andalusian gypsy music of Eboli's Veil Song and even the ballet, all feel like crowd-pleasing filler playing to convention rather than making any meaningful contribution to the drama. All are enjoyable in their own way and the production at least seeks to include them for that.

Another of those breakaway moments occurs when the opera is taken out into the foyer of the Vienna State Opera for Verdi's big choral auto-da-fé set piece, with an announcer, a film crew and photographers following the action. The heretics, looking like staff of the opera house or formally dressed members of the audience, are rounded up and beaten. Again, this is very much playing to the colour of the piece rather then illustrate it with any meaningful dramatic context. For Act IV's "Elle ne m'aime pas" ("Ella giammai m'amò" in the Italian) it's made clear that Eboli has obviously enjoyed some revenge sex with Philippe having brought Elisabeth's casket to him, only for the king to regret it the next morning. It adds a little more of a frisson to the king's condition, his conscience spiked further by the arrival of the Inquisitor, who is blind and doesn't see Eboli in his room.

If the dramatic conviction of the opera is lacking, there is at least considerable compensation in the musical and singing performances conducted by Bertrand de Billy. Surprisingly however, despite having sung this role capably before (even if I wasn't impressed by the version I attended at the Bastille in 2017) Jonas Kaufmann appears to be showing further signs of strain. More than any minor issues with the singing, I was more surprised more by his lack of any sense of real engagement with the character of Carlos and his dilemma. You could blame the director (or revival director Vera Nemirova) for that, but either way, the cracks are showing.

Malin Byström is a fabulous singer and you can't underestimate how impressive she is singing a fiendishly difficult role, although ideally a little more force and experience is needed perhaps to really put personality behind Elisabeth. Eve-Maud Hubeaux's Eboli is fabulous, well-sung, showing plenty of personality and character. Michele Pertusi and Igor Golovatenko also give fine performances as Philippe and Rodrigo. No great revelations perhaps but regardless of any minor complaints with the production and performances, the opportunity to hear such an astonishing work performed at this level is always a treat.

Links: Vienna State Opera, Wiener Staatsoper Live

Verdi - Jérusalem (Liège, 2017)

Giuseppe Verdi - Jérusalem

L’Opéra Royal de Wallonie, Liège - 2017

Speranza Scappucci, Stefano Mazzonis di Pralafera, Marc Laho, Elaine Alvarez, Roberto Scandiuzzi, Ivan Thirion, Pietro Picone, Natacha Kowalski, Patrick Delcour, Victor Cousu, Benoît Delvaux, Alexei Gorbatchev, Xavier Petithan

Culturebox - 23 March 2017

Although they are not without their merits, it's becoming clearer to me at least why the revival of Verdi's early operas is usually reserved only for anniversary occasions. It's not so much that they lack the sophistication of the composer's great mature works, since they make up for that in thrilling high drama and are still head and shoulders above much of Verdi's contemporaries and a substantial proportion of the Italian bel canto repertoire that preceded it. The problem would seem to be more that, on the surface at least, there's not much to distinguish one from another. That's certainly true of one of the greater rarities in the Verdi catalogue, Jérusalem, but there are other factors that make its production here at l’Opéra Royal de Wallonie-Liège an intriguing proposition.

To put it crudely and probably not terribly meaningfully, not to mention showing my age with a comparison that is about 20 years out of date, but you could liken the early Verdi as the Oasis to Wagner's Blur. While Wagner experimented to create a new musical voice that contained a sense of national identity and poetry, Verdi was content to stick more closely to the classical model, with vigorous rhythms, crowd-pleasing catchy melodies and not terribly sophisticated lyrics in his libretti. There's not much to tell one piece apart from another, but done well Verdi's method is undoubtedly effective and incomparably thrilling.

So what are the dramatic elements that make up a typical Verdi opera? They often abound in such matters as war or political tensions, some corrupt religious authorities, an old vendetta over a family tragedy, an unjust decision by a ruler, plots and assassinations, an innocent romance that crosses political or social boundaries all related with great revelations, coincidences and cruel twists of fate. All this is musically enriched with love duets, laments, prayers, marches and patriotic choruses. The regular early Verdi opera will have quite a few of these elements. If you're talking about Verdi in French grand opéra mode, well just bung the lot of them in there, add in a few additional large choruses, a long ballet, a drinking song, maybe drop a thunderstorm in there for good measure and retain the option of a ghostly apparition.

If only it were that simple. Jérusalem makes good use of a number of these elements and Verdi scores them well, the composer already having the basis of his successful Italian opera I Lombardi alla prima crociata to rework for a French audience. In reality, Jérusalem would appear to be Verdi operating to ideas yet above his station, but that's not quite fair and the opera is a little more than that. You could even look at Jérusalem as being the first step towards true Verdi greatness. It does represent a development in the composer's style and ability, using more through-composition, showing a stronger alignment of music to character rather than just heightening emotion and dramatic expression, for pacing or simple accompaniment. Composing for the French opera would take Verdi out of his comfort zone and force him to adopt to the expectations of a new and different audience.

And it worked. In terms of French opera, Les vêpres Siciliennes is a little more of an adventurous move away from those more familiar dramatic points, if still not quite making the mark. Jérusalem's plot developments would however resurface in other guises to a much more satisfying result, the pilgrims, a war torn land and regrets over old family tragedies would come up again in La forza del destino and beyond that to Don Carlos, where there is a much more sophisticated blend of plot and characterisation. There's even a hint of Eastern exoticism in Jérusalem that would point the way towards Aida. By this stage, no one could accuse Verdi of being stretched beyond his abilities, so this opera is very much of interest for exploring where those developments arose from and how they compare.

Plot, characterisation and relative musical qualities aside, the true value of any Verdi opera - and part of the reason why even the least celebrated of the early Verdi operas can still be thrilling stage pieces - is in the performance. Often it's only when performed well and the singing challenges are met that the drama really comes to life. The stage design and concept are not so important, and indeed any attempt to derive any deeper meaning, relevance or psychology would not only be superfluous but probably quite ridiculous. The Opéra Royal de Wallonie's artistic director Stefano Mazzonis di Pralafera recognises this, keeps the work grounded in the period and focuses his direction in getting the drama across as effectively as possible. He doesn't quite succeed, but whether that's a failure with the direction or the work itself is hard to say.

Despite all the elements being in place, Jérusalem just never seems to come alive or convey any real sense of urgency. It really does seem like a compendium of conventional operatic tricks and numbers with no real personality behind it at all. Jean-Guy Lecat's set designs are basic and functional, which means they provide a suitably lit and appropriate backing for the scenes in Toulouse and Palestine, but the contrast between them doesn't seem to have any real connection to the characters within these locations. The main part of the stage is necessarily left clear so that the large choruses can take their place, and there is room also for the long ballet sequence that takes up the majority of Act III. These are the kind of constraints that come with Jérusalem (it would be tempting to cut the ballet for example, but that kind of misses the point of performing the work in the first place) and the Liège company just do their best with what they are given.

They put their best efforts and resources however into the areas where it can really count, and that's in the singing and musical performances. If the characterisation is paper-thin in these earlier operas, Verdi nonetheless provides some meaty challenges that put his principal singers to the test. They all come out of that exceptionally well here, showing that there is nothing to fault in Verdi's scoring for the French voice. Marc Laho's Gaston is excellent, demonstrating a beautiful clarity in his enunciation with feeling for the underlying sentiments. He grows in strength too as the opera progresses. Verdi's lead soprano roles are killers and Hélène is no exception. Cuban-American Elaine Alvarez navigates those hair-raising bends in the vocal line well and often impressively. Roberto Scandiuzzi also makes a great impression as Roger, singing the bass role with resonant clarity.

Speranza Scappucci's contribution as conductor is also notable. She strikes what seems to me to be a perfect balance between the rough and ready nature of early Verdi and the growing sophistication of his later works. The musical performance here permits you to hear that growing elegance of melody, mood and through-composed orchestration. It can be heavy when the high drama demands, but there's a lightness of touch there also that recognises that there are individual sentiments involved, even if the characterisation doesn't really go that deep.

Jérusalem is by no means an exceptional work or even an underrated Verdi opera, or at least not different enough for a company to take on its grand opéra challenges when any other early Verdi opera would do. On the other hand, it's certainly not without musical and historical interest, and if the stage production is a fairly indifferent response to an unexceptional drama where it's hard to feel any real sense of personal involvement in its tragedy, the first-rate musical and singing performances here in Liège go some way towards making up for it.

Links: L’Opéra Royal de Wallonie, Culturebox

Verdi - Aida

Giuseppe Verdi - Aida

Opéra National de Paris, 2013

Philippe Jordan, Olivier Py, Carlo Cigni, Elena Bocharova, Lucrezia Garcia, Robert Dean Smith, Roberto Scandiuzzi, Sergey Murzaev, Oleksiy Palchykov, Elodie Hache

Opéra Bastille - 6 November 2013

There's definitely something wrong when you come out of a performance of Verdi's Aida feeling somewhat underwhelmed by it all.  In the case of this work bigger does often equate with better. You wouldn't think that there was much danger of the production design of Olivier Py's Aida for the Paris Opera ever being described as underwelming. Quite the reverse. Pierre-André Weitz's designs filled the huge expanse of the Bastille stage from front to back and even made extensive use of the full height of the stage. More than just grand and epic, the production has a touch of Midas about it, with solid gold temples, columns and objects making an impressive and imposing set. Yet underwhelming it was, a "bling" Aida with no heart of gold.

There was to this end perhaps one crucial thing missing from this production of Aida. Egypt. Attempting to avoid the exotic mannerisms and trappings of the work as a spectacle of accumulated clichés is admirable. Setting it in Verdi's period is not necessarily a bad idea either, since the composer was undoubtedly influenced more by the experiences of his own time than the history of Ancient Egypt, but by looking realistically at the context of Aida the director misses the point of the work entirely. For Olivier Py, it's all about the abuse of political and religious power, it's a diatribe against colonialism and oppression and, indeed most certainly, the images presented here successfully express the striving for enormous power and wealth that crushes finer human sentiments.

Unfortunately, those human sentiments are really what lie at the heart of the work and they aren't given the same consideration in Py's production. Aida is first and foremost a human story, a love story, a tragedy. The rest is just background. The horror of war, the injustice of a cruel regime is certainly there, but it shouldn't dominate. It's hard to compete with all those processions, the spectacle and the choral glorification of nationalistic pride and hatred for the enemy, but the real challenge of staging Aida is to use all that as a contrast to the love story at the heart of the work, and that is indeed what makes Aida great.

It might have helped if you could identify then who exactly was the enemy in this production. An Italian flag is waved at the start during the overture by a defiant rebel who is kicked and beaten by soldiers who are dressed in the more modern military aspect of the French forces in Algeria who wave an Austrian flag. The pomp and ceremony of the Triumphal March is undercut with misplaced Holocaust imagery with the defeated Ethiopians looking like Jewish refugees. The Ku Klux Klan perform the interrogation of Radamès by a burning cross, while the High Priests who pronounce his sentence clearly belong to the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. There's everything here except Egypt, which ironically might actually be more topical considering world current events.  

Admittedly, the set design is hugely impressive. It's a masterpiece of construction with parts revolving and sliding into place, forming temples, altars and raised columns. Everything, even a tank that is wheeled on, looks made of solid gold, attesting to the sense of wealth being aligned with oppression. As you would expect, the spectacle is most pronounced during the Triumphal March, but there is an almost total disconnect between the staging and the actual music that doesn't serve the work well nor effectively get to the heart of sentiments at play. The huge processions are reduced here to a couple performing a ballet, while the whole stage rises to reveal three piles of naked bodies taken from a gas chamber. The whole thing is a mess, leaving the viewer to untangle all the references to colonialism and oppression that just get in the way of the real heart of the love-triangle nature of the story.

The singing at least was very good, but the characters were unfortunately somewhat overwhelmed by the context of the production. Lucrezia Garcia was an exceptionally good Aida in some parts but a little shaky in others, struggling to keep up on occasion with the pace of Philippe Jordan's conducting. Verdi isn't where Robert Dean Smith can be heard at his best, but he was a good Radamès, only being defeated by the scale and emphasis of the production itself. Aida can often stand or fall on the strength of a good Amneris, but Elena Bocharova was unable to make the necessary impact here. Sergey Murzaev's Amonasro give the best performance of the evening - cool, regal and authoritative - but Roberto Scandiuzzi's High Priest and Carlo Cigni's King also gave solid performances. There are evidently few problems casting for voices at the lower-end of Verdi roles.

If the production and performances were overall underwhelming, there was at least some compensation in the punchy musical performance of Verdi's score by the massed orchestra of the Paris Opera under the complete control of Philippe Jordan. The chorus too brought all the necessary impact in all the right places, but neither was well-served by the production design. If anything it just confirmed that you can't mess around with Aida. It may seem direct and full of grand, epic gestures, but there is a delicate equilibrium that needs to be maintained through the balance of the staging and the music. Olivier Py's production doesn't even come close.

Verdi - Aida

Giuseppe Verdi - Aida

Metropolitan Opera, New York, 2009

Daniele Gatti, Sonja Frisell, Roberto Scandiuzzi, Johan Botha, Dolora Zajick, Violeta Urmana, Stefan Kocán, Adam Laurence Herskowitz, Jennifer Check, Carlo Guelfi

Decca

Although there is an intimate and tragic love story at its heart, Aida is set against the exotic background of the Egypt of the Pharaohs, and is full of patriotic, nationalistic sentiments, as the Egyptian army prepare to go to war to fight off a revolt by the Ethiopians. It’s a perfect subject, in other words, for Verdi, and it was undoubtedly the nature of the storyline, much more than any commission for the new opera house in Cairo (which he repeatedly refused) or the grand occasion of the opening of the Suez Canal, that encouraged him to return to opera composition in 1871. This return would herald a new style of opera that we would see from Verdi in his final works, one that is mindful of the innovations introduced by Wagner, but which still retains elements here of bel canto in an opera that is filled with memorable arias and melodies. Despite its setting and the use of exotic Oriental melodies – which really see Verdi at his most inventive and original – Aida is very much an Italian opera, and one that is thoroughly and recognisably a true Verdi opera.

Considering its origins and its setting – whether it was composed for a grand occasion or not – Verdi’s Aida is appropriately stately in its expressions of nationalistic pride and identity, with extravagant marches, battle hymns, ceremonial processions and dances. There’s no point in doing Aida in a minimalist style, as Robert Wilson has done in the past (although it’s certainly interesting to see something different attempted) – this is an opera that just calls out for a grand scale production. If you haven’t got a stage the size of the Arena di Verona, and a director like Franco Zeffirelli to fill it, the nearest grand, traditionally staged Aida you are going to find is this Sonja Frisell production – now over twenty years old – for the Metropolitan Opera in New York.

It’s a big production in every respect – and yes, I include the size of the singers in this – with towering temples, the stage filled with chorus, troops, dancers and well-tanned, bare-chested slaves, even horses and chariots, all arranged in grand ceremonial processions and formations. It’s unfortunately a little too static – an impressive spectacle even if it is a little bit kitsch, but not much thought has been put into the interaction between the main players. They just walk on in most cases, sing their part, and walk back off again. But, this is what you expect of an Aida production – particularly a traditional one at the Met – and really, you’d feel somewhat short-changed if it didn’t have all the other bells and whistles (and trumpets) .

You won’t feel short-changed by the singers here either. Johan Botha is one of the finest tenors in the world, a great Wagnerian heldentenor, which serves him in good stead for this particular Verdi opera. I don’t know about his acting ability – there’s not much required here of Ramadès – but he has an ability to fill his roles with life, principally through the wonderful warmth of tone of his voice. Violeta Urmana is the Verdian soprano of choice at the moment, and she is fine singing the role of Aida, if again there are not any real acting demands placed on her. Dolora Zajick is an experienced Amneris and sings the role well, but does unfortunately look constipated when singing (sorry, but she does). The final duet notwithstanding, Act IV of Aida belongs to Amneris however, Verdi giving her character real depth and human passion, and Dolora Zajick launches into it with relish, making perhaps the strongest impression on the whole production, which is a little lacking in energy elsewhere.

Recorded live for worldwide broadcast in 2009 for the Met’s Live in HD programme, the production looks fantastic in High Definition, is colourful and well-lit. The audio mixes are in PCM Stereo and DTS HD-Master Audio 5.1 and, allowing for one or two minor sound issues with the live mix which is a little bit echoing in places, they both sound fine, the surround in particular dispersing the choral singing well. Extras on the BD include edited-down interviews (I’d have been happy to listen to much more of this) conducted by Renée Fleming with the cast and extras.