Giuseppe Verdi - Attila
Teatro alla Scala, Milan - 2018
Riccardo
Chailly, Davide Livermore, Ildar Abdrazakov, Saioa Hernández, Fabio
Sartori, Simone Piazzola, Gianluca Buratto, Francesco Pittari
ARTE Concert - 7 December 2018
Attila
is a dog of an opera. You can make excuses for it being an early Verdi
work, full of youthful passion and fury, you can make claims for it
being an expression in defence of national unity and liberty from
foreign oppression, and you can even point to it anticipating Verdi's
great mid period of Rigoletto, Il Trovatore and La Traviata, but at
best Attila is workmanlike and at worst ridiculously old-fashioned.
Other than the fact that it was first performed at La Scala in 1846, I
can see no reason why the Milan house would choose Attila to showcase
their traditional December season opening extravaganza.
Well,
there's one valid way - maybe two - of making it work and possibly have
something worthwhile to put in front of a modern audience. As was
proved earlier this summer with Alzira at the Buxton Festival, even the
crudest Verdi operas can be rehabilitated when they have truly great
singers capable of singing the principal roles, particularly the
extraordinarily challenging writing for the lead soprano role. In
practice this is rare and there are few singers of that calibre willing
to push their voices to such extremes for the sake of a hokey melodrama.
Which brings up the other challenge of making early
Verdi palatable for a modern audience; finding a way of updating the production to make
it relevant and not look like - as is the case with Attila - an am-dram Gothic melodrama in period costumes. Unfortunately, early Verdi rarely
supports any effort to bring nuance or indeed substance to the works.
As
far as the Teatro alla Scala di Milano is concerned however, they wouldn't dare
present such a work without the necessary singing forces on such a
prestigious opening night, even though the brave lead soprano Saioa Hernández taking on the role of Odabella is a complete
unknown to me at least. On the directorial side there's a little more room to risk the
disapproval of a thankfully decreasing but still vociferous minority of
boorish traditionalists at the opera house, and Davide Livermore - who
has produced some imaginative and thrilling work at the Rossini Opera
Festival to showcase the underappreciated value of Verdi's predecessor -
is a good choice that offers some hope for Attila not being a complete
disaster.
The question remains whether Verdi's Attila can
sustain any deeper human sentiments in this context. Based on
Livermore's record it's not likely that he will attempt the impossible,
but you can expect him to at least find a way of illuminating Verdi as
an operatic spectacle. And indeed it soon becomes obvious that
Livermore has dispensed with the heavy fleeces, fur-hats with horns and
the swords and shields for a more recognisable and relatable vision of
war. The director goes for spectacle that includes jeeps, motorbikes
and helicopters (ok, not the last one, but he would if he could) but
also finds a good balance of showing us familiar modern imagery of the
nature of war atrocities without going too far down the Damiano
Michieletto Guillaume Tell route of explicit realism.
Plumes
of grey smoke spiral into dark murderous skies and ruined buildings set
the scene as Attila's Huns overrun the Italian capital during the
Prologue, gunning down ordinary men, women and children in summary
executions. So when Odabella launches into a defiant condemnation of
Attila's brutality against the Italian people, against Italian women
("Ma noi, donna italiche... sempra vedrai pugnar"), you need to see why
she is sufficiently roused, why she might be capable of carrying out her
threats, and why the Hun leader might be impressed enough to spare her a
similar execution. You need to hear it too, and when Saioa Hernández
launches into this opening scene you're left in little doubt of how
formidable this woman can be, particularly when she is facing an Attila
as deeply sonorous as Ildar Abdrazakov.
There's nothing
clever or revisionist or high concept in that, it just matches and
brings into realisation the full force of Verdi's intentions in dramatic
and scenic terms, playing up the Gothic, which is the best you
can do. Addressed to an Italian audience, with its nationalistic
flag-waving in the face of foreign invasion ("la tua patria in cenere" -
your country in ashes) it could be seen as risky in these times of
far-right insurgence (particularly in Italy), but Livermore's vision
(perhaps more than Verdi's vision of noble sacrifice) shows what war
means to the ordinary people caught up in it in terms that we are rather
more familiar with today.
There are plenty of little
touches that keep the drama grounded in this way, with cinematic back
projections showing the death of Odabella's father that chrysalises her
implacable quest for vengeance against the Huns. There is also plenty
of spectacle and fireworks elsewhere in the impressive set designs and
some good ideas that strive to get into the nature of Attila and his
worldview, notably in the visualisation of Attila's dream turning to
reality in Act I, and in Act II's party scene that has some sinister and
decadent 'The Nightporter'-like Nazi imagery. Most of this works as
well as can be expected for an opera like Attila.
The
singing however is just superb. You couldn't ask for better than Ildar Abdrazakov and Saioa Hernández for total assumption of the roles of
Attila and Odabella. Hernández is spectacularly good, nailing an
extremely difficult role. There's still some standing, gesturing and
striking of operatic poses, but the figures they play do often seem
possessed and they try at least to make the Verdi-istic feel a little
more naturalistic, or at least in the spirit of the work. The other
performances are also outstanding; Fabio Sartori is a clarion-voiced
classic Verdi tenor perfect for Foresto, with Simone Piazzola's Ezio and
Francesco Pittari's Uldino also impressing.
Musically
it's another matter, or another challenge if you like. In an interval
interview Riccardo Chailly makes the case for Attila richly showcasing
three musical colours for military scenes, for sacred scenes and for the
supernatural, which sounds like typical Verdi by numbers to me that is
done much better elsewhere. If it's insipid one moment and heavy-handed
the next, Chailly at least tries hard to brings a little more
uniformity and lyricism to the musical arrangements. It doesn't change
my opinion that Attila is weak and démodé, but if anyone can make a case
for it, they'd be hard pushed to improve on just about any aspect of
this impressive La Scala production. A surprising success.
Links: ARTE Concert, Teatro alla Scala
Umberto Giordano - Andrea Chénier
Teatro alla Scala, Milan - 2017
Riccardo Chailly, Mario Martone, Yusif Eyvazov, Anna Netrebko, Luca Salsi, Annalisa Stroppa, Mariana Pentcheva, Judit Kutasi, Gabriele Sagona, Costantino Finucci, Carlo Bosi, Gianluca Breda, Francesco Verna, Manuel Pierattelli, Romano Dal Zovo
ARTE Conccert - 7 December 2017
There aren't too many directors who carry their own guillotine around with them, but for the opening night of the new season at La Scala, Mario Martone came well-prepared. The authentic looking guillotine used for La Scala's new production of Andrea Chénier is the same one the director used for his 2010 film about the French Revolution, Noi credevamo (Frères d'Italie) and most recently it was used in a theatre production of Buchner's Danton's Death that Martone directed.
It's good to be prepared and know your ground when you're embarking on a new production of Andrea Chénier at the same venue where it was first performed in 1896, at a house where it hasn't been performed in 32 years, and for an audience as exigent and demanding as those at the first night of the new season at La Scala. There's nothing wrong then with playing relatively safe with a largely traditional production, as Andrea Chénier is after all rather historically specific. Compared to some recent opening night controversies, a strong cast and spectacular performances at least ensured that it was a memorable evening for the right reasons.
In tune with the work itself, this was very much an operatic evening rather than any attempt to make a political point or director's statement. If there was a large mirrored background on the stage for Act I, it wasn't to reflect the aristocracy in the audience at La Scala as much attempt to draw Giordano's opera in on itself. Gérard mocks the ridiculous figures in static poses and the elaborately ornamented mirrors offer a distorted reflection of the world of the French aristocracy, playing parlour games and unaware of the dark shadows of the lives of ordinary people and servants that lie behind them. Even as word arrives from Paris, they can't see beyond their own distorted view of themselves.
Elsewhere Mario Martone's production refrains from any grand statements or gestures and yet it still seems to be perfectly in keeping with the grand gestures and statements of the work itself. Even with all its elements of self-sacrifice and humanism in the face of terror that lie at the very emotional heart of the work, Martone views Andrea Chénier foremost as an opera and indeed structured as an opera narrative rather than some kind of documentary realism that offers any insight into the nature and behaviour of those caught up in the nightmare of the French Revolution.
Viewing it as an opera above all else and with Riccardo Chially who conducted the last production at La Scale in 1985 again at the helm, the production and the performances consequently bring out the real musical qualities of the piece. And in fact while I often find the first act to be a little too mannered in its exposition, here I felt that this production tied it together much better than many otherwise fine productions I've seen of Andrea Chénier. Act I here doesn't set out to either vilify the aristocracy or seek sympathy for them, nor does it just show their dislocation from reality, but it actually brings together the themes raised in the parlour games relating to poetry and love, and shows them reaching their fullness of expression at the height of The Terror.
If Martone ensured that the production flowed smoothly as an opera, drawing attention to the dramatic focus of every scene perfectly while keeping it grounded in the world around it (and providing good spectacle as well), it perfectly matched the performance that Chially was drawing out of the orchestra. The La Scala orchestra were truly on fire, matching the passions of the work with a dynamic I haven't heard in this work before, alive to its shifts of tone, to the human element as much as the epic historical scale of the opera. The pacing and the balance with the singing and the drama was just masterful, revealing just how well-constructed and composed the work is even beyond its famous arias.
The challenges of the singing however are far from the least important aspect of the opera, and realistically you can't carry this work off as well as this without singers of great experience, talent and charisma. Obviously that's not going to be neglected at such an important event at La Scala, but the casting was not without some prior reservations, particularly at the suitability and capability of Yusif Eyvazov to take on a role as challenging and monumental as the poet Andrea Chénier. If there were some suspicion that he only got the role as the other half of Anna Netrebko, Eyvazov soon dispelled those reservations and proved himself to be worthy of his place in the big league with an exceptional performance here.
So perfectly is Andrea Chénier composed as an opera, that all the moments are there for the taking in each act, and my goodness, Netrebko, Eyvazov and Salsi never missed a trick. The direction of Act II's 'Ora soave' duet might not have revealed any great insights or nuances into character or situation, but it was just great opera and the pairing of Netrebko and Eyvazov revealed its worth. Netrebko was reliably impressive, impeccable in her phrasing and timing of the recitative, and explosive in her arias. Not terribly well-directed, it remained an opera diva performance, but that doesn't mean it was in any way lacking in passion, charisma or dramatic delivery.
Eyvazov however was by no means overshadowed by his wife, giving a commanding performance that was passionate and fully alive to the sentiments of the moment. It was clearly a push in some places, but Eyvazov rose to all the challenges - not least the all-important Act III trial scene at the Revolutionary Tribunal - with wonderful Italianate phrasing. Despite the large contingent of Russians and East Europeans in the cast, it's the emphasis on the Italianate that is ultimately the key aspect that make this production of Andrea Chénier at La Scala nothing less than stunning. That's not only reflected in the performance of the principals, but in the performance of Luca Salsi's Carlo Gérard and right down to Judit Kutasi's viecchia Madelon. There wasn't anything to frighten the conservative elements of the Milan audience here certainly, but there was plenty to impress and the audience responded accordingly.
Giacomo Puccini - Madama Butterfly
Teatro alla Scala, Milan - 2016
Riccardo Chailly, Alvis Hermanis, Maria José Siri, Annalisa Stroppa, Carlos Álvarez, Bryan Hymel, Carlo Bosi
ARTE Concert - December 2016
With all its kitsch Orientalism, do we really expect to find realism in Madama Butterfly? Maybe not in the conventional sense, but there is a kind of realism in how Puccini and David Belasco's original play (based on a true story) recognise western attitudes towards the lure of the exotic East (which includes racist and stereotypical views) and how the incompatibility of those views with the reality can have tragic consequences for both sides. Musically too there have always remained question marks about Puccini's emotional manipulation, so it was going to be interesting to see what would be revealed in the La Scala production of the original two-act version of Madama Butterfly that Puccini quickly abandoned and revised after its failed premiere in 1904. The results are impressive and, for me at least, a complete revelation and revindication of the work.
Latvian director Alvis Hermanis seems to find the perfect place between realism and the ideal in his production for La Scala. It looks traditional in one respect having all the associated imagery and colour we expect to find in Madama Butterfly, with its sliding screens and cherry blossoms, traditional geisha make-up and obis. In the same way that his Jenůfa for La Monnaie in Brussels made use of the imagery of Alphonse Mucha, the director here taps into another authentic source for representation of the place and the period, using photographs from the start of the 20th century as a basis for the costumes and the design. It draws from the very imagery that inspires these idealised and stereotypical views that come out in US naval officer Francis Blummy Pinkerton.
F.B. Pinkerton, in this original version of Madama Butterfly (and often too in the more familiar revised version) is a just as much a vulgar stereotype of the brash American as Cio-Cio San is an idealised western image that persists of the Japanese woman as a fragile, silent, submissive doll. If that's the ideal that Pinkerton wants he can buy it, and dollars are flashed and handed out liberally to everyone who helps him acquire that dream. It's a contractual arrangement to legitimise the more uncomfortable reality that he is buying a 15 year-old girl to sleep with. Regardless of the dressing - and Madama Butterfly is exquisitely dressed here in the gorgeous costume designs - I don't think there's any attempt to hide the true nature of this sordid little set up.
And there's no attempt either in this opera to pretend that such a situation will end in anything but disaster and tears. And tears are always guaranteed by the time we get to the always shocking finale, but Puccini is surely justified in provoking them. At heart Madama Butterfly is not a study of idealism versus reality in a social context nor an exploration of the incompatibility of diverse cultural worldviews, it's a conflict on a more personal level, on a romantic level, between what a man expects out of this unconventional arrangement and how the woman views it. Pinkerton believes that anything of value can be bought, that even nature will bow down to the dollar. Madama Butterfly - despite the superficial adherence to rituals and traditions - shows that the human heart cannot be bought. Putting aside the oriental touches in the music, it's on this level that Puccini's music operates and it hits there at the deepest point.
All of these elements and the deeper implications are brought out exceptionally well in the La Scala production. It's ravishingly beautiful, it satisfies an audience who prefer a more traditional approach, but by playing to those expectations it also highlights the very prejudices that the opera is criticising and fully realises the musical world that Puccini has created for the opera. It's totally involving and enveloping, all the more so for Riccardo Chially's superb musical direction and the quality of the singing, which is of a very high standard right across all the principal roles. Bryan Hymel is still Byran Hymel; wonderfully lyrical, entering fully into the role and taking the high notes gloriously but sounding pushed and constricted when there is more body needed in the lower range. Annalisa Stroppa and Carlos Álvarez are both terrific as Suzuki and Sharpless, showing the value of these roles.
There can be no praise too high to describe Maria José Siri's performance as Cio-Cio San. More than just beautifully sung to meet the exacting standards of the La Scala audience, it was an extraordinarily complete performance that practically lived out the role on the stage. The singing alone is a challenge for any dramatic soprano, but imagine living through the extreme range of emotions that Puccini scores for in such a concentrated, heightened fashion. No soprano experienced enough to sing this role is ever going to pass in appearance for a 15 year old girl, but Maria José Siri evokes the innocence and inexperience of the girl in every expression and in every note, completely assuming the role.
There's the rapturous innocence of Act I, the firmness of her convictions bordering on delusion in Act II, the combination of which leads inevitably to the tragic conclusion in Act III. If you get the first two Acts right, then Act III is going to follow through and hit hard the way it should. Well, it can hardly fail in any case, but it makes all the difference if there is that strength of character and conviction placed behind it. I think you could tell how well Maria José Siri was going to assume that role well before 'Un bel dì vedremo', so there was also plenty of time to prepare yourself for the emotional impact of the conclusion, which indeed is pretty much near devastating.
Of course I'm talking here as if this were the three-Act version of Madama Butterfly, when in reality this production goes right back to the original poorly received 1904 two-Act version. Despite reports of it being extensively revised by Puccini, the original doesn't appear to be significantly different from the more familiar version of the opera as we all know it. The Humming Chorus is still there - not as long I think - as a link between Act II and the concluding scene. I was interested and glad to hear however that its melody isn't there when Sharpless attempts to read Pinkerton's letter to Butterfly. I have never liked it there, feeling it was out of place, particularly as it is so well-known now as a kind of expectant night music or lullaby.
The more significant revisions however are reported to be in the tone of the racism expressed by the Americans and the callousness of Pinkerton. That to me however is more of an issue of interpretation, as I've seen more sympathetic Pinkerton's certainly, but depending on how it is directed Pinkerton can still come across as a heartless cad in the familiar three-Act version. Greater emphasis can also be placed on his willingness to 'buy' a 15 year old girl as a 'bride'. Mrs Pinkerton has a little more of a role in this version, but I'm sure I've seen her role developed before and always thought it was cut according to the production. I could be wrong.
Essentially however, the familiar Madama Butterfly is entirely there in all its ravishing beauty and dark romanticism. Alvis Hermanis's production looks stunning, keeping it traditional and period, with an authenticity in detail and manner and with no small degree of flair. Most importantly, it is utterly perfect in how it presents the mood, the drama, the romance and the tragedy, with attention to the surface impressions and the underlying tensions. If there were every any doubts about the merits of Madama Butterfly as an opera beyond its crowd-pleasing popularity, this production reminds you that it is indeed nothing short of a masterpiece.
Links: Teatro alla Scala, ARTE Concert
Giuseppe Verdi - Giovanna d'Arco
Teatro alla Scala, 2015
Riccardo Chailly, Moshe Leiser, Patrice Caurier, Anna Netrebko, Francesco Meli, Devid Cecconi, Dmitry Beloselskiy
ARTE Concert - 7 December 2015
I suppose it can't be easy for La Scala to aspire to be a modern progressive European opera house and at the same time keep the more vociferous elements of its audience happy. The opening performance of the new season on the day celebrating the city's patron saint is always a useful barometer for measuring where the Milan opera house is going to sit in the coming year and how successful those efforts are going to be. Based on the new production of Verdi's Giovanna d'Arco, with Riccardo Chailly taking over from Daniel Barenboim as principal conductor, there seems to be some measure of compromise involved and a return to the Scala's core Italian repertoire. While there might be a few reservations, it's hard however not to see the big opening night performance as being largely a successful one.
It's probably safest to give the Italian public at La Scala a Verdi opera, but based on last year's Tcherniakov La Traviata, that's not necessarily a guarantee of unanimous acclaim. Rather than beg comparisons with another Rigoletto or La Traviata, La Scala have instead chosen to open the 2015/16 season with of one of the composer's lesser-known but worthy early operas, Giovanna d'Arco, one moreover that was first performed at La Scala in Milan in 1845. If it's done right you're onto a winner and La Scala take no chances here engaging Anna Netrebko, a singer willing and capable of adding another striking Verdi soprano role to her repertoire. It's a role she has sung before only in concert in Salzburg in 2013, but here she performs it on the dramatic stage for the first time. Netrebko doesn't disappoint.
Joan of Arc is one of those challenging Verdi soprano roles that sound amazing when they are done right, but there are few who are capable of doing it with the kind of passion, control and personality that Netrebko brings to the role here. Her deep voice does occasionally sound like it's getting 'woolier', but it's a big and expressive voice that can take on the technical challenges of Giovanna. Netrebko can also throw herself into a performance without putting a step wrong or a note out of place. Her performance here is utterly professional, almost too good you might even think and too smooth in delivery, but no - it's simply superb singing and a fine dramatic performance, no bones about it.
It's by no means a one-woman show however, and there are other significant roles in this opera that are well cast here, with Francesco Meli a wonderfully lyrical Carlo VII, and good supporting performances from Devid Cecconi replacing Carlos Alvarez as Giacomo and Dmitry Beloselskiy as Talbot. It helps that these performances are all complementary, working well with one another and with Netrebko - Meli in particular forming an incredible duo with Netrebko. I wasn't totally sold on the musical performance under Chailly. Musically, it feels a little restrained and this early Verdi could do with a bit more 'letting loose'. I haven't seen any criticism of Chailly elsewhere however, so it's perhaps best not to judge that from the less than perfect medium of a streamed internet broadcast.
Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier production seems to find a good compromise between period and conceptual, but it doesn't work entirely satisfactorily. It's perhaps not the most original way of achieving that, Giovanna here seeming to be a 19th century woman suffering a mental breakdown, identifying in her dreams with Joan of Arc. The idea has merit and basis in the underlying psychology of Joan of Arc, particularly with how it's explored in Solera's libretto based on Friedrich Schiller's drama. The woman/Joan appears to have suffered a trauma, perhaps sexual, and seeks to find empowerment in her dreams of being the religious saviour of her people. Her love for her king is somewhat ambiguous however, and it raises troubling notions of how she can retain her purity and chastity, particularly in relation to her father and society look upon her presumption.
The action then all takes place in Giovanna's bedroom, the floor and walls slightly tilted, the king appearing in her visions all in gold, like a statue come to life. By the end of the prelude however, the dream has exploded into full-blown delusion, the armies and citizens pouring through the walls in spectacular fashion. The whole things brings to mind Netrebko's performance in Iolanta for the Met, and the father here is similarly a protective, powerful authority figure who attempts to hold her back from her true self or who she wants to be. She needs to be grander to overcome his objection and concerns and be seen as pure in his eyes. The whole father-daughter set-up very much Verdi however, and thematically very close to Rigoletto. Chailly highlights those musical references in the shimmering lightning effects of one scene and particularly in the final death scene.
Leiser and Caurier take this theme of religious purity and redemption a little bit further, having Jesus walk onto the stage and pass on a cross for her to carry - but it fits in with the heightened drama here and the frequent references to Giovanna's chastity. It also strengthens the charge of blasphemy laid against Giovanna for her to be burnt at the stake. It has an internal consistency then, even if it is far removed from Verdi, Solera and Schiller's original idea, never mind the historical reality. You could see this Giovanna's battlefield death as merely being a delusion of a woman on the stake, only the stake is also a delusion in this version, which doesn't leave you with a whole lot of reality to grasp onto. You get a fairly modern production then, but it's one which still allows all the armour and stirring calls to battle. Most of all however you have Verdi and Anna Netrebko, and I think most would happily settle for that.
Links: ARTE Concert, Teatro alla Scala
