Giuseppe Verdi - Macbeth
La Fenice, Venice - 2018
Myung-Whun
Chung, Damiano Michieletto, Luca Salsi, Simon Lim, Vittoria Yeo,
Elisabetta Martorana, Stefano Secco, Marcello Nardis
Culturebox - 27 November 2018
It
goes without saying that director Damiano Michieletto tries his utmost
to avoid anything like the familiar in his production of Verdi's Macbeth
for the Teatro La Fenice in Venice, trying to put aside over-used imagery (from the drama
and opera alike) in order to bring out some of the deeper in terms of
psychological motivations, certainly a little more deeper than Verdi
actually does. Going back to the original source in Shakespeare,
Michieletto focusses on the bonds and dark undercurrents that lie in the
relationship between Macbeth and his wife as the key that brings all
the elements of horror and nightmare together.
Most of
these things are unspoken and only hinted at, giving them an even deeper
air of dark despair, and to some extent that tone can be found in
Verdi's overture for Macbeth. Michieletto uses that music to draw out
the idea of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth having lost a child, a bereavement
that draws them together to some extent in shared grief, but also casts a
dark pall over their lives or a void that can't be filled with their
love for each other. Something darker has crept into their souls. An
empty swing, a pit in the ground, a balloon that floats out of it fits
the mournful overture and becomes a musical and visual theme that
carries throughout the work.
The theme carries through to
the early appearance of the three witches, each of the three part
chorus represented by a child in a red dress (who come into play again
later in the dream visitations), and a similar red dress is taken out of
a child's toy locker by Lady Macbeth just before 'Vieni t'affretta!'
All of this not only suggests a dark episode in their past, it also
accounts for why Macbeth and his wife have further reason to fear Banquo
and his progeny usurping not just the crown, but the line of their
existence into the future. Their mortality is much more fearful to
them, their brief existence famously viewed as nothing more than 'a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing'.
Such
imagery abounds and the psychological underpinning works better than
any literal depiction, but it is perhaps over-emphasised somewhat in the
absence of any other real ideas in Michieletto's production. As far as
darkness and horror goes, it's fairly bloodless. Literally bloodless
even. Predominately black and white, with red reserved only for imagery
associated with their dead child, Macbeth comes back from killing
Duncan his dark shirt stained white. Lady Macbeth of course goes back
to finish the grim murder that doesn't leave dark immovable blood stains
on her hands, but rather white chalky paint up to her elbows.
This,
along with plastic sheets, becomes the symbol of death in the
production. Whether it's Cawdor at the start, Duncan and Banquo later
or Macduff's murdered family, they end up wrapped in plastic sheets,
with white paint poured over them. Plastic sheets in fact feature
heavily in the absence of any props or sets other than side column of
white tubed lighting, and the stage designer Paolo Fantin finds a
hundred and one ways to use them; as a veil between the living and the
dead, as a thin membrane between sanity and madness, a billowing
protective barrier that shows disturbance to reality and order.
Bloodless
it might be, but unfortunately, bloodless is also how you might
describe the performance of Vittoria Yeo, this production's Lady Macbeth.
No-one under-estimates how challenging this role is, but you need the
right kind of voice for a Verdi soprano. Yeo can attack the high notes
with ferocity but her voice is too thin for the role and she struggles
to hold the line. The other performances are good, but capable more
than exceptional. Luca Salsi brings a sympathetic lyricism to a Macbeth
who looks permanently bewildered and in over his head, never in control
of his actions and later not even his mind. Simon Lim's Banquo is good and Stefano Secco makes a good impression as Macduff.
Whether
there's enough here for Michieletto to achieve the desired
psychological qualities and depth is debatable; the performances aren't
enough to bring the extra dimension needed in the face of rather limited
symbols and themes that are inevitably overused and tend to lose their
impact. The critical scenes however do hit home where they should, from
Banquo's ghost scene, where he carries a skeleton (drenched in white
paint, wrapped in plastic) is effective during the dinner scene.
Macbeth's ambitions being at the mercy of his sanity through his child's
bereavement is effectively represented by the crown descending on a
child's swing. 'Patria oppressa' is not the usual rag-tag bunch of
refugees but a people gathered in mourning dress for the funeral of
Macduff's murdered family, a scene that adds an extra poignancy to
Secco's performance of 'Ah, la paterna mano'.
Musically
it could do with a little more of a punch, but Myung-Whun Chung goes for
a more fluid account of the opera's strong melodic core and dramatic
underscoring that emphasises why this one particular Verdi opera has
lately been reassessed, more frequently performed and often found
deserving. Having immersed myself in all flavours of Verdi this month
(Aida, Otello, Attila, Simon Boccanegra and Macbeth back to back) and seen an excellent Il Corsaro earlier this year, it's
clear that Verdi has by no means fallen out of favour and that a
wide variety of his works continue to be an important part of the
repertoire of all the major opera houses, but it's also evident that contrary to
popular belief even those earlier works and flawed later works can still
reveal new qualities and unexpected depths.
Links: Teatro La Fenice, Culturebox
Giuseppe Verdi - Stiffelio
Teatro La Fenice, 2015
Daniele Rustioni, Johannes Weigand, Stefano Secco, Julianna Di Giacomo, Dimitri Platanias, Francesco Marsiglia, Simon Lim, Cristiano Olivieri, Sofia Koberidze
Culturebox - October 2015
I'm not sure how Stiffelio came to be regarded as one of Verdi's lesser and rarely performed operas. Sure, its plot is rather on the 'domestic' side compared to the grand melodrama of personal turmoil conflicting with political duty in Don Carlos, but other than Otello and Falstaff - all later works - you're not going to find the same level of sophisticated musical and dramatic characterisation in in any of Verdi's earlier writing. Admittedly Stiffelio is not even quite at the same level of Verdi greatness that was to see fruition soon after in Rigoletto and La Traviata, but it's clearly heading in that direction in how Verdi combines dramatic action with great melodic invention.
Like quite a few of Verdi's earlier works, a large part of the reason for it being underestimated might have more to do with its troubled history with the censor. Stiffelio (1850) ran into objections from Catholic authorities over the religious content of the work, a work moreover which features a Protestant minister, a married man of God which would have been judged to be too shocking for a sensitive Catholic audience to consider. Verdi wasn't happy with the changes that were demanded and the work consequently languished in obscurity for years until the composer came to rewrite the work in a new setting under the title of Aroldo (1857). Stiffelio received some recognition, and became a personal favourite, when it was revived by the Royal Opera House and broadcast on television in 1993, with José Carreras in the leading role.
La Fenice's 2015 production of Stiffelio plays to the strengths of the work as well as exposing its weaknesses. As is often the case with Verdi, particularly the earlier Verdi works, the measure of the weakness can often be only be determined by the quality of the singers. With the right kind of cast in roles that need very specific voices to meet the kind of challenges they pose, something appears to click into place for certain operas, allowing them to function much better than might be apparent on paper. Carreras and Malfitano, for example, demonstrated what could be made of Stiffelo and Lina in the 1993 production, but while Stefano Secco and Julianna Di Giacomo prove to be very capable in this Venice production, they aren't quite strong or starry enough to give the opera the extra boost that it needs.
Daniele Rustioni in the pit and Johannes Weigand directing for the stage do at least recognise the quality and the nature of the work. Stiffelio is not bombastic early Verdi, but requires a measure of lyricism in the playing and a dynamic that is closer to that of La Traviata. In terms of the setting, the austere approach is one that also matches the subject and setting of a Protestant preacher in a small German religious community. Like La Traviata, where questions of social hypocrisy are also to the fore, the drama in Stiffelio is very much a personal one where the internalised passions occasionally spill over into public life in a scandalous fashion.
Wiegand's very formalised period setting - dark and moody, with the characters all dressed in greatcoats - suits the buttoned-up and concealed illicit passions that lie in the work. It also finds an appropriate manner to capture the way that those passions overflow and are exposed with grander gestures. Hence, when Lina's affair is publicly uncovered in the cemetery scene that develops into a duel between her father Count Stankar and her lover Raffaele at the end of Act II, the stage explodes with the coloured light from the stained glass windows of the church. Even though religious sentiment isn't new, the choir in the church present an emotional and dramatic counterpoint that is rather different from the typical revenge scene. Verdi would use similar religious contrasts later to highlight hypocrisy and conflict, but Stiffelio is refreshingly free from cynicism here.
That and the spirit of forgiveness that is shown in the final scene of Act III are what mark Stiffelio out as a very different work from the more typical Hugo and Schiller heroic dramas that were the main source of inspiration for Verdi's earlier works. It also shows Verdi taking a rather more restrained approach to dramatic realism, or perhaps he was just a little more idealistic and tolerant than when he later contrasted Violetta's dilemma with Parisian society in La Traviata. Again, Wiegand's setting for this grand moment is well-judged, capturing the emotional power of the scene, but keeping it on a human level. That's the overall balance that needs to be maintained in Stiffelio and that's well worked out here between the pit and the stage.
Considering that it's La Traviata that is the measure against which this work needs to be judged - not one that is going to be favourable for any opera - Stiffelio holds up rather well. It is too over-reliant on the cabaletta/cavatina/aria form for it to be able to truly break any formal constraints, but even within that Verdi demonstrates a wonderful lyricism in Stiffelio, with touches - such as the trumpet solo in the overture, a bass aria, some of the clarinet accompaniment of the characterisation - that you won't find quite the same anywhere else in his work. The singing performances however are merely competent in this production, when it needs a little more personality.
Stefano Secco sings reasonably well as Stiffelio, but you don't get a great sense of him being a man of God in conflict with the emotional demands of being a mere man and a betrayed husband. It's there in Verdi's score however and this at least comes across to some extent. Julianna Di Giacomo is a fine Lina, capturing at least the emotional turmoil in a role that is quite limited in development (she's a sinner, while the main male roles are those of betrayed honour). Dimitri Platanias doesn't have great clarity of diction or the full Verdi baritone force for Stankar, but gets the emotional plight of the prototypical Rigoletto role. Francesco Marsiglia's high constricted tenor isn't all that pleasant, but that suits the character of a role that isn't meant to be pleasant either. There's a lovely fullness of tone to bass Simon Lim's Jorg.
Links: Culturebox, Teatro La Fenice
Giuseppe Verdi - Don Carlo
Wiener Staatsoper, 2015
Marco Armiliato, Daniele Abbado, Ferruccio Furlanetto, Stefano Secco, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Maria Pia Piscitelli, Béatrice Uria-Monzon, Eric Halfvarson, Ryan Speedo Green, Margaret Plummer, Jinxu Xiahou, Simina Ivan
Wiener Staatsoper Live at Home - 25 February 2015
There's not really any room for half-measures in Verdi's Don Carlo. You're already at a disadvantage when you produce the 4-Act Italian version, losing the whole of the First Act love story at Fontainebleau, which means you have to gain emotional involvement for Don Carlo's romantic inclinations for his step-mother via other means. Verdi's terrific writing and characterisation goes some way to making this work, but it needs very strong singers indeed for both Carlo and Elisabeth to get it fully across. Vienna's 2015 revival of Daniele Abbado's production has that, and even more besides on the singing front. Unfortunately, it's somewhat lacking on the set design and stage direction, and in a work of total opera like Don Carlo, a weakness in any area can undermine the whole.
The fact that this doesn't prove to be the case in Vienna is a testament to just how good the singing and musical performances are here. That's no mean feat in Don Carlo, which has any number of critical roles, each of them with complex personalities that show different sides of that personality depending on the person that they are with at any given time. It doesn't just place demands on individuals, it requires them to interact well in the various relationships and situations with the others around them. Being a father to Carlo, King Philip II shows a different side of his personality from the one that he shows to Elisabeth as a husband, and a different one again from how he interacts with the Grand Inquisitor. As you might expect. It's how those other people relate to the king in those situations depends in turn on their relationships with each other, and that creates a complex web of conflicts between public and private faces, between love and friendship, when those boundaries become blurred by situation and circumstance. This is where the real drama of Don Carlo lies, and Verdi's remarkable writing lays them bare.
In theory then, the decoration of the set should really be neither here nor there. If you can get across the multi-faceted nature of the situations and the characters, and have singers of sufficient skill and experience to do that, you would think that would be enough for Don Carlo. It isn't nearly enough. Usually. A simple stripped-back set might work well for Simon Boccanegra, as in Vienna's recent production (although, as here, it also had the secret weapon of Ferruccio Furlanetto alongside the incomparible Leo Nucci), but the stage direction there was a lot more subtle than it appeared. Don Carlo however is not a work that benefits from a less-is-more approach. Even in its lesser 4-Act version, it's still grand opera, and it should be grand on every level. That doesn't preclude subtlety, but bold flourishes are required in the characterisation as much as in the setting.
The first half of Daniele Abbado's production for Vienna fails to hit those big dramatic points, for all the fine efforts of the cast. The first two acts are very much about the public face, opening with religious rites and funeral, with the added flourish of the ghostly 'Friar' who turns out to be the spirit of Charles V. There are big royal ceremonies, proud displays of friendship and loyalty, stirrings of rebellion and even a showpiece auto-da-fé scene, all of which should give the impression of great political, regal and religious forces. If nothing else, the grandeur of the first half should at least provide a strong contrast to show the more human side in the second half, where personal weaknesses and conflicting interests and murmurs of rebellion cause huge fractures that threaten to expose the weaknesses of those institutions and bring down the whole delicately woven fabric of Philip's reign.
There's very little that impresses about the set in Act I and Act II. It is literally a box, with a bare wooden stage floor and unadorned walls, with no doors, just panels that open to let people in. Occasionally, we get a sense of location, with a skylight opening up, with a slight variation in colouration or lighting that suggests an exterior, but mostly it's a bare stage and basic lighting. Free movement is restricted somewhat by three cables that one presumes will lift to create a new scene at some point. They do so most effectively to create Carlo's prison in the second scene of Act III, but it's a bit much to have them impinge upon the rest of the set for such a short if nonetheless important scene. Most disappointing of all, the auto-da-fé scene falls well short of being impressive, a few figured dropped down onto the floor while a bale is lit behind them. Seen from a lower angle than the camera adopts, it might have been more effective, but probably not much more...
The singing, at the very least, rises superbly to the demands of Verdi's remarkable score, and in one or two cases is even great. I'm referring evidently to Ferrucio Furlanetto, who has performed as Philip in Don Carlo many times, and there are few who can compete with him. The tone and timbre is still wonderful, his control and delivery is impeccable, but more than just technically good or even just consummately professional, he brings real artistry and personality to the character. Eric Halfvarson's Grand Inquisitor is also excellent, and, following on from a great 'Ella giammai m'amo' where the king expresses his private griefs and fears, the duet/duel between these two great forces of Church and State at the start of Act III becomes a real tussle of wills that sets the tone for what is to follow.
If the first half felt weak and let down by the staging, this kind of opening really galvanises the second half, and it doesn't look back. Marco Armiliato manages to raise the orchestra up to a new level along with the dramatic developments, and one or two of the other performers seem to pick up their game as well. And, with Verdi's simply astonishing management of the developing situations, they really need to. Most impressive is Dmitri Hvorostovsky, who gives a typically earnest and intense performance that is exactly what is required for Rodrigo. The challenging role of Elisabeth is handled extremely well by Maria Pia Piscitelli, who gives it dramatic force as well as dealing with the tough singing requirements. Béatrice Uria-Monzon is also a charged Princess Eboli, again perfectly in line with the tone of the work and the strong presentation here.
Don Carlo has a tough time living up to the title role in the opera alongside such personalities, and if Stefano Secco isn't quite up to the same level, he still sings it with unfailing Verdian lyricism across the whole four acts. Carlo is pretty much a constant throughout the opera and, as such, his interaction with each of the other characters is vital to the success of the whole. With Marco Armiliato drawing all that together musically in the second half, and with each of the other characters at full drive, the nature of the interaction and its significance all falls into place to impressive effect. The balance of internal conflict and interaction with the external situation in the second half takes on a force of its own independent from the direction, or at least rendering its weaknesses less of an issue as the opera makes its way to its chilling conclusion.
The Vienna State Opera's Live in HD programme continues in March with live Internet broadcasts of Halévy's LA JUIVE, Bellini's I PURITANI, Massenet's WERTHER, Verdi's LA TRAVIATA and AIDA. Details on these productions and how to view them can be found in the links below:
Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video
Giuseppe Verdi - Simon Boccanegra
Wiener Staatsoper, 2015
Philippe Auguin, Peter Stein, Leo Nucci, Ferruccio Furlanetto, Stefano Secco, Barbara Frittoli, Marco Caria, Dan Paul Dumitrescu, Marian Talaba, Arina Holecek
Wiener Staatsoper Live at Home - 1 February 2015
The Vienna State Opera production of Simon Boccanegra initially looks fairly low-key, minimal, using basic sets and period costumes, holding faithful to a mostly traditional representation of the work. I say that like it's a bad thing, but nowadays it often can be, unless there is a certain ironical distance involved. The right approach however can be make-or-break when it comes to plots in Verdi operas, and the narrative of Simon Boccanegra is, to be frank, a bit creaky and a strain on credibility. There is another way to make Simon Boccanegra 'work' however, one that hopefully won't go out of fashion like an Otto Schenk or a Franco Zeffirelli production. Having good singers.
Simon Boccanegra is not a Verdi opera that I've seen performed often, and never having seen one that was totally convincing, it's not one that I would ever thought ranks with his best. The Vienna State Opera's production proves otherwise. Simon Boccanegra, it would appear needs good singers more than it needs good direction or modernisation. And the Wiener Staatsoper's 2014 production, broadcast live over the internet via their bold Live in HD programme, fortunately has both. With Leo Nucci as Simon Boccanegra and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Fiesco you don't get much better in the big Verdi baritone and bass roles than that. With that kind of backbone, the opening prelude scene of Simon Boccanegra can be every bit as dramatic as Verdi scored it, and - as it sets the tone for what it to follow - it needs to be.
What you can also observe from the direction and production design of the opening scene is that it doesn't disorient the audience with any bold concept, the meeting between the two rivals taking place on a fairly basic representation of a dark square in Genoa. It's difficult enough to establish the family rivalry, the relationships between the two men and the whole political plotting around the election of Boccanegra as the next Doge of Genoa, but it is essential that you do, as this is the key to the events that take place in the main part of the opera 25 years later. Letting the prelude rest on the performances, the charisma and ability of these two singers works partly because these are powerful personalities and should appear to be, but also because both Nucci and Furlanetto bring real sensitivity and depth of expression to their singing of these roles.
Much of this is of course down to how Verdi has written the roles, the composer at this stage demonstrating in his mature works greater nuance for character detail and expression. The quality of the libretto isn't quite up to the same standard and the plot is reliant on many of the old melodramatic contrivances, but when you place great singers in these roles, you can see how it can be made to work, you can see what Verdi will be capable of when he does have libretti worthy of his ability in Don Carlo, in Falstaff and Otello, and it's impressive. Having let the skill of Verdi, Nucci and Furlanetto established the tone of the work from the outset, and given it more credibility that it perhaps merits, the director is able to introduce other elements to support and expand on the work in the subsequent acts, underling its meaning and significance.
How this is done is quite remarkable in its simplicity. The impression that is given in the prelude is that of a dark and shadowy past, and that's an impression that carries through and has influence 25 years later. The staging, we discover when we are introduced to Amelia in the present, isn't strictly traditional either. The costumes remain period, but Act I looks more Robert Wilson minimalist, with a bright pale blue background, and characters wearing rather more stylised white costumes. There's no strange movements or geometric symbolism here (I can't really imagine Simon Boccanegra done full-out Wilson-fashion), but there's an elegance here that speaks of youth, innocence, beauty and hopes that are about to be dashed by that dark past that hangs over the whole work. Act II then brings together all those conflicts and passions in a dark circular room with open lighted doors, a simple table, a goblet for poison and a dramatic red curtain.
In that respect the staging is perfect for how Verdi skilfully packages the themes of the work together. Every now and then we are reminded in the music of those dark undertones established at the opening, the composer bundling them all together in each heated situation that ramps up the emotions, but at the same time gives the plot increasing dignity, depth and credibility. It never feels like the old-style of number opera composition, particularly if it's handled sensitively by the conductor. Simon Boccanegra is not blood-and-thunder Verdi. It's much more subtle than that, requiring a balance between character and drama, and Philippe Auguin manages to balance that well, which is difficult in this work. When it's done right, and when it works hand-in-hand with the staging and the singers however, the impact it has on this opera is revelatory.
Leo Nucci might be getting older, but he still carries Boccanegra and many Verdi baritone roles better than anyone else in the world today. As a weakened Doge, destroyed as much from within as from his enemies, it's a role that suits Nucci well. You could say much the same about Feruccio Furlanetto being the pre-eminent Verdi bass singer in the world today. His technical control and timbre is just gorgeous, but his phrasing also reveals little details of character and a wonderful understanding of the importance of Fiesco's role to the work as a whole. As important as Nucci and Furlanetto are to Simon Boccanegra, there's balance and dynamism required in the roles of Amelia and Gabriel, and that is also superbly achieved. Stefano Secco in particular is impressive as Gabriel, giving one of the best performances on the night. Barbara Frittoli isn't perfect - the role of Amelia is a challenging one for the soprano - but the dramatic intensity of her performance counts almost as much here.
The revelation of Simon Boccanegra, in the hands of Verdi and brought out by a good production and singers, is that the themes are more important than the plot. It's about the past catching up with the present, about the actions taken in the past having resonance and very real consequences in the future. It's about wasted years, years dragged down by old enmities, misunderstandings and waiting for vengeance, of parents failing their children, of leaders failing their people. Much of that is carried by the rivalry between Boccanegra and Fiesco, and unless you really have exceptional performers in those roles, you don't get it fully across. To be honest, I've never really realised just how important that is until this production. The greatness of Verdi operas is Verdi, and that more than anything else is what is all there in Simon Boccanegra. And this is a glorious production of that work.
The Wiener Staatsoper's Live at Home
in HD season continues in February with broadcasts of ANDREA CHÉNIER, DON CARLO and an EDITA GRUBEROVA gala concert.
Details of how to view these productions in the links below.
Links: Wiener Staatsoper Live Streaming programme; Staatsoper Live at Home video
