When
this staging was new in 2003 the twelve scheduled performances
were divided between three divas with Angela Gheorghiu
carded for the first four. La Gheorghiu arrived and spent
a little time in rehearsal before declaring the production
immoral and departing Madrid! This drama gave the Parisian
soprano Norah Amsellem, initially set for later
in the run, not only her debut as Violetta but the first
night too. Pier Luigi Pizzi sets
the opera in the 1940s, a fact stated in the extensive
and interesting bonus interviews, but not, as far as I
can see, anywhere else. With German military personnel
in uniforms bearing Nazi insignia roaming amongst the guests
at Flora’s party, I presume occupied Paris and its environs
are involved. As to immorality, the nearest I got was in
the opening scene. Here the stage set is split into two
parts. The left appears to be a bedroom as Violetta prepares
herself for the party. Through the doorway of the adjacent
bathroom, the back view of a woman, attired only in her
briefs, is seen putting on her face in front of a mirror.
The party takes place in the opulent salon on the right
of the stage. The scene is one of colour and the dresses
of the ladies are resplendent, unoccupied GB was nothing
like this during World War Two! The colours of this resplendent
production are well caught by the cameras and conveyed
here.
As
far as the eponymous tragic-heroine is concerned, La
Traviata is an opera of two distinct parts. In Act
1 the role demands a coloratura soprano of lightness and
agility. Acts 2 and 3 on the other hand require a voice
of significantly greater weight and colour. These qualities
are necessary if the singer portraying Violetta is adequately
to characterise and express her emotional circumstances
and mental state. Norah Amsellem
enjoyed a critical success on the opening night although
some found her coloratura in act 1 a little strained. Since
those 2003 appearances she has appeared in the role in
Richard Eyre’s 1994 Covent Garden production that featured
La Gheorghiu with Georg Solti conducting (Decca CD and
DVD - see review). With this additional experience under
her belt, Amsellem gives a highly successful sung and acted
interpretation
in this March 2005 reprise, with the same principals, of
her debut production. Her voice is a strong flexible lyric
soprano with a touch of metal. It is not as lovely an instrument
as Caballé on the recently reissued CD (see
review)
but she attacks the coloratura of the act I finale with
conviction and vocal security (Disc 1 Chs. 9-10).
It
is in acts 2 and 3 that Amsellem’s interpretative
and acting skills shine out, first when she meets Alfredo’s
father, who is initially stern and implacable towards her
(Disc 1 Chs. 15-18), and later as she receives Alfredo’s
letter briefly recovers, and then dies (Disc 2 Chs. 3-9).
The second act is set in a very modernistic house with
a curved metal staircase and chairs; if this is art deco
I wonder why the period didn’t last longer. The set would
not go amiss in a multi-moneyed footballers pad! Renato
Bruson, whose acting matches that of Miss Amsellem in this
critical scene, sings Giorgio Germont. He really looks
an older man. Bruson will not see sixty again and his appearance
owes nothing to make up. Always a consummate actor, he
portrays to perfection Germont’s initial implacability,
and eventual mellowing towards Violetta. Regrettably, his
vocal state is no longer a match for his acting ability
and his weak legato, and occasional spread of tone under
pressure, are drawbacks. Nonetheless his Di Provenza
il mar (Disc 1 Ch. 24) is justifiably received with
applause. During the whole of this scene Amsellem lucidly
conveys the agony of Violetta’s emotions and her generosity
of character. She starts Ah! Dite alla giovine (Disc
1 Ch. 19) on a very effective thread of tone and builds
the pathos of the sentiments quite brilliantly with tonal
colour and expressive variety. She uses similar skills
in reading Alfredo’s letter in Teneste la promessa and Addio
del passato (Disc 2 Chs. 3) whilst lying on her bed
in a room with outside balcony. But it is not only her
singing that makes this last act so poignant and harrowing.
Her portrayal of Violetta’s death-dealing consumption is
not conveyed by her facial pallor alone. With haggard face
and lank hair she looks truly dreadfully ill. Her body
language and movement is of somebody with one and a half
feet in the grave and who wholly recognises that reality.
Also convincing is her singing and acting in Violetta’s
temporary recovery when Alfredo arrives. Together they
go out into the fresh air of the balcony and sing an impassioned Parigi,
o cara (Disc 2 Ch. 6). The effort is too much for Violetta
and helped by Alfredo she returns to the bedroom to lie
down. She gives Alfredo her picture as a memento with the
request he pass it to whichever young virgin he gives his
love to. In her final death throes Violetta has a surge
of energy, runs out onto the balcony, collapses and dies.
It is as good an acted and sung portrayal of this heart-rending
finale as I have heard and seen in a long time (Disc 2
Chs. 6-8).
As
Alfredo, José Bros’s rather tightly focused tenor has limitations
as does his somewhat limited acting ability. He sings softly
from time to time whilst drawing on vocal heft when needed.
He never forces his tone and shows vocal sensitivity in
support of Violetta in their duets as well as singing a
fair Lunge da lei and De’ me bollenti
spiriti (Disc 1 Chs. 11-12). I do not wish to damn
his contribution with faint praise for I can think of many
present-day tenors who would have driven their egos and
big voices through the sensitivities of several scenes
in this production. At the end of the day he cannot caress
a Verdian phrase like Bergonzi, but then who can. He is
certainly as good as Lopardo on the Decca issue whilst
Roberto Sacca is no better on the recording from the 2004
reopening production at Venice’s La Fenice (TDK) (see review).
Jésus
López-Cobos conducts competently without convincing me
that he is a natural Verdian. For no good reason he sanctions
small cuts including one in the tenor cabaletta. The booklet
has an essay on the opera and its premiere. This relates
Verdi’s time with irrelevant references to the composer’s
difficulties in his hometown of Bussetto when he was living
as an unmarried couple with Giuseppina. More explanation
as to the thinking behind this production would have been
helpful, as would Chapter numbering of the scenes and individual
arias.
Amsellem’s
dramatically acted and well-sung portrayal of one of the
greatest roles in the operatic repertoire makes this performance,
in an updated but not way-out setting, worthy of recommendation.
Robert J Farr
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