There are certainties
about operatic productions at the Met.
First, they tend to be of a more conservative
nature than is often found in Europe
and Britain. By that I mean that the
composer of the music might recognise
what is happening on stage whilst the
audience doesn’t have to read an essay
in the programme to do the same. One
reason for this conservatism, which
is often criticised by British critics,
is that the production is often, as
here, put on with the help of substantial
private donations. To suggest that the
relationship is between piper and payer
is too simplistic. The Met has 4000
seats to fill. With no public subsidy
it has to listen to its paying public.
In the UK, heavily subsidised regional
and national opera companies, even those
on the verge of administration, often
put on productions that would be unrecognisable
by the composer of the music and generate
half empty theatres! Consequently, the
first statement I wish to make is that
this staging is not set in Nazi Germany
or modern day Israel. The sets may not
be like what we read of the memorable
first night at La Scala in 1843, when
Verdi’s music was to change Italian
opera forever, much like Beethoven had
done to the symphony forty years before
at the premiere of his Eroica. They
are, however, realistic and evocative.
Large stone-like blocks and staircases
represent the Hebrew temple and that
of Baal. Similar ones are used for the
Hebrew slaves to lie and sit on as they
contemplate their fate in the famous
chorus (Ch. 12).
The arrival of Nabucco
on a chariot (Ch. 10) is dramatic, but
the coup de théâtre
of the evening is the burning of
the Hebrew Temple (Ch. 12). Brian Large,
the vastly experienced video director,
makes the most of such situations. Elsewhere,
he uses a subtle blend of close-up and
mid-range shots. His direction complements
the production of Elijah Moshinsky in
illuminating the unfolding drama. The
producer manages to persuade most of
the cast to act as well as sing. He
also moves his soloists and chorus to
good effect, although the moment of
Ismaele’s liberation of Fenena from
his own High Priest is rather contrived
(Ch. 11). It is a significant loss to
the overall effect that Juan Pons as
Nabucco is such a wooden actor. Worse,
although strong toned, his singing is
monochrome and lacks vocal expression,
nuance or attempt at characterisation.
He might as well have been singing his
local telephone directory for his entire
attempt at expressive characterisation.
As Nabucco’s antagonist, the Hebrew
High Priest Zaccaria, Samuel Ramey is
sonorous, expressive and largely firm
in Sperate o figli (Ch. 5) and
Oh, chi piange? (Ch. 29) when
he encourages his flock, despite their
adversity, to maintain their belief.
Age does take its toll however, and
as the interval approaches his voice
loosens and his singing of Vieni,
o Leviti (Ch. 16) is less than ideally
steady. Gwyn Hughes Jones is a strong
toned, expressive Ismaele (Ch. 6) whilst
Wendy White sings Fenena with a good
range of colour and expression (Ch.
35). The dramatic tension and temperature
rises significantly with the arrival
of Abigaille, the supposed daughter
of Nabucco, but in reality a slave (Ch.
7). Maria Guleghina portrays the role
here. She is a highly dramatic singing
actress who combines vocal security
with whole body involvement. The role
of Abigaille is a fiendishly demanding
part to sing with its declamatory passages
including when she announces Nabucco’s
arrival (Ch. 10) contrasting with the
lyrical demands of her death scene (Ch.
38). The greatest vocal demands come
in Ben io t’invenni (Ch. 13)
and Anch’io dischiusio (Ch. 14)
as Abigaille discovers her own true
identity. The range takes the soprano
from high above the stave to the lower
regions of a dramatic soprano’s voice.
Those vocal demands have defeated many
distinguished singers whilst others
have eschewed the role. Although Maria
Guleghina is slightly off pitch on the
concluding note she encompasses the
demands with vocal assurance and dramatic
flair. Her performance is a vividly
sung and is an acted portrayal of the
highest order.
James Levine will never
have the feel for Verdi of Serafin or
Gardelli. In his maturity he is not
so frenetic or hard driven as heard
in his audio recordings of Giovanni
d’Arco (EMI) or La Forza del
Destino (RCA). He lets the Verdian
melodies flow and allows his soloists
and chorus to breathe and phrase with
the music. It is a mark of his maturity
as well as the singing of the chorus
that Va, pensiero is encored
(Ch. 28); a most unusual circumstance,
if not unique, at the Met in the post
Second World War period. Despite the
histrionic limitations of Juan Pons
in the name part, I enjoyed this performance.
It is worth the price for Maria Guleghina’s
vivid portrayal of Abigaille. Although
the booklet does not say so, I believe
this was a new production in 2001 to
mark the centenary of Verdi’s death.
Robert J Farr
DEUTSCHE
GRAMMOPHON DVD VIDEO 000440 073 0779 GH [142:00]
