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The Trojan War - the tragedy continues! Pesaro
Vitrifrigo Arena
08/09/2024 - & August 13, 17*, 20, 2024
Gioachino Rossini: Ermione
Anastasia Bartoli (Ermione), Victoria Yarovaya (Andromaca), Enea Scala (Pirro), Juan Diego Flórez (Oreste), Antonio Mandrillo (Pilade), Michael Mofidian (Fenicio), Martiniana Antonie (Cleone), Paola Leguizamón (Cefisa), Tianxuefei Sun (Attalo)
Coro del Teatro Ventidio Basso, Giovanni Farina (chorus master), Orchestra Sinfonica Nazionale della RAI, Michele Mariotti (conductor)
Johannes Erath (stage director), Heike Scheele (sets), Jorge Jara (costumes), Fabio Antoci (lighting), Bibi Abel (videography)
(© Amati Bacciardi)
I have waited years to be able to see the rarely-performed masterpiece Ermione (1819), my favourite Rossini opera. The work gained notoriety among bel canto lovers through legendary recordings with Cecilia Gasdia, Margherita Zimmermann, Ernesto Palacio and Chris Merritt, conducted by Claudio Scimone (1986), and a later recording with Anna Caterina Antonacci, Diana Montague, Jorge López Yánez and Bruce Ford, conducted by Sir Andrew Davis (1995). The Pesaro production in 1987 with operatic giants Montserrat Caballé, Marilyn Horne, Chris Merritt and Rockwell Blake, under the musical direction of Gustav Kuhn, was earth shattering (a video of the performance can be found on YouTube). In these three recordings, the soprano, in the title role, helped reveal an incandescent dramatic protagonist worthy of Medea or Norma.
Considered by many as an experiment by Rossini, the classicist musical style of Ermione is quite distinct from his contemporaneous works. It is the most Gluckian of Rossini’s operas, in the sense that the drama is at par with the music, an exceptional event in florid bel canto operas. Other than the Greek tragedy aspect that it shares with Cherubini’s Médée (1797), Ermione has much in common with that opera written eighteen years earlier. Pure vocal virtuosity is suppressed in favour of Gluck’s perfect marriage of music and lyrics. Perhaps the opera was too unconventional at its Naples premiere, as it was a major flop, withdrawn after a few performances. Despite a riveting vocal score and some memorable music, it remains an unconventional work and may still have difficulty establishing itself in the repertoire. Moreover, the opera has four protagonists that require first‑rate singers.
Andrea Leone Tottola (dob unknown; died 1831), a major librettist to bel canto composers, managed to successfully compact Racine’s tragedy Andromaque, itself based on Euripides’ play Andromache and the third book of Virgil’s Aeneid. He wrote the libretti to three other major opere serie by Rossini: Mosè in Egitto (1818); La donna del lago (1819); and Zelmira (1822).
The story of Ermione is one of unrequited love that leads to tragedy. It involves Ermione (Hermione), Spartan princess, daughter of Helen (of Troy) and Menelaus, who is in love with Pirro (Pyrrus), King of Epirus and son of Achilles, the slayer of the Trojan Prince Hector. Pirro is in love with his prisoner Andromaca (Andromache), Hector’s widow, who is faithful to the memory of her late husband and rejects Pirro’s advances. Pirro uses Andromaca’s concern for her son Astianatte (Astyanax) who the Greeks want killed so he may not one day avenge his father and Troy. Oreste (Orestes), son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, is sent by the Greeks to the court of Epirus to claim Astianatte. Oreste is in love with Ermione, the now neglected fiancée of Pirro.
Of this quartet, three are the offspring of principal protagonists of the Trojan War, and the fourth the widow of Hector. In a way, the Trojan War, started by Paris’ love for Helen, continues through this tragic love quartet.
Andromaca vacillates between maintaining her steadfast loyalty to the memory of her beloved Hector and her desire to save her son, Astianatte. She finally consents to marrying Pirro, but intends to kill herself once the King of Epirus has sworn to protect her son. The spurned Ermione takes advantage of Oreste’s love for her and asks him to avenge her pride and kill Pirro.
Unlike Racine, Tottola opted for an unresolved end to the tragedy. Whereas in Racine’s play, Ermione takes her own life by Pirro’s corpse and invokes the Furies to haunt Oreste and drive him mad, Rossini’s Ermione ends with its heroine distraught and broken and Oreste escaping back to Greece.
Anastasia Bartoli is Italy’s new star soprano. Heard at last year’s Pesaro Rossini Opera Festival (ROF), she impressed in Edoardo e Cristina (1819) as well as in recital. Bartoli is no stranger to the character of Ermione, as she’s the daughter of Cecilia Gasdia, who revived the aforementioned opera on disc in 1986, under the baton of Claudio Scimone. More a lirico spinto than a bel canto coloratura, she has a powerful voice that is immensely expressive thanks to her complete interiorizing of the role. Her Act II long scena “Essa corre al trionfo” expressing her profound confusion, her jealousy, her rage and her persisting love for Pirro who has spurned her, is one of the most riveting moments in all of opera. The final passage “Se a me nemiche stele...” is one of the most powerful expressions of a broken heart.
Not since Anna Caterina Antonacci has a soprano been such an incandescent singing actress. In this season and the previous one, Bartoli has taken the Italian and European opera scenes by storm with her stirring interpretations of such major roles as Lady Macbeth in Macbeth (Marseille), Abigaille in Nabucco (Bari), Elvira in Ernani (Rome, Valencia), Donna Elvira in Don Giovanni (Florence), Nedda in Pagliacci (Cagliari), Lucrezia in I due Foscari (Venice) and Mimì in La bohème (Genova).
The role of Andromaca is reduced in Rossini’s opera, as compared to Racine’s play, where she is the main protagonist. Russian mezzo Victoria Yarovaya’s lower voice contrasted well with Bartoli’s soprano. Yarovaya managed to portray a dignified grande dame, tormented by her loyalty to her husband and concern for her son’s life. The role is not as demanding as that of Ermione, but Yarovaya made the most of it, shining in some passages such her Act II duet with Pirro, “Ombra del caro sposo.” Director Johannes Erath chose to portray Andromaca as an older woman with gray hair. This is perhaps to insinuate that Pirro’s interest is more in her status than in her looks. Alternatively, it may indicate that Pirro actually wanted to dominate the entire Greek world by gaining legitimacy over the throne of Troy, the largest and most prosperous city in the Hellenic world prior to its fall. His decision to name Astianatte as his heir (in Tottola’s libretto) would confirm such a view.
Enea Scala, who sang Pirro, is the primo tenore in an opera involving three tenor roles: Pirro, Oreste and Pilade. His hefty voice is not that of the typical Rossini tenor; it is larger and darker, yet it is flexible enough for the abundant coloratura and high tessitura. Admired last year at ROF, he appeared both in recital and in Edoardo e Cristina opposite Anastasia Bartoli. His heroic voice is most suited for the role of the narcissistic prepotent King of Epirus. Moreover, it contrasted beautifully with the lighter and higher voice of second tenor Flórez, who portrayed Oreste.
Superstar Juan Diego Flórez, artistic director of Pesaro’s ROF, was generous enough to portray Oreste. No longer a young man, Flórez possesses an amazing instrument that doesn’t show the signs of time. This is most likely due to his masterful technique, amply demonstrated in his recital earlier this season at La Scala. He astounded in his technically demanding as well as moving Act I aria, “Reggia abborita,” and also in his intense Act I duetto maestoso with Ermione, “Amarti?” He showed slight signs of fatigue in his Act II duet with Ermione, “Il tuo dolor ci affretta”, the opera’s most riveting passage. Nonetheless, he managed to leave an everlasting imprint of his performance in the minds of the audience.
The secondary roles are much reduced in Tottola’s dramatically compact libretto. This concentration avoids longueurs and renders the drama more intense. Italian tenor Antonio Mandrillo was a deluxe Pilade, Oreste’s companion, the third tenor role in the opera. Scottish bass‑baritone Michael Mofidian was an outstanding Fenicio, Pirro’s tutor. With such a Fenicio, one wished it was a much bigger role.
Michele Mariotti proved himself once again the leading Italian conductor of his generation. His attention to nuance in the rich and unusual score, as well as his support of the singers, greatly impressed. Thanks to his passionate conducting, the intense tragic passages of the opera were unforgettably moving.
Johannes Erath, whose recently seen Otello in Frankfurt was a much less felicitous affair, has a provocative and similarly iconoclastic vision of Rossini’s Ermione. The paroxysm felt through the music is actually enhanced by Erath’ staging and by Heike Scheele’s sets and Jorge Jara’s costumes. The latter are reminiscent of those seen in David McVicar’s production of Cherubini’s Medea. Pirro’s court is portrayed as a feast of pirates and hooligans, which is how the Trojan Andromaca would have seen it. The aesthetic used is one of the New Romantics in 1980s pop music (Eurythmics, Spandau Ballet, Ultravox). This is meant to enhance an ambiance of debauchery and sexual ambiguity. This renders the paroxysm, palpable in the music and the drama, unbearable.
Heike Scheele’s sets consisted of three concentric rectangles delineated by neon lights. At the centre of the stage is a banquet, one of hooligans. At each side of the stage is a table which initially places Ermione on the left and Pirro on the right. Andromaca is always at the centre. The positioning of Andromaca refers to her centrality to the plot. When Oreste lands in Epirus, he is almost always on the right side of the stage. Whether with Pirro or with Oreste, Ermione is always apart, on the opposite side of the stage, as she is either rejected by Pirro or she rejects Oreste. The intensity of the drama was enhanced by an eerily soothing videography on either side of the stage most often showing a calm sea. At times, it referred to action in the plot such as the landing of Oreste in Epirus or the murder of Pirro.
The overwhelming passion of the quartet of protagonists was emphasized by Johannes Erath through an omnipresent Cupid. In several aspects of the production, there is a homoerotic dimension to this semi‑nude figure, constantly throwing arrows when not posing. Three arrows for the three lovelorn characters would have sufficed. Initially effective, the gimmick soon became repetitive and tedious.
In Tottola’s libretto, the scene in which Pilade and Fenicio comment on Pirro’s amorous folly and the perils of love is a relief from the frenzied omnipresent passion in much of the opera. Erath used it as comic relief, paying homage to Bob Fosse’s All That Jazz (1979). The androgynous portrayal of Fenicio was a clin d’œil to the master of ceremonies character (played by Joel Grey) in Fosse’s Cabaret (1972).
Erath’s iconoclastic setting is perhaps more appropriate nowadays than a conventional vision, which would make the opera seem like a sung Greek tragedy, in an age where few are versed in the classics. The immense success of this performance was mostly thanks to an unbeatable quartet of singers endowed with glorious voices, most of all Anastasia Bartoli, a consummate artist set for superstardom. Congratulations to ROF, for reviving Rossini’s unusually brilliant masterpiece with such a magnificent cast.
Ossama el Naggar
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