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Queen Mab’s Elixir Torino
Teatro Regio
01/25/2025 - & January 28, 29, 30, 31, February 1, 2, 4*, 5, 2025
Gaetano Donizetti: L’elisir d’amore
Federica Guida*/Enkeleda Kamani (Adina), René Barbera*/Valerio Borgioni (Nemorino), Paolo Bordogna*/Simone Alberghini (Il dottore Dulcamara), Davide Luciano*/Lodovico Filippo Ravizza (Belcore), Albins Tonkikh/Yulia Tkachenko* (Giannetta)
Coro del Teatro Regio, Ulisse Trabacchin (Chorus Master), Orchestra del Teatro Regio, Fabrizio Maria Carminati (Conductor)
Daniele Menghini (Stage Director), Davide Signorini (Sets), Nika Campisi (Costumes), Gianni Bertoli (Lighting), Andrea Dionisi (Choreography)
(© Mattia Gaido)
This charming opera opens to a workshop scene, where a young craftsman, Nemorino, lives and works. He makes mannequins for a living; his workshop is replete with them. One has a wedding veil and holds a special place atop his work table. She is Adina, made in the image of the woman he yearns for. As Nemorino drifts into slumber, the mannequins come to life and the opera takes place as a dream in the young man’s mind. Queen Mab, described by Mercutio in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet as “the fairies’ midwife” who gives birth to our dreams, is the puppet master in this delightful production.
Initially, I was apprehensive of the staging: mannequins instead of villagers promised forced humour, but in the end it was just the opposite. This was a delicate fantasy with refined humour that one encounters in Italian productions of comedic operas, as opposed to the heavy‑handed humour found north of the Alps or the entirely predictable slapstick of North America.
There was also ample allusion to commedia dell’arte in this marvellous production. Though Adina, Nemorino, Belcore and Dulcamara could easily be Columbina, Arlecchino, Brighella and Pantalone, it would have been incompatible with the idea of a mannequin fantasy in Nemorino’s workshop. Instead, puppets representing the four main stock characters of the commedia dell’arte were themselves manipulated by mannequins during certain comic scenes, such as the Dulcamara/Adina Act II barcarolle for two voices, “Io son ricco e tu sei bella.”
Director Daniele Menghini’s sensitive vision evoked German author Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann (1766‑1822), pioneer of the science fiction and horror genres, but minus the horror. The ballets Nutcracker and Coppélia, as well as Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann, are based on his works. Davide Signorini’s sets and Nika Campisi’s costumes transported the public into a child‑like universe that confirmed Nemorino’s naïveté. Indeed, the character in the opera is meant to be timid, and Mexican-American tenor René Barbera, in Pavarotti‑like manner, personified the simple and naive villager/mannequin-maker to a tee.
Admired in Adelaide di Borgogna at the 2023 edition of Pesaro’s Rossini Opera Festival, Barbera again revealed a comic verve that I hadn’t previously noticed. His voice has bloomed into a heftier one, yet he’s still a master of coloratura and has thankfully conserved his agile upper register. His Act II romance, “Una furtiva lagrima”, brought the house down, so much so that I expected a bis, which alas, conductor Fabrizio Maria Carminati did not grant. In several passages, one felt sorry for the shy and naive Nemorino, eager to believe that a love potion could win Adina’s heart.
Lyric soprano Federica Guida has a sweet and fruity timbre, ideal for the role of Adina. Moreover, she’s an excellent actress, easily conveying Adina’s traits: charm, wit and playfulness. She managed to be coquette without being a soubrette; a subtle proposition. In her Act II duet with Nemorino, “Prendi per me sei libero,” she conveyed her vulnerability. From a capricious, pretty girl, spoiled from being widely desired, she was transformed into a young woman who’s matured thanks to the vagaries of love.
Heard last season as Figaro in Il barbiere di Siviglia in Vienna, Davide Luciano is a rising star, thanks to his attractive high baritone and imposing stage presence. His Belcore, the opera’s least amiable character, was appropriately pompous and overly virile in a comic way. His Act I aria “Come Paride vezzoso,” where he compares his own charms to figures from Greek mythology, namely Paris (of the three graces) and Mars, the god of war, was effective in conveying his excessive self‑confidence. His regiment consisted of toy soldiers from Nemorino’s workshop. Each toy soldier in the regiment had a distinct character, which amused children (and children at heart) no end.
Italian bass Paolo Bordogna, recently heard as Leporello in Don Giovanni in Toronto, is a veteran of comedic opera in Europe. I’ve often enjoyed his performances. Here, his Dulcamara was larger-than-life, yet he avoided the excessive, gratuitous slapstick that often mars this role. His clear diction in his introductory Act I aria “Udite, o rustici” helped define the character: a sympathetic charlatan. Every word was immaculately articulated, to the utter delight of the audience.
Ukrainian soprano Yulia Tkachenko was announced as a last minute replacement in the secondary role of Giannetta. She made the most of this minor, undemanding role. Her Act II aria “Saria possibile” was sufficiently expressive, and she did her best to imbue her lines with humour. The accompanying female chorus was especially brilliant, fantasizing about wedding the now‑rich Nemorino (whose uncle has just died). In addition to singing, they graced us with a memorably-choreographed dance.
Act II opened with the appearance of Queen Mab (one of Belcore’s toy soldiers in drag) as a fairy queen (in both senses). The fact that he previously was the most virile and rowdy of the lot is an intentional injection of humour. Mab remains onstage throughout the act, ensuring Nemorino’s wishes become reality. We never really know if it was all a dream or not.
Many of L’elisir d’amore’s exquisite-crafted melodies are ballabile or have an infectiously danceable quality. Instead of the singers, the dancing was relegated to the mannequins – an intelligent choice.
Veteran conductor Fabrizio Maria Carminati avoided brisk tempi which often plagues this opera. This was in keeping with the director’s poetic vision. This L’elisir d’amore is a poetic fantasy, not a farce. And as this is bel canto, the singers were the masters, and Carminati wisely supported them with tempi that suited their voices.
This opera is titled melodramma giocoso, not commedia. All too often directors, especially through the role of Dulcamara, reduce it to buffoonery, which it isn’t. Director Menghini understands the essence of this work; it’s bittersweet, a sort of croce e delizia (agony and ecstasy), a typically Mediterranean view of the nature of love. Thanks to this vision, and to the director’s refinement, I teared up almost as often as I laughed. Nemorino’s – and eventually Adina’s – suffering in love contrasted with the silly behaviour of the living mannequins, the pomposity of Belcore and the extravagance of Dulcamara. In addition to first‑rate singing, this production of L’elisir d’amore was as touching as it was amusing; a genuine triumph.
Ossama el Naggar
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