|
Back
Political Intrigue in Genova Berlin
Staatsoper
03/21/2025 - & March 30, April 2, 5, 2025
Giuseppe Verdi: Simon Boccanegra
Ludovic Tézier*/George Petean (Simon Boccanegra), Elena Stikhina (Amelia Grimaldi), Marko Mimica (Jacopo Fiesco), Fabio Sartori (Gabriele Adorno), Alfredo Daza (Paolo Albiani), Friedrich Hamel (Pietro), Sonja Herranen*/Maria Kokareva (A handmaid of Amelia), Junho Hwang (Captain of the crossbowmen)
Staatsopernchor, Martin Wright (chorus director), Staatskapelle Berlin, Eun Sun Kim (conductor)
Federico Tiezzi (stage director), Caroline Staunton (rehearsal, stage production), Maurizio Balò (sets), Giovanna Buzzi (costumes), A. J. Weissbard (lighting), Studio Azzurro (videography)
L. Tézier (© Jenny Bohse)
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” wrote Lord Acton (1834- 902). Power may have its advantages, but it’s also a huge burden. Those who hold it may gratuitously abuse it, but even the most virtuous must oppress and castigate to maintain it. Simon Boccanegra was a fourteenth century Genovese pirate who managed to get elected as Doge of Genova, then a major maritime power. Boccanegra’s interest in this powerful position was elevating his station to be worthy of Maria, daughter of the patrician Giacopo Fiesco. Disapproving of his daughter’s affair with Boccanegra, Fiesco sequesters Maria, who dies of a broken heart not long after giving birth.
On his rise to power and in his endeavours to maintain it, Boccanegra steps on many feet, gaining myriad enemies. Fiesco blames him for his daughter’s death, and revenge becomes his raison d’être. Likewise, Gabriele Adorno seeks vengeance for his father’s death. Only Paolo Albiano, an ambitious scoundrel, is a truly evil character – in the vein of Otello’s Iago – who wishes Boccanegra harm. All except Albiano are nuanced characters, neither absolutely good nor bad, and this ambiguity is one of the most appealing aspects of the plot. For this reason, Simon Boccanegra requires great actors as well as singers.
The reasons for Verdi’s attachment to Simon Boccanegra are twofold. The father/daughter love is as important as the romantic love between Amelia and Gabriele, a rare feature in opera. Paternal love was a theme that haunted Verdi ever since his infant children’s death earlier in his career. The other reason is the nobility and patriotic sense of Boccanegra. Not only does he reconcile patricians and plebeians in Genova in the opera’s famous Council Chamber scene in Act I, but he firmly stands against the fratricidal wars between the two maritime republics of Genova and Venice. Two letters that Petrarch (1304‑1374) sent to the historical figure of Boccanegra and to Venice’s Doge implore both to avert war, reminding both they are sons of Italy. To cite such an early reference to Italian nationalism was in the spirit of the times. After all, Verdi was an ardent supporter of Italy’s unification.
Simon Boccanegra is recognized today as one of Verdi’s most powerful works, despite having had a rough start in its original 1857 version. This was due to a cumbersome libretto by Francesco Maria Piave (1810‑1876), librettist for ten of Verdi’s twenty eight operas. Despite Simon Boccanegra’s initial lack of success, Verdi remained attached to it, and was to revisit it with the brilliant Arrigo Boito (1842‑1918), librettist for Verdi’s two final works, Otello (1887) and Falstaff (1893). The outcome was the outstanding 1881 reconstructed masterpiece that we now enjoy. In this version (also the present production), the glaring early‑Verdi “umpapa” rhythms are rare and Boito’s reworking of the libretto make for a more concise plot.
This production was an uncontested musical triumph. The singers, the orchestra and the chorus were all superlative. French baritone Ludovic Tézier is today’s leading Verdi baritone, and a masterful interpreter, able to express the required range of emotion, and his voice is simply glorious. He impressed as Don Carlo in La forza del destino at the opening of La Scala’s current season. Thanks to his nuanced interpretation, he portrayed a Doge who is more human and vulnerable than most. He was masterful in the Act I recognition scene with Amelia, “M’abbraccia, o figlia mia”, where the two – comparing the portrait of Amelia’s mother – realize they are father and daughter. He’s also particularly effective in Act III’s “Oh rifrigerio!...la marina brezza,” in the entire final scene.
Russian soprano Elena Stikhina was an ideal Amelia, virginal but not weak; she’s no damsel in distress. She endured a traumatic childhood where her old guardian died when she was a small child. She never knew her mother, who died in childbirth. Though she was adopted by a kind patrician family, she has no idea who her parents are. She’s aware and disapproving of Fiesco’s machinations. Stikhina is an impressively versatile singer whose repertoire includes roles as diverse as Cio‑Cio San in Madama Butterfly, Brünnhilde in Die Walküre, Salome, Aida, Tosca, Tatiana in Eugene Onegin, Cherubini’s Médée and many more. Her vast range enables her to portray a heftier Amelia than usual. She was able to convey the different facets of Amelia: loving and hopeful in the Act I aria, “Come in quest’ora bruna” and her duet with Gabriele Adorno “Ti veggo alfin...Perché si tardi giungi;” defiant in the Act I aria “Nell’ora soave,” where she describes her abduction and escape; and vulnerable yet joyful in the recognition scene.
Heard a few years ago in Verdi’s I masnadieri in Milan, Fabio Sartori impressed with a stentorian yet refined voice, but disappointed as an actor in that production. Yet, he was splendid in the tenor part in Verdi’s Messa da Requiem at the last Verdi Festival in Parma. My impression was that his limited acting skills and lack of onstage agility would result in an unconvincing Gabriele Adorno. I’m pleased to say he was truly impressive, fully immersed in the role and brilliant vocally. In his Act II aria, “Sento avvampar nell’anima”, he expressed his jealousy vehemently, without lapsing into parody. Endowed with a substantial and dramatic voice, Sartori is blessed with a strong middle register and well‑supported high notes. Despite his sturdy lower register, Sartori can soar effortlessly in the upper reaches, singing brightly and with great beauty.
Croatian bass Marko Mimica was a noble Jacopo Fiesco. Despite his rage against plebeian Boccanegra for his tyrannical exile of the city’s noblemen, the confiscation of their property and, most of all, due to the death of his daughter, Mimica portrayed the old, angry Fiesco soberly and with subtlety thanks to his ability to convey the utter pain and devastation of his loss without resorting to histrionics. His reconciliation scene with Boccanegra was touchingly effective. Alfredo Daza ably portrayed the despicable Paolo Albiani, lusting for power and Amalia. Vindictive to the core, he mercifully avoided excess, a preferred tactic of lesser performers.
South Korean conductor Eun Sun Kim led the Staatskapelle Berlin with brio, notably the pivotal recognition scene as well as the finale, where he emphasized the pathos. This gifted “singer’s conductor” displayed a keen affinity for Verdi.
Though the staging was unoriginal, the sets and costumes were fetching. The production presented the story in a clear fashion that rendered the complex intrigue crystal clear. The true triumph of the evening was its exceptional cast, who excelled both vocally and dramatically.
Ossama el Naggar
|
