About us / Contact

The Classical Music Network

Milano

Europe : Paris, Londn, Zurich, Geneva, Strasbourg, Bruxelles, Gent
America : New York, San Francisco, Montreal                       WORLD


Newsletter
Your email :

 

Back

A triumphant opening of La Scala’s season - La forza del destino con speranza

Milano
Teatro alla Scala
12/07/2024 -  & December 10, 13, 16, 19, 22, 28, 2024, January 2, 2025
Giuseppe Verdi: La forza del destino
Anna Netrebko*/Elena Stikhina (Leonora), Brian Jagde*/Luciano Ganci (Don Alvaro), Ludovic Tézier*/Amartuvshin Enkhbat (Don Carlo), Alexander Vinogradov*/Simon Lim (Il padre Guardiano), Marco Filippo Romano (Fra Melitone), Vasilisa Berzhanskaya (Preziosilla), Carlo Bosi (Trabuco), Fabrizio Beggi (Il marchese di Calatrava), Marcela Rahal (Curra), Huanhong Li (Un alcalde), Xhieldo Hyseni (Un chirurgo)
Coro del Teatro alla Scala, Alberto Malazzi (Chorus Master), Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala, Riccardo Chailly (Conductor)
Leo Muscato (Stage Director), Federica Parolini (Sets), Silvia Aymonino (Costumes), Alessandro Verrazzi (Lights), Michela Lucenti (Choreography)


L. Tézier, B. Jagde (© Brescia e Amisano/Teatro alla Scala)


La forza del destino is a problematic opera. Among Verdi’s mature operas (his middle period, from Rigoletto onward), its libretto is the weakest. If it can be imagined, the story is even more implausible than that of Il trovatore.


In the mid eighteenth century, Don Alvaro, a nobleman of mixed blood from South America, has fallen in love with the daughter of the Marquis of Calatrava of Seville. The Marquis is vehemently opposed to this relationship. The two are interrupted while attempting to elope and the father is accidentally killed. The two lovers are separated and lose touch. Leonora seeks refuge in a monastery and becomes a hermit. Don Alvaro continues to look for her.


Meanwhile, Leonora’s brother, Don Carlo, seeks revenge on both. In the end, the irate brother provokes Don Alvaro, now a priest, challenging him to a duel. Don Carlo is mortally wounded. Alvaro beseeches a nearby hermit to hear the dying man’s confession. The dying Don Carlo recognizes and kills his sister. No, it cannot get crazier.


After the failed elopement and the impossible to stage accidental death of Leonora’s father, it’s nothing but doom and gloom. No more love duets, and, more importantly, no hope. The best we can imagine is Leonora and Alvaro living their lives (separately) in peace and repentance. Far from a cheerful prospect.


In an attempt to lighten the proceedings, a light hearted character, Preziosilla, is introduced. This follows the aesthetic principle that alternating between tragic and comic can balance the dramatic flow, as well as afford the public some relief. This is also true of Mozart’s Don Giovanni. However, in that masterpiece, the comic relief involves the main characters, whereas in Francesco Maria Piave’s libretto it is superimposed, having no relevance to the central drama. The result is a dramatic flop. I have yet to meet a single operagoer who enjoys the inane scenes with Preziosilla. Even some mezzo friends who have sung the role say they derive little pleasure from it.


Nonetheless, La forza del destino includes some superlative music, and this is precisely why it has survived, and, incredibly, is one of Verdi’s most frequently performed and recorded operas.


La forza del destino’s awkwardly far-fetched libretto makes for a perennially challenging staging. Attempts to alter the epoch or to superimpose absurd concepts only make matters worse. Nonetheless, director Leo Muscato managed to concoct an effective mise en scène that lent cohesion to one of the most implausible opera plots in the repertoire.


By resorting to the tried and true gimmick of a revolving stage, Muscato brought unity to the opera’s truncated scenes. Interestingly, the various scenes seemed to belong to different epochs. Based on the costumes and furniture, the opening scene in the house of Marchese di Calatrava was plausible in its original mid‑eighteenth century setting. Due to ecclesiastical garb, the scenes in the monastery may be in any epoch. However, the problematic battlefield scenes were transposed to WWI. The gloom was lifted by depicting the camp near the battlefield at Christmas. For once, the incomprehensible intervention of Preziosilla is not incongruous. She is now the regiment’s vivandière, canteen girl or mascot, like Marie in Donizetti’s La Fille du régiment (1840). Indeed, the Act II scene at the inn had characters dressed in nineteenth century garb.


By introducing a Christmas tree in the camp under snow, we enjoyed a jovial scene (a miracle in one of the darkest operas). Preziosilla delivers letters and gifts to the soldiers who dance with the nurses and each other. The sets evoke Christian Carion’s Joyeux Noël (2005) which took place in the trenches of WWI, though there is no fraternization between the opposing sides as in the film.


It must be noted that the stylized battle scenes in Act II were among the best I’ve ever seen. Contrasting the grey WWI military uniforms of Alvaro’s brigade with the red ones of the eighteenth century War of Austrian Succession troops, we had a visually dramatic scene, with the soldiers dressed memorably in vivid red, atop a hill. Their stylized falling deaths were choreographed tastefully and artistically, lightening a morbid scene; again a triumphal accomplishment.


The final scene evoked the twentieth century, or present-day Gaza and Lebanon, as body bags pile up. This is inevitably gruesome but also effective, as it contrasts with the previous more stylized battle scenes. Without moralising, Muscato demonstrated the universality of the horrors of war through both time (different epochs) and space (different places).


In its original version, premiered in Saint Petersburg in 1862, La forza del destino was even bleaker, and was, unsurprisingly, a flop. A few years later, Verdi revisited it with the collaboration of librettist Antonio Ghislanzoni (1824‑1893), who was later to write the libretto for Aida (1869). The improved version premiered at La Scala in 1869, and altered, among other things, the last scene at the hermit Leonora’s cave. In the original, Alvaro jumps off a cliff following the death of both Calatrava siblings, Don Carlo by his hands and Leonora by her brother’s. In the 1869 version, which is now the standard, Alvaro doesn’t commit suicide, an outrageous act for a man of the cloth, as Alvaro had become. Building on that positive and morally sound premise, Muscato ends the work with a Tannhäuser-inspired gimmick: a barren tree that faces Leonora’s retreat delicately sprouts. Alessandro Verrazzi’s lighting is majestic here, with the moonlight illuminating the tree and its budding yield.


La forza del destino, which opened La Scala’s 2024‑2025 season, last did so in 1962. The reason for such a long lull may be its gloominess, a fine reason for the general repertoire, but it’s inappropriate to open the season with, and so close to Christmas as well. Moreover, assembling an ideal cast is no minor task. The leading trio originally forecast for this production included Jonas Kaufmann, Anna Netrebko and Ludovic Tézier, as stellar as it can get, as one expects from La Scala.


However, Kaufmann cancelled, and was replaced by American tenor Brian Jagde. I’ve followed American tenor Jagde’s career for years. Endowed with a powerfully virile voice, he has had a tendency to sing forte and fortissimo which appeals to many, especially those who favour “can belto” to bel canto. This style is not my cup of tea. However, Jagde has fortunately improved in recent years. His Alvaro in La forza del destino last March at the Metropolitan Opera was the best thing in that unfortunate production. Admired last May in Parma as Cavaradossi in Tosca, he impressed the public with his virile voice and ease in the upper register. Though his voice cannot be described as Italianate, Jagde’s diction is excellent for a non‑native speaker. The American tenor acquitted himself with brio in the demanding role of Alvaro, though many (especially starstruck members of the audience) were unjustifiably disappointed with the replacement. While many admired the squillo in his voice and his convincing portrayal of the tragic hero, other detractors reproached a lack of subtlety in his phrasing. Jagde was ardent and expressive in “La vita è inferno all’infelice...O tu, che in seno agli angeli”, but he was even more inspired in his duets with Ludovic Tézier.


Anna Netrebko is unquestionably today’s leading star soprano. More than usual, there was a huge contingent of foreigners at the venerable theatre. Several were fervent Netrebko fans supporting their Russian idol, who was misguidedly banned from some major opera houses for political reasons. She astounded her fans with her physical transformation; she’s shed several kilos and looked great in tight pants, disguised as a man in Act II.


Despite some vocal imperfections, Netrebko acquitted herself with panache as Leonora. Her emblematic high notes are as brilliant as ever. She continues to float those soaring high notes with extreme ease, and signature pianissimi are as impressive as ever. As noted in her Adriana Lecouvreur in Paris earlier this year, Netrebko’s voice has substantially darkened, at moments sounding more mezzo, albeit one easily reaching the stratosphere. Her use of this darker register enhances her dramatic expressivity. Her biggest asset, even more than her beautiful voice and her ravishingly great looks, is her excellence as an actress. Thanks to her charisma, hers was one of the most convincing Leonoras in years.


Though the role is relatively brief, her two arias are among Verdi’s most demanding, both vocally and dramatically. An impeccable technician, Netrebko easily conquered any difficulties, seducing us with her ethereal pianissimi. She delivered a moving Act IV “Pace, pace, mio Dio”, with exemplary emphasis on the phrasing of such critical words as “languir”, “il mio soffrir” and “in preda a tanto duol”.


It would be hard to imagine a more impressive Don Carlo than Ludovic Tézier. An excellent actor, endowed with a beautiful, rich baritone, Tézier was exemplary. Thanks to a naturally aristocratic demeanour, the French baritone embodied this condescending, proud nobleman. His hate and desire for vengeance were clear from the start, though he avoided excess in his portrayal. While some felt Brian Jagde was lacking in nuance, Tézier gave a masterclass in characterization. His Act III “Morir tremenda cosa...Urna fatale” was the best I have heard in decades. Not to diminish the qualities of his co‑stars, he was overall the best singer and actor in the cast.


Russian bass Alexander Vinogradov was a solemn Padre Guardiano, underplaying the priest’s fatherly saintliness, a trap many fall into. As he’s kind‑hearted and understanding, his vocation and rank demand a certain distance. He fully conveyed the priest’s authority and gravitas. My only reproach was his diction, which was not as clear as the rest of the cast.


Vasilisa Berzhanskaya, who dazzled audiences in Die Zauberflöte as Queen of the Night earlier in her career, is now mostly a Rossini mezzo. Hers may not be the ideal voice for Preziosilla. However, given Muscato’s staging with Preziosilla as the regiment’s vivandière, rather than the stereotypical “dubious fortune teller,” a lighter voice was suitable. The attractive young Russian mezzo impressed with brilliant high notes, but is lacking in the lower register, perhaps an appropriate caveat for a soubrette vivandière. Her good looks, charismatic presence and agility on stage made this Preziosilla a pleasure. Moreover, her diction was clear and her phrasing impeccable.


Baritone Marco Filippo Romano was a brilliant Fra’ Melitone, the ill‑humoured uncharitable priest in Act II. Admired as Don Bartolo in Il barbiere di Siviglia earlier this year in Parma and last season in Vienna, the Italian baritone is a first‑rate actor. Wit and frivolity come naturally to this talented singer‑actor. However, he was unconvincing as the regiment’s chaplain in Act III.


The great maestro Riccardo Chailly led La Scala’s orchestral forces with vigour, notably in the monumental overture. A masterful Verdi interpreter, he managed to bring out the sublime in this darker than usual score. With its relentless darkness, this opera may feel insipid, but never under Chailly’s baton. More versed in Italian opera than most, he supported his singers adroitly. On at least one occasion, Jagde did not respect the tempo and was promptly put back on track.


This production exceeded expectations thanks to a first-rate homogeneous cast, Muscato’s intelligent staging and Federica Parolini’s visually appealing sets. After scores of performances of La forza del destino, I have finally reconciled with this opera, one that until now I believed should be heard but not seen. Miraculous!



Ossama el Naggar

 

 

Copyright ©ConcertoNet.com