|
Back
Grand Opera comes to Life Catania
Teatro Massimo Bellini
12/13/2024 - & December 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, 21, 2024
Amilcare Ponchielli: La Gioconda
Anna Pirozzi*/Francesca Tiburzi (La Gioconda), Anastasia Boldyreva*/Chiara Mogini (Laura), George Andguladze*/Christian Saitta (Alvise Badoero), Agostina Smimmero*/Kamelia Kader (La Cieca), Ivan Momirov*/Otar Jorjikia (Enzo Grimaldo), Franco Vassallo*/Anooshah Golesotkhi (Bernaba), Ettore Le (Zuàne, Un pilota), Giorgio Valerio/Giovanni Palminteri (Un cantore, Un barnabotto), Nicola Pamio (Isèpo), Corpo di ballo AltraDanza
Coro del Teatro Massimo Bellini, Luigi Petrozziello (Chorus Master), Coro di voci bianche “InCanto”, Alessandra Lussi (Chorus Master), Orchestra del Teatro Massimo Bellini, Fabrizio Maria Carminati (Conductor)
Francesco Esposito (Stage Director, Sets), Francesco Esposito & Giovanni Adelaide Giorgianni (Costumes), Antonio Alario (Lighting), Domenico Iannone (Choreography)
(© Giacomo Orlando)
The plays of Victor Hugo (1802-1885) are the second most popular source for opera libretti after Shakespeare. Among the many operas based on his plays are Donizetti’s Il castello di Kenilworth (1829), based on Leicester, ou le château de Kenilworth and Lucrezia Borgia (1833); Pacini’s Maria, regina d’Inghiterra (1843) after Marie Tudor; Verdi’s Ernani (1844) and Rigoletto (1851), after Le roi s’amuse; Marchetti’s Ruy Blas (1869); Ponchielli’s Marion Delorme (1885); Franz Schmidt’s Notre Dame (1914); Mercadante’s Il giuramento (1837); and Ponchielli’s La Gioconda (1876), both after Angelo, tyran de Padoue.
The librettist of La Gioconda is none other than Arrigo Boito (1842‑1918), one of Italy’s greatest intellectuals during the Risorgimento, the period that saw the political unification of Italy in the nineteenth century. A composer in his own right, Mefistofele is his only complete opera, for he died before finishing Nerone, on which he laboured for nearly four decades. Boito is best‑known for his collaborations with Verdi, for whom he wrote the exceptional libretti for both Otello (1887) and Falstaff (1893).
For his collaboration with Ponchielli, La Gioconda, Boito used an anagram, Tobia Gorrio. Uncharitable souls claim this covert participation was due to the librettist’s embarrassment to be associated with this opera. Indeed, haters of Italian opera love to despise La Gioconda as a kitsch affair assembling all the weaknesses of Italian opera. Not so, I dare say! I find La Gioconda to be highly entertaining, and most of all musically rich. Ponchielli is mistakenly associated with Italian verismo composers, though his distinct musical style is closest to Verdi.
One must admit that La Gioconda’s plot is extravagant. However, in this case its detractors ought to criticize its author Victor Hugo, not Ponchielli.
A main characteristic of La Gioconda is its grand scale, which some deem bombastic. This is due to its being a grand opera, modelled after Meyerbeer. Verdi’s Don Carlos (1867) and Aida (1871), as well as La Gioconda are good examples of grand opera enjoying more popularity than Meyerbeer’s grands operas. Meyerbeer’s grand operas had historic themes such as the plight of the Protestants in France in Les Huguenots or the blasphemous John of Leiden in the Netherlands during the early days of the Reformation in Le Prophète. They also involved dazzlingly grand spectacle, at least one ballet, grand scenes with chorus, and most importantly a quintet or sextet of top singers covering all registers. These would usually include a tenor and soprano for the amorous couple; a mezzo and a baritone rival; and perhaps a couple of basses as parents or evil conspirators. There lies the difficulty in reviving Meyerbeer’s works or operas written in his style: their elaborate productions invite ruinous budgets, and challenges abound when searching for a half dozen first‑tier singers. These are the main reasons why La Gioconda is rarely produced. Several major cities have not seen it in a half century! Others, never.
As in Verdi’s Don Carlos and Aida, La Gioconda respects Meyerbeer’s rule of assigning major roles to each register of voice: Gioconda is a dramatic soprano; her mother, La Cieca, a contralto; her rival, Laura, a mezzo; Enzo, a tenor; Laura’s husband Alvise, a bass; and the spy Barnaba, a baritone. All six roles call for an aria each, as well as involvement in duets and ensembles.
Hugo’s play Angelo, tyran de Padoue easily lends itself to grand opera. In its preface, Hugo wrote : “Il faut que le drame soit grand, il faut que le drame soit vrai.” Ponchielli and his librettist Boito made it grander by transposing the action from the small Venetian city of Padua to Venice itself. Each act is ceremoniously given a title:
“La bocca dei Leoni” (the lions’ mouth): Barnaba, a spy for the Inquisition, lusts after the street singer, La Gioconda. When she firmly rejects him, he seeks revenge by accusing her blind mother, La Cieca, of witchcraft. The intervention of the kind‑hearted Laura, wife of nobleman Alvise, saves the old woman. In gratitude, La Cieca offers Laura her rosary. Barnaba recognizes a young sea captain in the crowd as nobleman Enzo Grimaldo, Laura’s previous love, before being forced into marrying Alvise. The young man who passes himself for a Dalmatian sea captain is he whom Gioconda also loves, though unreciprocated. Barnaba sees an opportunity to stir trouble and to have a better chance at winning Gioconda by placing a letter denouncing Enzo and Laura in the Venetian lion’s mouth, where information for the Inquisition is posted.
“Il rosario” (the rosary): Barnaba helps Laura elope with Enzo by taking her to her lover’s ship. A jealous Gioconda awaits Laura and is on the verge of stabbing her when she recognizes her mother’s rosary. As Alvise and his henchmen approach, Gioconda helps Laura escape to safety. Becoming aware of Laura’s disappearance and his impending arrest, Enzo torches his own ship rather than have it fall into Alvise’s hands, and dives into the lagoon.
“Casa d’oro” (the house of gold): Alvise has caught Laura, and orders her to take poison. Gioconda, who secretly followed her into the nobleman’s abode, replaces the poison with a potent sleeping potion. Meanwhile, Alvise is giving lavish entertainment to the city’s nobility. Enzo, in disguise, is also present. A funeral bell announcing Laura’s death interrupts the festivities. When Laura’s corpse is brought in, a distraught Enzo reveals his identity and is arrested.
“Il canale Orfano” (the Orfano Canal): Gioconda has agreed to give herself to Barnaba in return for helping Enzo escape. She helps the awakening Laura and Enzo escape to safety. As Barnaba arrives, she stabs herself to death to avoid yielding to the vicious spy. As she is dying, a furious Barnaba reveals that he has drowned Gioconda’s mother, La Cieca.
More than any other opera, La Gioconda is the closest one can get to an action movie. Indeed, this may have been its original appeal.
The staging of the present production is a traditional one, which is for the best, given its infrequent staging. The set for Act I is a public square, with a huge golden statue of a Venetian lion at its centre. The columns of a church are on one side. Stairs lead to an upper level, where the lion is seen. This affords impressive tableaux with crowds during the festive scenes.
In Act II, Enzo’s ship is a huge structure with a prominent mast. Sailors, cabin boys and stevedores are loading merchandise. The impressive chorus representing this bustling activity, “Ho! Ho! Fossa il timore”, is one of the best constructed, with male, female and children’s choruses singing distinct parts. The Coro del Teatro Massimo Bellini acquitted itself in this act, as well is in the Act I “Feste! Pane! Feste!”. At its end, the torching of the ship was represented by smoke on board, not exactly a grand spectacle à la Meyerbeer. Videography could have been used to create the necessary effects.
Act III opened with an opulent scene in Alvise’s palatial home. Two huge paintings in the style of Tiepolo or Tintoretto imposed each side of the stage. The clergy and nobility costumes were harmoniously coordinated, but could have been more flamboyant, especially for the women, clad in black. The popular “Dance of the Hours” was beautifully choreographed, though the relevance of the dancers’ movements to the hours was not explained.
The final act takes place in Gioconda’s humble dwellings, a letdown after the grandiose scenes of previous acts. However, this was more than compensated for by the intensity of the drama. As mentioned, La Gioconda is rarely performed due to the expense related to such an elaborate spectacle and due to the difficulty in assembling an appropriate cast. In the latter respect, Teatro Massimo Bellini was almost up to the challenge. Five of the six star singers were indeed dazzling.
The uncontested star of the show was Anna Pirozzi, a soprano possessing the rare vocal requirements for the title role, which calls for a dramatic soprano or at least a lirico spinto who can do justice to the role’s intense drama. Gioconda must also have dazzling pianissimi. Admired in Il trovatore in Fidenza ici, Pirozzi has all this and more.
Her Act I phrase “Enzo adorato...quanto io t’amo” positively soared. Other than a superlative, well‑suited voice, Pirozzi has the temperament for the role. In the famous Act II duet with Laura, one of the most dramatic soprano/mezzo duets in the repertoire, “E un anatema”, was as explosive as one could hope for. One actually feared for the well‑being of the mezzo!
Unsurprisingly, the Act IV aria, “Suicidio”, was the apotheosis of the evening. More than total vocal mastery, Pirozzi was rivetingly emotional. Other than the role’s demanding tessitura, Gioconda requires endurance, as she’s onstage for much of the opera; she probably sang for longer than the next two roles combined.
Bulgarian tenor Ivan Momirov was more than adequate as Enzo. The role requires a dramatic tenor, similar in range and tessitura to Il trovatore’s Manrico – no minor feat. Momirov acquitted himself with aplomb. He brought the house down for the opera’s most famous aria, the Act II “Cielo o mar”, masterfully sung, but somewhat lacking in elegance. He was at his best in the Act I duet with Barnaba, “Enzo Grimaldo, Principe di Santafior”. Again, this baritone‑tenor duet is one of the best in all Italian opera, rivaled only by those from Verdi’s La forza del destino and Otello.
Russian mezzo Anastasia Boldyreva is one of those rare singers equally at ease in both mezzo and soprano registers. In 2024, Boldyreva sang the role of Princesse de Bouillon in Adriana Lecouvreur (another mezzo role), but also the demanding dramatic soprano roles of Minnie in La fanciulla del West and the title role in Turandot. Her sensual voice blended well with Pirozzi’s in Act II’s duet. In her Act II aria “Stella del marinar”, she perfectly conveyed Laura’s anxiety. She was sensuality incarnate in the Act II duet with Enzo, “Deh! Non turbare,” displaying excellent diction and solidly effective phrasing.
Contralto Agostina Smimmero has sung La Cieca in many major European theatres. Her deep voice is impressive and blended perfectly with Pirozzi’s. Her Act I aria, “Voce di donna o d’angelo”, garnered much applause. She totally inhabited the role and has mastered simulating a blind person’s demeanour.
The second most impressive singer of the cast was doubtless baritone Franco Vassallo as the slimy spy Barnaba, a prototype evil character that some think librettist Boito had in mind when he wrote Iago’s lyrics in Otello. Admired last season in Ernani in Valencia, Vassallo, who can sing appealingly, managed to render his voice less so, in terms of timbre. His phrasing, however, was impressively deliberate and precise. One could feel his sliminess in the furthest seat from the stage. Amazingly, he did so without resorting to excess.
Georgian bass George Andguladze was miscast as the nobleman Alvise. However, he convincingly conveyed the cuckolded man’s fury as well as his aristocratic rank thanks to his imperious style and demeanour. His Act III aria, “Si! Morir ella de!”, was unfortunately underwhelming. The ensuing duet with Laura, where he dictated her suicide by poison, was terrifying, despite his limited vocal prowess.
Fabrizio Maria Carminati is a singers’ conductor, a specialist of Italian opera. Admired in Maria Stuarda in Lisbon a few years ago, he especially excels in bel canto, for which he has an undeniable affinity. Though from a later epoch, La Gioconda is a summit of Italian opera, and Carminati’s sensibility was a perfect fit.
Despite the performance’s considerable length (four hours, with two intermissions and a pause), the time flew by. For a gourmand opera lover like myself, so delighted to see this rarity, I wished it could last another hour, as these four hours were simply electrifying. This is thanks to a magnificent cast, especially Anna Pirozzi, and of course to the unfairly underestimated Ponchielli. I wonder if I will ever get to see some of his other works, such as I promessi sposi (1872), I Lituani (1875), Il figliol prodigo (1880), Marion Delorme (1885) and I Morí di Valenza (post. 1914). As Carmen says in Bizet’s opera: “Il est permis d’attendre, il est doux d’espérer.”
Ossama el Naggar
|
