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Misguided Virtuosity Paris
Théâtre des Champs-Elysées
06/17/2025 - & June 10, 12, 14, 2025 (Rouen)
Gioacchino Rossini: Semiramide
Karine Deshayes (Semiramide), Franco Fagioli (Arsace), Alasdair Kent (Idreno), Giorgi Manoshvili (Assur), Grigory Shkarupa (Oroe), Natalie Pérez (Azema), Jérémy Florent (Mitrane), (The Ghost of Nino)
Chœur accentus/Opéra Normandie Rouen, Karine Locatelli (chorus master), Orchestre de l’Opéra Normandie Rouen, Valentina Peleggi (conductor)
V. Peleggi (© Bo Lutoslawski)
Considered one of Rossini’s greatest opere serie, Semiramide (1823) was also his last Italian opera premiered before relocating to London and later Paris where he wrote his final three operas, Il viaggio a Reims (1825), a ceremonial piece on the occasion of the coronation of France’s new monarch; and the French language masterpieces Le Comte Ory (1828) and Guillaume Tell (1829).
Based on Voltaire’s play Sémiramis (1746), the mythical Babylonian queen inspired several operas prior to Rossini’s: Gluck’s La Semiramide riconosciuta (1748), Myslivecek’s Semiramide (1766), Charles‑Simon Catel’s Sémiramis (1802) and Meyerbeer’s Semiramide riconosciuta (1819).
It is also considered to be a retrogression to a baroque style, albeit in Rossini’s bel canto idiom. The larger-than-life historical figures from Antiquity, the copious ornamentation and virtuosity, especially in Semiramide’s and Arsace’s music, are a reversion to an earlier era. Musicologist Richard Osborne refers to it as “Tancredi revisited.” Rossini’s Tancredi (1813) was also based on a tragedy by Voltaire, and Gaetano Rossi (1774‑1855) was the librettist for both works. Though both are replete with arias and scenes of high virtuosity, Semiramide is substantially superior and infinitely more dramatic.
Around 2000 B.C., Semiramide, Queen of Babylonia, and widow of Nino, is under pressure to marry. Assur, a courtier, who had conspired with Semiramide to eliminate her husband, covets the throne. Semiramide is in love with the Scythian Prince Arsace, Commander of her army. In turn, he is in love with Princess Azema. Idreno, an Indian king, aspires to make Azema his queen. When Semiramide announces that she has chosen Arsace, there is an uproar in King Nino’s tomb. The ghost of the dead king appears and warns of the atonement of a mysterious crime.
As Semiramide and Arsace’s wedding ceremony commences, High Priest Oroe informs Arsace that he is Ninia, Nino and Semiramide’s son, who had mysteriously disappeared at the time of Nino’s death. He further informs him that Nino was murdered by Assur and Semiramide. Horrified by the idea he was to wed his own mother and by the murder of his father, Arsace swears revenge against Assur and hopes Nino’s ghost may forgive Semiramide. Arsace descends to his father’s tomb intent on killing Assur, but instead kills his mother who had descended into the tomb to protect him. Assur is arrested and Arsace is declared King of Babylonia.
In the modern era, aficionados of Rossini have had the good fortune of having Semiramide revived and championed by three magnificent singers: sopranos Joan Sutherland and Montserrat Caballé, and mezzo Marilyn Horne. The legendary 1980 Aix‑en‑Provence production with Caballé and Horne is said to have been where American bass Samuel Ramey (in the role of Assur) was discovered by an international audience.
With the exception of one early opera, Aureliano in Palmira (1813), Rossini did not resort to castrati in his operas. By his epoch, the castration of boys in the hope of a few developing into lucrative opera singers had mercifully faded, in part thanks to the progressive values of the French Revolution. Instead, Rossini excelled in writing “trousers roles” for virtuoso mezzos endowed with rich lower notes. Part of the bel canto movement was based on the realistic portrayal of Romantic heroes and heroines with which the public could identify. Gone were the gods and heroes of Antiquity sung by castrated men. In the early 1800s, after the French Revolution, the idea of a counter‑tenor being a warrior or a lover was firmly swept away. Not until the 1960s and the renewed interest in early music, did counter‑tenors resurface.
Thanks to Horne, Arsace’s arias and duets have become familiar and are highly appreciated in the mezzo register they were written for. So why the travesty of casting a counter‑tenor in a role that was not created by one. Commercial reasons may be one plausible answer. Franco Fagioli is a superstar and has a huge following, especially among lovers of baroque music, who would flock to any of his performances.
The other star of the show was Karine Deshayes, France’s popular leading mezzo. Surprisingly, the talented French mezzo sings the title role, written for soprano. The creator of the role, Isabella Colbran (1785‑1845), was Rossini’s muse and eventually his wife. As with her contemporaries, Giuditta Pasta (1797‑1865) Giulia Grisi (1811‑1869) and Maria Malibran (1808‑1836), creators of several bel canto roles, Colbran was both a soprano and mezzo. Some described such a voice as soprano sfogato or “vented” soprano. Deshayes seems on a mission to follow in these great singers’ footsteps. Indeed, she has sung – with great success – several soprano roles, such as Donna Elvira (Don Giovanni), Alceste, Elena (La donna del lago), Elvira (I puritani in the transposed Malibran version), Norma and even Armida. This is a rare and admirable accomplishment. However, her choice of Semiramide did not convince. Her rendition of the signature aria “Bel raggio lusinghier” was brilliant. The high notes were no challenge, but the colour of her voice is not exactly the right one.
Had Deshayes sung the role against a mezzo with rich lower notes, à la Marilyn Horne, it would have beautifully contrasted with her own “soprano”. However, opposite Fagioli’s discoloured counter‑tenor, the exercise could not be described as bel canto. Certainly both stars are excellent technical virtuosi, but the opera’s two glorious Semiramide-Arsace duets, the Act I “Serbami ognon si fido” and the Act II “Giorno d’orror”, are not merely exercises in technical bravura.
Most impressive in this concert performance was Russian bass Grigory Shkarupa, who sang the role of the High Priest Oroe. Noble is the first quality that comes to mind when hearing his rich voice. This is a subtle interpreter with a distinct and beautiful timbre, more evocative of the young Samuel Ramey, who is associated with the other bass role, Assur.
Giorgi Manoshvili, as Assur, had an impressively huge voice, also attractive and distinct. However, subtle he was not. In the ensembles in which he sang, whether the Act I duet with Arsace “Bella imago degli dei”, the Act I finale “Ah! Sconvolta nell’ordine eterno” and the Act II Semiramide-Assur duet “Se la vita ancor t’è cara”, there was an imbalance due to Manoshvili’s overly loud volume. Another problem was the Georgian bass’ excessive facial expressions. His understanding of the role seems to have been that of a villain in a silent movie. Too bad, as Manoshvili has a unique and powerful voice.
In contrast, British tenor Alasdair Kent was a lacklustre Idreno. He’s endowed with what is sometimes pejoratively known as “an English tenor voice”, one appropriate for cantatas and oratorio, but rarely for Italian opera. Nonetheless, he performed the technically demanding Act II aria “La speranza piú soave” brilliantly, to the public’s delight.
Conductor Valentina Peleggi has a definite affinity for bel canto and seemed attentive, sometimes overly so, to her singers’ needs. Unfortunately, the orchestra, Orchestre de l’Opéra Normandie Rouen, did not seem up for the task. A few late entries by some of the instruments, loud playing, especially by the winds, and frequent overly fast tempi. This was surprising, as this concert version in Paris followed staged performances in their home town of Rouen. Perhaps the only blessing is that we were spared from that production, where apparently Semiramide was depicted as a vampire, a biting twist for an already convoluted plot.
Ossama el Naggar
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