Sesto Quatrini / Reviews

1830 was a formidable year, when in the space of a few months Duke Pompeo Litta was able to secure for "his" Teatro Carcano in Milan the two new rising stars of Italian melodrama: Vincenzo Bellini and Gaetano Donizetti. Anna Bolena from Bergamo was commissioned (partially composed in Blevio, on Lake Como), which will see the scenes on December 26, while La sonnambula from Catania(partially composed in Moltrasio, opposite Blevio) which will debut on March 6 of the following year. Two masterpieces entrusted to the pen of the same librettist, Felice Romani, and to the same two legendary vocal interpreters Giuditta Pasta and Giovanni Battista Rubini. Inevitably, therefore, if you want to attempt to recreate at least part of the charm of those mythical performances, it is essential to be able to count on two singers of extremely solid technical caliber, two virtuosos of proto-Romantic vocality. Not being able to have such voices available, the recovery of the magnificent scores by Bellini and Donizetti would hardly appear possible. It is no coincidence that the tenor role of Percy in Anne Boleynit had to wait for tenors such as Gregory Kunde, Rockwell Blake and Chris Merritt to come before its immense possibilities could be appreciated. The fundamental La Scala revival of Donizetti's masterpiece in 1957 by Gianandrea Gavazzeni and Luchino Visconti went down in history for the astonishing performances of Maria Callas and Giulietta Simionato, certainly not for the dignified execution of Gianni Raimondi in Percy, role, in those performances, abundantly cut and shortened by the helpful conductor.

“Madama Butterfly”, a perennial favorite with the opera-going public, seems to be, for good or ill, immune to large-scale meddling from directors attempting to impose their own reading on, what is by opera standards, a well-known story. Rarely do productions step outside late 19th/early 20th century Japan, replete with kanzashi hairstyles, colorful kimonos and obi, houses with paper walls adorned with cherry blossom over the entrances, with well-placed bonsai trees and ornate bridges over water features. Not that this has, of course, in any way dimmed audiences’ enthusiasm for Puccini’s masterpiece, with its glorious and easily accessible music, along with its numerous opportunities to view the great divas displaying their artistry. However, as this historical epoch fades further into the past, and the fascination Japan held over Europeans in the latter half of the 19th century is lost, this type of production is becoming increasingly jaded, and its stereotypical images are weighing more heavily upon the work, leading to “Madama Butterfly” becoming overly sentimental and irrelevant. Moreover, the situation has not been helped by Puccini himself, who as a master in the art of stagecraft, took every opportunity to squeeze the last drop of emotion from the piece. Think of Butterfly’s emotionally powerful suicide scene, which on its own is enough to induce tears from the audience. Puccini, however, realizing that it is possible to ratchet up the emotions further, has the young blindfolded child present on stage as a witness to his mother’s death.