Recensioni di produzioni precedenti
5Verdi – Aida Aida – María José Siri Il Re – Romano Dal Zovo Amneris – Olesya Petrova Radamès – Murat Karahan Amonasro – Sebastian Catana Ramfis – Park Jongmin Un Messaggero – Francesco Pittari Sacerdotessa – Yao Bohui Pianist – Patrizia Quarta Coro dell’Arena di Verona / Diego Matheuz. Video design & digital scenography – D-WOK. Arena di Verona, Verona, Italy. Thursday, July 15th, 2021. Tonight, was something of a very different evening. My first visit to the Arena di Verona to see Aida. The Arena is a legendary venue and the excitement of being able to see opera in a Roman amphitheatre is something that is difficult to put into words. The sheer scale of the venue is breathtaking and the magic of seeing singers at work under the Veronese night something very real. Of course, with the current sanitary restrictions this was never going to be a typical evening at the Arena. FFP2 masks were compulsory and spaces on the famous steps, the Gradinate, at the top of the Arena were numbered, rather than the traditional first come, first served. Still, the atmosphere was electric – with ambulant salespeople going around the crowd before the show and during the intermission selling cushions, drinks, program books and libretti. Unfortunately, the sanitary restrictions were not the only change this evening. Due to a labour dispute, at the performance start time of 21:00 we were informed that the orchestra would not play and that there would be reduced choral forces. The performance was given with piano accompaniment by maestro collaborator Patrizia Quarta, a chorus of 25, and the spectators who chose to stay for the show were offered a full refund. It’s unclear what the exact nature of the labour dispute was, although the harpist in the temple of Phtà and the trumpeters in the triumphal scene did show up for work. Thus, this wasn’t the full Arena experience, and it would be hard to assess the performance fully as a result. I wanted to experience sitting in the Gradinate and the view was indeed spectacular. What was noticeable is how well the voices carried. Hearing an unamplified voice in a space like this is something truly extraordinary and yes, while I regret not being able to have the full Arena experience, it was undoubtedly still memorable. Of course, one doesn’t go to the Arena for insightful Regietheater. As a result of the current sanitary restrictions, the chorus was parked at the side of the stage, dressed in black, while the principals acted out their roles on the stage in front of video projections showing various bits of Egyptian imagery. The most notable was in Act 3 with a crescent moon over the Nile which contrasted nicely with the Veronese night above. The ballet and masked extras provided visual interest, throwing themselves around in formation to offer various images of triumph, warfare and associated emotions. In the temple of Phtà, the extras were ranged around the back holding lights which also offered an impressive sight. Direction of the singers basically involved asking them to emote grandly to reach those in the highest gradinate, lots of outstretched arms, and staring into the extensive distance. Hard to fully evaluate Diego Matheuz’ tempi as, given that a single piano was in no way a substitute for a full orchestra in terms of sustaining power, but they seemed sensible enough. The chorus was enthusiastic in their reduced numbers, although it sounded as if there were no first tenors. Tuning and blend were admirable, and the reduced forces still managed to carry with enough power into the Arena – one could only imagine the impact with four times that number. Quarta more than deserved her post-performance prosecco and she rightly granted a huge standing ovation from the Arena public. María José Siri offered us a passionate Aida. The voice tends to hardness in its highest reaches, although that could be simply be as a result of feeling a need to fill the vast space. She sang her ‘o patria mia’ with generous feeling, no pulling back for the high C which is a bit of a shame because in the final duet, she floated some magical lines and had no issues being heard. Murat Karahan offered a robust and virile Radamès. Again, his ‘celeste Aida’ was sung with a tremendous amount of volume, the closing diminuendo not attempted. The voice is bulky but loses body higher up. He did give us some genuine soft singing in the closing duet, pulling back on the tone nicely (no crooning unlike a certain Bavarian). He could certainly be a very useful artist in these roles. Olesya Petrova was terrific value as Amneris. She made much of the text – the words always clear. She has a magnificently full chest register, which she wasn’t afraid to exploit, and the registers were well integrated. In the judgment scene she also sang with generous force, giving us all she had – the closing high A absolutely massive. Sebastian Catana sang Amonasro in a baritone with a firm column of sound, although the tone was quite grainy and lacking in body at the top. Park Jongmin sang Ramfis in a huge bass of impressive resonance and tonal beauty, while Romano Dal Zovo sang il Re with a velvety bass that also carried well. Some mixed feelings, then, about tonight. While it was a genuine treat to be able to attend this legendary venue and have the experience of sitting high up and experiencing a show in this historic amphitheatre, it is tinged with regret that there was no orchestra. That said, I am full of gratitude for the chorus, ballet and principals, not to mention the pianist, who ensured that we got an evening of high drama despite the circumstances.
The Arena di Verona is celebrating its 100th anniversary this year and having opened the season with a somewhat controversial new production of Aida by the Spanish group La Fura dels Baus, it has now reverted to a reconstruction of the original 1913 production for the final seven performances of this opera. Aida was the first opera to be performed at the Arena in 1913 produced by the tenor Giovanni Zenatello, and has been recreated here by Gianfranco de Bosio. It is an attractive, traditional production as you would expect and makes full use of the Arena's large stage, evoking Egypt of the Old Kingdom with its statues, obelisks, sphinxes and lavish costumes. The triumphal scene literally seems to consist of a cast of thousands spread to the very heights of the Arena, including four horses and a colourful ballet choreographed by Susanna Egri. It offers spectacle where required and detailed settings for the more intimate scenes - the Nile scene is particularly evocative. However at the end of the day, irrespective of how much spectacle there is, Aida is a story about love, patriotism and human emotions making it a difficult opera to bring off dramatically with the need to juxtapose its differing elements. Part of the problem lies in the fact that it has four acts and with three intervals and scene changes within the acts it runs for over four hours - with only just over two and a quarter hours of actual music. As a result dramatic tension is lost over the long evening, which is a shame given that the musical standards here are very high. Fiorenza Cedolins both excites and frustrates as Aida. Much of her singing is a joy to listen to and she projects the character effectively, but there is a tentativeness about her performance. She seems to prefer to float the high notes at pianissimo suggesting fragility and vulnerability, rather than attack them, and while this works most of the time, there are many moments when you really just want a bit more. There needs to be an inner strength in Aida which is lost here. Marco Berti has a voice that is ideally suited to the Arena, his strong ringing tenor a perfect match for Radames. If his 'Celeste Aida' is a little tentative and cautious, he soon warms up to deliver an exciting, if somewhat unsubtle, performance. Violeta Urmana is a powerful Amneris. While she has placed an emphasis lately on singing soprano roles this mezzo part is much more suited to her voice which has a dark, lustrous hue to it. She is able to inject anger and passion into her interpretation which reaches its climax thrillingly in the final act confrontation with Radames. The remaining roles are all strongly sung: Ambrogio Maetsri is luxury casting as Amonasro, while Orlin Anastassov's Ramfis and Carlo Cigni's King both impress. Daniel Oren is an energetic conductor clearly enjoying leading the massed forces both in the pit and onstage. The brass section certainly gets their chance to shine in Aida and do so with aplomb. However, ultimately Oren's approach to the score is a little too middle-of-the-road to be dramatically effective. So, a long evening. While there was much to enjoy during the performance with some fine singing, the whole proved to be less than the sum of its parts. Nevertheless there was much to celebrate as the Arena looks back on the last 100 years, and no doubt also to an illustrious future. One wonders if the La Fura dels Baus production of Aida will be revived in 2113?
For no other opera is the gap between scholars and public opinion so wide. Since 1876, when Amilcare Ponchielli’s La Gioconda debuted at La Scala in Milan with a success of unheard-of proportions, every time this drama is set up in some Italian theatre, its popular fortune is renewed. Yet also the diffidence of the musicography in this colourful work, taken from Angelo, tyran de Padoue that Victor Hugo had written forty years before, remains unchanged. Nevertheless, audiences are subjugated by the opulence of the music of this small-town grand opera, which is not devoid of sections of undoubted effect and a wise musical construction. The problem is that in La Gioconda the characters have minimal psychological depth, being more like the representation of extreme feelings rather than credible dramatic characters. <i> The Mona Lisa </i> © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni The Gioconda © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Only part of the plot of Hugo’s historical drama is respected by the librettist Arrigo Boito, who identified himself as Tobia Gorrio in this work. In his convoluted verses and in Ponchielli’s music the main protagonist is the city of Venice, “great and terrible, full of darkness, where one does not die on the scaffold, but disappears” in the Orphan Canal or in the Dead Canal. Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni A director of La Gioconda today can choose two antithetical approaches for its mise en scène: either a parody of the story by staging “something else” (one wonders what Claus Guth or Krzysztof Warlikowski or even Damiano Michieletto might do with this plot!) or a traditional interpretation, a postcard design of Venice. Federico Bertolani doesn’t choose the first way, but takes into account the increasingly limited theatre budget with a simplified staging purified of tinsel and papier-mâché. Andrea Belli’s scenery tended to hint at rather than to describe the lagoon city: the water element was always present – even if from the stalls the spectators could not notice it, were it not for the light reflections and the splashes. Wooden walkways formed the scenery of Acts 1 and 4. A mast, two sails and ropes were the brigantine on which not only Laura’s perdition took place in Act 2, but also Gioconda’s transformation into a vindictive female. This was not the only conversion: she then became a compassionate woman and finally a martyr. Act 3 was less effective: the Ca’ d’Oro was made up with too many red drapes that conflicted with the ugly, translucent plastic sheeting that elsewhere was effective in hinting at the liquid element of the city. What’s more, forcing Laura to lie a good half hour stretched on her catafalque covered with a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramatic point of view. Conductor Daniele Callegari reinstated all the pages of this complex score, even those that are traditionally cut. He delivered an infectious performance, underlining the dark and sombre moments, but also not skimping on the sound volumes when necessary, without ever prevaricating on the singers. Too bad that the three intervals diluted the dramatic tension and made some spectators go home after more than four hours of the performance. The total of 60 minutes of intervals for the changes of an essentially minimalist scenery seemed hardly justified. Saioa Hernández (La Gioconda) and Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Saioa Hernández (La Gioconda) and Anna Maria Chiuri (Laura) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Gioconda has three climaxes in the opera: the duet with the rival Laura, the moment of the excruciating “Suicidio!” and the final scene. In all three Saioa Hernández showed great temperament and vocal technique along with a particular, powerful timbre that makes her suitable for this repertoire. The other highlight of the evening was the character of Enzo Grimaldo, here sung by Francesco Meli whose characteristic commitment was appreciated by the audience, which responded with thunderous applause. Great experience and temperament are Anna Maria Chiuri’s talents and, despite some harshness in the low register, she effectively portrayed a tortured Laura. Giacomo Prestia’s performance as Alvise Badoero was generous , even if his bass is a bit worn. After his treacherous Giovanni in Marco Tutino’s Two Women, Sebastian Catana returned to another villain; his Barnaba a sort of Iago whose perfidy here was even stronger. The rest of the supporting singers and the two choirs were equally good. Sebastian Catana (Barnaba) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni Sebastian Catana (Barnaba) and Francesco Meli (Enzo) © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni The choreographer Monica Casadei and the company Artemis effectively performed the famous “Dance of the Hours”, a naive concession to the conventions of the Transalpine grand opera of the time. In the small space between the chorus and the orchestra pit, only six dancers illustrated with apt movements the gears and the hands of a clock in the the galloping and frisky themes of this page, whose character is totally remote from the nocturnal and mysterious atmospheres of the rest of the opera. <i> The Mona Lisa </i> © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni The Gioconda © Rolando Paolo Guerzoni La Gioconda in Modena: an ever popular provincial grand opera For no other work is the gap between the opinions of critics and the public so clear. Since 1876, when Amilcare Ponchielli's La Gioconda was presented at the Scala in Milan with a success of unprecedented proportions, every time this drama is staged in some Italian theater its popular fortune is renewed. But the reserves of the musicography on this strongly colored feuilleton from Angelo, tyran de Padoue that Victor Hugo had written forty years earlier also remain unchanged . The public is however subdued by the opulence of the music of this grand-opera of the province of skilful musical construction which is not lacking in pages of undoubted effect. The fact is that the characters of La Gioconda they have a minimal psychological depth, being more than anything else the representation on stage of extreme feelings rather than characters with credible dramaturgy. Only in part the plot of Hugo's historical drama is respected by the librettist Arrigo Boito, who signed Tobia Gorro here. In his refined verses and in Ponchielli's music the main protagonist is the city of Venice, "great and terrible, full of darkness, where one does not die on the scaffold, but disappears" in Canal Orfano or Canal Morto ... The director of La Giocondatoday he has two antithetical ways of staging before him: either a parody of the story by staging "something else" (who knows what Claus Guth or Krzysztof Warlikowski or Damiano Michieletto would do with it!) or a completely traditional setting with a Venice as a postcard as a scenography. Federico Bertolani does not choose the first way: his is a mise-en-scène in any case simplified and purified of trappings and papier-mâché that takes into account the needs of increasingly limited budgets. In Andrea Belli's scenography, more is hinted than describing the lagoon city with water as an ever-present element, even if the spectators of the stalls hardly notice it were it not for the reflections of light and the splashes. Wooden walkways form the rooms of the first and fourth act; a tree, two sails and ropes form the brig on which Laura's perdition and the transformation of the Mona Lisa into an avenging woman takes place - but it will not be the only conversion: she will then become merciful and finally a martyr. Less effective is the scene of the third act, the interior of the Ca 'd'Oro, made with too many red drapes that contrast with the ugly translucent plastic sheets that in the other acts effectively hint at the liquid element of the city. The fact that Laura is then forced to stay a good half hour lying on her bier covered by a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramaturgical point of view. interior of the Ca 'd'Oro, made with too many red drapes that contrast with the ugly translucent plastic sheets that in the other acts effectively hint at the liquid element of the city. The fact that Laura is then forced to stay a good half hour lying on her bier covered by a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramaturgical point of view. interior of the Ca 'd'Oro, made with too many red drapes that contrast with the ugly translucent plastic sheets that in the other acts effectively hint at the liquid element of the city. The fact that Laura is then forced to stay a good half hour lying on her bier covered by a red cloth is hardly justifiable from a dramaturgical point of view. The conductor Daniele Callegari restores all the pages of a complex score, even those that are traditionally cut at the second and fourth act, and gives a captivating reading, emphasizes the crepuscular moments, but does not skimp on the sound volumes when necessary, without never overpower the singers, however. Too bad that the three intervals dilute the dramatic tension a lot and make the spectators go home after more than four hours. The total sixty minutes of intervals are not justified for the changes of an essentially minimalist scene. There are three culminating moments in Gioconda's character: the duet with rival Laura, the moment of the excruciating «Suicide!» and the final scene. In all three Saioa Hernandez showed great temperament and vocal technique together with considerable sound volume and a particular timbre that makes her suitable for this type of repertoire. The other highlight of the evening is the character of Enzo Grimaldo, supported here by Francesco Meli whose usual commitment the audience appreciated with abundant applause. Great experience and temperament are the qualities of Anna Maria Chiuri who, despite some harshness in the low register, effectively outlined a suffered Laura. Alvise Badoero's tools by Giacomo Prestia were a little worn, his performance was generous but tired. One more role fromvilain for Sebastian Catana, who after the perfidious Giovanni de La ciociara by Marco Tutino plays the part of Barnaba, a Jago whose perfidy here is even more unreasonable. Good the rest of the supporting actors as well as the choirs. Monica Casadei with the Artemis company has effectively solved the famous “Dance of the Hours”, a naive concession to the needs of the transalpine grand-opera. In the small space between the choir and the orchestral pit the only six dancers illustrated with movements alluding to the movements of gears or those of the hands of a clock, the galop and the lively themes of this page whose character is totally detached from the nocturnal and mysterious atmospheres of the rest of the 'Opera.
A revival of the 1993/94 Gilbert Deflo production of Rigoletto is enjoying a sweeping success at Milan’s Teatro alla Scala, where baritone Leo Nucci interrupted a long standing tradition, and encored the duet ‘Sí vendetta’ at the end of the second act, together with soprano Nadine Sierra. This gave rise to long discussions in the local media and among opera fans: as is well known, several conductors at La Scala have discouraged encores, starting with Toscanini. Muti had the same approach, even though he himself encored the chorus ‘Va pensiero’ in a Nabucco performance in 1986. That was the last encore heard in a Verdi opera and, notably, it was not by individual singers. Only Juan Diego Flórez encored the aria ‘Ah mes amis’ in Donizetti’s La fille du régiment in 2007 (but it would have been an exception for him not to encore that aria). The ongoing discussion had aroused the audience’s expectations, and at the second performance there were pressing requests for encores addressed to Nucci as early as the first act, along with much applause throughout. At the end of the second act, the curtain fell. Nucci and Sierra remained on the forestage and again decided to repay their fans’ appreciation: they quickly consulted with the maestro and the general manager with a simple eye contact and encored the duet, to the audience’s enthusiasm. Nucci has sung Rigoletto about 500 times and the baritone is by now a leading exponent in this role and identifies with it completely. At his side, American soprano Nadine Sierra, making her company debut, was a compelling Gilda: her youthful looks and her lightly colored voice proved especially appropriate for the naive and idealistic young daughter of the hunchback (who, by the way, did not have a hunch in this production). Tenor Vittorio Grigolo was the Duke. This singer can rely on a sizable voice, evenly colored throughout the range, with long breaths and good technique, but unfortunately his taste leaves much to be desired, and so does his discipline, as he often did not comply with the conductor’s choice of tempi. Bass Carlo Colombara, making his role debut, was a good Sparafucile, while mezzosoprano Annalisa Stroppa's small voice made her barely audible during the third act quartet. The classic sets and costumes by Ezio Frigerio and Franca Squarciapino offer a visually convincing setting for the action, and have the merit that they follow strictly the libretto. It is not easy to bring something new to the conducting of Rigoletto at La Scala, but Nicola Luisotti’s reading of the score was refreshing, and his brisk tempi captivated the audience. At the end, all the singers received a tribute of applause, especially rich for Nadine Sierra, and with a real triumph for Leo Nucci.
Anche la quinta e ultima recita di Turandot si avvia verso il tutto esaurito. La fiaba musicale per eccellenza, con la ricca tavolozza orchestrale di Puccini, rivive all’Arena di Verona con immagini da sogno e un cast di prestigio: a cominciare dalla protagonista Elena Pankratova, soprano russo che debutta in Anfiteatro come principessa di gelo dopo i consensi raccolti in tutto il mondo nel repertorio drammatico, da Wagner a Bayreuth allo Strauss di Vienna, Berlino, Londra.
