It's taken me a week to write this, despite making promises on the Marcelo group...
Trovatore is one of the most popular/well-known of Verdi's operas, from the middle period that also produced inter alia La Traviata and Rigoletto. And despite me having two CD sets - one on my mp3 player - and two DVDs, it doesn't have quite that seize-me-and-leave-me-reeling effect. Off the top of my head I would say I prefer Otello, Ballo, Rigoletto, Don Carlos, and probably Forza, and I'm not sure I would rate it above Traviata, Boccanegra, Ernani. But more than Aida!
Partly, that's a lack of familiarity, but that's a bit chicken-and-egg. And it's not like it's short of over-familiar music, most famously the Anvil Chorus and Di Quella Pira, both staples of appropriate compilation CDs and 'numbers' concerts. Also, Ah! si ben mio (the aria that precedes Di Quella Pira), Stride la vampa!, and Deserto sulla terra.
There is a Creative Commons download from 1951, libretto, synopsis, and summary
Cast:
Count di Luna: Anthony Michaels-Moore
Leonora: Catherine Naglestad
Azucena: Stephanie Blythe
Manrico: Marcelo Álvarez
Ferrando: Raymond Aceto
Ines: Kishani Jayasinghe
Ruiz: Haoyin Xue
Stick-waver: Nicola Luisotti
Director: Elijah Moshinsky
First, briefly, the production. Rubbish. Or, strictly speaking, semi-rubbish. In that it did nothing to interrupt the music. But, for all the impact the personenregie had it might as well have been a concert performance. The sets were imposing, but with all the inspiration of backdrops yet so dominating the stage they left little room for the cast to do what it had to do. Act I was the façade of a house that, hung with banners of red, reminded me of a Fascist display put on by Franco or Mussolini. Act II was dominated by giant columns which I think were supposed to be Industrial, representative of the forge perhaps where the Anvil Chorus took place, but seemed to me to be like the bases of over-ornate lamp-posts from toddler's eye view. Act III has been said to resemble a railway station, but brought to my mind firstly and incorrectly Blackpool's Winter Garden, then some building in Douglas, which was half derelict when I last visited a dozen years (my inability to find it on the net suggests it may have been razed), and finally Paxton's Crystal Palace. But certainly not a convent. And Act IV took place in front of an expanse of wire fence such as is used on building sites to protect deep excavations
I couldn't decide whether or not the costumes were modern dress. I have been assured they were not, but, for example, Marcelo as Manrico wore a shirt, jodhpurs and boots that would not be out of place on today's polo field; Catherine Naglestad's dresses, as Leonora, could be worn on the concert platform; Stephanie Blythe as Azucena was dressed in the sort of gypsy garb that many women wear to work. And the soldiers were amorphous any era. No furniture was abused, and there was very little opportunity for any characters to roll around on the floor, or indeed, do anything particularly exciting. Although in the final act the moving duet-scene between Azucena and Manrico was conducted at floor level.
Music, band, bloke-waving stick. Excellent! I can't explain why, and perhaps my judgement was influenced by the consensus of those that had attended previous performances. I am particularly disposed to baton-twirlers who understand the Hippocratic Oath - First Do No Harm. Beyond that I cannot explain what makes me sure it was more than competent. Except that years of experience and a reasonable familiarity with the music told me that it was more than competent.
As for the cast. I think I got them on a better night than the majority of the critics who attended the first night. I also think I was sitting in a special seat acoustically. I've been in that or adjacent seats before and have adored the crystal pure sound emanating from below. It's in the Amphitheatre, but I'm not saying more than that, or else everyone will be clamouring for it!
As always, I adored Marcelo Álvarez . Vocally, he can do no wrong for me. I can't fault his interpretation, and I think he has a gorgeous timbre to his voice. Next time I need someone to sing a telephone directory for me, he would definitely be on my short-list. Although even his most fervent fans couldn't call him slender, he moves with ease and grace. Nor could anyone could really describe him as a consummate actor, and yet he practically epitomises the expression 'stage presence'. I would love him to put on a concert of arias etc at somewhere like the Barbican, because his gorgeous voice and amazing ability to reach beyond the footlights would make it a winning combination.
I really really liked his Deserto sulla terra, which was imbued with meaning and emotion, and the final act duet with Azucena was moving. The Di Quella Pira was staged so that he strode down stage with purpose and from the front of the stage stood-and-delivered, full in the spotlight - an unimaginative Director's way of saying "This is a show-stopper". Which of course means that every note and nuance is in sharp focus. So no pressure there, then! Di Quella traditionally ends with an interpolated C*, even though there is nothing actually written above an A, and many tenors settle for a B or B flat. I don't think that Marcelo did the C; there are differences of opinion on this. not being a high-note fetish, I was happy, but I would like to have heard the 'Da Capo'. Ah well, apparently, this is not very common.
The other star was Stephanie Blythe. Her Stride la vampa was one of the best renditions of an individual aria I have ever heard. In general her performance was sure-footed and convincing. Oh, what a wonderful voice. Consistently, over the interweb, she is described as a mezzo-soprano, but to my ears she is a contralto, with gloriously velvet tones in the lowest part of the range. I enjoyed her tremendously as Ulrica in Ballo fourteen months ago, and I enjoyed her even more in this role.
Catherine Naglestad and Anthony Michaels-Moore were essentially and ultimately provincial in their interpretations. Both have the bases of good voices. But Anthony seemed to get breathy at inopportune moments, and lacked any stage presence whatsoever. Catherine also came over as two-dimensional, which surprised me, having seen her in Cosí and specifically in the wonderful Stuttgart Alcina on video. Which perhaps merely underlines the poor quality of direction. If her entire part had been transposed down a third, it would have been a quite quite different performance. But she was struggling consistently on the highest notes. They were best when merely breathed and verging on the unpleasant when squawked.
I return on Thursday to a cheaper seat but one from where, hopefully, I shall have a superb view of percussion on the Anvil Chorus.
*The cabaletta is in the key of C, properly, so an untransposed-but-with-interpolations performance offers a high C** (or two or three, depending). Untransposed-without-interpolations would feature Gs where Cs are often added.
**Verdi said he didn't mind the C, but it had better be good***
*** But I don't give a damn about High Cs: indeed it is only within the past two or three years that I have learned that tenors are supposed to have them, even though many of the best don't, and many who do are otherwise forgettable
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