Once the opening concert was out of the way (I did not attend; I never go to such things) the San Francisco Opera launched its 101st season with Verdi's ever-popular Il Trovatore. I saw the fourth of its six performances.
Ever-popular, yet ever-mocked: certain opinions inevitably get brought up with certain works, & Trovatore is, inevitably, described as having a one of the most absurd plots in opera (this despite my repeated defense of its brilliance!). So let me ask this about the plot's alleged absurdity: why do people assume that's not intentional?
I think this is not a case of a previous era's plots looking silly to a later generation; for every Mysteries of Udolpho there is a Northanger Abbey, & where would Gilbert & Sullivan have been without parodic variations on the baby-snatching & -swapping plot? (But if the story is so ridiculous, why does the opera continue to hold the stage? Weber's Oberon is, inevitably, described as an opera with wonderful music that is sunk by its libretto; why hasn't this happened to the allegedly ridiculous Trovatore?)
I think the absurdity – a word I keep using here because of its connections with Theater of the Absurd – is in service of a philosophical point about the nature of the Universe that holds us captive: it is arbitrary, cruel (or is it indifferent?), &, yes, absurd. Trovatore, with its malleability of identity, its obsessive, fragmentary narratives, & its dreamlike suddenness, is where high Romanticism meets the high Modern. I find this opera much more powerful & convincing, philosophically, than Iago's Credo from Verdi's Otello, which I generally hear spoken of with respect & even awe as a powerful statement of belief in a nihilistic universe. To me that aria seems, whatever its musical power, a crudely reductive explication of meanings & motives that Shakespeare left more profoundly hidden. It is also only one person's (one twisted, miserable person's) view of things. Trovatore, by contrast, gives us that meaningless world brought to vivid life, the trap in which is held our main quartet of characters, who, guided by love, honor, duty, & all sorts of noble human constructs, struggle in vain against the vast & ridiculous twists of life, trapped in their attempts to find meaning, or at least some contentment, in this whirling world.
Sir David McVicar's production relies heavily on a rotating set, which helps keep the action moving, which is important in this work (though there are always some moments when the physical requirements of opera mean actions don't take place as quickly as they really would; I think it would be interesting to see a Robert Wilson-style production, in which the character's trapped existence is personified by their regulated, controlled movements). The action is set in the nineteenth century, so we get some suitable Goyaesque tableaux. There are moments when McVicar overdoes things: I think a Spanish aristocrat like the Count di Luna would not manhandle a court lady, particularly one he's in love with, the way he does Leonora (a Roma woman & accused witch like Azucena is a different matter); & when Manrico is lamenting at the end that Leonora has betrayed him, she should not already be lying on the ground clutching her stomach due to the poison she's taken – you'd think he'd notice that & react, instead of repeating his lines about how she's betrayed him.
The musical side of things is where this performance really shone. Music Director Eun Sun Kim is launching her Verdi/Wagner project with Trovatore & the upcoming Lohengrin; & I think her fluid, propulsive guidance got things off to a great start. Company Director Matthew Shilvock had come out before the opera started to tell us that our Manrico, Arturo Chacón Cruz, was suffering from the effects of the wild-fire smoke that had been dirtying the air for days, & he would perform but begged our indulgence. There were some moments when he was holding back a bit, or marshalling his forces more than maybe he normally would, but on the whole he gave a convincing & impassioned portrayal of our troubadour; not much indulgence needed to be extended. Ekaterina Semanchuk as Azucena & George Petean as the Count di Luna both were powerful. But the star was Angel Blue as Leonora, giving a sumptuous & surprisingly warm portrayal of the trapped Leonora; there were moments when she smiled & floated a tone & you could imagine, or hope for, a very different life for this woman.
No comments:
Post a Comment