Francesco Cilea’s Adriana Lecouvreur (1902) is rarely staged in Australia. This joint production – Bologna, Oviedo, Opera Australia – embraces it high theatrical style and verismo temperament with clear eyed invention. It travels across the centuries, using the original opera’s time period for Act 1, and then subsequently placing the same characters in the 1850s, 1930s and 1960s. This engendered a postmodern playfulness, while remaining true to each character’s intent and produced several large-scale theatrical frissons.
Unfortunately, neither the star soprano (Ermonela Jaho) or the star tenor (Michael Fabiano) was singing on this final performance. This became problematic in the final act when Godard like their filmed images (doppelganger) confronted the two replacement singers, who were physically dissimilar to the projections flooding their presence. Natalie Arroyan and Diego Torre did, however, acquit themselves with distinction. Arroyan has a big voice and a statuesque build. She sang ‘Io son l’umille ancella” with a clear bound line that gave pleasure in hearing one of this opera’s best-known arias, while ensuring the internal drama of the piece - I am a servant to the drama, channelling the playwright’s intent – was given the semblance of a narrative arc. Its music recurs in Act 4 when she is dying, much like Cilea’s contemporary Puccini does with his last act of La Boheme (1896), though Cilea brings a sense of nobility to his pathos.
The opening backstage theatre action of Act 1 was nicely handled. Adriana was beautifully spot lit for her aria. The swirling voices and actions of the comprimario roles made good the brittle vibrancy and energy of the 18th century Comedie-francaise. Poetic, too, that we glimpsed the curtain in the distance and the gauzed action of that other world.
The dash, verve and striving vocal line of Maurizio is a gift for tenors. Caruso premiered the role. Torre can do ardour. In “La dolcissima effigie”, his large shining voice carried the swooning quality of the opera. If now and then there were a few notable gear changes, slight enjambments of different sounds, his unflagging voice is always arresting and dramatic. Unfortunately, the pivotal knowledge in this act - that Adriana is unaware of her lover’s high birth and military power – is vaguely articulated.
The placement of Maurizio high upon on the backstage in Act 4 was a masterstroke, his disembodied voice like that in a dream – the poison she has ingested commencing its delirious effect. Adriana was able to take centre stage, no clinging love duet, but supported by the older man who truly adores her. Giorgio Caoduro as Michonnet, the stage director, has a golden hued baritone and was delicate and deferential in articulating his love, caressing her with such soft sounds and Pierrot like yearnings. He is the one wise voice in Act 3 – with his utterance of “prudenza” to Adriana.
The complicated drama of the blind rivalry between Adriana and the Princess – both in love with Maurizio – is full of vocal passion and rage. Carmen Topciu, in a very fulsome crinoline, delivers her big aria with a deep and powerful mezzo voice, wringing much emotion from its restless throbbing metier – which seemed to channel something of Tchaikovsky and Liza from Pique Dame (1890). The duet between these two powerful women was splendidly unfurled. The Princess was wittily and extravagantly clothed for the 1930s party scene, where she gave us a hint of Amneris, intent on vicious revenge.
The roles of the Abbe (Virgilio Marino) and the Prince (Richard Anderson) as puppet masters were nicely done, but the complexity of their meddling wasn’t always clearly articulated within the staging. I suspect this problem is inherent within the opera’s fast pace and chattering musical narrative – fast pace for even native Italian speakers - particularly when the libretto involves the telling of multiple complexities.
Quinault (Anthony Mackey), Poisson (Adam Player), Mlle Jouvenot (Jane Ede) and Mlle Dangerville (Angela Hogan) were deliciously realised marionettes in both Acts 1 and 4.
The orchestral writing is deft, piquant, luxurious, and febrile reminding us that Puccini did have some equals. The orchestra responded to all their opportunities with clear attack and potent phrasing, guided by the clear direction and structural overview that the young Italian conductor summoned (Leonardo Sini). The chorus took up their opportunities with gusto in Act 3.
The video content of Act 4 (Roberto Recchia/Stefania Panighini) was arresting and enfolding of the foregrounded singers. The lovely touch of Maurizio on high with chorus, slow-motion applauding the death scene of the great actress, was well judged, ensuring the melodrama of the poisoned violets was undercut.
The integration of the set design (Tiziano Santi), costuming (Claudia Pernigotti) and lighting (Danielle Naldi) supported the key scenic elements and dramatic narrative of this fascinating work, ranging from the lushness and intimacy of the villa scene in Act 2 to the bold art deco of Act 3 and the stark realism of the black and grey atelier in Act 4.
Act 3 was a triumph of large-scale drama. This involved sharp duelling between soprano and mezzo, with a sense of brooding betrayal feeding into heighted emotion, a ballet divertissement that relaxes and then heightens the tension (a wonderful male aerialist suspended above the ball room effecting heart rending falls and escapes that seemed to mirror some of the drama below), all culminating in a theatrical challenged hurled out by the Princess to the actress: recite for us, you servant of art! The Prince then goads Adriana to recite from Phedre.
The passages of declamation were well handed by Arroyan. Cilea pits his crisis and catharise on words and music as the orchestra and vocalise slowly enter under the powerful phrases of Racine, building to an almighty denouement. The staging highlighted how Adriana has both attacked the powerful and discovered the perceived duplicity of her lover. Our focus is totally on her and her emotions as she moves through the seated tables back to the stage to be enveloped in a symbolic curtain, this time the dancer as butterfly (choreographer Luisa Baldinetti) harbouring her dark figure in the dazzling silk of her brocade. We entered a climax of heightened vocal, orchestral, and theatrical meaning.
The video content of Act 4 (Roberto Recchia/Stefania Panighini) was arresting and enfolding of the foregrounded singers. The lovely touch of Maurizio on high, slow-motion applauding the death scene of the great actress, was nicely judged, ensuring the melodrama of the poisoned violets was undercut.
A longer season was warranted for this work. Maybe Jaho will return and deliver its riches with the absolute febrile intensity that she is noted for.
Opera Australia, Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney, March 7, 2023
Gar Jones
Unfortunately, neither the star soprano (Ermonela Jaho) or the star tenor (Michael Fabiano) was singing on this final performance. This became problematic in the final act when Godard like their filmed images (doppelganger) confronted the two replacement singers, who were physically dissimilar to the projections flooding their presence. Natalie Arroyan and Diego Torre did, however, acquit themselves with distinction. Arroyan has a big voice and a statuesque build. She sang ‘Io son l’umille ancella” with a clear bound line that gave pleasure in hearing one of this opera’s best-known arias, while ensuring the internal drama of the piece - I am a servant to the drama, channelling the playwright’s intent – was given the semblance of a narrative arc. Its music recurs in Act 4 when she is dying, much like Cilea’s contemporary Puccini does with his last act of La Boheme (1896), though Cilea brings a sense of nobility to his pathos.
The opening backstage theatre action of Act 1 was nicely handled. Adriana was beautifully spot lit for her aria. The swirling voices and actions of the comprimario roles made good the brittle vibrancy and energy of the 18th century Comedie-francaise. Poetic, too, that we glimpsed the curtain in the distance and the gauzed action of that other world.
The dash, verve and striving vocal line of Maurizio is a gift for tenors. Caruso premiered the role. Torre can do ardour. In “La dolcissima effigie”, his large shining voice carried the swooning quality of the opera. If now and then there were a few notable gear changes, slight enjambments of different sounds, his unflagging voice is always arresting and dramatic. Unfortunately, the pivotal knowledge in this act - that Adriana is unaware of her lover’s high birth and military power – is vaguely articulated.
The placement of Maurizio high upon on the backstage in Act 4 was a masterstroke, his disembodied voice like that in a dream – the poison she has ingested commencing its delirious effect. Adriana was able to take centre stage, no clinging love duet, but supported by the older man who truly adores her. Giorgio Caoduro as Michonnet, the stage director, has a golden hued baritone and was delicate and deferential in articulating his love, caressing her with such soft sounds and Pierrot like yearnings. He is the one wise voice in Act 3 – with his utterance of “prudenza” to Adriana.
The complicated drama of the blind rivalry between Adriana and the Princess – both in love with Maurizio – is full of vocal passion and rage. Carmen Topciu, in a very fulsome crinoline, delivers her big aria with a deep and powerful mezzo voice, wringing much emotion from its restless throbbing metier – which seemed to channel something of Tchaikovsky and Liza from Pique Dame (1890). The duet between these two powerful women was splendidly unfurled. The Princess was wittily and extravagantly clothed for the 1930s party scene, where she gave us a hint of Amneris, intent on vicious revenge.
The roles of the Abbe (Virgilio Marino) and the Prince (Richard Anderson) as puppet masters were nicely done, but the complexity of their meddling wasn’t always clearly articulated within the staging. I suspect this problem is inherent within the opera’s fast pace and chattering musical narrative – fast pace for even native Italian speakers - particularly when the libretto involves the telling of multiple complexities.
Quinault (Anthony Mackey), Poisson (Adam Player), Mlle Jouvenot (Jane Ede) and Mlle Dangerville (Angela Hogan) were deliciously realised marionettes in both Acts 1 and 4.
The orchestral writing is deft, piquant, luxurious, and febrile reminding us that Puccini did have some equals. The orchestra responded to all their opportunities with clear attack and potent phrasing, guided by the clear direction and structural overview that the young Italian conductor summoned (Leonardo Sini). The chorus took up their opportunities with gusto in Act 3.
The video content of Act 4 (Roberto Recchia/Stefania Panighini) was arresting and enfolding of the foregrounded singers. The lovely touch of Maurizio on high with chorus, slow-motion applauding the death scene of the great actress, was well judged, ensuring the melodrama of the poisoned violets was undercut.
The integration of the set design (Tiziano Santi), costuming (Claudia Pernigotti) and lighting (Danielle Naldi) supported the key scenic elements and dramatic narrative of this fascinating work, ranging from the lushness and intimacy of the villa scene in Act 2 to the bold art deco of Act 3 and the stark realism of the black and grey atelier in Act 4.
Act 3 was a triumph of large-scale drama. This involved sharp duelling between soprano and mezzo, with a sense of brooding betrayal feeding into heighted emotion, a ballet divertissement that relaxes and then heightens the tension (a wonderful male aerialist suspended above the ball room effecting heart rending falls and escapes that seemed to mirror some of the drama below), all culminating in a theatrical challenged hurled out by the Princess to the actress: recite for us, you servant of art! The Prince then goads Adriana to recite from Phedre.
The passages of declamation were well handed by Arroyan. Cilea pits his crisis and catharise on words and music as the orchestra and vocalise slowly enter under the powerful phrases of Racine, building to an almighty denouement. The staging highlighted how Adriana has both attacked the powerful and discovered the perceived duplicity of her lover. Our focus is totally on her and her emotions as she moves through the seated tables back to the stage to be enveloped in a symbolic curtain, this time the dancer as butterfly (choreographer Luisa Baldinetti) harbouring her dark figure in the dazzling silk of her brocade. We entered a climax of heightened vocal, orchestral, and theatrical meaning.
The video content of Act 4 (Roberto Recchia/Stefania Panighini) was arresting and enfolding of the foregrounded singers. The lovely touch of Maurizio on high, slow-motion applauding the death scene of the great actress, was nicely judged, ensuring the melodrama of the poisoned violets was undercut.
A longer season was warranted for this work. Maybe Jaho will return and deliver its riches with the absolute febrile intensity that she is noted for.
Opera Australia, Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney, March 7, 2023
Gar Jones