Nov. 18th, 2014 08:58 pm
Amo quia absurdum est
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muckefuckAges ago now, Nuphy and I went to see la Gran Scena at the Athenaeum in Lakeview. Vera Galupe-Borszkh, alter ego of the group's founder Ira Siff, was the first person ever to attempt to explain the plot of Il Trovatore to me. "Even eef you understant Trovatore," she warned, "you don't understand Trovatore. Nobody understants Trovatore!" That line got a big laugh, and I love to repeat it, but I acknowledge that it's not actually true. As our seatmate pointed out Saturday evening, the plot does make sense--provided you accept the ludicrous central conceit of a woman so maddened by grief she would cosign the wrong infant to the flames.
More importantly, however ridiculous the plot, the emotions are true and Verdi supports them 100% with his incredibly tuneful score. (I remember at one point in Act 2 thinking that, in many a lesser opera, Azucena's second aria would be a standout. Here it hardly leaves an impression, coming soon after the famous Anvil Chorus and right before Il balen del suo sorriso.) The action also moves along at a good clip, rendering my worries about being able to stay awake after my restless nights a bit silly.
Part of the reason for that is the production, which makes use of a revolving stage in order to expedite the many scene changes. Since this was my second time seeing Edwards' stage scenery, I was less bowled over by it and could focus on the parts I found wanting. For starters, why is it so ugly? The buildings are all Brutalist concrete slabs with minimal ornamentation, the ground is blasted rock and dust, and upstage right is dominated by a forest of charred poles. I kind of liked that, actually, since it recalls the death of Azucena's mother and the pall it casts over the entire proceedings, but even Nuphy was at a loss to explain the huge crucifix in the middle--nor why all the costumes are Regency. (Leftovers from another production? Lyric has to cut corners somewhere, I guess.)
The barrenness of it all also complicates McVicar's job as director. Leonora's first scene with her maid has the two of them running inexplicably around their featureless box--it's hard to add stage business with no props but neither can you let the performers remain static. But the next scene is even odder, with di Luna standing outside a wall which suddenly turns out not to be a wall at all before arranging himself into puzzling configurations with Leonora and Manrico. The men don't do a convincing job of trying to get into a fight, and she does an even less convincing job of trying to separate them.
But all this faded under the brilliance of Verdi's composition as conducted by Asher Fisch and sung by a cast adequate to the challenge. Caruso is supposed to have said that all you need for a successful Trovatore is the four greatest singers in the world. Obviously we didn't have those, but there wasn't a bad voice in the bunch. Sure, the mezzo and the soprano didn't have the sweetest voices I'd ever heard, but when it comes to Azucena, that can be passed off as characterisation, and for our Leonora, I'm just glad she could hit all the notes without getting screechy. Our old standby Silvestrelli sang Ferrando and Ryan Centre alumnus Kelsey was the Count, so there was no risk of being overwhelmed by the orchestra even when it was blasting away. Most impressive, however, was our Manrico, Yonghoon Lee. His acting may be stiff (something which worked better when he played Don Jose four seasons back than it does now), but cuts a striking figure and his voice is impeccable.
It was fortunate that Nuphy had his opera glasses because the chorus was even more toothsome than usual. He'd heard about the beef working the anvils on stage and was not disappointed. I was most impressed by the convent scene (even if it was somewhat incompetently blocked--how is it that only gypsies have flintlocks?). Forming the backdrop to the interior is a chainlink fence several stories high and the supernumeraries hanging off of it hold their poses for the duration of the scene. That's more impressive to me than wielding a big hammer, no matter how shiny you are.
More importantly, however ridiculous the plot, the emotions are true and Verdi supports them 100% with his incredibly tuneful score. (I remember at one point in Act 2 thinking that, in many a lesser opera, Azucena's second aria would be a standout. Here it hardly leaves an impression, coming soon after the famous Anvil Chorus and right before Il balen del suo sorriso.) The action also moves along at a good clip, rendering my worries about being able to stay awake after my restless nights a bit silly.
Part of the reason for that is the production, which makes use of a revolving stage in order to expedite the many scene changes. Since this was my second time seeing Edwards' stage scenery, I was less bowled over by it and could focus on the parts I found wanting. For starters, why is it so ugly? The buildings are all Brutalist concrete slabs with minimal ornamentation, the ground is blasted rock and dust, and upstage right is dominated by a forest of charred poles. I kind of liked that, actually, since it recalls the death of Azucena's mother and the pall it casts over the entire proceedings, but even Nuphy was at a loss to explain the huge crucifix in the middle--nor why all the costumes are Regency. (Leftovers from another production? Lyric has to cut corners somewhere, I guess.)
The barrenness of it all also complicates McVicar's job as director. Leonora's first scene with her maid has the two of them running inexplicably around their featureless box--it's hard to add stage business with no props but neither can you let the performers remain static. But the next scene is even odder, with di Luna standing outside a wall which suddenly turns out not to be a wall at all before arranging himself into puzzling configurations with Leonora and Manrico. The men don't do a convincing job of trying to get into a fight, and she does an even less convincing job of trying to separate them.
But all this faded under the brilliance of Verdi's composition as conducted by Asher Fisch and sung by a cast adequate to the challenge. Caruso is supposed to have said that all you need for a successful Trovatore is the four greatest singers in the world. Obviously we didn't have those, but there wasn't a bad voice in the bunch. Sure, the mezzo and the soprano didn't have the sweetest voices I'd ever heard, but when it comes to Azucena, that can be passed off as characterisation, and for our Leonora, I'm just glad she could hit all the notes without getting screechy. Our old standby Silvestrelli sang Ferrando and Ryan Centre alumnus Kelsey was the Count, so there was no risk of being overwhelmed by the orchestra even when it was blasting away. Most impressive, however, was our Manrico, Yonghoon Lee. His acting may be stiff (something which worked better when he played Don Jose four seasons back than it does now), but cuts a striking figure and his voice is impeccable.
It was fortunate that Nuphy had his opera glasses because the chorus was even more toothsome than usual. He'd heard about the beef working the anvils on stage and was not disappointed. I was most impressed by the convent scene (even if it was somewhat incompetently blocked--how is it that only gypsies have flintlocks?). Forming the backdrop to the interior is a chainlink fence several stories high and the supernumeraries hanging off of it hold their poses for the duration of the scene. That's more impressive to me than wielding a big hammer, no matter how shiny you are.