La traviata, Royal Opera House
Powerful trio of stars

Something I didn’t think was possible has happened this last week: I have been strongly moved by a performance of La traviata. That was due very largely, of course, to the way the title role was performed. Anna Netrebko may not have the perfect voice for the part, her vocal technique might be lacking in this or that respect, but she was amazing, and was recognised by the audience to be so. She got a reception befitting a great artist who had just delivered a classic account of a major role. My surprise is the greater because I find the hype about her, much of it cleverly auto-generated, incredibly annoying, and I was on the verge of relegating her to that category of fairly gifted singers who are ruined by the contemporary celebrity-making machine. That is still possible, but what this revealed is that she is a remarkable actress, capable of giving a complex and convincing account of what is not really a very satisfactory role, as conceived by Verdi, and working with her colleagues to bring the whole tired old work to vivid new life.

I have never found this production of Richard Eyre’s very satisfactory, and the way that the Royal Opera has, year after year, used it to fill the house for January while its serious concerns lie beyond has usually given it a depressing air of routine, with moderately endowed performers going through the motions. Presumably it was decided that the time had come for Netrebko, who has made several unsensational appearances here already, to be properly launched. There was every sign that care had been taken in thinking the production out anew, with this powerful trio of stars. For Netrebko’s achievement in moving us freshly at Violetta’s fate was helped enormously by the two male leads. Jonas Kaufmann, though to judge from his discreet coughs he was suffering from a cold, sang Alfredo with a freshness to equal Netrebko’s. This Alfredo is a spoilt and handsome youth, experiencing an alarmingly wide range of feelings for the first time and in quick succession, and not prepared for any of them. He copes by sulking or ranting, a more pitifully passive victim than Violetta. Beyond that, Kaufmann and Netrebko generated a sexual tension which I have never before seen even so much as hinted at between this pair of lovers. In steps opera’s prime old misery, to make sure that no one enjoys themselves since he can’t, brought to unusually insinuating life by Dmitri Hvorostovsky. Instead of bawling Violetta out he worms his way into her confidence and demoralises her completely, satisfied that he is acting according to the dictates of morality; and because he is subtler than usual, I minded less that Violetta capitulated to his blackmail.

I still minded somewhat, as I gather Netrebko does. So she puts all the stress not on Violetta’s victimisation by the ghastly collection of hypocrites she is surrounded and even partly defined by, but on her physical agonies as life ebbs rapidly away. This was an intensely corporeal experience, with Violetta emitting croaks and gasps of hideous realism. When that approach is tried normally, it involves bringing up cupfuls of blood. They weren’t needed here, because Netrebko, in her movements utterly different from any of her predecessors’ in this production — and the colours in her voice, as she moved from the anxiety and exhilaration of Act I through the torments of Act II to the illusions and exhaustion of Act III, conveyed Violetta’s decline with an inwardness which would have been cheapened by visual aids. I only wish that, as soon as the curtain came down, Netrebko hadn’t bounded into view to welcome her deserved reception with such lavish smiles: she could have lived the role a little longer. I wish, too, that the appreciative audience didn’t feel called upon to demonstrate its appreciation after every cavatina and cabaletta — oddly enough awarding the loudest applause during the show to Germont’s stupefying ‘Di Provenza’. It was an evening to remember, even so.

Nach Wien, Berlin und Salzburg ist auch aus London von einem triumphalen Erfolg Anna Netrebkos als Violetta zu berichten. Mit Konfettiregen und orkanartigem Jubel dankte ein enthusiasmiertes Publikum dem Sopranstar nach der Vorstellung, überwältigt äußerte sich sogar die britische Presse tags darauf. Es ist vor allem die unbedingte und tiefgreifende Erfassung einer Figur, die bei dieser singulären Interpretation im Vordergrund steht. Keine Manierismen, kein bloßes Zurschaustellen, sondern Gesang und musikalischerAusdruck in schönsten und wärmsten Tönen, schattiert, differenziert, raffiniert, abgedunkelt und dann wieder leuchtend in den Acuti. Anna Netrebko demonstriert eine eruptive musikalische Gestaltungskraft, vor der jeder kapitulieren muss, der nach mühsamem Suchen ein „Härchen in der Suppe“ gefunden zu haben glaubt. Dazu ein Charisma, das es jedem Partner schwer macht, daneben zu bestehen. Erst recht, wenn ihr Gesang wie in den ersten Takten der Partie so unspektakulär eingedunkelt ist, wo der Partner leichtes Spiel zum Punkten zu haben glaubte. Mit sympathischer Biestigkeit spielt La Netrebko mit Tenor, Dirigent, Publikum und Presse. Und es macht einfach Spaß, sie dabei beobachten zu dürfen, weil es so ausbalanciert im Rahmen der Rolle bleibt, ihn damit geradezu erweitert. Diesmal also kein erotisches Miteinander, sondern ein Abwarten und partnerschaftliches Ergänzen in der Gestaltung von Duetten und Szenen mit dem Alfredo in der Verkörperung durch Jonas Kaufmann. Der deutsche Tenor hat vor allem eine (zu) schlanke Figur und einen großen Atem. Er gestaltet stimmlich sauber und korrekt, sucht aber auch noch nach Kraft und Farben zum sicheren Platzieren von Effekten, weiß dafür um Stilsicherheit, Piano und Legatokultur. Die Vornehmheit seiner Interpretation mag ohne die Omnipotenz dieser Partnerin neben sich für höchstes Niveau stehen. Im Februar und März wird man ihn allein bei Einzelkonzerten in Deutschland erleben und die Qualität seiner Stimme ohne Ablenkungen auf sich wirken lassen können.

Auf vergleichbar hohem Niveau agierte auch Dmitri Hvorostovsky als sein Vater Giorgio Germont, nur mit noch längeren Legatobögen und mit Ausnahme einiger weniger nach wie vor nicht voll präsenter Töne noch eine Spur souveräner, ausdrucksstärker und mitreißender. Drei im Grunde unidiomatische Interpreten aus Russland und Deutschland für eine der italienischsten Opern überhaupt und dann in England - vielleicht war das gerade jene prickelnde Zusammenstellung, die es erst ermöglichte, diese- inzwischen muss man sagen - unsäglich altmodische Produktion (Richard Eyre), deren Premiere 1994 unter Sir Georg Solti mit Angela Gheorghiu stattgefunden hatte, zu goutieren. Man merkte ihr nicht an, ob sie das Rollenporträt Anna Netrebkos erleichterte oder erschwerte, zumindest behinderte sie es nicht durch unnötige Ablenkungen von einer Ausnahmekünstlerin auf der Spitze ihrer Leistungskraft, höchst sensibel und brav unterstützt von einer rücksichtsvollen, nahezu sich selbst aufgebenden musikalischen Leitung durch Maurizio Benini und die feinnervige, dynamisierte Brillanz von Chor und Orchester des Royal Opera House Covent Garden und durchweg auf höchstem Niveau sich ihrer kleineren Aufgaben entledigenden Comprimarii. Von ihnen bedarf der verheißungsvolle Mezzosopran der Litauerin Monika-Evelin Liiv als Flora besonderer Erwähnung.   M. Lehnert

Jonas Kaufmann, as Alfredo, is more characterful, both in singing and acting - and captures well Alfredo's initial concern for Violetta as well as revealing his love for her; whether he is as desperate as someone would be while gambling to restore fortune is another matter, although there is genuine pity from him in Act III when Violetta (who is first of all viewed reclined and lit by candlelight as the equally-familiar Prelude to that act sets the gloomy scene) begins to face her demise. As Alfredo's father, Giorgio Germont, Dmitri Hvorostovsky is outstanding - imposing and patriarchal, and touching when fully realising Violetta's predicament.

The sets are splendid, whether conveying the opulence of Violetta's house, the less palatial home that Violetta and Alfredo move to - one that is starting to ruin, anyway - or the pallor of what will be Violetta's final resting-place. The gambling-house is very snazzy and busy and if the crowd scenes are a little wooden (in movement and gesture), there is much that is 'good' to look at. There were a few accidents on this first night - Kaufmann knocked his hat off a table, Netrebko seemed to trip on her dress and a chair fell over in the gambling scene - but what would have raised the occasion was more-penetrating conducting, a Violetta that one felt real sympathy for and, overall, musical tempos and character-relationships that had well and truly arrived.
Photos: © Catherine Ashmore
Text: © Colin Anderson

It was this very production that turned the Romanian soprano Angela Gheorghiu into an overnight sensation and an international star when it was first staged here by the Royal Opera 14 years ago.
And now there is a new star at the bursting heart of Verdi’s tragic romance, a new Violetta for the 21st century - the magnificent Russian soprano Anna Netrebko.
Of course, Ms Netrebko was much hyped as the hottest diva of our day long before she set foot on stage last night.
But her British debut as the consumptive Lady of the Camellias confirms her as a stunningly individual and charismatic talent.
It’s not often that the Violetta gets a tumultuous ovation and a curtain call after Act One. But that happened last night.
It helps, of course, if you look the part. And Ms Netrebko certainly does, bringing glamour and sensuality to the so-called ‘fallen woman’ of the title.
Her Violetta is a glittering society hostess, a graceful courtesan who fits easily into the champagne world of the demimonde and whose sexual favours will never be cheaply bought.
But there is an innocence, girlishness and vulnerability in her superbly acted performance that adds an extra dimension to a character often sentimentally portrayed as a tart with a heart, an upper class whore with a conscience and a taste for redemption. Ms Netrebko - like Greta Garbo in the greatest of all the ‘Traviata’ movies, Camille - is the quintessence of the beautiful, tragic heroine. She pins you to your seat.
And she sings as she acts, with heartbreaking Intensity, her lustrous lyric soprano soaring effortlessly through Verdi’s crippling coloratura.
There is strength in depth in this cast too — an eloquent Alfredo from Jonas Kaufmann, a grave, superbly sung Germont from Dmitri Hvorostovsky and some ravishing playing under conductor Maurizio Benini - while Richard Eyre’s stylish, sumptuous production carries its age lightly.
But this was the night the diva lived up to her hype. From the first moment she swirls on in her ballooning ballgown to the final swoon of her dying fall, this is every inch a star performance.
And she is not afraid to display a racking cough.

When soprano Anna Netrebko (pictured) bounced on stage looking chirpy as a chipmunk for her curtain call, it was hard to believe that she’d just given one of the most harrowing performances imaginable. She had brought pathos, dignity and despair to the role of the courtesan who sacrifices everything for love, and her death scene had been terrifyingly intense — and yet here she was, seconds later, looking giggly and chipper.

I think it was then that I realised what it was that makes her such a great performer in this role: her utter lack of pretension on stage. That and her gloriously rich, supple voice with its blazing variety of colours, of course. Oh, and her luminous beauty doesn’t hurt, either.

But this is hardly a one-trick show. In fact, the Royal Opera has assembled the best cast I can remember for Richard Eyre’s grand, if occasionally slow, period production (well revived by Patrick Young). With his dark good looks, dramatic power and shining voice, Jonas Kaufmann is wonderful as Violetta’s wrong-headed lover Alfredo, and an atypical moment of vocal raspiness on Monday didn’t mar the overall impression a jot. Baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky sounds as heavenly as ever as Alfredo’s father too. Fight (you’ll have to) for a ticket.
Warwick Thompson