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Londonist, 22 Mar 2019 |
BY HOLLI-MAE JOHNSON |
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Verdi: La forza del destino, London, ab 21. März 2019 |
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Vocal Allure And Car Crash Couture: La Forza Del Destino At Royal Opera House
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Almost ten years after writing La Traviata — the most performed opera in the
world — Verdi wrote La Forza Del Destino. A new production at the Royal
Opera House delivers three hours of forbidden love, vengeance, war-battered
decadence, and the tragic accident that sets it all in motion.
Opera
megastars Anna Netrebko and Jonas Kaufmann play the cursed lovers, Leonora
and Alvaro, pursued relentlessly by Ludovic Tezier as Leonora’s avenging
brother, Don Carlo.
Ever the swoon-inducing romantic hero, Kaufmann
arrives by leaping through an open window to declare his love, deliciously
ruffled and smouldering with desire. He could sing an anthology of Trump
tweets and the world would sigh with delight, but there’s not a great deal
for him to do here other than look and sound beautiful and earn his pay
cheque — which he does with his customary prowess and charm.
Netrebko, in her debut as Leonora, is glorious in acts one and two. She
skips the more agile embellishments and goes straight for the top notes with
rich, mesmerising conviction, and when it’s this good, who can criticise?
She seems to tire a little in the final act, and the darkness in her voice
here inhibits her emotional range, but overall it’s a first class premiere.
The undoubted scene-stealer is the magnificent baritone Tezier, who is
enigmatic, virile and vigorous throughout. It’s such a shame that Don
Carlo’s final moment of triumph is hidden behind closed doors, but his
venal, vengeful presence lingers in the memory.
There are more star
turns to be savoured, particularly from Ferruccio Furlanetto and the
wonderful Alessandro Corbelli, but Veronica Simeoni’s erratic delivery of
fortune teller Preziosilla distracts rather than adds to the narrative.
The vocal quality of the principals and superb chorus make for a top
drawer evening, but the staging and styling is bizarre and confused at best.
Someone clearly got overexcited in the costume cupboard, and the
choreography borrows clumsily from every era, as we watch a visual car crash
of gauche prostitutes in sequin party frocks, 1940s day dresses, Busby
Berkeley chorus girls, Ann Summers negligees, Victorian brothel madams,
Charlie Chaplin drummers, fetish gear, rustic rags, and an array of top
hats, fedoras and flatcaps, vogueing, hip-hopping and jazz-handing all over
the shop. Verdi loves a good party scene, but any deeper meaning or light
relief is bludgeoned by this frenzied mess.
Ultimately, La Forza is a
tortured, earthy, exquisite ride of Godfather proportions, well worth a
ticket for the assembly of fabulous vocal talent. There are just moments
when it’s infinitely preferable to listen, rather than watch…
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