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Operawire, October 11, 2017 |
By: Malina Gueorguiev |
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Verdi: Don Carlos, Paris, 10. Oktober 2017 |
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Don Carlos: Jonas Kaufmann, Elīna Garanča, Sonya Yoncheva
& Company Deliver Performance For the Ages
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The hotly anticipated production of Verdi’s five-act grand opera “Don
Carlos” opened at the Opéra National de Paris on 10 October to a mixed
reception. The outstanding cast comprised of German tenor Jonas Kaufmann in
the title role, French baritone Ludovic Tézier as Rodrigo, Marquis of Posa,
Russian basses Ildar Abdrazakov and Dmitry Belosselskiy as Philippe II and
the Grand Inquisitor respectively, Bulgarian soprano Sonya Yoncheva as
Princess Elisabeth de Valois, and Latvian mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča as
Princess Eboli received rapturous lengthy applause. The new staging of
Polish director Krzysztof Warlikowski, a noteworthy figure of the theatrical
vanguard, was met with greater skepticism, some members of the audience
feeling the need to boo.
Exceptional
It was nonetheless a
night to remember, which was made exceptional by the outstanding vocal and
orchestral performances, but also by the use of the complete original
large-scale French version specifically composed by Verdi for the Paris
Opera in 1866. This version is heard very rarely and to this day only a
single recording made in 1976 at the Royal Opera House in London exists. It
is long – it consists of three hours and 45 minutes of music – so much so
that Verdi made various cuts before the opening night on March 11, 1867 to
allow the staff living outside of Paris to catch the last train departing at
midnight. The opera is much more popular in its revised Italian variety or
in the abridged French version, which gradually emerged after the 1867
premiere.
Enigmatic masterpiece
Verdi’s “Don Carlos” has a
complicated round-about plot wrapped up in a climatic ending. The story is
based on the play “Don Carlos, Infant von Spanien (Don Carlos, Infante of
Spain)” by Friedrich Schiller, which ha, in turn, used a 1672 French novel
as a source.
The characters, all of whom are deeply troubled, find
themselves entangled in a complex web of power struggles, sex relationships,
and political and religious tensions, the only solution to which is physical
annihilation.
The opera tells the sad story of the 16th century
Infante Don Carlos, Prince of Asturias, and Elisabeth of Valois, initially
betrothed to one another. However, what promises to be a happy union,
quickly takes on tragic connotations as a new peace treaty ending the war
between the royal houses of Spain (the Habsburgs) and France (the Valois)
demanded that the French princess wed Carlos’s own father, King Philip II of
Spain.
Don Carlos, desperate over this new political alliance that
turns his beloved into his stepmother, confides in his friend Rodrigo,
Marquis of Posa. Phillip II, whose jealousy is provoked by his own
insecurities and is inflamed by the vindictive Princess Eboli, who is also
secretly in love with the prince. The king begins to have suspicions towards
his wife and his son, who confronts him violently. Posa, who has returned to
court to plead the case of the Flanders, a protestant province suffering
terribly under catholic oppression, remains loyal to the crown and takes the
side of the king. In his confusion, the king turns for advice to the Grand
Inquisitor, which sets in motion a machine of death and destruction: Posa is
killed, Eboli retires to a convent, and Don Carlos, under threat and
temporarily imprisoned, disappears mysteriously led to the grave by the
ghost of his grandfather, the great Charles V.
Titanic Tenor
Jonas Kaufmann, who has played in the Italian version of Don Carlos for 10
years, had admitted during rehearsals to some difficulties in getting to the
core of the French part. These were to be detected at the start of last
night’s performance which was perhaps a little timid. As the action
developed, the German tenor’s delivery evolved in a more asserted way which
was nonetheless delivered with nuanced sensitivity and subtle musicality.
Carlos’s splendid opening aria “Je l’ai vue,” where he declares his love
for Elisabeth, whom he has seen and with whom he has fallen in love
instantly, took the spectator to the emotional heart of the story. Elisabeth
(a splendid Sonia Yoncheva) appeared dressed as a bride and joined him in a
falling-in-love duet, full of tenderness and devoid of any high-drama
histrionics.
Kaufmann’s magnificent interpretation reached a climax
in the farewell duet with Elisabeth “Au revoir dans un monde où la vie est
meilleure,” in which the lovers pledged to each other to meet in heaven. The
tenor’s whispered pianissimi were particularly moving.
Diction to Die
For
Last night saw Sonya Yoncheva’s debut as Elisabeth of Valois and
it will most certainly mark a new stage in the Bulgarian soprano’s ascending
career. It is a demanding role, in which Yoncheva delivered beautifully. A
diction to die for and a vocal precision addressing the score’s most
elaborate appoggiaturas were coupled with an impressive projection,
resounding lows and magnificent messa di voce in the high notes. Her
commanding presence, highlighted by the costumes (which some found
tasteless) of the 1950s-inspired femininity and brightness, which emphasized
Yoncheva’s beauty, made her the production’s focal point. Elisabeth’s final
aria in Act five “Toi qui sus le néant des grandeurs de ce monde,” in which
the tragic princess expresses her longing for death, was undoubtedly one of
the highlights of the evening.
Joining Forces
French baritone
Ludovic Tézier was an interesting Rodrigo, brilliant in his ambiguity as a
faithful friend and ambitious politician. The fireworks began with the
famous duet “Dieu, tu semas dans nos âmes” in Act two between Don Carlos and
the Marquis of Posa, in which the two men swear their eternal friendship.
The tenor and baritone sang in close harmony, Tézier rising with apparent
ease to the tenor range until the voices met on a single note in a musical
metaphor of loyalty and unity. The masterful performance culminated in the
great scene in Act IV “Carlos, écoute… Ah! Je meurs l’âme joyeuse,” the
rendition of which remained sober and moving, entirely devoid of caricatured
pathos.
Irresistible Sensuality
It was a big evening for Elīna
Garanča, for whom Eboli was the first major Verdi role (she has done minor
Verdi roles earlier in her career). The Latvian mezzo-soprano’s voice was
brilliant in the higher range displaying certain frailty in the lower tones.
The interpretation, which was particularly seductive and openly sensual, was
remarkable nonetheless providing several high points.
The Song Of The
Veil in Act two, “Au palais des fées,” a whimsical piece of distinctly
Spanish inspiration, was sung with a great precision and provided a
much-needed light-hearted interlude. It was made even more arresting by the
fact that the beautiful Garanča was dressed in full fencing gear using the
protective headpiece as the veil described in the song. The image was made
even more unusual by the fact that the equipment was entirely black,
contrasting with the traditional whites worn by the other ladies-in-waiting
similarly engaged in the sporting activity.
Garanča’s “Ô don fatal”
in Act four was a watershed moment of fury paired with irresistible
sensuality.
Not Quite There
Faced with this formidable
quartet, the king, as interpreted by Ildar Abdrazakov, appeared unusually
collected. It could be a musical hesitation but a new reading of the
character seems more likely. Abdrazakov’s Philippe II was perhaps less regal
but much more fragile and moving.
Dmitry Belosselskiy was a suitably
terrifying Grand Inquisitor, although the dark glasses hiding eyes heavily
lined in red, were on the verge of the ridiculous.
Mesmerising
An essential element of this great theatrical and musical success was
the performance of the orchestra – Orchestre de l’Opéra national de Paris –
galvanized by the sharp direction of Philippe Jordan. The variations in
textures and colors between the strings and woodwinds as well as the
lightning effects of the brass were delivered in an ornamental, yet refined,
way without undue solemnity and excessive theatricality.
Watching
Jordan conduct is just as interesting as following the action on stage, the
fluid yet precise gestures and expressive face as mesmerizing.
A
Black-and-White Act of Faith
The staging, directed by Krzysztof
Warlikowski, appeared to be the point of contention. The largely empty
stage, the walls of which were covered in dark wood panels, was perhaps not
modern enough. It was possibly too devoid of catholic splendor. Or on the
contrary, the ladies-in-waiting training in a fencing school and the king
meeting the Great Inquisitor in what appeared to be a home cinema were too
modern. Or maybe some found the idea of a sink in Don Carlos’ 16th-century
prison cell unbearable.
In any case, the stage work, which was never
unnecessarily show-off and did not go against the music, provided the
singers plenty of physical and emotional space.
The use of video,
especially of special effects imitating old films and the projection of the
main protagonists’ faces close-ups, created an eerie atmosphere in which
recollections, reality, and ghostly appearance merged.
The scene of
the auto-da-fé, the public act of faith consisting of burning condemned
heretics, in Act three was of particular interest since it can easily slip
into fake grandeur. The chorus was seated in a high wooden amphitheater
which slowly advanced towards the front of the stage. Representatives of
various classes of Spanish society, including monks and nuns, but also noble
ladies in elaborate hats and simple folk in simpler apparel, were seated on
the amphitheater’s benching periodically rising as the king was being
celebrated whilst promising the people to protect them with fire and sword.
The Flemish envoys, whom Don Carlos had brought in front of the king,
pleaded with him for their country’s freedom. A monk fired the woodpile, and
as black and white flames rose on a screen descending on the amphitheater, a
Goya-like head of an angry god devouring his sons engulfed the stage.
Historic
All in all, it was an evening of rare vocal perfection
and artistic intensity. It was also a moment of innovative interpretations,
such as the suggested adulterous relationship between the king and Eboli in
Act four, who was lying on a sofa, her high-slit dress in disarray while he
was confessing to his distress caused by the lack of love of his wife (“Elle
ne m’aime pas”), confirmed by a kiss. The idea of a manipulative Rodrigo
provided also an unusual reading. In any case, the premiere of the season
rose up to the occasion and will no doubt remain in opera history as a night
to remember.
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