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The Guardian, 22 Mar 2019 |
Tim Ashley |
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Verdi: La forza del destino, London, ab 21. März 2019 |
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La Forza del Destino review – guilt and obsession with opera's biggest stars
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Christof Loy cannot quite bring Verdi’s ungainly drama together but Jonas
Kaufmann, Anna Netrebko and Antonio Pappano force their operatic flair to
the fore
Directed by Christof Loy, the Royal Opera’s new production
of Verdi’s La Forza del Destino is an import from Amsterdam, where it was
first seen in September 2017. Theatrically, it is an uneven affair,
compounded of grandeur and longueurs, which you could argue reflects the
unwieldy nature of the work itself, with its unstable mix of fatalistic
tragedy and bitter comedy. Musically, it is at times tremendous. There are
cast changes as the run progresses, but the lineup on opening night, with
Anna Netrebko as Leonora, Jonas Kaufmann as Alvaro and Ludovic Tézier as
Carlo, was starry in the extreme – and unquestionably exciting.
Netrebko’s ability to combine vocal weight with delicacy allows her both to
power her way magnificently through the climaxes of Madre, Pietosa Vergine
and float the long lines of La Vergine Degli Angeli with exquisite ease.
Kaufmann, with his dark tone and passionate delivery, makes a very
Byronic Alvaro – ardent yet guilt-ridden – while Tézier’s Carlo has the
implacable fanaticism of the obsessive: their scenes together, the high
points of the evening, are thrillingly done. Elsewhere, though, things are
less even. Veronica Simeoni struggles a bit as Preziosilla, though Ferruccio
Furlanetto makes a noble, authoritative Padre Guardiano, and Alessandro
Corbelli is wonderfully sardonic and funny as Melitone. Antonio Pappano,
meanwhile, conducts with great commitment and energy.
Loy, however,
perhaps tries to do too much. He opens with an awkward dumbshow, in which
the Calatrava family turns in on itself psychologically after the death of
Leonora and Carlo’s younger brother.
Elsewhere, we’re continually
reminded of the persistence of memory as scenes of the Marquis’s accidental
death, repeatedly projected on to the walls of Christian Schmidt’s set,
evoke flashbacks to past trauma from which the characters are unable to
escape. The tone sometimes falters, and the transformation of the army camp
scenes into a surreal revue, reminiscent of Oh, What a Lovely War, sits at
times uneasily with the score. Ultimately, it doesn’t quite gel, though the
performance itself is magnificent and unforgettable.
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