home | art & architecture | books & cds | dance | destinations | film | opera | television | theater | archives
...
La Forza del Destino - Giuseppe Verdi
|
|||||||||
La Forza del Destino - Savonlinna Opera Festival |
|||||||||
.. |
|||||||||
Verdi in St. Petersburg |
|||||||||
|
|||||||||
|
|||||||||
|
La Forza del Destino announces its intended theme
forcefully in its title, but it really doesn't deliver. The libretto is a mess, a poorly
structured story in which unbelievable coincidences, dead characters returning to duel
again (in this production, anyway), and single-minded motivations destroy any possibility
of suspension of disbelief. The force of destiny remains to be demonstrated elsewhere.
On the other hand, the force of beautiful music, both vocal and
orchestral, transcends the awkward plotting and reasonably accounts for the survival of
the opera in the repertory. The music is primo Verdi and the story at least
provides the setup for some first rate singing infused with the outsized emotions set up
by the plot. So, for example, in the first scene, the heroine, Leonora, has a fine aria
("Me pellegrina ed orfana") which expresses her insecurities over her planned
elopement and establishes her naivete and vulnerability.
Her lover, Don Alvaro, secretly an Incan prince (don't ask!), arrives
and, of course, there is a rousing love aria. Their flight, though, is interrupted by
Leonora's father and, when Don Alvaro throws down his gun in capitulation, it accidentally
fires and kills the father. Everyone flees.
The lovers are inexplicably separated and do not get to meet again
until the very last scene, years later. What happens in between is largely the pursuit of
revenge by Leonora's brother, Don Carlo, interspersed with dramatic filler (but great
opportunities for characterization and bravura singing) in the form of a gypsy (dire
fortune telling, of course) and assorted monks.
Great Performances is offering a telecast of a production by the Kirov
Opera, taped at the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg before a live audience. Verdi
wrote Forza for this very theater and revised it for a later production. Here
Valery Gergiev, artistic director of the Kirov (and conductor of this performance),
reverts to the seldom seen original version of 1862. Yes, it is a darker, rather more
pessimistic version, but it doesn't help matters much - from a dramatic viewpoint, this is
still highly exaggerated melodrama and the old-fashioned Kirov production wallows in all
its high-blown histrionics. When Don Carlo stomps into the monastery seeking Alvaro, one
sword over each shoulder, eyes ablaze, the borderline has been crossed - it is beyond
melodrama; it is caricature.
It is only fair to point out that taping an opera directly from its
stage production puts the whole affair at a certain disadvantage. The heavy makeup and
broad gestures of operatic performance are intended to project to generally large opera
houses, at the least across the distance of an orchestra pit, and certainly not to the
intruding intimacy of a video camera. It was never meant for an audience to be looking
down the throat of a singer in full throttle, as it were, and when that happens in a
telecast, it is an unwonted distraction.
All that said, this telecast is still worth a look for some beautiful singing
by the principals. As might be expected, subtlety is not in the forefront, but fine voices
and ripe emotion combine for some rewarding moments. Gegam Gregorian has a big, ringing
tenor voice which he uses to excellent effect; his third act aria ("O tu che in seno
agli angeli") is genuinely moving and his later duet with Don Carlo (Nikolai Putilin)
is well performed by both. Soprano Galina Gorchakova is also gifted with a big
instrument of wide range. She soars on the climactic high notes, producing a sensuously
round sound without a trace of harshness. Her prayer at the end of Act II is heartfelt and
affecting and her interpretation of the great last act aria, "Pace, Pace, mio
Dio," also a prayer, is powerfully dramatic.
Reviewed from Kirov production as telecast by PBS, June, 2000
-
Arthur Lazere
