This production of Forza was one of the international
highlights of the 2013-14 operatic calendar. I even went to
Munich to see it in July 2014, during the annual Munich Opera
Festival, during which this DVD was filmed. Worse luck, Jonas
Kaufmann cancelled, and I never got to see it as it was
intended, but this DVD helps me grasp what I was missing.
Director Martin Kušej is best known to British opera
audiences for his controversial (and boo-inducing) Idomeneo at
Covent Garden in 2014. His approach to Forza is a little fussy,
but really no more daft than the opera’s own sprawling plot,
which throws dramatic unity to the winds. Kušej tries to move
from the specifics of Leonora and Alvaro’s tragedy to a more
general meditation on war and its effects on humanity. He
references 9/11 in the tavern scene, the army camp of Act 3
resembles Abu Ghraib, and the crowd seeking charity at the
monastery resembles a crowd of stateless refugees. It takes a
little time to bed in, but once you’re used to it, it’s actually
not at all bad, and it’s dashed impressive the way he manages to
create an aerial view of the prison at the start of Act 3. He
also manages to get top notch performances out of his
principals. The overture is staged with a (clearly very fraught)
evening dinner in the Calatrava household, with a young Don
Carlo and Fra Melitone in attendance, presumably as the family
chaplain. It’s clear even from this scene that this is a tense
family environment, and the patriarchal element of control might
explain why Leonora finds it so difficult to elope in the first
scene. Kaufmann’s Alvaro begins the opera as a hedonistic,
alcoholic hipster, but is steadily humbled as the evening
progresses, and the final scene brings his utter devastation,
not his repentance. Leonora is portrayed with great sympathy,
even if her “disguise” of a fedora hat would fool nobody, and I
found the second scene of Act 2, which sees her (or, at least, a
body double) being baptised as an initiation into the monks’ way
of life, strangely powerful.
The reason why this
production provoked so much excitement, however, and the best
reason for picking up this DVD, is that Munich had managed to
assemble the finest Verdi cast available to sing the opera. It
is crowned by a magnificent Leonora from Anja Harteros, perhaps
the best thing she has done on disc. Her rich, creamy tone makes
her just about perfect for Verdi’s great lyric roles. Her voice
has the technique to conquer the tessitura and the size to make
it sound effortless, filling the role like the wind filling
sails. You get that right from the first scene, with the touch
of luxury to Me, pellegrina ed orfana, and she is devastating in
the great prayer that precedes her scene with Padre Guardiano.
She is then transcendently beautiful in the great La Vergine
degli angeli, and she crowns the whole thing with as secure a
performance of Pace, mio Dio as you’ll hear anywhere. Just
listen to the effortless octave leap on Invan la pace! Her
ensembles are every bit as good, singing with (all too brief)
gay abandon in her Act 1 duet with Alvaro, before finding
energetic urgency as she pleads with Guardiano to be allowed to
live as a hermit. Make no mistake: this is one of the finest
Leonoras you’ll find anywhere on disc, and in Jonas Kaufmann she
is matched with an Alvaro who is the finest we’ve had since
Domingo. His macho image suits Alvaro’s swaggering very well
indeed, and his dark, burnished voice only deepens the
character’s tragedy. His technique is pretty peerless, too,
managing his trademark pianissimo control to a heavenly degree
in O tu che in seno agli angeli. His duets with Don Carlo are
electrifying, not least because Ludovic Tézier has grown into
one of the best Verdi baritones of the 21st century so far.
There is depth and purity in his voice that leaves others in the
shade, and he is one of the few who could stand comparison with
Sherill Milnes in this role. Listen to the way he dominates the
third act to hear how Tézier manages to combine vocal beauty
with a sense of this character’s implacable, baleful obsession
with honour.
The lesser roles are every bit as fine.
Vitalij Kowaljow sings both the father and the abbot, though
it’s not clear whether this is part of Kušej’s take on the story
or whether it’s just a sensible use of a good bass. Either way,
he sings Verdi’s roles with a beautiful sense of the bel canto
line, and he is also an incredibly watchable screen presence.
Renato Girolami sings Melitone very well, and he refuses to ham
up the character’s comedy, something which can be the death of
many a Forza. Nadia Krasteva has an impressively forthright
mezzo voice, and she brings great life to Preziosilla’s music,
even though it’s not at all clear what she’s doing in any of
Kušej’s scenes. The chorus sing like gods, and the orchestra
play out of their skins for Asher Fisch, who keeps the whole
thing going without a hint of sagging. The recorded sound is
fantastic in surround, and the picture is crystal clear, without
any bizarre camera angles or fussy direction.
I love the
more conventionally staged Forza from Florence with Zubin Mehta
(review), and arch-traditionalists will still prefer that one to
this, but for anyone who isn’t entirely allergic to be a bit of
Regietheater, this is now the one to go for. The production is
perfectly fine and, more importantly, it’s the best sounding
Forza we’ve had since Levine and Sinopoli on CD. Unfortunately,
there are no extra features.