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Limelight, 10 August 2023 |
by Deborah Jones |
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Ponchielli: La Gioconda, Sydney, 9. und 12. August 2023
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La Gioconda (Opera Australia) |
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The stars were out for Opera Australia’s concert version of
Ponchielli’s one and only hit opera with Jonas Kaufmann's artistry front and
centre.
Even by opera’s standards the plot of Amilcare
Ponchielli’s La Gioconda(1876) requires a great deal of indulgence on the
part of the viewer. The libretto, written by Arrigo Boito under his
pseudonym of Tobia Gorrio (an anagram) and loosely based on a Victor Hugo
play, revels in extreme emotions and actions without troubling itself too
much with logic.
It’s impossible to forget Wagner’s comment about
Meyerbeer, whose grand French operas – particularly those with libretti by
Scribe – provided a template for La Gioconda. “Effects without causes” was
Wagner’s putdown and the witticism could be applied to La Gioconda.
It’s true the principal figures have impulses rather than well-defined
characters, that the plot hurtles from one implausibility to the next and
that spectacle seems to be there for the sake of sensation rather than
necessity. La Gioconda nevertheless hangs on to its place in the repertoire.
Opera Australia’s concert performance, while obviously short on
spectacle, shows why.
The lavish score is studded with impassioned
numbers for soloists, duos and trios. The ensembles are exciting, the dance
music wonderful and a large chorus weaves in and out of the action, adding
sumptuous texture and summoning the vivid atmospherics of 17th century
Venice under the Inquisition. The OA chorus did its job splendidly,
including the provision of brief but important solos sung from the chorus
stalls.
The Opera Australia Orchestra, released from its usual place
in the pit of the Joan Sutherland Theatre, gave a mighty performance of the
music under the baton of Pinchas Steinberg. Steinberg’s control of dynamics
and mood-setting ensured that the dance music danced, blood-and-thunder
moments roared and lyrical passages sang. Steinberg’s impeccable direction
allowed the tiniest details to shine through the texture like fireflies at
night while remaining inextricably part of the fabric of the piece.
La Gioconda in concert gives the opera’s incongruities nowhere to hide but
performances were gripping enough to paper over the cracks. Making her house
debut, Spanish soprano Saioa Hernández was transfixing as the singer
Gioconda. She is already celebrated in the role and has it under her skin.
It lived in every phrase. The incongruities were part of her torment.
Hernández’s immersion in the drama brings to mind what Tullio Serafin
told Maria Callas when she made her Italian debut: that there had to be “an
expression to everything you do, a justification”. The role Callas was
taking on was Gioconda.
Hernández has her own highly individual
timbre, one that seems made for tragedy. In Gioconda’s Act IV aria
Suicidio!, Hernández plumbed the depths of despair with thrillingly powerful
chest voice. Earlier singing of love and sacrifice she sounded ecstatic –
erotic even – in her utterly secure, gleaming high register.
At the
end of the first act Gioconda, who is fruitlessly in love with the exiled
prince Enzo, says her destiny “is either love or death”. It’s pretty clear
which will win out.
La Gioconda is held together by a very real sense
of doom. One can imagine a staged production that concentrates on the
pervasive stench of death. Even the radiant Dance of the Hours in the third
act is a reminder that time ticks away.
The opera starts and finishes
with the spy Barnaba, sung with implacable, almost over-powering force by
French baritone Ludovic Tézier. In one of his earliest utterances Barnaba
says that just below the ground where people dance and sing are the ghastly
prisons that hold the “flies” he catches in the service of the state. Tézier
was towering in the Act I aria O monumento!,which looks forward to Iago’s
Credo in Verdi’s Otello (Boito wrote its libretto 11 years after La
Gioconda). Barnaba is essentially pure evil but within that unrelenting
darkness Tézier found moments of reflection and even beauty.
Jonas
Kaufmann’s role debut as Enzo saw the tenor a little under par at the first
performance. He was slightly scratchy at the beginning of the lovely aria
Cielo e mar in Act II but it was fascinating to hear him explore the role’s
possibilities. Kaufmann’s soft singing in the upper register sometimes edged
into head voice and mezza voce phrases underlined Enzo’s romantic longings.
If not all the trademark burnish was present, Kaufmann’s artistry was front
and centre.
In La Gioconda it’s the mezzo who gets the man. Fresh
from performances as Amneris in Aida for OA, Agnieszka Rehlis was a silken,
elegant Laura with plenty of passion under the fine exterior. Her Act II
face-off with Hernández, L’amo come il fulgor del creato, in which each
woman argues the strength of her love for Enzo, was a highlight. Like
Hernández, Rehlis has performed her role before and even though neither
moved from the music stand their interaction caught fire.
Ukrainian
bass Vitalij Kowaljow and Australian mezzo Deborah Humble embodied the
smaller but no less important roles of Laura’s powerful husband Alvise and
Gioconda’s saintly blind mother La Cieca.
At interval on Wednesday
fireworks were set off on Sydney Harbour as part of the Sydney Opera House’s
50th anniversary celebrations. They were fun, but no match really for the
fireworks inside the Concert Hall.
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