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MusicalCriticism.com, 16
September 2009 |
Dominic McHugh |
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Don Carlo
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Photo: ©
Robbie Jack/Corbis |
Like Schubert's so-called 'Unfinished' Symphony,
Verdi's Don Carlo never reached a definitive form, and we don't even know
which language to perform it in or whether to call it Carlo or Carlos. Four
acts or five acts? With or without the ballet? It's anyone's guess.
So I suppose it's also a matter of opinion how it should be played and
staged, and if the audience reaction at the first revival of Nicholas
Hytner's production of the piece at Covent Garden is anything to go by, both
his direction and Semyon Bychkov's conducting are a public success. For me,
though, the production's problematic elements are no better on this second
outing, while Bychkov's reading was a vast disappointment.
The first problem with the production is that it's not scenically coherent.
Bob Crowley's designs veer between literal representation and complete
symbolism. The forest of Fontainebleau is shown with its bare trees and snow
on the floor (the latter created by a piece of white material which was
tripped over twice), but when Carlo is left alone at the end of the act, the
camp fire and snow are dragged to the back of the stage while a prison-like
wall symbolically moves down to show how he's been trapped by his position
into being separated from his lover. It's so awkwardly done that the point
loses its power. Then we have the cloister at San Yuste, which is once again
made risible by the sight of the tomb of Charles V whizzing about the stage
electronically.
Eboli's Veil Song is backed by a Lego-brick wall and a field of poppies
painted onto the backcloth, while the King's study is implausibly bare.
Worst of all, perhaps, is the auto-da-fe, which has some kind of
blood-stained image of Christ projected onto a curved wall, while the back
shows a golden edifice with three doors, which is spoilt by the presence of
a jarring red backdrop behind it. The best scene, I find, is the prison
where Posa is kept locked away: the massive walls which have lurked at the
sides until now suddenly come into their own. It's still rather odd to have
a line of armed soldiers across the extent of the stage watching Posa,
however, and it undermines the intimacy of the all-important final encounter
between Posa and Carlo.
The other issue I have with the production is that the direction has not had
the necessary effect on the cast. Several of the key monologues – most
notably Philip's and Elizabeth's – go by with almost no noticeable
directorial imagination coming into play, even though these are some of the
most psychologically-probing moments in opera. There's a general lack of
passion and fervour, too, which is crucial in an opera whose story, to be
frank, doesn't always make much logical sense if emotion isn't the key
motivator. After all, clarification of the story and its impetuses was the
key reason for Verdi's revisions.
What surprised me more about the performance, though, was Bychkov's
conducting. A sensitive interpreter of Boris Godunov, The Queen of Spades
and Lohengrin at the house in recent years, Bychkov is now firmly
established on the London opera scene, and I confess that I had taken his
success in Don Carlo for granted. Many of the same characteristics of the
earlier operas were present: in particular, it was obvious that every
gesture was deliberate and carefully calculated, and the degree to which
markings of articulation in the score were performed was astounding.
But I'm afraid that on this showing, his feeling for the Italian repertoire
is not yet instinctive. There was a metronomic precision to his speeds, but
taking so much of the score at a slow tempo was absolutely detrimental to
the performance, in my experience. I've never heard the opening of the
auto-da-fe taken so slowly, even on record, and most of the big numbers,
including 'Tu che le vanita' and Rodrigo's death scene, dragged on without
nuance. One aspect of the problem was inflexibility towards phrasing: often
the singers needed to expand or move in and out of a phrase with a
fluctuation of tempo, as is characteristic of this style of music, but
Bychkov was almost metronomic in his beat, causing singers to struggle with
long or high phrases (such as the King's line in the Act 4 quartet). Life
and energy were seriously lacking as a result of this, which is a huge
shame: few conductors can get so much colour out of an orchestra as Bychkov
can, but what's needed now is a more visceral approach.
The cast was also sadly uneven in many respects, but with a lifelessness in
the conducting and unfocussed staging it was difficult to be convinced by
the performance in its entirety. For many, the main draw of the evening
was Jonas Kaufmann's Carlo, and after a strained cavatina he was indeed
excellent. Both physically perfect for Carlo and intelligent towards the
text, Kaufmann contributed heavily to the evening's successful aspects.
Returning from the original production, both Marina Poplavskaya (Elisabetta)
and Simon Keenlyside (Posa) gave similar performances. Poplavskaya has grown
as an actress and her control over her voice has likewise improved so that
she now fills the house impressively, but her tone is still thin at the top
where strong money notes would have greater impact, and for me she could
still be more impassioned and less cold. Keenlyside is no natural Verdian,
either: one could not even slightly criticise his commitment, musicality or
intelligence – he deservedly won loud applause at the curtain call – but
compared to someone like Cappuccilli his vocal performance is too small and
lacking in the golden edge and heft of the great Verdi baritones. It's also
curious that he didn't have as much dramatic impact as Kaufmann in this
performance, so he almost seemed more suited to the character of Carlo than
the strong revolutionary Rodrigo.
Ferruccio Furlanetto is back, too, as Philip II, but at this performance he
didn't always sound at ease with Bychkov's tempos. One of the conductor's
quirks was to have the opening line of 'Ella giammai m'amo' sung very
quickly, in rhythm, rather than drawn out with the sobbing emphasis that is
usually given to it (not least in Furlanetto's performance last time
around). I'm not sure it works, and although the bass looks great in the
part, his overall performance was less imposing than last time. Marianne
Cornetti made a strong debut as Eboli, slicing through the orchestra easily
with her hefty instrument and commanding the stage easily. The Veil Song
requires too much flexibility from her – she had a slightly wide vibrato –
and it didn't have the effortless feel that's needed, but 'O don fatale' had
the requisite thrilling effect.
In smaller roles, Robert Lloyd was once again an excellent Monk, and this
time Sir John Tomlinson played the Grand Inquisitor. Tomlinson's stage
presence and expressivity are always a wonder to behold and he was perfect
as the corrupt master of religion, but the role lies rather high for him in
places, which was a shame. Young Artist Eri Nakamura was absolutely superb
as the Voice from Heaven, and Pumeza Matshikiza put in a good performance as
Tebaldo, too.
The problem, perhaps, is that Covent Garden's seen quite a few stunning Don
Carlos in its time, and even in my relatively short opera-going lifetime the
ROH performance of the piece at the Proms with Haitink, Hvorostovsky and
Borodina and the Luc Bondy production with Mattila, Alagna, Hampson and
Urmana were both far more memorable than the current revival. To perform
this piece is always a great achievement, and the chance to see Don Carlo is
rare enough in Britain to make it worth seeing; however, on the basis of
this showing it would seem that neither Bychkov nor Hytner can yet compete
with their forbears. |
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