Image: Luisa Miller; photograph courtesy Arts Centre Melbourne.
Of Giuseppe Verdi’s thirty-seven operas, his fifteenth, the three-act Luisa Miller, first performed in the Teatro San Carlo, Naples in December 1849 is seen as the first flowering of his musical and dramaturgical genius. It precedes three works which are considered amongst his greatest: Rigoletto (1851), Il trovatore and La traviata (both 1853); the work contains interesting premonitions, particularly of Rigoletto. Salvatore Cammarano was the librettist, though not Verdi’s first choice, who set the work using Friedrich Schiller’s play, Kabale und Liebe (‘Intrigue and Love’). He took significant liberties with the story, but maintained its socially radical message of overcoming socio-economic circumstance to achieve ‘equality and truth’. Despite the work’s naïve plot, earnestly conveyed by the fine performance on opening night by Opera Australia in its Melbourne Season, the opera certainly punches above its weight in terms of dramatic clout and musical impact.
Verdi specialist, Andrea Licata revealed all of Verdi’s vibrant score, beautifully paced, with precision and loving care to detail. Giancarlo del Monaco’s direction (revived by Matthew Barclay) brought theatrical presence in all the right spots and did its best to camouflage some of the work’s somewhat clumsy narrative. The design by William Orlandi was both a fine conception and technical achievement, superbly lit by Vinicio Cheli. Drawing from fragments in the libretto referring to divine (Christian) intervention, it interprets the work as a Greek tragedy where fate has the governing hand whatever motives, virtue or vice may provide.
The work’s outcome, therefore, becomes, through its inescapable chaos, misery and predetermination, even more wretchedly bleak. The colour palette of pitch-black and white (save for a few green wooden chairs and foliage) seemed thoroughly grim.
A single major staging device reinforced this effect: a giant white marble group statue, presenting a happy domestic scene as the Overture opens, gradually shifts on its huge platform, retreating upstage and tilting alarmingly until ending upside-down above the performers, reflecting their disorientation. Most powerfully, at the end of the work it slowly slides back to its original position resolving the entire intrigue and desperate circumstance of misunderstood actions, poisonings and death in tragic finality, the marble domestic scene turning to cool memorial tombstones gently resting on the whole heartrending affair.
This slick, elegant and Modernist 1930s production (a joint effort with Opéra de Lausanne) provided a stark backdrop for us to explore – indeed, almost claustrophobically interrogate – the intricate psychological nuances of the principal characters’ changing circumstances. Elegant and simple, with a funereal-marching, candle-bearing chorus, white tie and top hats, silken and beaded deco gowns and obligatory white bouquets, it would be in danger of being overly contrived, morbid and static if not for the dramatic fervour and drive of the principal performers.
In her Verdian debut, Nicole Car gave a startlingly intense performance of the lead role; her glorious and agile voice seemed to relish any challenge the work presented her. Her dramatic presence embraced the initial fresh joy and optimism of young love soon challenged by despair and concluding in moribund destitution. Despite being mostly bare-footed and dressed in a silk shift, Car tellingly delivered the changing emotional complexity of her role with subtlety and conviction. This artist still has some way to go in realising her full potential making her a singer to look out for. Michael Honeyman was a thoroughly believable, worthy and endearing Miller, the honourable and protective father of Luisa. His baritone was convincing yet unremarkable, though his vibrant presence always compensated. Laura was beautifully performed by Eva Kong, a true and very musical voice which we hope to hear more often. Riccardo Massi as the tragic Rodolfo was a fine actor and an impressive presence with total sympathy for his role though, on this occasion, his vocal impact was muted and contained. The sinister and vile Wurm (such a superb name for a villain) was tellingly portrayed by Steven Gallop dressed in tails and round, dark glasses; so convincingly melodramatic was his character that he earned ‘boos’ and hisses from the audience at curtain call. Sadly, though, his voice sounded woolly and unfocused. Similarly, David Parkin’s bass as Count Walter was undistinguished, lacking in depth, richness and projection though at the same time well-portraying his deeply disturbed role. Federica was superbly performed by mezzo-soprano Sian Pendry whose golden vocal richness and formidable charisma captured our attention.
The Opera Australia Chorus was as disciplined as ever under its sure chorus master, Anthony Hunt and Orchestra Victoria performed mostly with virtuosity and clarity (with the exception of some shaky upper-strings rapport) with mention to be made for the elegant woodwind section and particularly the most aptly named principal clarinettist, Paul Champion.
Rating: 3 stars out of 5
Luisa Miller by Giuseppe Verdi
Conductor: Andrea Licata
Director: Giancarlo del Monaco
Revival Director: Matthew Barclay
Designer: William Orlandi
Lighting Designer: Vinicio Cheli
Assistant Conductor: John Haddock
Characters in order of appearance:
Luisa: Nicole Car
Miller: Michael Honeyman
Laura: Eva Kong
Rodolfo: Riccardo Massi
Wurm: Steven Gallop
Count Walter: David Parkin
Federica: Sian Pendry
Peasant: Stuart Haycock
Opera Australia Chorus
Orchestra Victoria
Arts Centre Melbourne
16-27 May 2016
