Review: Adriana Lecouvreur
It is one thing to mount a competent production of a widely-beloved opera to general acclaim. It is quite another to breathe new life into an oft-maligned opera in such a way that none attending could imagine why it was ever unpopular. This was accomplished (without, I hasten to add, changing the time or place in which the opera was set) by David McVicar in his ninth, and possibly best, production with the Metropolitan Opera, of Francesco Cilea's Adriana Lecouvreur.
This production was broadcast as part of the Met's Live in HD series to cinemas around the world yesterday, and I happily attended, knowing the opera's reputation, being as familiar with it as I thought I needed to be to guess how I would leave feeling. I thought I would enjoy some wonderful vocal performances of some lovely music, while being vaguely entertained by the absurd plot and gawking at the breathtaking scenery and costumes I've come to expect of the designers McVicar tends to work with.
Instead, I left feeling like I had seen an entirely new opera, and a masterful one at that.
Adriana Lecouvreur is often categorized as a verismo tragedy, and after yesterday's performance, I have come to the conclusion that this sole fact has been more responsible than anything for its downfall. In the interviews that are shown at the intermissions of these broadcasts, both David McVicar and conductor Gianandrea Noseda declined to call this opera a verismo one. McVicar called it "hypertheatrical," a word which seems the very antithesis of versimo, and Noseda went so far as to make an argument for why it isn't verismo. The word "verismo" conjures up the gritty tragedies of Puccini -- La Boheme and Tosca and the like. Verismo is realism, but Adriana Lecouvreur has nothing but melodrama. A convoluted plot, with divas saving each other's lives in one act, raging at each other in the next, and exacting revenge with the most contrived of weapons. In some ways, the plot of Adriana Lecouvreur reads as a comic spoof of the conventions of tragic opera. And this is the direction in which McVicar has taken the production.
Adriana Lecouvreur is about an actress, and set among a theatrical company, and to drive this point home, this production keeps a stage visible in every scene, even the one that's set in a private villa. But this little scenic design element is just a representation of the self-awareness this production conveys. McVicar keeps the comedy of the opening bars drumming through the entire first act, helped in no small part by Mr. Noseda, whose conducting is anything but ponderous, and baritone Ambrogio Maestri, who, in the role of the stage manager Michonnet, captures a perfect blend of comedy and earnestness. Where the role is usually serious, Maestri keeps a light touch while still capturing the audience's sympathy. When Maurizio enters, and sings an aria to Adriana that can easily come across as overly sappy and sentimental, tenor Piotr Beczala has fun with it, and Anna Netrebko's reactions in the title role make the aria feel more deliberately cheesy, like a parody of bad love songs, rather than one itself. And this in turn makes their scene more endearing, because the audience is laughing with Maurizio and Adriana at the sentimentality of these sorts of arias, rather than laughing at Maurizio for singing this particular aria. And these little touches of humor and lightheartedness are carried through most of the first two acts, and even into the latter two, although to a lesser extent as things get more serious. This not only makes the opera more fun to watch, but also helps to put the audience at ease by telling us that, no, this is not a verismo tragedy, and yes, we are allowed to have fun with it. At the same time, it never falls into burlesque. The opera can be lighthearted and self-aware, but it is never so farcical that we lose all ability to feel real sympathy for these characters.
As if to drive the point home that the audience shouldn't take the opera too seriously, a bust of Moliere was visible on the stage in front of the curtain before the opera began, and it stayed there for all of Act I. In between Acts I and II (which were performed sans intermission) a supernumerary came on stage and did a physical comedy routine as he tried to drag the bust off stage. This got a laugh out of the audience, and was, as much as anything else, emblematic of the ethos of the whole production. This is not a verismo tragedy. This is a high melodrama with outsized characters that plays on the tropes of tragic opera. And once this was established, any elements of the opera that seemed to not fit in the context of Puccini and Mascagni suddenly fell into place as those composers were taken out of the picture. This is not to say it was a comedy all the way through. On the contrary, it does become as tragic as ever in the latter acts, but because we were allowed to laugh with, rather than at the characters in the early acts, this let us better feel real sympathy for them in the later acts. Caricatures who take themselves too seriously are not likable.
And speaking of the characters should bring us to the cast. The unexpected star of which has to be the aforementioned Ambrogio Maestri as Michonnet. As I've already stated, he is appropriate funny and light (he is perhaps best known for his leading roles in comic operas such as L'Elisir D'Amore and Falstaff) while still being very sympathetic, and, after watching videos of a couple other Michonnets, I think his comic touch actually helps us feel even more sympathy for him. It's hard to get to like a character who is just moping all the time, and though Maestri's Michonnet is a sad character, no doubt, he tempers it with affability, and an unqualified kindness that makes his friendship toward Adriana one of the most touching friendships seen on an operatic stage.
The leading tenor, Piotr Beczala, delivers his role too with an appropriate mix of comic and serious flair. Though Maurizio's character is steeped in confusion that can make it difficult to tell whether we should like him or not an any given moment, in Beczala's hands, the character is, whether likable or not, nothing if not engaging. And his voice, of course, does the music more than justice. Maurizio has roughly one aria per act, each with a distinctly different tone and character, and Beczala thoroughly delivers all of them.
The main antagonist is the mezzo-soprano Princess de Bouillon, played here by rapidly-rising star Anita Rachvelishvili. And in this role, she leaves no doubt that her sudden press attention is well-deserved. As Maestri and Beczala temper the comic with the sympathetic, Rachvelishvilli tempers the dramatic with the reserved, leading to a diva's rival who is all too cognizant of the melodrama of her situation. Rachvelishvili begins Act II at eleven, and then quickly reduces to a vibrant simmer just on the edge of boiling, raising the heat exactly when needed, no more and no less. Cilea has smartly given the character a easily memorable leitmotif which occurs whenever her influence on the plot becomes apparent, giving Rachvelishvili's striking portrayal a presence even when she is not on stage.
As the two other villains, the Prince de Bouillon, and his henchman the Abbe de Chazeuil, bass Maurizio Muraro and tenor Carlo Bosi give mostly comic portrayals that serve to lighten the mood when things get to serious, but their impact on the plot means that no matter how much they make you laugh, their presence on stage never loses tension. Bosi's Abbe is particularly memorable, and his scene with the Princess at the top of Act III (where Rachvelishvilli got to display a slight comic edge as well) was an unexpected highlight of the opera.
And of course, in the title role, the diva Anna Netrebko. Adriana Lecouvreur is generally considered one of those operas you only pull out of storage when you have a famous and talented soprano who really wants to play the lead, and Netrebko's star power is presumably the main thing that motivated the Met to program the opera this season in the first place. For that we thank you Ms. Netrebko. In addition to delivering a powerhouse vocal performance, just like her costars Netrebko keeps the material just light enough when needed, and this includes in her Act I aria, "Io Son L'umile Ancella," which, like Maurizio's Act I aria, can easily fall into schmaltz when taken too seriously.
The sets and costumes, designed by Charles Edwards and Brigitte Reiffenstuel respectively, were absolutely stunning and in-period, conveying everything the visual aspects of a production need to convey about setting, tone, character, and so on. Adam Silverman's lighting design too was gorgeous, and I found myself marveling at some of the lighting cues, especially in the second act. Even if this production did not completely revitalize this opera, it would be highly commendable for its visual appeal alone.
David McVicar and Gianandrea Noseda made it very clear with this production that the problem with Adriana Lecouvreur is not one of quality, but one of category. It is not just another opera from the verismo era with pretty good music, a bizarre plot, and a meaty role for a leading soprano. It is a completely different sort of opera, that happens to have premiered during the height of the verismo movement, but which stands on its own two feet, independent of the large personalities it tends to attract, as a truly compelling drama, with likable, that mixes comedy and tragedy in a real, human way. Not all of the confusion in the libretto is avoidable, but McVicar and Noseda have certainly put Adriana Lecouvreur on a level that would have any casual audience member wondering why this opera isn't more frequently performed.
This production was broadcast as part of the Met's Live in HD series to cinemas around the world yesterday, and I happily attended, knowing the opera's reputation, being as familiar with it as I thought I needed to be to guess how I would leave feeling. I thought I would enjoy some wonderful vocal performances of some lovely music, while being vaguely entertained by the absurd plot and gawking at the breathtaking scenery and costumes I've come to expect of the designers McVicar tends to work with.
Instead, I left feeling like I had seen an entirely new opera, and a masterful one at that.
Anita Rachvelishvilli in Adriana Lecouvreur
Photo by Ken Howard
Photo by Ken Howard
Adriana Lecouvreur is often categorized as a verismo tragedy, and after yesterday's performance, I have come to the conclusion that this sole fact has been more responsible than anything for its downfall. In the interviews that are shown at the intermissions of these broadcasts, both David McVicar and conductor Gianandrea Noseda declined to call this opera a verismo one. McVicar called it "hypertheatrical," a word which seems the very antithesis of versimo, and Noseda went so far as to make an argument for why it isn't verismo. The word "verismo" conjures up the gritty tragedies of Puccini -- La Boheme and Tosca and the like. Verismo is realism, but Adriana Lecouvreur has nothing but melodrama. A convoluted plot, with divas saving each other's lives in one act, raging at each other in the next, and exacting revenge with the most contrived of weapons. In some ways, the plot of Adriana Lecouvreur reads as a comic spoof of the conventions of tragic opera. And this is the direction in which McVicar has taken the production.
Adriana Lecouvreur is about an actress, and set among a theatrical company, and to drive this point home, this production keeps a stage visible in every scene, even the one that's set in a private villa. But this little scenic design element is just a representation of the self-awareness this production conveys. McVicar keeps the comedy of the opening bars drumming through the entire first act, helped in no small part by Mr. Noseda, whose conducting is anything but ponderous, and baritone Ambrogio Maestri, who, in the role of the stage manager Michonnet, captures a perfect blend of comedy and earnestness. Where the role is usually serious, Maestri keeps a light touch while still capturing the audience's sympathy. When Maurizio enters, and sings an aria to Adriana that can easily come across as overly sappy and sentimental, tenor Piotr Beczala has fun with it, and Anna Netrebko's reactions in the title role make the aria feel more deliberately cheesy, like a parody of bad love songs, rather than one itself. And this in turn makes their scene more endearing, because the audience is laughing with Maurizio and Adriana at the sentimentality of these sorts of arias, rather than laughing at Maurizio for singing this particular aria. And these little touches of humor and lightheartedness are carried through most of the first two acts, and even into the latter two, although to a lesser extent as things get more serious. This not only makes the opera more fun to watch, but also helps to put the audience at ease by telling us that, no, this is not a verismo tragedy, and yes, we are allowed to have fun with it. At the same time, it never falls into burlesque. The opera can be lighthearted and self-aware, but it is never so farcical that we lose all ability to feel real sympathy for these characters.
As if to drive the point home that the audience shouldn't take the opera too seriously, a bust of Moliere was visible on the stage in front of the curtain before the opera began, and it stayed there for all of Act I. In between Acts I and II (which were performed sans intermission) a supernumerary came on stage and did a physical comedy routine as he tried to drag the bust off stage. This got a laugh out of the audience, and was, as much as anything else, emblematic of the ethos of the whole production. This is not a verismo tragedy. This is a high melodrama with outsized characters that plays on the tropes of tragic opera. And once this was established, any elements of the opera that seemed to not fit in the context of Puccini and Mascagni suddenly fell into place as those composers were taken out of the picture. This is not to say it was a comedy all the way through. On the contrary, it does become as tragic as ever in the latter acts, but because we were allowed to laugh with, rather than at the characters in the early acts, this let us better feel real sympathy for them in the later acts. Caricatures who take themselves too seriously are not likable.
And speaking of the characters should bring us to the cast. The unexpected star of which has to be the aforementioned Ambrogio Maestri as Michonnet. As I've already stated, he is appropriate funny and light (he is perhaps best known for his leading roles in comic operas such as L'Elisir D'Amore and Falstaff) while still being very sympathetic, and, after watching videos of a couple other Michonnets, I think his comic touch actually helps us feel even more sympathy for him. It's hard to get to like a character who is just moping all the time, and though Maestri's Michonnet is a sad character, no doubt, he tempers it with affability, and an unqualified kindness that makes his friendship toward Adriana one of the most touching friendships seen on an operatic stage.
The leading tenor, Piotr Beczala, delivers his role too with an appropriate mix of comic and serious flair. Though Maurizio's character is steeped in confusion that can make it difficult to tell whether we should like him or not an any given moment, in Beczala's hands, the character is, whether likable or not, nothing if not engaging. And his voice, of course, does the music more than justice. Maurizio has roughly one aria per act, each with a distinctly different tone and character, and Beczala thoroughly delivers all of them.
The main antagonist is the mezzo-soprano Princess de Bouillon, played here by rapidly-rising star Anita Rachvelishvili. And in this role, she leaves no doubt that her sudden press attention is well-deserved. As Maestri and Beczala temper the comic with the sympathetic, Rachvelishvilli tempers the dramatic with the reserved, leading to a diva's rival who is all too cognizant of the melodrama of her situation. Rachvelishvili begins Act II at eleven, and then quickly reduces to a vibrant simmer just on the edge of boiling, raising the heat exactly when needed, no more and no less. Cilea has smartly given the character a easily memorable leitmotif which occurs whenever her influence on the plot becomes apparent, giving Rachvelishvili's striking portrayal a presence even when she is not on stage.
As the two other villains, the Prince de Bouillon, and his henchman the Abbe de Chazeuil, bass Maurizio Muraro and tenor Carlo Bosi give mostly comic portrayals that serve to lighten the mood when things get to serious, but their impact on the plot means that no matter how much they make you laugh, their presence on stage never loses tension. Bosi's Abbe is particularly memorable, and his scene with the Princess at the top of Act III (where Rachvelishvilli got to display a slight comic edge as well) was an unexpected highlight of the opera.
And of course, in the title role, the diva Anna Netrebko. Adriana Lecouvreur is generally considered one of those operas you only pull out of storage when you have a famous and talented soprano who really wants to play the lead, and Netrebko's star power is presumably the main thing that motivated the Met to program the opera this season in the first place. For that we thank you Ms. Netrebko. In addition to delivering a powerhouse vocal performance, just like her costars Netrebko keeps the material just light enough when needed, and this includes in her Act I aria, "Io Son L'umile Ancella," which, like Maurizio's Act I aria, can easily fall into schmaltz when taken too seriously.
The sets and costumes, designed by Charles Edwards and Brigitte Reiffenstuel respectively, were absolutely stunning and in-period, conveying everything the visual aspects of a production need to convey about setting, tone, character, and so on. Adam Silverman's lighting design too was gorgeous, and I found myself marveling at some of the lighting cues, especially in the second act. Even if this production did not completely revitalize this opera, it would be highly commendable for its visual appeal alone.
David McVicar and Gianandrea Noseda made it very clear with this production that the problem with Adriana Lecouvreur is not one of quality, but one of category. It is not just another opera from the verismo era with pretty good music, a bizarre plot, and a meaty role for a leading soprano. It is a completely different sort of opera, that happens to have premiered during the height of the verismo movement, but which stands on its own two feet, independent of the large personalities it tends to attract, as a truly compelling drama, with likable, that mixes comedy and tragedy in a real, human way. Not all of the confusion in the libretto is avoidable, but McVicar and Noseda have certainly put Adriana Lecouvreur on a level that would have any casual audience member wondering why this opera isn't more frequently performed.
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