Alemania
The Tides of Politcal Fortune
Jesse Simon

Even by Verdian standards, Simon
Boccanegra can claim a plot of unusual complexity, in which the usual forces
of love, family and patriotic duty are set against an exactingly-devised
backdrop of double-crosses, abductions and surprise paternity reveals that can make
the arcane mechanics of political succession in fourteenth-century Genoa seem relatively
straightforward. For the new production at the Deutsche Oper, director Vasily
Barkhatov was able to render the complexities of the story with absolute
clarity while also introducing ideas of his own that took the action in
unexpected directions. With a strong central quartet of singers and
high-calibre musical direction from Jader Bignamini, the evening succeeded
equally as a compelling entertainment and an engaging performance of one of
Verdi’s most accomplished scores.
Mr Barkhatov’s staging updated the action
to a recognisably twenty-first century political milieu, albeit one in which
Genoa is still ruled by a Doge. Although the production presented the opera in
its familiar revised version of 1881, it was prefaced with the
less-frequently-performed 'Prelude' to the 1857 version, which allowed Mr
Barkhatov a few extra minutes to construct his narrative universe. In the
opening moments Mr Barkhatov showed us the first happy days of Fiesco’s rule –
some fifteen years before the events of the Prologue – and in doing so
introduced one of the staging’s central themes: the endless oscillation of
public opinion from which political fortune is made and lost again.
Despite its modernised setting, the staging
remained close to the events of the libretto; where it differed most decisively
was in its treatment of Maria/Amelia. During the set change between the Prologue
and the first act, a news report – complete with newspaper headlines projected
onto the curtain – suggested that Simone’s two-decade search to find his
missing daughter had taken a considerable mental toll; not only was it
affecting his competence as a statesman, but it was implied that his judgment
was so clouded that he was willing to be (and perhaps already had been) taken
in by pretenders.
When Simone first encounters Amelia – in
the girls’ boarding school run by Fiesco – the two appear to share a
moment of kinship when Simone learns of the her upbringing by the sea. Yet the
scene is soon revealed to have taken place entirely within Simone’s head. Part
of the council chamber scene and the scene with Simone and Amelia in the second
act are shown to be similarly fictional, projections of Simone’s longing that
may or may not be tethered to reality. (Mr Barkhatov achieved this effect by
introducing a rough edged video projection background to the scenes in question,
each of which ended with a sudden fade to black; a series of thin white lights
at the front of the stage served to “rewind” the action, and when the stage lights
came on again we found ourselves in the exact moment at which we had departed
from reality).
While these departures did not interrupt
the flow of the action (or music), they introduced an ambiguity essential to Mr
Barkhatov’s vision of the story. Not only did it cause Simone’s decisions to
seem unfathomable to those around him, it also denied the audience a reliable
vantage point from which to judge Amelia’s character. Until the very final
scenes it remained unclear if she was actually Simone’s missing daughter or
part of an elaborate scam designed to elevate Adorno to power. Mr Barkhatov
compounded these ambiguities by creating characters who were distinctive enough
to be plausible but remained largely opaque. We could be sure of Fiesco’s
hatred for Simone, Amelia and Adorno’s mutual desire, and Paolo’s self-serving
smugness, but little else.
If there was a great uncertainty at the
heart of the staging, Mr Barkhatov nonetheless rendered the contours of the
drama with considerable skill. Individual scenes were rich in well-observed incidental
detail while retaining a sharp focus on the story’s constant fluctuations of allegiance.
Admittedly some of the opera’s more action-oriented moments – the arrival of
the crowd in the council chamber or Adorno’s attempt to assassinate Simone –
felt a shade understated, but the smaller encounters that make up the bulk of
the opera were rarely less than compelling.
If there was no one vocal performance that
dominated the evening, the well-balanced cast ensured a near constant sequence
of excellent ensemble scenes. As the title character, George Petean had a voice
that could sound heavy in the lowest notes, but gained considerably in warmth,
agility and feeling in the higher-lying passages that feature in many of
Simone’s best scenes. Although the decision of the staging to play the
character as a career politician of declining judgement somewhat undercut the cathartic
magnanimity of the council chamber scene, Mr Petean nonetheless delivered an
impassioned address to the assembled political forces of Genoa. However the
dramatic potential in his voice was better showcased in his initial pleas for
reconciliation with Fiesco, his sensitive first meeting with Amelia, and his
agonised final moments, in which the effect of the poison was subtly
articulated in both his vocal and physical performance.
There were few more engaging moments in the
evening than the two confrontations between Simone and Fiesco that bookend the
opera, and the strength of these scenes owed much to the commanding bass of
Liang Li. He rarely sought to impress through power alone, but his elegant
lines and his ease with the role’s lowest passages worked well with the intense
severity he brought to the character. As Amelia, Maria Motolygina wielded a
voice of great expressive power and considerable tonal breadth; her solo scene
at the beginning of the first act was especially enthralling. If there were one
or two moments in which the demands of technique seemed to eclipse the evenness
of performance, they were outweighed by scenes in which she was the most
compelling voice on stage.
Attilio Glaser’s Adorno grew in stature
throughout the evening. His initial scenes with Amelia, and even his appearance
in the council chamber were undeniably well-sung, but they suggested a cautious
conspirator far more than a romantic tenor. However in the second act – first
in a searching solo scene, then a caustic duet calling Amelia’s fidelity into
question, and finally as the repentant would-be assassin in the climactic trio
– he was able to invest the role with exactly the immediacy and depth it
needed. As Paolo, Michael Bachtadze provided the staging with a credible
kingmaker turned villain, and the choir, who play such an essential role in the
drama, were also on fine form, perhaps nowhere more so than in the Prologue.
Throughout the evening, Jader Bignamini’s
quietly excellent musical direction seemed less focussed on the score’s moments
of surprise and dramatic reversal than its lyrical undercurrents of regret and
loss. This is not to suggest that the climactic moments were underplayed – the
arrival of Amelia in the council chamber and Adorno’s discovery of Amelia’s
true identity were both given appropriate orchestral heft – rather that it was
the gentle radiance of the strings in the Prologue, the detailed woodwinds that
accompanied Amelia’s first appearance, or the sequence of beautifully sculpted
scenes that brought the third act to its dark conclusion that made the greatest
impression. If Mr Barkhatov’s staging made light work of the libretto’s
complexities, it was Mr Bignamini’s unforced but consistently well-judged
reading that allowed Verdi’s score to flourish.
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