Verdi: Ernani
Metropolitan Opera in HD, 25th February 2012
This was a very old-fashioned night at the opera – and you’re welcome to take that in whatever way you will. Here was Verdi’s gloriously melodic Ernani (the one with the bandits and a plot so riddled with holes that it makes Il trovatore seem positively sane) in a creaky staging out of the ark, with no discernible signs of direction at all. Performances were strictly of the ‘park and bark’ variety, applause for the sets, curtain calls taken at the end of acts and a chorus so wooden it’s surprising it wasn’t infested with woodworm. Yet I enjoyed the whole experience immensely! In these days of Regietheater where directors reign supreme (often riding roughshod over the composers’ intentions), it was rather refreshing to be presented with something which old Joe Green would have recognised as his fifth opera.
Act 3, Ernani
© Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera
The only interesting point to make about the production is that the original director, Pier Luigi Samaritani, also designed the sets. I should think the sets took up most of his time. They are vast and impressive, a point brought to bear when, during the two intervals (or ‘intermissions’) the cameras took us backstage to watch the mammoth process of changing them over from one act to the next. Huge staircases dominate several scenes, but the set for the tomb of Charlemagne in Aachen Cathedral topped them all. A revival director is credited – Peter McClintock – but the only evidence of any actual direction is in the decision to have Elvira also commit suicide at the end, taking Ernani’s dagger and stabbing herself. This has some precedent in Hugo’s play, where Hernani and Doña Sol both take poison, before Silva stabs himself, but was the only point in the evening to cause the mildest surprise.
Based on Victor Hugo’s Hernani, Verdi’s fifth opera was his first collaboration with Francesco Maria Piave and was written for La Fenice. It frequently hit trouble with the censors (or Hugo himself) and was adapted under the guises of Il proscritto, Elvira d’Aragona and Il corsaro di Venezia among others in its early years.
‘Typical Verdi!’ responded an elderly neighbour to his (marginally younger) companion when asked what he thought of the opera at the first interval in this cinema screening. Well, not really. At the time of its composition, Ernani wasn’t typical Verdi at all, being very different to the four operas which had gone before. What it does do is to lay down the blueprint for the Spanish operas to come – Il trovatore, La forza del destino and, ultimately, Don Carlos – the fiery passions and the relentless flow of melodic invention are remarkable if, as yet, his characters are ill-defined and two-dimensional. The one exception is Don Carlo, the king, one of a trio of men seeking the hand of Elvira who, when elected Emperor, magnanimously pardons those conspirators who’ve plotted against him and hands Elvira over to Ernani, nobly bowing out from his amorous aspirations. This is the same Carlos V, of course, who mysteriously reappears as a monk in Don Carlos to thwart his son, Philip II, and the Spanish Inquisition. Verdi gives Carlo some wonderful music and any baritone worth his salt can, and should, steal the show. Dmitri Hvorostovsky duly obliged.
Dmitri Hvorostovsky (Don Carlo)
© Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera
In his role debut, the Siberian baritone smouldered from the off and was in imperious voice. The role lies quite high in the baritone range, but Hvorostovsky made light of the vocal challenges; ‘Lo vedremo, veglio audace’ was excellent, followed by a refined, cultured tone for ‘Vieni meco sol di rose’, never pushing the voice too hard, but singing tenderly for the most part. But it was the grand scena at Charlemange’s tomb which found Hvorostovsky at his finest, ‘Oh, de’ verd’anni miei’ sung with leonine strength and displaying his legendary long-breathed phrasing before leading the closing ensemble, ‘O sommo Carlo’. Acting? Well, there was some shameless flirtation with the camera and he takes advantage of his aristocratic bearing, but otherwise we can put the blame for the ‘stand and deliver’ style firmly at the revival director’s door and move swiftly on…
Most interest surrounded the appearance of Angela Meade as Elvira. She is a recent winner of the Beverly Sills Artist Award and has given performances as Anna Bolena this season. She first came to my notice in the 2007 Met National Council Auditions, of which she was one of the winners. In 2008, she replaced Sondra Radvanovsky as Elvira in this production, so was on firm territory here. Her soprano is one of the most promising voices I’ve heard in recent years, a voluptuous voice with a great deal of warmth to it and a bright, attractive top. ‘Ernani, involarmi’ is an early hurdle in the opera which Meade essayed with a cadenza of exquisitely spun pianissimi which reminded one of Montserrat Caballé in their quality and execution. Hers is not a particularly distinctive instrument, at present, lacking a range of colour, but she uses it expertly and displayed great agility in the cabaletta ‘Tutto sprezzo che d’Ernani’. She has a tendency to take breaths in the middle of words which needs ironing out, and her acting is rudimentary, but here is a singer of great potential.
Ferruccio Furlanetto (Silva), Angela Meade (Elvira) and Dmitri Hvorostovsky (Carlo)
© Marty Sohl/Metropolitan Opera
Marcello Giordani was a solid, unexciting Ernani. His singing is bright and pleasant, but he lacks the subtlety of Carlo Bergonzi, with a few scoops in his Act I cabaletta. However, he has a winning stage persona which makes it difficult to actively dislike anything he does. Verdi doesn’t help his tenor much; apart from the opening aria and cabaletta, he fails to dominate the opera and plays second fiddle to his baritone and bass rivals.
The greatest dramatic commitment came, unsurprisingly, from the great Italian bass Ferruccio Furlanetto as Don Ruy Gomez de Silva, Elvira’s elderly uncle and would-be bridegroom. Every word hit its target, matched by a scowl or doleful expression of injured pride, and his plangent tone suited Silva’s protestations, vengeful fury and disbelief as events continued to conspire against him. His Act I ‘Infelice’ was followed up with the cabaletta Verdi never intended for the opera. Silva was originally a basso comprimario role for the La Fenice premiere and the cabaletta was used by Ignazio Marini, it having been composed for an insertion aria in Oberto. The coda is identical to Nabucco’s Act IV cabaletta. When sung with such fervour as Furlanetto mustered, I wouldn’t quibble about its inclusion on this occasion.
Marco Armiliato led a decent enough performance from the orchestra, certainly more urgent than his Anna Bolena, with plenty of punch where required. Despite standing in serried ranks for much of the evening, the singing of the Met Chorus was fine, especially the men in the stirring ‘Si ridesti il Leon di Castiglia’.
So, this was an Ernani for those who enjoy wonderful singing and, ahem, traditional production values. Would I have sacrificed any of the singing for a more dramatic performance in a more engaging production? Not especially. Bearing in mind that the Royal Opera has never seen fit to stage the work, perhaps we should just be grateful to have seen it at all, but with a vocal quartet very nearly firing on all cylinders, I’d take this any day.