|
Back
A Galactic Troubadour Québec
Grand Théâtre
05/17/2025 - & May 20, 22, 24, 2025
Giuseppe Verdi: Il trovatore
Irina Stopina (Leonora), Elena Gabouri (Azucena), Christophe Berry (Manrico), Hugo Laporte (Il Conte di Luna), Frédéric Caton (Ferrando), Emilie Baillargeon (Ines), Michel Desbiens (Ruiz), Robert Huard (Un vecchio zingaro)
Chœur de l’Opéra de Québec, Catherine-Elisabeth Loiselle (chorus master), Orchestre symphonique de Québec, Federico Tibone (conductor)
Jean-Sébastien Ouellette (stage director), Christian Fontaine (sets), Julie Morel (costumes), Keven Dubois (light designer & videography)
(© Jessica Latouche)
Il trovatore is one of Verdi’s most enduring operas. Melodically rich, it’s built on the foundation of four great roles: Manrico, the Troubadour, a tenor; Leonora, a soprano; the gypsy Azucena, a mezzo; and il Conte di Luna, a baritone. The arias, duets and trios written for these voices eclipse much of Verdi’s previous operatic output.
Dramatically, it’s intense but highly implausible. It’s easy to ridicule an opera whose plot originates with a nobleman burning a gypsy woman at the stake, her daughter Azucena seeking revenge by attempting to burn alive the killer’s child and mistakenly burning her own child instead. She escapes with the nobleman’s baby and raises him as her own, calling him Manrico. All this happens before the opera even starts. At its end, the work sees the nobleman’s other son, il Conte di Luna, killing Manrico, his love rival for the noblewoman Leonora, only to find out from Azucena that he’s killed his own brother.
The implausible plot makes Il trovatore the stereotype of a senseless opera with a convoluted plot, to the extent that it was used in the Marx Brothers’ A Night at the Opera (1935). It was also utilized as a backdrop for the opening scene of Luchino Visconti’s epic film, Senso (1954). Visconti evoked the Venetians’ struggle against the ruling Austrians in 1866, shortly before its liberation by the young Kingdom of Italy. Visconti saw a parallel between the doomed lovers in the opera and the protagonists of his film, a Venetian countess and an Austrian lieutenant. The riveting opening scene takes place at Venice’s stunning opera house La Fenice.
Despite its odd libretto, Il trovatore’s setting is historically correct: the civil war following the death of King Martin of Aragon in 1410. Il Conte di Luna and Manrico champion opposite sides vying for the succession. Di Luna’s camp has the support of the Queen and the aristocracy, while Manrico’s side bets on the underdog James of Urgell, who has no choice but to recruit bandits and gypsies. This very divide, the classic struggle between official power and the oppressed, offers myriad possibilities for stage direction. Sadly, few directors employ this historical fact to energize their stagecraft.
Director Jean-Sébastien Ouellette came up with an original though utterly unusual setting: a desolate planet in outer space with Manrico and his band of gypsies the planet’s natives. Count di Luna and Leonora are the opposing colonizers from another planet. Some of the imagery was inspired by both the Dune and Star Wars films. Surprisingly, the implausibility of Il trovatore’s plot is somewhat tempered by the sci-fi setting. Had Ouellette and his set designer Christian Fontaine had the budget for more elaborate sets, this could have been a riveting production. The weapons used by di Luna’s henchmen looked like plastic toys as did the luminescent swords, a gauche clin d’œil to Luke Skywalker. In Act III, the messenger who informs Manrico that Azucena has been captured by di Luna arrives in a space shuttle that looked like a forklift from a shabby construction site. In contrast, Julie Morel’s costumes were more convincing, especially Leonora’s dresses that evoked Princess Leia from Star Wars or Zendaya from Dune. Azucena’s costumes were too elegant, almost regal, for a gypsy on the run. Inappropriately, she wore a crown/head gear with a luminescent circular halo in its centre, thus evoking Princess Amneris from Aida rather than a wandering gypsy woman.
Legendary tenor Enrico Caruso (1873-1921) once said that it takes the world’s four greatest singers for a successful Il trovatore. This is indeed the case, as the four leading roles are demanding. Il trovatore (written in 1853) is often thought of as the last bel canto opera, for Verdi’s style changed substantially with his next opera, La traviata, written the same year. The noblewoman Leonora is a bel canto role, full of ornamentations, requiring a masterful technique. The problem lies in the ideal voice for this role. Many think of a spinto or even a dramatic soprano as the voice most suited for Leonora. However, this role requires more agility than Verdi’s spinto roles. Often coloraturas have portrayed this tragic heroine with mixed results, as most are too lightweight for such a tragic role. The ideal Leonora must be a first‑rate lyric soprano capable of fulfilling the role’s demands.
French soprano Irina Stopina was a miraculous Leonora, thanks to an impressive voice as well as ample charisma. A true lirico spinto d’agilità, Stopina’s impeccable technique is truly impressive. From her opening aria, “Tacea la notte placida”, one was subjugated. Her dark timbre is appealing and distinct, adding gravitas to the tragic role. This excellent soprano is also a stage and cinematic actress. In the finale of the second Act, Leonora, believing Manrico to be killed in battle, is set to enter a convent. Di Luna awaits at the gate of the convent to abduct her. Manrico rushes to the rescue; the bewildered and ecstatic Leonora is incredulous in the Act II’s intense finale, “E deggio e posso crederlo”. Stopina managed to convey Leonora’s immense joy at seeing Manrico alive, despite the ensuing duel with di Luna. Her phrasing of one of Verdi’s greatest lines for soprano was truly delectable. Her rendition of Act IV’s “D’amor sull’ali rosee” was the evening’s highlight, so movingly nuanced was her interpretation. It was a lesson in bel canto, a marriage between beautiful sound and musicality. The opening lines of the aria conveyed Leonora’s despair. The second part of the aria, “Tu vedrai ch’amore in terra”, conveyed her defiance and determination. The final scene with Manrico in his prison cell, “Che non m’inganna...Son io, Manrico, mio Manrico” was shattering as Stopina’s phrasing of her lines was bang on. Her enunciation of the phrase “Oh, quanto ingiusto, crudel, crudel...” was beautiful. As she was slowly dying from the poison she drank, her phrasing of “Senti...la man è gelo, ma qui, qui foco terribil arde” was possibly the best I’ve ever heard. A stage actress, Stopina’s affecting portrayal of Leonora’s death was completely convincing.
Usually the weakest link in stagings of Il trovatore is its demanding tenor role, Manrico. In this portrayal, French tenor Christophe Berry was truly convincing. He was an exuberant and virile Manrico, exuding youth and vigour. His diction was impeccable and the quality of his voice, Italianate. The difficult Act III aria, “Di quella pira,” was sung effortlessly and with delicious panache. Often tenors capable of such prowess milk the aria in a vulgar way (sadly, to the public’s delight). But mercifully, this tenor eschewed such antics. Berry, a lyric tenor with a solid technique, was marvellously expressive in his preceding duet “Di qual tetra luce...Amor sublime amor.” His “Ah! sì ben mio” was elegantly suave. Christophe Berry is a revelation, an elegant, vocally brilliant tenor.
Canadian baritone Hugo Laporte impressed as di Luna, with his appealingly velvet baritone and noble onstage deportment. Despite easily facing the vocal challenges of the role, Laporte was often stiff. Dramatically, Laporte did not portray a sufficiently complex di Luna. As a powerful nobleman, di Luna’s ego is devastated by his love interest Leonora preferring a wandering troubadour to him. Laporte’s di Luna did not sufficiently show the character’s vulnerability and despair at being spurned. Nonetheless, his “Il balen del suo sorriso,” possibly Verdi’s most beautiful aria for baritone, was delightfully interpreted, lovelorn in the opening passages and exuding virility in the second part “Non puote il mondo intero, donna, rapirti a me,” defying his rival and even God. Despite being an anti hero, he was able to solicit sympathy in his Act IV duet with Leonora: a despised lover promised the object of his desire under reprehensible circumstances.
Alas, Russian mezzo Elena Gabouri was the weakest of the four principal singers, not for lack of vocal prowess, but due to excessive histrionics and harsh chest notes. She impressed with her vocal power and low notes. Bewilderingly, she did not resort to these chest notes for dramatic effect, but rather to show off. Truth be told, many in the audience seemed impressed with her circus act. Stylistically, Gabouri’s Azucena was more verismo than bel canto. Dramatically, she portrayed a spirited gypsy, stronger than most Azucenas. Her previously mentioned regal luminescent headgear emphasized this. One would have liked more of a hint of a broken woman who is traumatized and psychologically damaged, having mistakenly immolated her own child and raised her nemesis’s offspring instead. One can imagine the state of mind of such a woman. Clearly she loves Manrico, but she’s also aware that he’s the son of the Count who’d burned her mother at the stake, and not her own flesh and blood. Her “Stride la vampa” was impassioned with impressive low notes, though replete with uncouth chest notes. Gabouri was at her best in the final scene; Azucena is completely broken as she awaits execution with Manrico. Finally, she portrays a truly distraught Azucena. Her final utterance, “Egli era tuo fratello” (he was your brother), to di Luna after he had killed Manrico, was measured yet effective. Ouellette’s “innovation” in this production was having Azucena grab di Luna’s luminescent sword and stab him. This was unnecessary overkill, making the implausibly macabre plot even more convoluted; rather than three of the four lead roles, all four are dead!
Ferrando, the bass role, is often mentioned as the fifth pillar of opulent voices needed to mount Il trovatore, but he has just one aria at the beginning of the opera, and only a few lines thereafter. French bass Frédéric Caton was inadequate in the role, sounding more baritone than bass. Despite ample stage presence and a good sense of onstage movement, he lacked the vocal weight in the opera’s opening aria “All’erta! All’erta!” and in the narration, “Di due figli vivea padre beato..Abietta zingara”. This recounting of the gypsy woman’s revenge and theft of the old Count’s child is crucial, as it sets the tone for the tragic story.
L’Orchestre symphonique de Québec was led by Federico Tibone, who adopted appropriately brisk tempi. This is, after all, an opera replete with action. In lyrical passages, he deftly adapted his tempi to the singer’s needs with great sensitivity. Throughout the performance, he proved attentive in his support of the singers, often at the expense of the orchestra. Despite overall excellent singing, especially from the soprano and the tenor, the orchestra sometimes sounded drab, an unusual feat for this vigorous, enduring score.
Despite some shortcomings, this production was memorable thanks to three first‑rate singers who interpreted the tragic love triangle of Leonora, Manrico and di Luna. Others may remember it for the unfortunate Star Wars setting. With more substantial means, or perhaps an intelligent videography in lieu of costly sets, this could have been a roaring success.
Ossama el Naggar
|
