Yesterday afternoon, I attended the Met Opera for the first time this season and heard an outstanding performance of Il Trovatore, a work that has always been a mainstay of the Met's repertoire. It was actually the the third opera the company staged in its first season in 1883. Since that time, according to Wikipedia, the Met has given 615 performances, obviously not counting those scheduled for this season. The last time I saw Trovatore was back in the late 1980's when James Levine conducted an all-star cast headed by Pavarotti. Ever since, I've always considered Manrico to have been the tenor's greatest role.
The opera, with libretto by Salvadore Cammarano (who died before its completion) and Leone Emanuele Bardare, was composed between 1851 and 1852 when Verdi was at the height of his powers. He had had only just completed Rigoletto and had already started La Traviata. (It's astonishing to realize Trovatore and Traviata had their respective premieres only two months apart in January and March 1853. It must have been a nerve wracking time for Verdi as he prepared for opening nights in two different cities, Rome and Venice.)
Much has been made of the bizarre nature of the opera's plot, taken from Antonio García Gutiérrez's equally outrageous 1836 play El Trovador. (Another Gutiérrez play provided the source for Simon Boccanegra.) And it is true that Verdi instructed Cammarano to emphasize these twisted elements and not to soften them. The Met's Program Notes quote the composer as writing to his librettist: "If we cannot do our opera with all the bizarre quality of the play, we'd better give up." In general, though, I've found most opera plots to be thoroughly implausible. Other than in verismo works, most composers and their librettists have never seemed to have placed the creation of believable situations high on their list of priorities. What has always mattered more, especially to a composer so concerned with dramatic effect as Verdi, is to have the stage filled with action that catches up the audience and moves forward rapidly. Having said that, there are some scenes in Trovatore that are definitely over the top, and it's no great surprise that it was this work that the Marx Brothers chose to parody so hilariously in A Night at the Opera.
Yesterday's matinee was as excellent a performance as one could hope to see at the Met. A wonderful cast brought the opera to life and realized Verdi's intentions to their fullest. There wasn't a dull moment in any of the four acts, and the audience gave the singers one loud ovation after another. I've heard Anna Netrebko in the past and thought quite highly of her when she sang Tatiana in Eugene Onegin two seasons ago. On Saturday, though, she surpassed herself as Leonora. Her delivery was flawless throughout and fully the equal of that of any of the great sopranos I've heard over the years. The dependable Dolora Zajick, who first sang Azucena when she debuted with the San Francisco Opera in 1986, was excellent as always in this critical role. Yonghoon Lee, whom I can't remember having heard sing before, seemed to start a bit slowly as Manrico but was fully in control by the rousing end of Act III. The real center of attention at this performance, though, was veteran baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky who took time off from treatment for a brain tumor to make three appearances this season as Count Di Luna. A recent article published on WQXR's website contains a video of the singer's highly emotional September 25 curtain call on the Met stage.
I've only seen conductor Marco Armiliato twice in the past and was more impressed by his performance here than I was with his prior work on the podium. He appeared to have a real flair for Verdi's music, and I thought handled the complex score very well.
David McVicar's handsome production was traditional and showed great respect for the composer. The Charles Edwards sets were muted and unobtrusive and, most importantly, did not call for any unduly long delays between acts. The oversize crucifix in one corner of the stage seemed oddly out of place, though, except of course in the convent scene at the end of Act II. I thought the backdrop used as the curtain, a detail from one of Goya's "black paintings," was especially effective considering the opera's setting.
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