Opera Review: Lyric Opera of Chicago finds an extra layer of story in Verdi's "Rigoletto"

Re-interpreting or updating a 19th-century opera in a way that speaks to a 21st-century audience without ignoring or (worse yet) contradicting the intentions of the work’s original creators is a dicey business. Now imagine upping the risk ante by using the existing design elements of a 19-year-old production.

L-R: Igor Golovatenko, Mané Galoyan
Photo: Todd Rosenberg

That was the challenge director Mary Birnbaum faced in her Lyric Opera of Chicago debut, Giuseppe Verdi’s 1851 tragedy “Rigoletto,” which runs through October 1st. You know the story: The Duke of Mantua amuses himself by seducing and abandoning any woman who takes his fancy. His jester Rigoletto finds the Duke contemptable but mocks his victims (it’s his job, after all) while trying to hide the existence of his daughter Gilda from the Duke’s libido. When that fails, he hires the assassin Sparafucile to eliminate the Duke, with tragic consequences.

As Birnbaum writes in the program, this is a tale set in “a world where women were completely absent.”

[T]he out-of-court Duchess of Mantua (in a striking parallel with the Last Duchess in the poem of Robert Browning, Verdi’s contemporary) is present only in a fresco on the wall. Rigoletto’s wife is an angel (but she is dead)…Even when women are dressed as men—like the Page, or Gilda in the final act—they are always lacking some critical piece of information, and, as a result, are disenfranchised.

They’re also treated as objects, even by the men who claim to love them. Rigoletto treats Gilda like a china doll, telling her nothing about her late mother and refusing to even reveal their family name. She exists only to give him comfort in his self-loathing and despair. No wonder she is such easy prey for the Duke when, disguised as a poor student, he sends smoldering looks her way during church services.

L-R:  Igor Golovatenko Soloman Howard
Photo: Todd Rosenberg

On paper, then, Gilda looks like the classic Innocent Victim and is usually presented as such. But could there be a more rounded character lurking the subtext? “What if,” Birnbaum asks, “Gilda was a partial agent rather than a victim? What if she has been thinking of other ways to escape the perpetual and suffocating nameless present that her father has trapped her in?”

What if, in short, she wants “a life with a name of her own” even if the price is surrendering to the Duke’s advances and choosing to die in his place at the hands of Sparafucile?

Impressively, Birnbuam manages to suggest all of this without significantly changing the staging or introducing heavy-handed visual gimmicks—almost. In the first two acts we see Gilda searching a hidden cache of family documents during orchestral interludes. In her scenes with Rigoletto the blocking suggests her ambivalence about her situation.

I bought it all until the very end, when her decision to let Sparafucile kill her inexplicably turned into a swordfight (where, exactly, did she pick up that skill?). And I was ready to demand a refund when Gilda’s dying vision of her late mother as an angel welcoming her to heaven becomes an actual actress in an angel costume, neatly stealing focus from Rigoletto’s final tragic despair.

L-R:  Javier Camarena ,Zoie Reams
Mané Galoyan, Igor Golovatenko
Photo: Todd Rosenberg

Oh, well. Up to that point this is a powerful, dark, and often horrifying “Rigoletto.” Verdi described the jester as a character “worthy of Shakespeare,” and baritone Igor Golovatenko’s powerful voice and riveting stage presence fully live up to that description. His snarling sarcasm in Act I is as compelling as his tearful attempts to appeal to the courtiers for help in finding Gilda ("Cortigiani, vil razza dannata"). And there is real tenderness in his scenes with Gilda.

Speaking of whom, soprano Mané Galoyan finds the kind of self-assertion in Gilda that director Birnbaum sees in the character. Verdi has given Gilda a musical arc, moving from the juvenile infatuation of the coloratura classic “Caro nome” to the fierce determination of the trio in which she resolves to sacrifice herself for the Duke (“Se pria ch'abbia il mezzo la notte toccato"). Galoyan brings an enchanting naivete to the former and puts steel in her voice for the latter.

Verdi illustrates the Duke’s charm by giving him some of the best tunes in the opera, including the excessively famous “Donne a’ mobile.” Attractive but superficial, they perfectly fit the Duke’s shallow personality. A bel canto specialist, tenor Javier Camarena is possibly the perfect fit for the role, with a light, flexible voice and character that is credibly charismatic.

Javier Camarena and the Company
Photo: Todd Rosenberg

Bass Soloman Howard’s bold voice rumbles with menace as the selectively honorable assassin Sparafucile and mezzo Zoie Reams is Sparafucile’s sister Maddelena, easily seduced by the Duke despite her worldly wisdom. Baritone Andrew Manea makes a fine Lyric debut as an imposing Monterone, whose curse is the musical and dramatic backbone of the opera.

Sets and costumes by, respectively, Robert Innes Hopkins and Jane Greenwood are perfect matches for the dark, violent, and morally rotten world of the Court of Mantua. The contrast between the colorful vulgarity of the court scenes and the drab look of everything else works quite well. Duane Schuler’s lighting is dark as well—possibly more than it needs to be.

Andrew Manea and the Company
Photo: Todd Rosenberg

Lyric Opera’s Music Director Enrique Mazzola leads the orchestra in a dramatic and gripping reading of Verdi’s score, from the thundering brass statements of the “curse” motif at the beginning right through to Rigoletto's final despairing howl of "La maledizione" ("the curse") at the end. The first act’s court scenes with the stage band and the pit orchestra were well coordinated.

If you’re willing to forgive a bit of directorial overkill at the very end (which, upon reflection, I am), this is a very persuasive and original take on an operatic favorite. In the final analysis, it’s good to see Gilda given more agency and depth than she has on the printed page.

Lyric Opera of Chicago’s “Rigoletto” runs through October 1st, alternating with the company’s new production of Beethoven’s “Fidelio.” Ticket information on this and other operas in the company’s current season is available at their web site.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Sing like an Egyptian

By now, it’s old news that Union Avenue Opera’s (UAO) concert version of Giuseppe Verdi’s 1871 opera Aïda was a massive hit.  In his review for KDHX, Benjamin Torbert called it “superbly sung” and went on to praise the singers and musicians in great detail.  “The excellent cast gave compelling interpretations,” wrote Gerry Kowarsky over at HEC Media, “a most welcome gift to St. Louis operagoers.”

Having seen the final performance on August 3rd, I must heartily agree.

L-R: Marsha Thompson, Melody Wilson
Photo: Dan Donovan

Soprano Marsha Thompson and mezzo Melody Wilson, who last appeared at UAO in their impressive Nabucco in 2018, were once again romantic antagonists as, respectively, Aïda and Amneris. Both women were vocally formidable and theatrically savvy. Wilson, in particular, brought a welcome element of slinky cunning to her character.

Despite an upper respiratory infection that plagued him for the entire run, tenor Limmie Pulliam gave what can only be called a heroic performance as the heroic Radamès, with a passionate and ringing “Celeste Aïda.” If this was what he sounds like when he’s sick, I can only wonder what he can do when he isn’t.

Bass-baritone Lloyd Reshard was a commanding presence as Aïda’s dad Amonasro, whose decision to place patriotism over patrimony has tragic consequences. Baritone Todd Payne was an equally forceful King of Egypt. Baritone Jacob Lasetter, replacing Joseph Lodato on short notice (he had to learn the part in a week), was credibly solemn as the High Priest Ramfis.

L-R: Jacob Lassetter, Marsha Thompson,

Limmie Pulliam, Todd Payne, Melody Wilson
Photo: Dan Donovan

The roles of the High Priestess and the Messenger were taken by chorus members Danielle Yilmaz (soprano) and R. Nathan Brown. Both turned in first-rate performances, with Yilmaz the kind of vocal power you usually see in larger roles—not surprising when one realizes that she’s a principal soprano with the St. Louis Symphony Chorus. Her defiant performance of “Die Trommel gerühret” (from Beethoven’s incidental music for Egmont) was one of many highlights of the SLSO’s all-Goethe concert last year

Finally, let me congratulate the orchestra and chorus for their fine work. A chorus of 30 and an orchestra of 22 might not be particularly imposing in a large hall, but they sounded big and polished in UAO’s relatively small space at the Union Avenue Christian Church. Kudos as always to Conductor and UAO Artistic Director Scott Schoonover for a clear and well-paced reading of the score.

Aïda in 1928 at The Muny

A fully staged Aïda is a massive, eye-popping spectacle—a "grand opera" in the tradition of Meyerbeer, with lavish sets and costumes, a corps de ballet and even live animals. That calls for the kind of big stage and deep pockets that our local companies don’t have. The last time we had one, in fact, was in 1928, at The Muny. Since then, the closest we have gotten to a full-metal Aïda was the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s semi-staged version with digitally projected sets in 2015.

Union Avenue’s “no frill”s concert version demonstrated that one can abandon staging altogether and still deliver all the dramatic thrills Verdi had in mind. Anyone looking for an object lesson in how to deliver what RCA Victor modestly describes as “unquestionably the most stupendous experience available to the music-lover” (How to Get the Most Out of Your Victrola, 1919) on a modest budget should routinely put UAO’s season on their calendar.

Union Avenue Opera closes its 2024 season with Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods August 16th through 24th. Given their enviable track record with Broadway shows, it would be wise to visit their web site for tickets sooner rather than later.

Symphony Review: A robustly operatic Verdi Requiem concludes the SLSO season

The performance of Verdi’s Messa da Requiem (a.k.a. the “Manzoni Requiem”) this past Sunday (April 28) by Stéphane Denève and the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra (SLSO) and Chorus reminded me of why I have always loved this remarkable work. While superficially a setting of the Latin mass for the dead, it is fundamentally a grand operatic tragedy, stuffed full of the combination of irresistible melodies and high drama that Verdi did so well. This was a Requiem of power, passion, and sensitivity—a fitting finale to a fine season.

[Find out more about the music with my symphony preview.]

Soprano Hulkar Sabirova
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Denève, as many of you probably know, got his start conducting opera and continues to make it a part of his career. No surprise, then, that his Requiem honored the work’s operatic roots and punched up its theatricality without ever compromising its musical integrity. The sonic balance among the chorus, soloists, and orchestra could not have been better and the symphony musicians were at the top of their game. It has been over a decade since the SLSO took on this challenging work, but the wait was worth it.

A major indicator of the Requiem’s operatic character is the prominence given to the vocal quartet. Most musical settings of the Latin text relay heavily on the chorus with soloists taking on secondary roles. Verdi flipped that, making the soloists the focus of the work and structuring the entire piece as an opera with the trappings of a mass.

When the critic Hans von Bülow described the Requiem as Verdi's "latest opera, though in ecclesiastical vestments," he meant it as a criticism. In fact, he unintentionally put his finger on what made the work an immediate and long-lasting hit. Verdi, the religious skeptic, had turned a ceremony of belief into an opera about facing the inevitability of death and (as Shakespeare’s Hamlet muses in his famous soliloquy) the uncertainty of what comes after.

Mezzo Judit Kutasi
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

Denève cast the roles of the quartet well. Soprano Hulkar Sabirova, mezzo-soprano Judit Kutasi, tenor Russell Tomas, and bass Adam Palka were all strong singers with solid operatic backgrounds that enabled them to communicate the emotional truth of the lyrics. Kutasi and soprano Sabirova were the most consistent in maintaining that link with the audience, but all four were quite solid. And Verdi, to be fair, gave the women some of the best material.

Kutasi’s “Liber scriptus” conveyed the sense of dread of divine judgement powerfully, communicating directly with the audience with only brief glances at the score. Palka relied more on the text for his “Mors stupebit” but was equally persuasive in describing the desolation of judgement day. Verdi combined these two solos into a single dramatic scene, using the same music for both, and ending each one with the quiet repetition of a single word: “mors” (“death”) for the bass and “nil” (“nothing”) for the mezzo. Kutasi and Plaka played it well.

Thomas brought out the pleading of “Ingemisco” beautifully, putting his expressive tenor to excellent use both here and in the “Offertorio,” where his voice floats in on the work “hostias” (“we offer you”) as though descending from heaven.

Sabirova sounded heaven sent, as well, on “sed signifier” just a few lines earlier. Her star turn, however, came in the concluding “Libera me,” a long dramatic aria that pleads for divine deliverance while expressing doubt that it will come. The genuine sense of dread in “Tremens factus sum ego” (“I am in fear and trembling”) was chilling. In most requiem masses, the last words sung are comforting. In Verdi’s requiem, the last words are “libera me”, followed by solemn chords in the brasses.

Tenor Russell Thomas
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

All this talk of the soloists should not take anything away from the heroic work of the SLSO Chorus. Verdi gave them their fair share of the spotlight—some of it extremely challenging.

The massive eight-part fugue of double chorus in the “Sanctus” comes immediately to mind in this regard. This was sung with impressive lucidity and in perfect dynamic balance with the orchestra, where little details like the passages for flutes and piccolo were clearly delineated. Overall, the chorus was as fine as I have ever heard it. Congratulations to the singers and to guest chorus director Benjamin Rivera.

And what a tremendous job by the orchestra! The score runs the gamut from the intimate to the overwhelming and demands a high level of playing throughout. The famous "Dies Irae" was a prime example of the latter Sunday, with the orchestra and chorus raising fortissimo musical hell (a friend in the chorus later remarked that it was the loudest he had ever sung). Add in the great whacks on dual bass drums, and the expanded brass section, complete with extra trumpets on the mezzanine level, and the result was music that really did sound like the end of the world. The brass and percussion section delivered the goods here, with precise performances that had a visceral impact.

Bass Adam Palka
Photo courtesy of the SLSO

At the other end of the spectrum were (to pick just two examples) Principal Bassoon Andrew Cuneo’s plaintive rising sixteenth notes accompanying the soprano, mezzo-soprano, and tenor in “Quid sum miser” and the shimmering violins under the mezzo-soprano in “Lux aeterna.” Wonderful stuff all around, with Denève keeping everything perfectly balanced.

Denève’s interpretation also showed his customary understanding of the value of silence as a musical element. At the very beginning of the performance he patiently held the downbeat until he got absolute quiet, giving the pianissimo opening, with the chorus singing sotto voce and the violins playing con sordino (muted), an impact it might not have otherwise. I think he also would have held for a longer silence at the end if the audience had let him, but after a performance like that I imagine one can only hold the applause for just so long.

The SLSO traditionally closes the season with something special and usually something big for the chorus and orchestra. Verdi’s Requiem, with its mix of hope and doubt, is an ideal choice for that slot, especially in times when the former seems in short supply and the latter much too abundant. A work in which the final words are a wistful “libera me” (“deliver me”) could hardly be more appropriate.

While last weekend’s concerts closed the official season, the music continues this weekend as Stéphane Denève conducts the SLSO and famed cellist Yo-Yo Ma in Elgar’s Cello Concerto along with Debussy’s “La Mer” on Friday, May 3, at 7:30 pm at Stifel Theatre. Tickets are available for the concert by itself or as part of a gala fund raiser that includes cocktails, dinner, and post-show dancing. Sunday, May 5, at 7 pm Kevin McBeth conducts the IN UNISON Chorus in a concert at Shalom City of Peace Church in Spanish Lake. Admission is free but RSVPs are requested. The orchestra wraps up May with "Bugs Bunny at the Symphony" on Saturday, May 11, at 7 pm at Stifel Theatre.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Symphony Preview: Requiem for heavyweights

There's only one work on the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus program this weekend, but it's a big one: the "Messa da Requiem" (Requiem Mass) by Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901).

[Preview the music with the SLSO's Spotify playlist.]

If you haven't heard Verdi's "Requiem" before, you might think a setting of the traditional Latin mass for the dead would be a somber (not to say dreary) business, steeped in religiosity. You'd be completely wrong.

Title page of the Messa da Requiem
 first edition (1874), Casa Ricordi

To begin with, Verdi wasn't all that religious. Although raised Roman Catholic, he had little patience with clerical arrogance. “Stay away from priests," he once warned his cousin Angiolo Cararra Verdi. “For some virtuous people," noted Verdi's second wife, Giuseppina Strepponi (quoted in "Verdi: A Biography" by Mary Jane Phillips-Matz, 1993), "a belief in God is necessary. Others, equally perfect, while observing every precept of the highest moral code, are happier believing in nothing.” She saw her husband as an example of the latter.

Besides, Verdi was first and foremost a man of the theatre. So his "Requiem" is overtly and profoundly theatrical. When conductor and music critic Hans von Bülow, after a quick glance at the score before the work's Milan premiere, described it as Verdi's "latest opera, though in ecclesiastical vestments," he thought he was being snarky and dismissive. He was, in fact, pointing out the work's real strength, even if he was too clueless to notice it.

When, for example, Verdi depicts Judgment Day in the "Dies Irae" section, he uses the full orchestra and chorus complete with an expanded brass section (including four extra trumpets placed strategically around the hall for surround sound) and great whacks on the bass drum with the dynamic marking ffff (which effectively translates as "as loud as possible"). It really does sound like the end of the world. When the mezzo and tenor sing "Quid sum miser, tunc dicturus?" ("What shall I, a poor sinner, say?") they're echoed by a plaintive rising figure on the bassoon. The "Lux aeterna" section, depicting the shining light of salvation, begins with a shimmering melody in the violins.

And so it goes, one completely right dramatic gesture after another, for a bit over eighty minutes. The “Requiem” is ultimately a dramatic work—an opera, if we must use the word—in the form of a requiem mass. It’s an opera about facing the inevitability of death and the uncertainty of what comes after. As Hamlet muses in Act III, scene 1:

Who would fardels bear
To grunt and sweat under a weary life
But that the dread of something after death
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?

Verdi’s “Requiem” wasn’t written from the point of view of a believer, who is convinced that simply groveling before the Almighty will eventually bring peace after death. Nor is it written from the perspective of the committed atheist, who is just as convinced that there is nothing after death. It is, rather, written from the perspective of a doubter. Which is to say, from the perspective of Verdi.

As George Martin writes in “Aspects of Verdi” (1988), Verdi understood that while believers were convinced that there must be a heaven for some and a hell for others, nonbelievers held that “after death there may be nothing, or something.”

There is always, after all, the possibility that the nonbelievers are mistaken in their view, and then on the judgment day, so unexpected, where will they stand? To whom can they turn for support? Verdi had the courage to peer into the unknown, and to be afraid. The Requiem is his account of what he saw.

1848 portrait of Alesandro Manzoni
Drawn by his stepson Stefano Stampa.

This stands in opposition to the devout Christianity of the man who inspired the “Requiem” in the first place, Alessandro Manzoni (1785–1873). Manzoni was a celebrated poet, author, and (like Verdi) a strong supporter of the political movement known as the Risorgimento, which had as its goal the independence and unification of Italy. It was a cause he advanced in his two verse dramas “Il Conte di Caramagnola” (1820) and “Adelchi” (1822) and, most memorably, in his one and only novel “I promessi sposi” (“The Bethrothed,” 1827).

The novel was a massive hit in Italy, both in its original version and in Manzoni’s later re-write in the Tuscan dialect, effectively making that the standard version of the Italian language. It accomplished on a linguistic level what the Risorgimento strove for on a political level. “The final edition of I promessi sposi (1840–42),” says Encyclopedia Britannica, “rendered in clear, expressive prose purged of all antiquated rhetorical forms, reached exactly the sort of broad audience he had aimed at, and its prose became the model for many subsequent Italian writers.” It is still taught in Italian schools today and has been translated into almost every possible language.

Manzoni was one of Verdi's two personal heroes (Rossini was the other). "I esteem and admire you," he once wrote to Manzoni, "as much as one can esteem and admire anyone on this earth, both as man and a true honor of our country so continually troubled. You are a saint, Don Alessandro!" When Manzoni died on May 22, 1873, Verdi was determined to memorialize him with a requiem mass, to be performed on the first anniversary of the great man's death.

This was not the first time Verdi had been inspired to honor the demise of one of his heroes with a requiem. When Rossini died five years earlier, Verdi had proposed that he and a dozen other Italian composers each write part of a requiem that would be performed in the Church of San Petrino in Bologna on the first anniversary of Rossini’s death. Alas, the project collapsed, and a year later all Verdi had to show for it was the part assigned to him, the closing “Libera me.”

The first performance of the Verdi Requiem
at La Scala on 25 May 1874

When Manzoni died, Verdi decided to do the honors himself, and soon the music originally written for Rossini had become the germ of the memorial for Manzoni. He began work on it in Paris in 1873 and finally completed it back home in Italy on April 10, 1874. Rehearsals for the Milan premiere began in May and the piece had its first performance, as scheduled, on May 22, 1874 with Verdi himself conducting.

In Italy, at least, it was a massive hit. The Italian public loved Verdi to begin with, and they were not disappointed with his latest work. Others had sharply differing opinions. Brahms thought it a work of genius. Wagner dismissed it. They loved it in Vienna but were indifferent in London. Personally, I agree with George Bernard Shaw (cited in Philip Huscher's program notes for the Chicago Symphony), who said that none of Verdi's works would prove to be as enduring as the "Requiem."

One final note: until relatively recently, the work on the program this weekend was routinely billed as “Verdi’s Manzoni Requiem,” both in Italy and elsewhere. “Vocal and piano scores”, writes Martin, “always carried a prominent notice of the dedication or even made of it a separate, handsome page.” Performers and audience alike, as a result, could not escape the questions raised by the two radically different belief systems the work represented. That contrast has been lost along with Manzoni’s disappearance from modern copies of the score, a fact which Martin regards as a distinct loss.

When you see this weekend’s performance, you might want to contemplate that ambiguity. I know I will.

The Essentials: Stéphane Denève conducts the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus along with soloists Hulkar Sabirova (soprano), Judit Kutasi (mezzo-soprano), Russell Thomas (tenor), and Adam Palka (bass) in Verdi’s "Messa da Requiem". Performances take place Saturday at 7:30 pm and Sunday at 3 pm, April 27 and 28, at the Stifel Theatre at 14th and Market downtown.

Opera Review: A smartly staged 'Macbeth' at Winter Opera

“Verdi adored Shakespeare,” writes Garry Wills in his invaluable “Verdi’s Shakespeare: Men of the Theater,” and goes on to note that the composer briefly considered operatic treatments of “The Tempest,” “Hamlet,” and “Romeo and Juliet.” He considered “King Lear” more seriously, but ultimately left us with only three operas based on the Bard: “Otello” (1887), “Falstaff” (1893), and “Macbeth” (1847, revised in 1865).

Michael Nansel, Nathan Whitson, and the witches
Photo: Rebecca Haas

Union Avenue Opera gave us a solid “Falstaff” last August, but it has been a good seven years since local audiences have had a chance to see “Macbeth” (in an English translation at Opera Theatre). That made Winter Opera’s admirable production last Friday and Sunday (January 20 and 22) all the more welcome. Smartly staged and powerfully sung, its only serious flaw was the fact that it ran only two performances and that, by the time you read this, it will no longer be possible for you to see it. I don’t know whether or not Verdi would have adored it, but I think he would have been happy to see his work treated with such respect.

Audiences who know their Shakespeare probably noticed that Francesco Maria Piave and Andrea Maffei’s libretto follows the bare bones of Shakespeare's original, although the story has been considerably streamlined and many secondary characters have been eliminated. But the big moments are still there: the scenes with the witches, Lady Macbeth's "letter" and sleepwalking scenes, Macbeth's "dagger" monologue, and of course, the banquet with Banquo's ghost. And in Verdi's hands, they form the basis for very powerful theatrical moments.

The banquet scene
Photo: Rebecca Haas

Stage Director John Stephens wisely decided to eschew the kind of gimmicky attempts at updating that have plagued so many productions of established operatic classics in recent decades. “Our production,” said Stephens in an interview last week, is set circa 1100 with magnificent period costumes.” And, in fact, Scott Loebl’s sparse sets, Amy Hopkins’s costumes, and Michael Sullivan’s lighting all set the appropriately Gothic atmosphere.

All this would have been for naught without a cast of strong singing actors. Verdi was, first and foremost, a man of the theatre. “Verdi,” writes Wills, “was determined to break away from ‘the tyranny of good singing,’ from the empty beauties of bel canto.” He wanted gritty, realistic characters for “Macbeth” and Winter Opera’s cast delivered them.

Michael Nansel
Photo: Rebecca Haas

Baritone Michael Nansel, whose resume includes both musical theatre as well as opera, was a big, commanding Macbeth. Verdi wanted his Macbeth to display overweening ambition and crippling self-doubt. Nansel did that, backed up by a powerful voice. Bass Nathan Whitson was an equally compelling Banquo. Both had potent stage presence, making their Act I duettino (in which Macbeth’s growing royal aspirations are contrasted with Banquo’s unease about them) truly compelling.

Unlike Shakespeare, Verdi saw Lady Macbeth as the prime mover in the action who “dominates and controls everything.” So while her role isn’t large, it’s critical, requiring either a soprano or mezzo (some of it lies quite low) with a wide vocal and dramatic range. Soprano Whitney Myers has both, and was equally convincing in both her triumphant Act II aria “La luce langue,” in which she celebrates the “voluttà del soglio” (the “rapture of the throne”), and her hollow-eyed Act IV sleepwalking/mad scene.

“Macbeth” is an opera of low voices, matching its dark themes. The only tenor role of any consequence is that of Macduff, but his one aria—“Ah, la paterna mano” (Ah, the paternal hand”), in which he laments the slaughter of his family at the hands of Macbeth’s thugs—can be heartbreaking if done properly. Jonathan Kaufman employed his heroic tenor to great effect here and was warmly applauded when we saw him on Sunday.

Whitney Myers
Photo: Rebecca Haas

Finally, let us not neglect the witches. Verdi certainly didn’t, seeing them as a powerful malign presence. The score calls for three separate groups of six each—a mob which, on the Kirkwood Arts Center’s stage, would leave little room for anything else. Winter Opera gave us three groups of three, which was not only more manageable but also allowed each which to have her own unique personality, from seductive to deranged. I have noted in the past the Winter Opera’s choristers generally avoid the trap of coming across as (in Anna Russell’s words) “homogenous—as in milk.” Both the male and female singers were consistent in projecting vocal harmony without neglecting dramatic diversity.

Finally, Edward Benyas conducted the small but solid orchestra in an excellent reading of the score, assisted by the warm acoustics of the Kirkwood theatre.

Granted, there were a couple of technical snafus Sunday, one of which left a hapless stagehand frantically dumping dry ice into the witches’ cauldron after the curtain rose on Act III. But that, my friends, is show biz.  The infamous “trampoline Tosca” of Dame Eva Turner comes immediately to mind as an example. But the bottom line is that Winter Opera’s “Macbeth” was a production of which General Director Gina Galati and her crew can be proud.

Winter Opera’s season concludes with Romberg’s “The Desert Song” March 3 and 5; visit the company web site for more information.

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Opera Preview: Something wicked this way comes

Friday and Sunday, January 20 and 22, Winter Opera St. Louis presents Verdi's first Shakespearean opera "Macbeth." Premiered in 1847, it was revised in 1865 for a Paris production. This is the version usually performed today.

The banquet scene
Photo courtesy of Winter Opera

The libretto by Francesco Maria Piave and Andrea Maffei follows the bare bones of Shakespeare's original, although the story has been considerably streamlined and many secondary characters have been eliminated. The big moments are still there, though: the scenes with the witches, Lady Macbeth's "letter" and sleepwalking scenes, Macbeth's "dagger" monologue and, of course, the banquet with Banquo's ghost. And in Verdi's hands, they form the basis for very powerful theatrical moments.

Earlier today, I had a brief email conversation with stage director John Stephens. This is how it went.  CL = me, JS = John Stephens

CL: As Verdi’s first Shakespearean opera, Macbeth has somewhat suffered by comparison to later masterpieces like Otello and Falstaff, at least in the eyes of some critics (although it has proved popular with audiences). What do you find appealing about the opera as a director?

JS: I was initially attracted to Macbeth because it is a setting of the Shakespeare masterpiece by Verdi, the master of Italian opera. I love the complexity of the characters, and Verdi's use of the orchestra to enhance those complexities.

CL: Regarding Verdi’s score: it makes some interesting musical and theatrical demands, especially for the witches. What do you see as the major challenges from the dramatic point of view?

Macbeth, Banquo, and the witches
Photo courtesy of Winter Opera

JS: Verdi's choice to turn the three witches into three small choruses gives the opportunity for some fun staging moments. Likewise, the full chorus witnessing Macbeth's mental breakdown provides some of the most powerful musical sections I have ever heard.

CL: It has been seven years since “Macbeth” has been produced here in St. Louis. For audiences who are making their first acquaintance with the work, what do you think they need to know about the opera and about your production?

JS: I wanted to keep the storyline moving along as smoothly as I could, and therefore fashioned the production with relatively simple settings, which move from location to location on the playing area.

Our production is set circa 1100 with magnificent period costumes, sung in Italian with an excellent translation. The leadings roles are performed by a very talented group of singing actors, several of whom have sung with Winter Opera previously.

The Essentials: Winter Opera presents Verdi’s “Macbeth” Friday at 7:30 pm and Sunday at 2 pm, January 20 and 22, at the Kirkwood Performing Arts Center in Kirkwood, MO. For more information: winteroperastl.org

This article originally appeared at 88.1 KDHX, where Chuck Lavazzi is the senior performing arts critic.

Opera Review: Union Avenue Opera's "Falstaff" achieves musical perfection in an imperfect space

Now in its 28th season, Union Avenue Opera has, over the decades, presented a wide range of operas—ancient to modern, intimate to grand—with a remarkable degree of success. Despite working with a small stage and a less than ideal acoustic environment in the venerable Union Avenue Christian Church, UAO’s hits far outnumber its misses.

Running through August 6th, the company’s production of Verdi’s “Falstaff” is in some ways the quintessential UAO show. Under the skilled baton of Stephen Hargreaves, the orchestra sounds great, with Verdi's many expressive instrumental details coming through loud and clear. Individual performances range from good to stunning, both musically and theatrically, and the overall experience is immensely satisfying.

L-R Mark Freiman as Pistola. Marc Schapman
as Bardolfo. Robert Mellon as Falstaff
Photo: Dan Donovan

Flawless it isn’t, but what flaws there are can largely be attributed to the physical limitations of the performance space. Transferred to an actual theatre like the Browning Mainstage at the Loretto-Hilton Center or the auditorium of the Kirkwood Performing Arts Center, this “Falstaff” would be darn near perfect. As it is, opera lovers won’t want to miss it, especially since it hasn’t graced a local stage in nearly three decades.

First performed in Milan in February 1893 (just a few months short of Verdi’s 80th birthday), “Falstaff” was the composer’s third Shakespearean opera and second attempt at comedy since his flop “Un giorno di regno” way back in 1840. It’s considered by many, including yours truly, to be his greatest work for the stage, if not the greatest opera of the 19th century.

There are many reasons for that. To begin with, Verdi had the best of all possible librettists in the person of Arrigo Boito, who had worked with Verdi on “Otello” only a few years earlier. A gifted writer and composer (his “Mefistofele” is still the best of the “Faust”-inspired operas, in my view), Boito was, like Verdi, a great admirer of The Bard of Avon. His “Falstaff” libretto ingeniously combines “The Merry Wives of Windsor” with bits of the “Henry IV” plays and even hints at “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” with the faux fairies of the "Herne's" Oak" scene that ends the opera.

L-R Janara Kellerman as Quickly. Brooklyn Snow
as Nannetta. Karen Kanakas as Alice.
Melody Wilson as Meg
Photo: Dan Donovan

Verdi, for his part, produced a score that departed radically from everything he had written previously. Instead of a typical 19th century Italian opera in which the action pauses for arias, duets, and other set pieces, he wrote a fast-paced through composed musical play that moves at the speed of speech. Jokes and puns fly back and forth so quickly that even the original Milanese audience probably didn’t catch them all. The result is a seamless integration of words and music that is often exhilarating.

All of this makes “Falstaff” a challenge to produce. Verdi demanded over sixty rehearsals for his original La Scala cast because of the sheer complexity of the work. The sets are detailed, making scene changes potentially cumbersome. And the principal roles require performers with not only vocal and theatrical skills but comic timing as well.

Union Avenue has, I’m happy to say, a cast that meets and often exceeds those expectations, headed by baritone Robert Mellon in the title role.  His Falstaff roars, boasts, preens, and schemes—all in a big, resonant voice that reaches every corner of the theatre. His Act I “honor” monologue (one of the choice bits Boito lifted from “Henry IV”) is delivered with an authority and comic force that makes it a genuine showstopper. He even manages, in the less boisterous third act, to let us see a bit of the nobility buried under the character’s folly—no easy task, given that he’s lumbered with an absurd fat suit that’s more appropriate to a circus than the stage.

L-R Anthony Heinemann as Caius.
Jacob Lassetter as Ford.
Marc Schapman as Bardolfo.
Mark Freiman as Pistola
Photo: Dan Donovan

Falstaff’s nemesis is Alice Ford, whose sharp wit punctures the absurd schemes of both her husband and Falstaff. Falstaff wants to seduce both her and her friend Meg Page, while Ford arrogantly attempts to keep their daughter Nannetta from her true love Fenton and force her into an unsuitable marriage with the ancient Dr. Caius. Lighting up the role here is soprano Karen Kanakis, whose effulgent voice and impeccable acting have enlivened many roles at both UAO and Winter Opera. Her Alice is all quicksilver wit and irresistible charm.

Mezzo Janara Kellerman is delightful as Dame Mistress Quickly, Alice’s chief co-conspirator. Verdi saw the role as “the most individual and original” of the four women’s parts. The three scenes he wrote for her in Acts II and III are comic gems and Kellerman makes them shine. The part calls for a contralto, but Kellerman sounded perfectly at home in it.

The massive talents of soprano Brooklyn Snow and mezzo Melody Wilson are rather underused in the roles of Nannetta and Meg, respectively, but their finely wrought performances demonstrate the value in putting star performers in supporting roles. Snow also has some charming moments with tenor Jesse Darden’s Fenton as his limpid voice joins with hers in love duets that are invariably interrupted by the plot’s comic complications.

Tenor Marc Schapman and bass Mark Freiman make a first-rate pair of clowns as Falstaff’s wily minions Bardolfo and Pistola. The role of the clueless Dr. Caius offers little opportunity for tenor Anthony Heinemann to display his wide vocal range, but he does get to show off his fine comic timing.

Brooklyn Snow as Nanetta
and Jesse Darden as Fenton
Photo: Dan Donovan

Baritone Jacob Lassetter’s voice packs a serious punch in Ford’s big “revenge” monolog “È sogno o realtà?” ("Is it a dream or reality?") but his acting is a bit monochromatic. Verdi saw Ford as a character “who, in a towering outburst of jealousy, roars, screams, jumps all over”—a larger than life counterpoint to Falstaff. A bigger stage presence was called for, I thought.

The UAO chorus does fine work with some difficult music here thanks to the meticulous direction of company Artistic Director Scott Schoonover. They are not always easily understood, but the blame must rest with the imperfect acoustics of the Union Avenue Christian Church. Indeed, the tendency of the space’s overly resonant acoustics to sometimes turn Verdi’s multi-layered vocal lines to mush, especially in the brilliant fugue that concludes the opera, is probably the production’s biggest flaw. And one that is, alas, entirely out of UAO’s control.

The UAO stage was also an issue, simply because of its small size. The libretto calls for multiple sets, with the most elaborate being the room in Ford’s house where the madcap farce of Act II takes place. Lex Van Blommenstein’s scenic design evokes the feel of Shakespeare’s Globe theatre, with a massive wooden framework supporting painted scrolls that were apparently designed to roll up and down quickly. In practice, doing so required multiple stagehands to laboriously raise and lower each one, resulting in scene changes that seemed to go on forever and killed the forward momentum in the middle of each act.

Even so, stage director Jon Truitt shows the same skill in maneuvering large forces around a small stage that served his Winter Opera production of Puccini's "La Fanciulla del Weat" so well two years ago.

Still, these are relatively minor blemishes in an otherwise outstanding production of Verdi’s final masterpiece. Add in Teresa Doggett’s bright period costumes (that fat suit not withstanding) and you have a “Falstaff” that must be seen.

Performances of Verdi’s “Falstaff” continue through Saturday, August 6th, at the Union Avenue Christian Church on Union in the Central West End. Information on this and the company’s final show of the season, Sondheim’s “A Little Night Music,” are available at the UAO web site.

Review: Wait until dark

Verdi's 1851 tragedy Rigoletto is certainly a dark and menacing tale.

Nicholas Newton, Joshua Weeker, chorus
Photo by Eric Woolsey

From the ominous brass fanfares that open the prelude to Rigoletto's final despairing howl of "La maledizione" ("The old man cursed me" in this translation) it's a story of vice rewarded and virtue punished in which only the amoral Duke of Mantua lives happily ever after.

Under the direction of Bruno Ravella, the current Opera Theatre production, which runs through June 30, emphasizes the opera's darkness in literal fashion, with the men dressed mostly in black (contrasting with the brighter colors of the women) and the lighting sometimes so dim that faces are difficult to see. Mr. Ravella has shifted the action from Renaissance Mantua to Paris in the 1880s (when the play on which the opera is based, Victor Hugo's Le roi s'amuse, was written) and has given Rigoletto a ventriloquist's dummy to highlight (unnecessarily, in my view) the character's "schizophrenic nature."

None of this seems to add much to the drama but, except for a few moments when the dummy steals focus from baritone Roland Wood's excellent performance, it doesn't seem to do any damage either.

Roland Wood, So Young Park
Photo by Eric Woolsey

Mr. Wood's Rigoletto is powerfully sung, credibly acted, and serves as a solid foundation for this generally excellent production. This is a Rigoletto boiling with a rage and frustration that makes the character's ultimately destructive determination to punish the Duke for seducing his daughter Gilda entirely understandable-if no less appalling.

As the sociopathic Duke, tenor Joshua Weeker oozes charm from every pore. Soprano So Young Park is a heartbreaking Gilda, whose absurdly self-sacrificing nature leads to the opera's tragic conclusion, and her performance of the coloratura passages in the famous "Caro nome" aria in Act I was a real winner.

Bass-baritone Nicholas Newton's powerful voice enhances the small role of the doomed Count Monterone, whose dying curse falls heavily on Rigoletto, and bass Christian Zaremba makes an impressive OTSL debut as the ironically principled assassin Sparafucile.

Christian Zaremba, Roland Wood
Photo by Eric Woolsey

Conductor Roberto Kalb leads the St. Louis Symphony musicians in a fine, robust account of Verdi's dramatic score. Cary John Franklin's chorus sings, as always, with powerful assurance.

It can be difficult to watch Rigoletto these days, given how many contemporary Dukes we seem to have in positions of power. But maybe that's a reason to see it all by itself. "We still must negotiate how best to deal with the tyrants amongst us," writes Hannah McDermott in an essay in the program. "The opera's plot still resonates...Rigoletto's themes, tragically, endure."

Opera Theatre's Rigoletto is sung in English with projected English text and runs through June 30 at the Loretto Hilton Center on the Webster University campus.

Opera Review: Lyric's "Trovatore" embraces darkness

L-R: Russell Thomas, Tamara Wilson, Artur Rucinski
Photo by Todd Rosenberg

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The story line may not make much sense and the principal male characters are studies in testosterone poisoning and bad judgment, but nevertheless Verdi's 1853 tragedy "Il Trovatore" ("The Troubadour") has proved to be one of the most enduring hits produced during his "Middle Period" in the 1850s. I have some complaints about the staging of Lyric Opera of Chicago's production, which I saw in its final week, but overall I found it very compelling.

"Il Trovatore" is classic romantic Italian opera, with doomed lovers, a witch's curse, babies switched at birth, jealousy, violence, and death--everything you might want at this festive time of year. You can find a complete plot synopsis on Wikipedia, but let's just say that if "Il Trovatore" has a message, it might be "don't mess with the Gypsies."

Jamie Barton
Photo by Lyric Opera of Chicago

According to opera and theatre critic Charles Osborne the great Enrico Caruso is said to have once observed that all it takes to perform "Il Trovatore" is the four greatest singers in the world. Happily, all of the singers in Lyric's cast are vocal powerhouses as well as respectable actors--a good thing, given the emotional hell to which librettist Salvadore Cammarano subjects them.

Tenor Russell Thomas, who sang so beautifully in Lyric's "Norma" in 2016, scores again as Manrico, the titular troubadour who has won the heart of Leonora and, as a result, the enmity of the brutal Count di Luna. Soprano Tamara Wilson makes an excellent Lyric debut as Leonora, easily launching notes into the stratosphere and tugging at the heartstrings, most notably in the agonizing Act IV.

L-R: Artur Rucinski, Russell Thomas
Photo by Lyric Opera of Chicago

In his Lyric debut, baritone Artur Rucinski is the arrogant and lustful Count di Luna. His powerful voice and committed acting combine to produce a gripping portrayal of a man whose hormones have entirely destroyed any principles he might have once had.

The role of Azucena, Manrico's retribution-obsessed mother, is one that invites some scenery chewing, and mezzo Jamie Barton gives it her all without ever tipping over into parody. I have seen her do admirable work previously, not only at Lyric at also at Opera Theatre of St. Louis and Glimmerglass, and her superbly sung performance here does not disappoint. Bass Roberto Tagliavini is a strong Fernando, making the expository "Di due figli vivea padre beato" at the top of Act I a riveting story.

The "Anvil chorus"
Photo by Lyric Opera of Chicago

The chorus is very important for Verdi, and chorus master Michael Black's singers are consistently powerful, precise, and varied in their performances, filling the stage with interesting individual characters. Conductor Marco Armiliato and the orchestra deliver a virtuoso reading of the dramatic score. And, yes, they deliver an impressive "Anvil chorus," complete with the requisite hardware.

Originally presented at Lyric in the 2006-2007 season, when it was directed by Sir David McVicar (Roy Rallo is the revival director), this "Trovatore" is, according to Lyric's press release, "set in the smoldering atmosphere of darkly mysterious 15th-century Spain, inspired by the evocative paintings of the Spanish artist [Francisco] Goya." Both Charles Edwards's relentlessly bleak set, with its massive, ruined walls, and Chris Maravich's generally dim lighting certainly add to that atmosphere. They create a pervasive sense of doom, but they also can make it hard to see the faces of the performers. The sheer size of the set also means that the turntable used for scene changes moves rather slowly, which can be awkward at times.

Roberto Tagliavini
Photo by Lyric Opera of Chicago

The violence implied in the libretto is also demonstrated a bit too graphically at times on stage, as in Act III when de Luna's men physically abuse the captured Azucena before dragging her off.

Still, this is a worthwhile staging of Verdi's drama, and if you're a fan of the opera you certainly will not be disappointed. Sung in Italian with English supertitles, it runs through December 9th at Lyric Opera of Chicago; visit their web site for information on their season, which runs through May 2019.

Tower of power

Verdi's first big hit is a tower of power at Union Avenue.

L-R: Robert Garner, Melody Wilson, Marsha Thompson
Photo by John Lamb

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Verdi's 1842 Biblical melodrama "Nabucco" ("Nebuchadnezzar") isn't the composer's biggest hit, but it was his first, sealing his reputation as a major new force in Italian opera. Union Avenue Opera's fast-paced and splendidly sung production makes an exceptionally good case for it.

"Nabucco" is pretty red-blooded stuff. Loosely based on Old Testament texts, it's the story of Nebuchadnezzar's conquest and exiling of the Jews and his subsequent conversion to Judaism following a curse of madness from Jehovah when he arrogantly proclaims himself a god. Librettist Temistocle Solera took considerable liberties with both the OT and history, though, by adding a romantic triangle involving Fenena (Nabucco's youngest daughter), Abigaille (his eldest daughter), and Ismaele (a Jewish soldier), as well as a backstabbing power struggle between Abigaille and Nabucco. The story delivers passion, violence, and borderline-absurd rapid plot reversals in quantity, all accompanied by powerful music that illuminates character even as it dazzles.

Union Avenue's cast certainly squeezes every ounce of drama out of this material. As the Jewish high priest Zaccaria, bass Zachary James is a powerful stage presence with a big, rolling basso that easily reaches to the back of the house. Baritone Robert Garner delivers Nabucco's anger and anguish brilliantly.

C: Zachary James
Photo by John Lamb

Marsha Thompson's wide-ranging soprano turns Abigaille into a monstrous force of nature while mezzo Melody Wilson, as Fenena, once again demonstrates the combination of vocal power and theatrical smarts that made her so impressive in previous roles with Union Avenue and Opera Theatre. Tenor Jesse Donner has somewhat less to work with, dramatically speaking, in the role of Ismaele, but he delivers the character's passion with real conviction in a fine, ringing voice.

And let us not neglect the chorus, one of the most consistently strong aspects of Union Avenue productions, in my experience. Verdi assigns the chorus an important narrative role that has them on stage for much of the opera's length, switching between displaced Jews and arrogant Babylonians. They get some of the opera's most memorable music, including the famous "Va pensiero" of Act III in which the exiled Jews long for their native land. In this production they begin singing from the house, finally arriving on stage for its hushed, moving conclusion.

The chorus part in "Nabucco" is, in short, physically taxing, with frequent costume changes and music that sometimes pushes singers to the limits of their tessiture. The Union Avenue singers are splendid throughout the opera, delivering a powerful, unified sound while still making each member of the ensemble a fully realized character.

Conductor Stephen Hargreaves leads the Union Avenue orchestra in a rousing and vital performance of the score, complete with a dramatic reading of the overture that features an electrifying coda. In his program notes for Lyric Opera of Chicago's "Nabucco" two years ago, conductor Carol Rizzi observed that "a conductor's greatest challenge in 'Nabucco' is creating a unity, rather than a stop-and-start idea of the opera; certain episodes don't flow easily into one another." Mr. Hargreaves and his players certainly create that unity, assisted by stage director Mark Freiman's brisk pacing.

C: Jesse Donner
Photo by John Lamb

Patrick Huber's massive set has enough levels to make for interesting stage pictures and allows the cast to do something other than just face downstage and sing. Teresa Doggett's costumes neatly contrast the humble, earth tone Jews with the colorful and gaudy Babylonians. Patrick Huber's lighting is dramatic, but it sometimes left singers in partial darkness on opening night.

Union Avenue's "Nabucco" is, in short, a certified rouser. And given that local performances of the opera are rare (there has not been one in my lifetime, as far as I know), any opera lover should head over to the Union Avenue Christian Church to see one of the two remaining performances on Friday and Saturday, August 3 and 4. Visit the Union Avenue web site for tickets.

Review: Love in bloom

Sydney Mancasola
Photo by Ken Howard

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History tells us the 1853 premiere of Verdi's La Traviata was something of a disaster, capped by the fatal miscasting (opposed unsuccessfully by the composer) of a soprano whose girth, in the view of the audience, made her attempts to portray the consumptive beauty Violetta laughable rather than tragic.

My, how things have changed. The new production on view at Opera Theatre through June 24th could hardly be more different from that disastrous premiere. Lovely to look at and delightful to hear, it's close to perfection in almost every respect.

Yes, the decision by director Patricia Racette to move the action to the 1930s makes the very dated (and very Italian) attitudes of the men look even more appalling than usual. And the preponderance of floral imagery does seem to be taking the opera's source material (La dame aux camélias by Dumas fils) a bit too literally. But Ms. Racette is a celebrated soprano in her own right who has performed Violetta to critical acclaim often in the past, and her theatrical sense is generally spot on. She creates compelling stage pictures, her pacing is just right, and many of her innovations (Violetta's surreal death scene for example) are real coups de théâtre.

L-R: Geoffrey Agpalo, Joo Won Kang
Photo bb Ken Howard

Better yet, she has a terrific cast to work with.

Soprano Sydney Mancasola looks and sounds beautiful as the tragic courtesan Violetta, with a versatile and powerful voice. As Alfredo, fresh from the sticks and madly in love with Violetta, tenor Geoffrey Agpalo radiates naïveté and sings beautifully. Both have been impressive in smaller roles at Opera Theatre in the past; it's good to see them in leads.

Baritone Joo Won Kang is an imposing Giorgio, Alfredo's scandalized father, and mezzo Briana Hunter commands attention as Violetta's florid friend Flora. Bass Andrew Munn is a sympathetic Doctor Grenvil. Indeed, everyone in the cast is strong, right down to the smallest roles.

Laura Jellinek's sets, with the omnipresent flowers, are a bit much for my taste but there's no denying their impact, and Kaye Voyce's colorful costumes add lots of visual appeal.

Briana Hunter and cast
Photo by Ken Howard

Seán Curran once again demonstrates his great skill as a choreographer with an Act II "masked ball" scene that masterfully mingles dancers with singers in a way the creates the illusion that everyone on stage is doing both.

Conductor Christopher Allen leads the OTSL orchestra in a passionate and committed reading of Verdi's immensely appealing score.

So, yeah, OTSL's La Traviata is something opera fans won't want to miss. But opera newbies should give it serious thought as well. At around two hours and 45 minutes, including two intermissions, it's not all that long. Its story is clear and compelling, and as it's sung in English with projected text, it's all very approachable. Verdi was, after all, a man of the theatre who had an unerring feel for what did and didn't work on stage.

There's also the fact that, as I have noted in the past, La Traviata is not without contemporary resonance. The libretto's clash between the hedonistic and creative bohemians of Paris's left bank and the scandalized middle class is not unlike the culture wars that have been raging here in the USA since the 1970s. And its portrayal of the casual cruelty of the morally smug still feels relevant.

Maybe everything old is, in fact, new again.