The Rossini Opera Festival opens this year with an opera never heard in Pesaro (there are still a few): Eduardo e Cristina. Rossini wrote it in 1819 for Venice, where the audience had not heard many of his recent compositions; as usual, he took advantage of this, liberally re-using numbers, melodies and ideas from Adelaide di Borgogna, Ermione, Ricciardo e Zoraide e Mosè in Egitto. The resulting work gives us an insight into Rossini’s compositional process and into the abstract character of his music, which manages to represent feelings and emotions without “describing” them, but rather conjuring them out of our consciousness; as such, it easily adapts to different stories and situations. Alternatively, it could be seen as an entertaining pasticcio, which is also a valid point of view.
The libretto, by Andrea Tottola and Gherardo Aldobrandini, tells a conventional story in the Swedish Royal family. Cristina, daughter of Carlo, King of Sweden, is secretly married to Eduardo, leader of the Swedish army in a war against the Russians, and they have a son. She is also unwillingly betrothed to Giacomo, Prince of Scotland. When the secret marriage and child are discovered, the two protagonists are sentenced to death with their son, but the Russian army suddenly invades Swedish land, Eduardo is freed by his loyal soldiers and leads the Swedish army to victory again. The king forgives the young couple and blesses their union for a classic happy ending.
Director Stefano Poda gave an anti-realistic interpretation of this story, as a contemporary art installation. The stage was framed by cages containing reclining human figures; mimes and dancers were omnipresent on stage, virtually naked, caked with clay. Their movements were at times strictly and originally choreographed – the victory march of Eduardo in the first act was spectacular – but often displayed as “organised chaos”: seemingly random, but with a clear overall intent. Very Rossini. The chorus and soloists were also involved in this representation, joining the dancers in their physical exploration of the music. There didn’t seem to be any “meaning” to the movements on stage, but one could glimpse some themes – a man-woman dichotomy, perhaps, but nothing descriptive. The relationship between the two protagonists is sacrificed to this intellectual idea: Eduardo and Cristina almost never touch each other, rarely even gaze into each other’s eyes. It was a visually beautiful, entertaining production in tune with the musical experience, albeit very abstract.
Conductor Jader Bignamini based his reading of the score on the recently published new critical edition by Andrea Malnati and Alice Tavilla: his interpretation was intense and powerful, with a martial approach perfectly justified by the constant climate of war in the opera. However, the RAI orchestra revealed a variegated palette of colours, with delightful woodwind solos. Bignamini kept the pace brisk and tight for a very exciting performance.
Daniela Barcellona returned to the ROF as Eduardo. A beloved singer here in Pesaro, her love for this festival and for Rossini was evident throughout her emotional performance. She displayed her strong command of the style in both her big arias: her voice may at times be starting to show signs of wear in the middle-lower register, but her interpretation was heartfelt and powerful and her coloratura was perfect.
Anastasia Bartoli made her Pesaro debut as Cristina. Her dramatic soprano has been dedicated mostly to Verdi up until now. But, as the daughter of Cecilia Gasdia, one of the greatest names of the Rossini Renaissance in the eighties, (and, we can joke, with that last name) she was bound to try some Rossini eventually.
I was afraid her voice would be too big for a Rossini role, but I was pleasantly surprised by her control. Her coloratura was fast and precise, her high notes mostly beautiful and well set, her middle register powerful and smooth. She does have some hardness in the high notes at times, and the vowel “E” is often not covered enough, but her debut was extremely successful and I hope she will devote time and effort to this repertoire.
Carlo, king of Sweden, was Enea Scala, a darling of this festival. His tenor was technically impressive: he supported sparkling, perfect coloratura with strong breath technique and displayed some powerful, well set high notes. The timbre of the voice was, alas, not blessed by the gods, but his performance was extremely successful and widely acclaimed. He gave a very convincing interpretation of the king in the grip of madness and despair.
The cast was completed by Grigory Shkarupa, whose bass gave nobility and passion to Giacomo, Cristina’s scorned suitor, and Matteo Roma as Altei, Eduardo’s friend, who approached his aria with fearless commitment, his tenor navigating the extremely high range with self-assuredness.
