Opera Reviews
29 March 2024
Untitled Document

Yoncheva’s heart stopping Violetta at the Met



by Arlene Judith Klotzko
Verdi: La Traviata
Metropolitan Opera
18 March 2017

Willy Decker’s brilliant staging of La Traviata, first seen in Salzburg in 2005, is making its final appearance on the Met stage this season.  It will be sorely missed. When the production first appeared in New York in 2010, it stunned audiences by its power, directness and radical simplicity. And by the contrast with what it replaced. Franco  Zeffirelli’s spectacular spectacle was so cluttered, distracting, and vulgar that the weight of it all but vitiated the huge emotional wallop packed into the score.  

The focus of Decker’s production is the ineluctability of fate – of Violetta’s death and by extension our deaths as well. The two of the three central symbols in his vision are memento mori: A huge clock almost always on the stage. And the figure of death, Dr. Grenville who is onstage, silently watching, for most of the opera. The third symbol is Violetta’s little red dress. An emblem of passion and sexuality and a splash of color in a bare grey and white set which is just a curved wall with a circular void above it. Various figures occasionally lean over the edge of the wall to watch the proceedings below. The austere stage is beautifully lit by Hans Toelstede;  in the last scene it turns a sickly pale blue.

The radical simplicity and pristine elegance of the set produces a laser like focus on Violetta’s ultimate fate and the remorselessness of the death that is stalking her. And its very barrenness makes that fate so redolent of meaning – of various meanings actually. Violetta can be seen as the victim of a patriarchal culture – literally with Germont as the authority figure, but also symbolically  as the prey of the mob of dark suited faceless characters (reminiscent of Kirchner’s images of the Berlin street) who objectify and ultimately humiliate her.

Sonya Yoncheva’s Violetta is an extraordinarily compelling musical dramatic creation. She is mesmerizing. Tottering onto the stage during the overture, her body swaying as she holds onto the wall, she creates a character of aching vulnerability pushing back against the destiny that is clearly hers. In act one, when she meets the shy, awkward Alfredo, she is very much the coquette but also is fascinated by the young man who is very different from the insincere, sophisticated men who surround her. For her part, she is trying to live fast and hard in the face of impending death. For his, he is besotted.

In the second act, the set is adorned with white couches covered with bright floral fabric – the same fabric that is draped over the clock, and also the pattern which now covers the circular space above the curved wall. After Germont convinces her to give up Alfredo for the sake of his family, the color drains from the flowers covering the ceiling as the will to lives drains out of Violetta. She goes limp physically and her voice becomes bleached of color and weight as she sings “Ah Dite alla giovine.” What a world of woe is in that “Ah!” In act three, her “Addio del passato” is simply devastating. She desperately wants to live with Alfredo and through him but it’s not to be.

Michael Fabiano as Alfredo gives a shockingly visceral performance filled with passion, intensity and commitment. He veritably bursts onto the stage and then he paces around like a caged animal. His love for Violetta is matched by the rage he feels at her perceived betrayal. When in act three, he stuffs money up her skirt and down her bodice, it is an assault – almost like a rape – and it is utterly shocking. Fabiano has a large voice with a ringing top but he can also sing in a stunning mezza voice as he does in act three.

Thomas Hampson is a great lieder singer but he has never convinced me as a Verdi baritone. He does characterize very well and he certainly does that here as an uptight, authoritarian figure who fusses around, placing his hat and coat on the various couches. Vocally, his voice is dry and he lacks the breath to carry himself comfortably to the end of phrases. He has been ill during the run so this could be a factor.

The marvelous Met orchestra under Nicola Luisotti, brings out the gorgeous instrumental textures of Verdi’s score. Luisotti is considerate of the singers enabling them to do their best. The chorus, under Donald Palumbo is, as usual, superb.

Text © Arlene Judith Klotzko
Photos © Ken Howard / Metropolitan Opera
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