L'Elisir d'Amore – review

The latest revival of Laurent Pelly's production of Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore stars Roberto Alagna as Nemorino, a role that was important early in his career, and to which he has only recently returned: he has never sung it at Covent Garden until now. It's a curious performance in some respects: at times it succeeds despite his sound, rather than because of it.

Alagna's voice, long accustomed to heavier repertoire than bel canto comedy, has lost some of its beauty and is bigger and grainier than we usually hear in this music. His coloratura is aspirated. A couple of high notes fray. Yet he's also a fine actor and a wonderfully physical artist on stage: he leaps from ladders, slides down haystacks, and dances as he sings. The way he captures Nemorino's gauche yet beguiling charm – without so much as a hint of caricature or sentiment – is breathtaking.

He also, however, forms part of a very fine, beautifully integrated ensemble. Aleksandra Kurzak's Adina, all tantrums and high notes, is attracted to him from the outset, but only becomes emotionally aware as she realises the moral consequences of her manipulative games. Alagna's Nemorino has a genuine rival, too, in Fabio Capitanucci's Belcore, handsomely sung and playing God's gift. Ambrogio Maestri's Dulcamara, meanwhile, strikes just the right balance between comedy and sleaze.

In the pit, conductor Bruno Campanella took a while to establish the necessary sparkle after a workmanlike start. Revival director Daniel Dooner has lightened the tone of Pelly's original staging a little: the underlying emphasis on unscrupulous urbanites fleecing a credulous rural community is less aggressively stated, and more deftly handled than before. It's a classy evening.

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