Opera Reviews
28 March 2024
Untitled Document

A visually stunning revival of La Traviata in Christchurch



by Michael Hooper
Verdi: La Traviata
New Zealand Opera
Isaac Theatre Royal, Christchurch
14 July 2016

This  visually stunning, vibrant and irresistible NZ Opera production splashed glamour and colour in abundance across the stage of the Isaac Theatre Royal on opening night. Surrounded by the flourishes and embellishments of the restored theatre, the venue and Verdi seemed a perfect match.

The same creative team that brought us Madama Butterfly last year has returned with its themes of men’s manipulation of women, and the boxes in which society tries to package lives to suit its expectations. While the score of La Traviata exudes joy and tragedy, and the glittering costumes and set dazzle, this opera is loaded with meaning and parable.  The pleasure measure is increased when it is set on a firm pedestal of plausibility, which to a large degree this production delivers.

In just the first few minutes, the task falls to conductor Wyn Davies and director Kate Cherry of rewinding the whole opera, and equipping the audience for the rollercoaster ride ahead. The prelude lays out the emotions of our heroine, the society escort Violetta, who is the fallen woman, La Traviata. It must be tremulous, tortured, beautiful and poised with natural nobility. Violetta’s life is a feather floating on the breath of tragedy, and those ephemeral first bars need to reflect that uncertain breath – a vulnerable temerity but with a constant energy that forecasts the journey we are to share over the course of two-and-a-half hours of opera.

The curtained stage was pregnant, then, at a pace too eager and with some scratchy strings and an element of oom pah pah, the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra accompanied the revelation of a fallen chandelier, with a prostrate female figure reaching out towards her past and a huge magic jewellery box, spilling reflections of a life.  We were in a world of illusion which never failed to impress visually as each act and scene change unfolded.

While La Traviata has been described as a concert for soprano with chorus, the work, to my mind hinges on the two major relationships that Violetta endures. Her Alfredo (Enea Scala) is prescribed as a young bourgeois from a Provencal family; he is foolishly infatuated and naive. His father, Germont, is manipulative, bound by the mores of society and a difficult mix of heartless yet persuasive.

There is no doubting the lyric ability nor agility of tenor Enea Scala, beautifully displayed especially in act two, scene one, where he sings “Ever since the day she said: 'I want to live only for you', I seem to live in heaven, unmindful of the world.”  He has the notes and a wonderfully fluid voice. However, his declamatory, rather-too-posed presentation is more suited to a concert than this romantic opera.  He clasps his hands, faces the audience even when cradling his dying Violetta as he bursts into anthem mode, and at one point seems to express anguish by the melodramatic gesture of biting his fist. When added to his wrought, Italianate, exaggerated attack on phrases, in the style of the Three Tenors, the intimacy of this vital Alfredo-Violetta relationship suffers from being overcooked.

Phillip Rhodes brings his considerable power and gravitas to the role of Germont, arguably the only villain of the piece. With accuracy and purpose he commands the stage, but, erect and brittle, he seems unable to soften enough to show the persuasive side of the character that is so necessary to justify the pivotal decision of Violetta to leave Alfredo.  He also suffers from the universally restrained physical contact and tactility that, if present, would further endear the production. Another example of this is the mannequin-like detachment of Dr Grenvil (David Griffiths), Violetta’s “true friend”  present at her death. By contrast, James Ioelu sings his small part as the Marquis with notable warmth and presence.

Violetta herself is wonderfully cast and superbly executed.  Madeleine Pierard brings not only coloratura but dramatic soprano skills, running, lighting and shading with ease, adding an earthy, chocolatey texture which perfectly embodies the grit and determination of Violetta, and the actual person in Verdi’s life upon whom her character is based. Pierard glides effortlessly through the notes, displaying spectacular breath control, while choosing not to embellish the score with the high E-flat at the end of her star aria "Sempre Libera". Her sure grasp and ductile steel thread perfectly suit the character, yet when called upon to fade physically in act three she convincingly and astutely pales and shrinks, spinning her voice around the thread of a note while navigating the waves of energy and depletion on which Violetta is tossed as her life ends.  Bravo.

The slight opening night awkwardness, perhaps contributed to by the debut of a number of the cast in their roles, was swept away when Rachelle Pike took the stage in a gold gown against the black of the set as party girl and hostess Flora Bervoix.  Reprising Flora from the co-production’s New Zealand debut, she flashed and charmed her way to the front of our attention with an assuredness and vital voice that displayed the results of her recent years of study in New York – her appearance being another bravo moment that added a turbo charge.

The ebb and flow of Violetta’s life is mirrored in Christina Smith’s production design, never more effectively than in the specially made and imported 30-metre cyclorama screen print of camellias (referencing Verdi and librettist Francesco Piave’s inspiration from the Dumas novel and subsequent play La Dame aux Camélias) which bleeds colour as Violetta’s life force drains. Like the glossy jewellery box set, it has been cleverly bent or squeezed into the 10.45-metre Isaac Theatre Royal proscenium which, alas, confines choreographer Jesse Wikiriwhi’s gypsy and matador dancers to less sweeping moves; however their vocal unity, energy and colour flash with life that amplifies their space. An audience wolf-whistle might have been an appreciation peculiar to the farming province. The obscured, almost hallucinatory off-stage dancing (and band) add another dimension that defies the confines, abetting the delivery of an admirable re-staging under Jacqueline Coats.

Lighting design by Matt Scott is well executed by Jason Morphett, although three bright spots on the silver curtains behind the empty side of the stage in the final scene were distracting. Seemingly faultless wigs and makeup are a credit to the company, reflecting its constantly exemplary diligence in this area. While Christina Smith’s costumes were not always flattering, they radiated the glamour and also the contrasting settings from glamour to despair.

That brings me to perhaps the most critical element other than the performances of the principal singers – the musical blanket in which they are wrapped and with which we should be rapt. The ensemble numbers were, without exception, beautifully woven, clearly threaded, harmonious, balanced and clear. The emotive, at times cathartic score, and its delivery by the orchestra right to our hearts is crucial; notably in act two when Violetta pours out her soul singing “love me Alfredo” as, heart cloven in two, she desperately tears herself away from her true love. Again, in the final scene as, close to her last breath she hands Alfredo her portrait, death-tolling bass notes are required to heave us thrice into emotional exhaustion. At both critical points the CSO falls short, despite appearing to have the numbers in the pit, and on the latter occasion a teeth-on-foil violin discord also broke the pathos.  Mention must, however, be made of the beautiful, liquid clarinet solo as Violetta writes her note to Alfredo in act two.

New Zealand Opera should be commended for the enormous effort and investment of rebuilding this major production for just five performances in Christchurch, and for realising its promise of increasing musical offerings in the city. While we may be affected by the tragedy of Violetta, against whose level of integrity it is society that has fallen, it is hard not to leave the theatre with anything other than the words of the ensemble in act one:

Be carefree - for wine and song
with laughter, embellish the night.
The new day breaking will find us still
in this happy paradise.

There can surely be no better way to warm the weather of winter than a production of this most performed of all operas.

Text © Michael Hooper
Photo © Neil MacKenzie
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