This handsome production comes from Covent Garden; it was recorded in 2008. Stage director Nicholas Hytner and conductor Antonio Pappano use the five-act version of the opera but it is sung in Italian. The cast–on paper–looks ideal, but there are a few problems; in all, though, this is a very effective and moving performance.
Hytner’s view of the opera is properly dark–this isn’t a tale of requited love, political good winning over evil, or the beneficence of the Church. He adds a character in the Auto-da-fé scene, an Inquisitor who speaks to a group of heretics about to be set aflame, telling them to repent. He speaks over the music, which is distracting, but it rings true in this ghastly scene. The Auto-da-fé is the only brightly lit moment in the opera (Mark Henderson is credited with the fine lighting); it’s as if death were the centerpiece and a celebration–a floor-to-ceiling painting of the head of a bleeding Jesus dominates the left side of the stage and a gold cathedral is the backdrop.
Elsewhere Bob Crowley’s sets are dark–an iron wall with openings dominates some scenes, large cut-outs of trees imply the outdoors, a huge tomb of Carlos V is the highlight of the Cloister. Philip’s gloomy study for Act 4 consists of a table, a pair of chairs, and a shiny gold monstrance. Mark Henderson’s lighting makes up for a great deal. The costumes are period-lavish.
But Hytner makes sense of the inter-personal relationships and gives us real-enough people: the impetuous, desperate Don Carlo; the almost too dignified Queen Elisabetta; the sad, angry, rueful Philip; the noble Posa; the jealous, pleasure-loving Eboli, and the toxic Inquisitor are all memorable.
The title role is taken by Rolando Villazon, who was between vocal crises when this was taped. Needless to say, he throws himself into the role physically as well as emotionally and vocally, and he is remarkably charismatic. But he sounds overextended. He oversings, sometimes shouting and singing sharp, and one worries; there is an aura of desperation about him–not about Carlo, but about him. This is the first time he has disappointed me in any role. Nowhere is this clearer than when he sings with the marvelous Posa of Simon Keenlyside, who sticks to the line and at the same time sings with passion.
Keenlyside plays Posa as an innocent with a good heart and great dignity, alert and sensitive to what is going on locally and globally. His may not be the juiciest Verdi voice, but it’s a splendid voice nonetheless. Posa is the moral center of the opera and Keenlyside’s nobility as an artist transfers into the role. Ferruccio Furlanetto brings a rich, Italianate sound to King Philip and portrays the Monarch’s frustrations, rages, and misery with great color. He, like Villazon, tends to shout for emphasis, leaving the vocal line behind. I realize that it is done for emphasis, but it doesn’t seem necessary–Furlanetto is a towering actor as well as singer. Eric Halfvarson’s Inquisitor is divinely decrepit and dangerous; half-crippled and blind, he still terrifies.
Marina Poplavskaya sings Elisabetta. Like Keenlyside, her sound is not Italianate, but it is beautiful, and she can sing softly without the tone losing center. Her aloofness, we assume, is directorial–this is an Elisabetta who refuses to show her unhappiness. It is hard to pinpoint what it is that she lacks–what she does well is so much more obvious–but there is an essential warmth lacking, whether in her sound, her bearing, or both. Mezzo Sonia Ganassi, happily leaving Rosina, et al, behind, is a powerful Eboli with brilliant top notes and easy chest voice. Her bel canto training comes in handy in the Veil Song, but the surprise is her “O don fatale”, sung with gleaming bite and plenty of breath and volume for the climaxes.
Antonio Pappano’s leadership is filled with nuance. In an opera that shifts between the public and private, the personal and political, Pappano never misses a cue. The Fontainebleau act offers us the only time we get to see Elisabetta as a happy, carefree girl, and Pappano gives us Verdi’s later, melancholy music for Elisabetta with that in mind. The Oath duet is a deeply felt personal moment, the Elisabetta/Carlo duet fraught with tension. The King’s Act 4 soliloquy, with its lengthy cello solo and dark hue, is truly touching; the hateful confrontation between the King and Inquisitor is terrifying. The Auto-da-fé scene is the showpiece in this contradictory work–a merry, celebratory scene of slaughter. The Covent Garden Forces play and sing superbly, and picture and sound are superb.
The Pappano-led, French version of this opera starring Karita Mattila and Roberto Alagna remains first choice on video; a newly released (but only, so far, as part of a very expensive boxed-set) performance from the Met with Renata Scotto, Tatiana Troyanos, and Vasile Moldeveanu is the true winner in the five-act, Italian version.
