[Posted this afternoon on The Volume.]
It would be foolish to imagine that any production of Il Trovatore could meet the insane demands Verdi wrote into it: The opera requires four of the world's greatest singers, a superlative chorus, an imaginative staging that allows for improbably fast changes of scene and—last but not least—a willful suspension of disbelief in its ridiculous plot contrivances. Hold your breath for all of those stars to line up, however, and you're in for a long, dark night with your record collection. For the rest of us, the new David McVicar production of Il Trovatore is not only better than anyone had reason to suspect, it could easily turn out to be a highlight of the spring.
First, and most importantly, this new staging finally breaks the curse of the Met's last two Trovatore productions: one dismal, the next roundly reviled. McVicar's solution involved a huge, gray vertical slab on a turntable, allowing for quick and easy changes between indoor and outdoor scenes, while also providing—at last!—a reasonably credible scenario to account for an otherwise inexplicable instance of mistaken identity during the first act. McVicar's blatantly Goya-esque vision was atmospheric and effective, though the turntable could definitely use a greasing before its next go-round.
The singing, though largely successful, was not without fault; that said, there were few blemishes that could not be explained away by a combination of opening-night nerves and other environmental concerns. Marcelo Álvarez offered as handsome, robust and secure an account of Manrico, the titular troubadour, as you're likely to encounter in the opera house today, with a blazing "Di Quella Pira" that drew a solid ovation out of the crowd. As the Count di Luna, Dmitri Hvorostovsky was best at slow-burn soliloquy; Verdi is surely not his métier, but Hvorostovsky can often carry a role through sheer presence, and mostly managed to do so here.
Both Sondra Radvanovsky (Leonora) and Dolora Zajick (Azucena) were rumored to be under the weather last night; if so, you'd hardly have known. Radvanovsky's voice, big and complex, filled the hall magnificently, with only a few mishaps. Her two great arias, "Tacea la notte" (mostly delivered from a variety of perilously prone positions) and "D'amor sull'ali rosee," were emotionally wrenching, earning her the loudest, longest ovations of the evening. Hear it for yourself in this exclusive live recording from last night's performance:
Zajick was a characteristically powerful presence, with a booming sound to match. At one point she vaulted for a climactic high note and crashed into the figurative pole, losing stability for a few long moments. And as usual her enunciation could be indistinct at times. But 20 years after making her Met debut in the role, this valuable artist is still finding new and worthwhile things to do with it—no small thing. Maria Zifchak and Kwangchul Youn handled smaller roles honorably, and Donald Palumbo's chorus sounded fantastic—especially in a shirtless, beefcake "Anvil Chorus" likely to be much remarked upon.
Conductor Gianandrea Noseda didn't always seem to be completely in sync with his singers; some numbers took longer than others to jell. Those differences will surely be ironed out as the show settles in—at which point the sheer vivacity of Noseda's conception, and the profusion of colors and shadings he drew from the players, will become even more exciting and convincing. Jitters aside, both ensemble and crew had ample reason to be satisfied with a curse-breaking opening night.
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