By the light of the fire
Some mighty fine singing

Sunday, June 12, 2005
By John Hammel

New Jersey State Opera Orchestra and Chorus, Alfredo Silipigni (conductor). Giuseppe Verdi: Il trovatore. Eric Johnson (bass, Ferrando); Laura Zupa D'Avella (soprano, Inez); Olga Romanko (soprano, Leonora); Oleg Chmyr (baritone, Count di Luna); Lando Bartolini (tenor, Manrico); Azucena, (mezzo-soprano, Eugenie Grunewald); Philip Alongi (tenor, Ruiz). Prudential Hall, NJPAC, Newark.

The plot of Il Trovatore is taken from the drama El Trobador by Antonio Garcia Gutierrez, and its story intrigued and gripped Verdi from his first acquaintance with it. He was particularly drawn to the darkly rendered character of the gypsy Azucena and initially wanted to name the opera La zingara ("The Gypsy") or La vendetta ("The Revenge"). He found Azucena's character to be the one compellingly innovative twist in the more traditionally rendered plotline of the typical tenor-soprano-baritone love triangulation: hero loves heroine/girl; villain lusts after girl; the struggle between the two for the girl's affections, and the heroine's ultimate sacrifice to preserve the life of her true love. Azucena's demented vengeance is the impetus that drives this plot insidiously forward. In Act II she relates how her own mother, accused of witchcraft, was burned at the stake. Azucena, in a fit of violent grief, steals the son of the elder Count di Luna, in order to throw the child into the fire. In her temporary madness she throws her own son into the inferno instead and raises the Count's son, whom she names Manrico, as her own. Towards the end of the opera, Azucena deliberately allows the new Count di Luna (Manrico's brother) to imprison her in order to lure Manrico into a deadly trap. When he is executed, she turns to the Count and declaims, "He was your true brother! My mother is at last avenged!"

This is perhaps Verdi's most psychologically probing opera, one in which the music and the ambiguousness of the central relationships of the characters push the work to its inevitable conclusion. There is nothing of chance in the way fate weighs down all of these characters, but instead the plot is drawn with an implacable inexorability. The characters themselves are almost extraneous and at many moments do not show rational but rather irrational emotional behavior. The story is constantly being steered back to the past, and its fractured action is revealed by events that have occurred out of the viewer's sight in the described past or off-stage. Leonora is the most extraneous of the lead characters. Nothing is known about her, and she has no connection to past events. She serves as a matrix or catalyst for the rivalry between Manrico and the Count and has no direct involvement in the action until her suicide in the final act.

There are symbols of fate throughout the opera from the obvious thematic coloring of the orchestra to the hammering anvils. The flickering, shadowy firelight, the darkness of the settings, and the ropes and chains that bind several of the characters remind us of their emotional as well as physical bondage.

The most finely drawn performance of this production took place on the podium and in the pit. Mæstro Silipigni is a masterful conductor who knows this music to its core. His finely sculpted phrasing and delineated beat kept things musical to the nth degree. He built the drama both fluently and fluidly, achieving an overall organic quality and intensity that both drove the musical action forward and supported the singing on the stage. He knows how to accompany singers, although never at the expense or detriment to the meaning of the music. He also never allows the orchestra to overwhelm the singers, and at all times keeps a sense of urgency intact. This is a lost and dying art in an age where it seems the egos of most conductors and directors have taken over the majority of opera houses and performances.

The new chorus master, Jason Tramm, seems to be herding the NJ State Opera choral forces back to a high standard that had slipped badly in the recent past. The choruses in Il Trovatore are an essential ingredient, and the chorus is given several good "tunes" to sing. Their efforts were carried off with excellent intonation and aplomb. Kudos especially for a powerfully rendered "Anvil Chorus" and the spun quality of the women's voices in the nun's chorus (II,ii).

Of the acting singers, Olga Romanko gave the most consistent performance. Her voice had true Verdian heft to it and she was able to command the usual extraordinary demands with relative ease. Verdi delights in exploiting the full range of the soprano voice in both color and flexibility. Ms. Romanko delivered with a surging luscious tone that was effulgent whether at full throttle or sending out wispily delicate pianissimos. Her acting was up to the task, and she is a beautiful presence on stage, easily believable as an embodiment of that over which men would cast their lives to the forces of fate. Her last act singing, whether in anguished solo or duet with the Count di Luna was simply delicious.

The Azucena of Eugenie Grunewald, in fine fettle after some slight illness on Friday night, was utterly convincing in her singing. "Stride la vampa" is one of the great mezzo soprano arias in the literature and Ms. Grunewald did not disappoint. Her singing of this aria and throughout the rest of the afternoon was rapturously delivered, running the gamut of emotional anguish and filial love. She only exhibited cautiousness on her final high note at the end of the opera, backing off slightly although it sounded securely placed.

The opera is called The Troubador and consequently Verdi has given the tenor a lot of challenging music to sing. Veteran Lando Bartolini is from the old school of "stand and deliver", and for lovers of pure vocalization that is good enough. His acting can generously be described as stalwart, but his singing, in spite of some watery pitch in the middle of the voice, was thrilling. He is Italianate in vocal style all the way to the bottoms of his feet with an understanding of phrasing that is right on the money. His line is totally, seamlessly intact from top to bottom.

The most astonishing aspect of this man's singing is the ease of his top range. The notes never become thin in their ascent an d ring out with clarion vitality at the top. Some have criticized a lack of *legato and that aforementioned wavering around the center of some pitches. That is more than offset by those stentorian tones. In many ways he reminds me of Giacomo Lauri-Volpi, who was also criticized for a lack of refinement and unsteady pitch but who could viscerally thrill an audience or a record listener with an animal magnetism that cannot be taught or acquired anywhere but from nature. Mr. Bartolini's "Di quella pira" alone was worth the price of admission.

The other major role in the opera was handled adequately by Oleg Chmyr as Count di Luna. He was the cover for Stephen Gaertner, who fell ill in the third act of Friday night's performance and could not go on Sunday afternoon. Mr. Chmyr's voice was the right size and timbre for the role and only faltered in a few places. When he was sure of himself, he had ample volume and sonority. He was a bit stiff in the acting department with a penchant for hanging on to the hilt of his sword throughout the opera. The smaller roles of Ferrando (Eric Johnson) and Inez (Laura Zupa D'Avella} were handled with good acting ability, fine coloring and more than pleasing sounds. There was requisite richness and forcefulness by Mr. Johnson and a lighter, sweeter quality, suitable for a confidante or lady in attendance, by Ms. D'Avella.

The stage direction by Bodo Igesz was stolid at best, not asking too much of the singers other than to stand and project. Costumes, on loan from TDF Costume Collection in New York and Opera Carolina in Charlotte, NC, were colorful and well suited to the period. The lighting design by Bridget Welty was highly effective. The lighting operator had only one or two slow transitions where a singer began a scene in partial lighting. The worst faux pas though was during curtain calls when Maestro Silipigni was called to the stage. He led a company bow, motioned for an orchestral bow, and came back for a final company bow. Inexplicably, as he began to lead the ensemble in a final bow the stage was plunged into blackout! The excited audience obviously wished to extend their appreciation and was consequently denied that privilege.

One of these days the lighting folks at Prudential Hall will get it right.

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