There are some people who still believe in witches and the power of superstition. Jumping from an allusion to Shakespeare’s Macbeth in the above title to Hamlet’s declaration to Horatio that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in his philosophy, we quickly find ourselves in the territory of Donald Rumsfeld’s known unknowns. How can we for one moment argue that rationality defines our entire existence? How can we begin to adequately comprehend the extent of individual trauma? Therefore putting the emphasis in Verdi’s Il Trovatore on the medieval world of divine retribution and burnings at the stake, which were so common during the Spanish Inquisition, is not necessarily a bad thing. Director Adele Thomas is keen to make this link, as she herself comments: “It’s a world in which monsters and heaven and hell are not mere concepts, they are realities in people’s lives.” When this production originally aired in June 2023, having seen an earlier collaboration with very much the same creative team in October 2021 in Zürich, it was less than enthusiastically received by my colleague David Truslove (review). It is the uneven and inconsistent production that lets everything else down in this revival.
Attempts are made, principally in the costume department and through the occasional enhancement of a very bare set, to suggest the historical setting of 15th century Spain. Given the absence of much colour, the eye is drawn to the emerald-green gown that Leonora wears in Act 3 and the golden-yellow in which Count di Luna is attired throughout. However, nothing remotely suggests any of the designated locations or Spanish influence in the physical structure that dominates from start to finish. This is a flight of nine steps spread across the entire stage leading to a narrow platform, followed by another flight of eight steps, all reminiscent of 1960s brutalist architecture. All of this starkness is mitigated solely by a central section that is occasionally elevated and a series of flaps that permit gnomic creatures and warrior folk to make their presence felt.
I can understand why Hieronymus Bosch lent inspiration to certain curtain effects as well as the hyper-activity of hobgoblins that excel in constant writhing and acrobatic displays: after all, Bosch was noted for his realisation of terror, both internal and external. Yet this concept was under-utilised throughout. In a story which features the traumatised gypsy woman Azucena and the nightmarish recollection of fire and destruction, little of that was conveyed on stage. There were no hints of the supernatural at work. Even the lighting, which was for the most part severe, only had an occasional suffusion of warmth to trigger associations with funeral pyres. Stage movement was often overly busy: warriors looking like Isle of Lewis chess pieces shuffled from right to left and back again, clambered backwards and forwards over the steps or stood, during the Anvil Chorus for instance, waving their limbs in time to the music.
Sadly, it was the kind of production that never seemed to put itself at the service of the music. What ultimately redeemed the evening was the quality of the singing. The chorus displayed a surfeit of lusty virility but also impressed through graduated dynamics, maintaining its sterling reputation. There were no weak links in the casting of the four principal characters either. Onwards from her first big aria, “De tale amor”, which elides into recitative passages with her maid Ines, Rachel Willis-Sørensen was every inch the refined Spanish noblewoman, torn between the attentions of the troubadour Manrico and Count di Luna, with a fine legato line that caressed the ear and a plangency of tone that revealed the depth of her own torment. Leonora’s role is a daunting one for any Verdi soprano, and in addition to the absolute security of the voice Willis-Sørensen imbued her words with meaning, negotiating all the coloratura elements in her Act 4 aria, “D’amor sull’ali rosee”, with conviction. In her dying moments she retained a celestial, Bellini-like quality of lyrical beauty.
Equally impressive was the Azucena of Agnieszka Rehlis. The constant trauma was never far from the voice, expressed most vividly in her Act 4 references to “the stake”, at the point where she relives seeing her mother die in the flames and her mission to avenge the wrong done to her. The rounded, smoky richness of Rehlis’s voice, descending deep into the furthermost reaches of her chest register, was a defining feature of her big aria, “Stride la vampa”, in Act 2. She was particularly affecting too in her Act 4 duet with Manrico, “Ai nostri monti”, where her flights of fancy take her to an idyllic existence far removed from the grim reality of what she is actually facing.
If anything, the chocolate smoothness of Aleksei Isaev’s voice in his depiction of Count di Luna was at odds with his stereotype. Could this really be the villain of the piece? There was no message of cruelty, the generous baritonal warmth going a long way to explaining his allure for Leonora. Certainly, there was no absence of authority in his singing and, moreover, in his Act 2 cabaletta, “Per me ora fatale”, the character was stripped of outer accoutrements and showed all his humanly qualities.
And what of the title role itself? Manrico the troubadour needs a voice of lyrical ardour for his exchanges with Leonora, but also an ability to convey anguish at the notion that Azucena might not be his biological mother. Michael Fabiano easily encompassed the demands of the role, serenading Leonora with compelling charm in his Act 1 romanza, “Deserto sulla terra”, and nailing his high Cs in “Di quella pira” when confronting the possibility that his mother might be cast into the flames. The caramel loveliness of his voice was a constant delight.
It is sometimes argued that Il Trovatore is solely a singers’ opera. Much, however, also depends on the conductor’s ability to sustain rhythmic intensity and to draw out from the composer’s instrumental lines all the inherent vibrancy. I found Giacomo Sagripanti’s direction of the score wholly convincing. His treatment was on a grand symphonic scale, with a velvety softness in the violins and a sturdy bass line, the skipping rhythms neatly accentuated, the climaxes solid and weighty.
Il Trovatore remains one of Verdi’s most popular operas. The plot is not without absurdity and there is little for intellectuals and philosophers to ponder. It is nothing without first-class singing. When that is delivered, as was the case here, any doubts pale into insignificance.
Alexander Hall
Il Trovatore
Opera in four acts to a libretto by Salvatore Cammarano and Leone Emanuele Bardare, based on Antonio García Gutiérrez’s play El Trovador
Music by Giuseppe Verdi
Sung in Italian and with English surtitles
A co-production with Opernhaus Zürich
Cast and production staff:
Manrico – Michael Fabiano; Leonora – Rachel Willis-Sørensen; Count di Luna – Aleksei Isaev; Azucena – Agnieszka Rehlis; Ferrando – Riccardo Fassi; Ines – Valentina Puskás; Ruiz – Ryan Vaughan Davies; An old gypsy – Dominic Barrand; Messenger – Andrew O’Connor; Royal Opera Chorus, Chorus Director William Spaulding; Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Conductor Giacomo Sagripanti
Director – Adele Thomas; Revival Director – Simon Iorio; Designer – Annemarie Woods; Lighting Designer – Franck Evin; Dramaturg – Beate Breidenbach; Choreographer – Emma Woods
Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London; 26 February 2025
Top image: Rachel Willis-Sørensen as Leonora and Michael Fabiano as Manrico
Photos © Camilla Greenwell
Further performances until 22 March and then 8-19 July