Speranza
An outsize Rapscallion is let loose on post-war England
After Carsen’s production of Verdi’s “Falstaff”
had its premiere at the Covent Garden last year, word spread that
it was wonderful — a thoughtful, affecting and hilarious staging that updates
the action from the time of Henry IV to England in the 1950s.
Several
companies are partners in this production, including the Met,
which is a lucky thing for Verdi fans in New York.
The Carsen
production had its Met premiere on Friday night and immediately became a high
point of Gelb’s tenure as general manager.
A splendid cast is led by
the power-house Italian baritone Ambrogio Maestri, who owns the role of
Falstaff.
This was his 200th performance of it.
At 6 foot 5 with his Falstaffian
physique, Maestri certainly looks the part.
A natural onstage, and
surprisingly light on his feet, he makes Falstaff a charming rapscallion and
sings with consummate Italianate style.
The other important news is that
Levine, who continues to recuperate from the illnesses and injuries that
sidelined him for two years, is conducting.
As the audience
wandered into the house on Friday, Levine was already in the pit, seated on
the motorized wheelchair he conducts from these days, which had been placed atop
the special elevated platform that is his personal podium.
When the lights went
down and Levine’s chair lift was elevated so that he could be seen, the
audience broke into a sustained ovation.
He is a rightly beloved artist.
Still, this was the first time that I have had concern over Levine’s
work since he returned to conducting in May, when he led the Met Orchestra at
Carnegie Hall in a triumphant concert, then followed up with his distinguished
conducting of Mozart’s “Così Fan Tutte”.
There are
marvelous elements to this “Falstaff.”
Before Friday’s performance, Levine
conducted the work, Verdi’s final opera, 55 times, a Met record.
His insight
into and affection for the opera came through consistently.
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Verdi’s score is a
miracle of ingenuity.
Inspired by the librettist Arrigo Boito’s breezy
adaptation of Shakespeare’s comic verse, Verdi wrote music that responded
minutely to the patterns and flow of the words.
The music is like a gossamer
fabric of sewn-together snippets.
Levine revealed the continuity and
structure of those snippets in this performance.
The tempos he chose were
sometimes restrained, allowing for enhanced richness and breathing room.
No
doubt during rehearsals the cast benefited from his expert coaching and
experience.
But, there were shaky moments in the performance.
“Falstaff” is
an opera of ensembles, and some of these passages were a little scrappy.
You
could see singers glancing nervously at the prompter’s box and at Levine.
Maybe this was opening-night jitters and everything will fall into place.
And,
as always, Levine’s work had moments of glory, especially the silken
delicacy and sheer magic he brought to the late scene when Nannetta, Alice’s
sweet daughter, pretends to be the Queen of the Fairies during a prank the
townspeople play on poor Falstaff, who thinks he is being attacked by needling
witches and goblins.
Over all, when it comes to theatrical flair,
captivating costumes, stage antics and imagination, there are not many shows on
Broadway to rival the Met’s new “Falstaff.”
As he has explained in interviews,
Carsen thinks Verdi’s great comic opera is overcast with melancholy.
The
people of its community see the old ways of entitled aristocracy breaking down.
New class structures are emerging.
Carsen taps these resonances by placing
the story in the 1950s when England was recovering from World War II, the grand
homes of the entitled were being turned into hotels, and a modern age was
emerging of self-made men and liberated women.
Though Verdi’s Falstaff
clings to the trappings of aristocracy, he is a deluded, debt-ridden and
comically pathetic character.
This production opens in Falstaff’s lodging at the
Garter Inn, a spacious room with oak-paneled walls, the impressive work of the
set designer Paul Steinberg.
Room-service carts full of dirty dishes and empty
wine bottles are scattered everywhere.
We see Maestri’s Falstaff lounging in
a double bed, reading a paper, his hair a mess.
When this unkempt Falstaff
gets up, he is wearing floppy, grimy long johns, underwear he obviously never
changes.
But, after deflecting jabs about his obesity from his henchmen Bardolfo
(Keith Jameson) and Pistola (Christian Van Horn), Falstaff breaks into the
oratorical defense of his girth that Verdi provided the character.
To Falstaff,
his immensity is a sign of stature and potency.
When Maestri reached the
climax of this outburst, proudly slapping his paunch (“mio regno,” my kingdom,
he calls it), he dispatched the sustained top notes with chilling power.
In
the second scene, the merry wives are seen having a pleasant lunch together in a
dining room at the inn, all dressed in ladylike outfits, just some of the
countless costumes by the designer Brigitte Reiffenstuel that enliven this
production.
The soprano Angela Meade, fresh from an enormous success as
Bellini’s “Norma” at the Met, is a plush-voiced, wise Alice Ford.
Nannetta, the
winning soprano Lisette Oropesa, sings with effortless grace and lyrical bloom.
The excellent mezzo-soprano Jennifer Johnson Cano is Meg Page, first seen in a
sensible jacket and skirt.
And the superb mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe brings
her formidable voice, larger-than-life stage presence and droll comic ways to
Mistress Quickly.
Nannetta has fallen for the adoring, dashing Fenton, here
the young Italian lyric tenor Paolo Fanale in a promising Met debut.
In this
staging, Fenton works at the inn’s dining room, dressed smartly in a waiter’s
tux with white gloves.
He spots the young woman he has fallen for having lunch
across the room and melts, another sweet idea from Carsen.
I am
reluctant to describe more of the lovely touches in this staging lest I take
away one’s pleasure in seeing them fresh.
But I have to talk about Alice’s
kitchen, right out of Betty Crocker.
This is where Alice tries to teach Falstaff
a lesson by inviting him to what he thinks will be a dinner rendezvous while her
husband is away.
The walls are lined with bright yellow cabinets; the
countertops are mandarin orange.
Alice pops a chicken into the oven as she mixes
some creamy concoction in a bowl while sipping white wine. Falstaff arrives
looking ridiculous in an English riding outfit.
The baritone Franco
Vassallo, in the demanding role of Ford, sometimes sounded leathery and tight.
But he is a vivid actor who brings anguish and fury to the soliloquy when Ford,
a proud man who is rising in the world, actually thinks that Alice, his wife, is
interested in Falstaff. The tenor Carlo Bosi was a vocally solid Dr. Caius, the
stuffy professional Ford wants Nannetta to wed.
If Mr. Levine can settle the
performance into a more solid rhythmic groove, this “Falstaff” will enter the
annals of opera history.
Monday, December 9, 2013
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