LA DONNA DEL LAGO

Speranza

La donna del lago, Metropolitan Opera, New York — review

Joyce DiDonato shines in an otherwise poor production of Rossini’s opera

From left, John Osborn, Joyce DiDonato and Juan Diego Flórez in 'La donna del lago'

Joyce DiDonato can do almost anything.


She can sing high and low, loud and soft, and somehow make it all seem natural. She can manage florid runs and agitated climaxes as if they were expressive devices, not just vocal pyrotechnics. She can look sweetly demure, fondling flowers, or awesomely heroic, confronting royalty. She can make a simple gown look elegant, and a small gesture look big. Most important, she can reinforce such achievements with a mezzo-soprano — maybe a soprano sfogato — equally notable for richness and purity.

She compelled admiration against the odds on Monday when the Met staged Rossini’s ornate La donna del lago for her. Although the opera has been performed here in a concert version and at the lamented City Opera, the Metropolitan Opera has ignored Sir Walter Scott’s lady and her lake until now.

So why that introductory qualifier, almost? Because even DiDonato cannot make a bad production look good. And this was a bad production that served little beyond economy.

The decors and traffic directions came from the Santa Fe Opera, a plucky summertime company in the New Mexico desert. Its open stage offers a stunning view of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. The opulent Met needlessly imitated the primitive setup, importing the clumsy inaction scheme created in 2013 by Paul Curran (direction) with Kevin Knight (design), and painting the mountains.

DiDonato found worthy colleagues in Juan Diego Flórez (Giacomo V) and John Osborn (Rodrigo di Dhu). Both tenors negotiated the extreme stratosphere bravely, the former stressing lofty elegance, the latter settling for routine extroversion. Stately Daniela Barcellona looked odd en travestie as young Malcom, sporting beard, moustache and kilt. Still, she managed the dangerous range and awkward fioriture creditably. Oren Gradus snarled stock-basso gravitas as Duglas.

Michele Mariotti, the conductor, sustained urgency plus stability in the pit. Unlike many a colleague, he knows precisely when to follow, when to lead and, most crucial, how to validate old operatic clichés.