There is a good reason for Giuseppe Verdi’s fascination with the plays of Shakespeare: the Maestro of modern Italian opera recognised the pure electricity of drama when he saw it. And he saw it, in huge heaping dollops, in the tragedies of the Bard. As a result, a century later we continue to be treated to Macbeth and Othello (and their respective looney and loving ladies) strutting their stuff upon the boards of Verdi’s operatic stage . . . and with typically juicy Verdi scores and arias to sustain their Shakespearian stature. Real drama, Baby! The raw stuff of human conflict and the interplay of powerful emotions form the core of virtually every Verdi masterpiece.
The Maestro was not content to restrict himself to Shakespeare’s roster of intriguing characters. His dramatic imagination, like his musical one, was expansive - creating larger than life figures like Rigoletto and the Duke, the memorable cavalcade (literal and figurative) of Aida’s histrionic cast and those fascinating, if troubled, characters sitting around campfires and orating passionately while accompanied by tuned hammering anvils (in tune and in chorus no less!) in Il Trovatore. High drama, indeed, with predictably high-spirited characters and soul-wrenching music to match.
And what does all this drama (some would say melodrama - and we haven’t even mentioned Giacomo Puccini...yet) have to do with singers traversing the dramatic waters of the operatic repertoire? Plenty. It is time for a few of us non-singing lovers of Grand Opera (who also, it seems, missed out on the joys of formal musical training) to register a complaint - or perhaps, in the spirit of fraternité, let us say an observation in the form of a question: where has all the passion gone? Opera lends itself, and always has, to incredible depths of analysis, most of which is directed (and with some good reason) at the quality of the singers’ performances.
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I would not invite the wrath of St. Cecilia or any other patron/muse/godlike overseer of the musical arts by criticising this time-honoured pastime of the opera critic and fanatic operagoer. I will, however, point out that opera is a uniquely multi-disciplined artistic experience: musical score, vocal acrobatics, and acting. Sadly, in so many performances today, one is hard-pressed to find that third element, to feel the real drama at the core of the opera experience. Watching Luciano shuffle from one position on the stage, where one aria is delivered in stentorian fashion, to another position on the stage, where a second aria is similarly (and stultifyingly) flung at the audience is about as far from high drama as one can get. Yet it passes as suitable opera performance all the time. It should not.
In the early 90s, Baz Luhrmann produced a La Boheme at the Sydney Opera House that was positively electrifying (so electrifying, in fact, that it managed to survive a healthy sojourn on New York’s Broadway some 10 years later, in defiance of the popular myth that opera would not appeal to Broadway’s “Musical Theatre Crowd”). In place of the usual world class headliners, Luhrmann’s Sydney production gave us two young singers, relative unknowns (Cheryl Barker and David Hobson), whose vibrant, utterly moving Mimi and Rodolfo are paradigms for what operatic drama is all about.
For singers just entering the operatic fray, clutching scores, endlessly working on phrasing and musicality, may I respectfully suggest a video rental of that early 90s La Boheme as part of your preparation? You are actors as well as singers. And those of us privileged to form your audience are there to hear you sing, yes. But with the music you must give us the drama, too. Bring out that passion (please!) that Grand Opera is so uniquely designed to provide. Those of us seated before you will gratefully applaud both the music (which delights) and the drama (which brings catharsis to the weary soul).
Russ MacKechnie
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