Verdi : Ernani
Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Orchestra
Marco Armiliato
It has to be admitted that Ernani is the kind of opera that gives the genre a bad name. Whatever one might think of the music, the libretto is the most complete farrago of nonsense imaginable - Victor Hugo's fault, not Verdi's, but you have to wonder how on earth Verdi found any inspiration at all in a play that has more plot holes than a lace doily. Just to start with, the heroine's uncle wants to marry her? Nowhere does it say she was adopted into the family, and that's about the only option that might (!) have made such a thing possible. So you sit there trying to concentrate on the music, and not wincing as improbability piles upon improbability, and everyone behaves like a complete lunatic.
This is the first time I've seen Ernani, and thankfully Pier Luigi Samaritani's production was a pretty straight-forward, traditional affair, with monumental sets and sumptuous costumes. It gave me something nice to look at when my brain gave up on making sense of the action, although it wasn't, perhaps, the best of productions for a cinema broadcast, because it's all pretty sombre, to the point that the colours of the costumes weren't always clear. However, for a first viewing, I was quite glad I wasn't obliged to have to unravel some more ambitious director's re-interpretation of the work, in addition to its original convolutions.
It's an early Verdi work, created in the 1840s, a period of prolific, but slightly uneven output that Verdi himself called his "galley years". Verdi's rarely boring, even at his least imaginative, and Ernani certainly does not lack inspiration, though it doesn't burn with the white heat of, say, Nabucco, or Macbeth. The greatest 'lack', so to speak, is in the orchestra, which fulfils a relatively perfunctory, accompanying role here, less interesting than it could have been. It takes a deft hand to keep it from sounding plodding and to make the most of such opportunities as are available, and Marco Armiliato accomplished that admirably.
Also fortunately, the four principals were first-rate. I'm not a fan of Marcello Giordani (Ernani); although the voice is confident and clear, there's a bleating quality to his timbre that's a little displeasing, but his performance was strong and sure, and he's not inexpressive. Ferruccio Furlanetto's resonant bass voice is fading, but he's a good actor with a real presence, and his experience in nuancing his singing created a telling reading of his vengeful and embittered character. Rising star Angela Meade (Elvira) has been attracting a lot of attention in recent years; she's a fairly characteristic American lyric soprano, with an expansive, shining and flexible voice. Her diction's a trifle mushy, and her expressivity could do with some refinement, though Elvira's not the best of characters with which to work in that respect, but I'll be looking forward to hearing her again in the future.
However, the evening was dominated, and by quite some way, by Dmitri Hvorostovsky, as Don Carlo. He was in tremendous form, that lustrous baritone perfectly placed, warm, emotive and commanding. If his breath intake has become a little more audible than it used to be, the phenomenal breath control has not diminished in the least, spinning great, long arcs of phrase to wonderful effect. I have occasionally thought him a little wooden as an actor, but not tonight; he was compelling, the centre of attention the instant he appeared, and as convincing as any of these peculiar characters are capable of being, a truly majestic interpretation. This is the kind of performance that justifies the very existence of opera; for all its improbabilities and absurdities, this is why we love it.
[Next event: 29th February]
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