Verdi : Macbeth
Chorus of La Monnaie
Orchestre symphonique de La Monnaie
Paolo Carignani
Renovation plans have seen the company of La Monnaie performing extra muros this season, in a kind of big top structure to the north of the city centre. The original plan was for this arrangement to last only until the end of this year, but delays in the works have placed the entire season out in the tent, with quite a bit of upset to the programming, so I understand. This Macbeth, which opened the Monnaie's season, was, however, always scheduled for this venue, and designed accordingly, with substantial use of projected images to enliven the decor. Projections also filled the black-screen 'curtain' with Rorschach blots and mirror images, shots of the brain and short sequences of what looked like sleep-study patients.
As if this wasn't worrying enough, when the screen parted, the chorus was (briefly) shown seated at the back of the stage, in regular mufti, before they were obscured from sight and the stage filled with a group of prancing figures that looked like a cross between a Weimar Republic cabaret and extras from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. In fact, with one exception, the chorus stayed predominantly out of view, sometimes in the wings, sometimes seated at the rear where they were occasionally allowed in to view - almost certainly, I think, because at those points the demands of the music were too complex to risk them being out of direct line of sight of the conductor. The director should have been paying attention to the rest too, because there was a distinct lack of precision in the choral singing, almost certainly imputable to their constant off-stage presence.
Meanwhile the stage was filled with sixteen dancers, now in their "Rocky Horror in Weimar" guises, as witches, now in hotel livery, as maids and grooms and wait-staff, cavorting around senselessly and with a total lack of anything that could reasonably be called choreography, other than a vague evocation of the Frug at one point. Ah, yes, because this was Macbeth seen as early 70s American daytime TV. Set in an hotel. What does this have to do with Scotland, and monarchy? Don't ask me, I'm still trying to work it out. Except that I think the director, Olivier Fredj, meant it all as some sort of psycho-dream. Macbeth himself tended to act like a puppet with his strings cut throughout most of the first half, while Lady Macbeth flailed around like an unholy blend of Edina Monsoon and Jennifer Hart.
After three acts of generalised insanity, however, Fredj suddenly seemed to switch gears completely. The start of Act 4 began with a real stroke of inspiration, for the Chorus of Exiles was (excellently) sung from within the auditorium, amongst the audience. During this, Macduff walked down from them to the front of the auditorium, and for a long, hallucinatory moment, he stood facing a sleepwalking Lady Macbeth through the scrim of the stage, staring into each other's eyes, before he turned and addressed "Ah, la paterna mano" directly to the front rows of the audience. Andrew Richards gave a heart-felt performance of the aria, providing one of only two unequivocally successful interpretations of the evening. The other belonged to Carlo Colombaro's Banquo, a solid, noble bass voice and a steady portrayal.
From that point on, Fredj took the remainder of the work seriously enough. There was no funny business in the Sleepwalking Scene, and the battle scene passed, if a little oddly, with Macbeth being attacked by his own hotel staff. It did pass, however, and the close was interesting, because Fredj opted to revert to Verdi's 1846 conclusion. In this, Macbeth, who has been lying inert on the floor after his confrontation with Macduff, sheds the ermine-trimmed coat that is the symbol of his power, and walks off stage, as isolated and forgotten as his text indicates at this point, while in the brief choral conclusion, Malcolm, visibly reluctant, is pushed forward to pick up the coat, which he does with trepidation. I liked this conclusion, it finally had some kind of resonance with possible interpretations of the play, and did not swear at the music, and it's a pity Fredj didn't provide that sort of imagery and thinking throughout the rest of the work.
The Macbeth was American baritone Scott Hendricks, a muscular voice a bit lacking in subtlety, with a good, resonant timbre, a little darker than I prefer, but more than acceptable. Like everyone else, the last act allowed something to finally click into place in his reading, and again, I wished he had been given the opportunity to do something more with his character, it might have inflected on his singing too.
Beatrice Uria-Monzon has been a mezzo for most of her career - she's a very well-known Carmen, amongst other roles - but lately she's been edging into dramatic soprano roles, Tosca a couple of years ago, and now this Lady Macbeth. I have to say that I've never been much of a fan, I never really liked the quality of her voice, but it's been some years since I last heard her live, and voices change. Not enough, alas, she still has a disconcertingly wide vibrato, some of her notes can lack focus, and she never really convinced me dramatically, not enough smoulder to her Lady. This was a two-dimensional performance, reasonably efficient, but not compelling. Finally, the orchestra played well enough, and was given some room to shine, for we also got the full ballet score, but Carignani's conducting could never quite be called inspired.
A rather odd evening altogether, in conclusion.
[Next : 8th October]
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