Banal on the canal
Perhaps because this performance lacks the powerful personalities once thought essential, Pier Luigi Pizzi, director and designer of this production
Life in this Venice (which the liner notes suggest is a century later than originally set, in the period just before the fall of the Venetian Republic) is a dull gray, with a persistent fog as if death has cast a pall on the city.
The constant gloom could be monotonous, but Pizzi breaks it up with well-placed splashes of red. The costumes mirror this palette with the exception of Gioconda’s blue dress. The blood red sails of Enzo’s ship contrast well with the overarching drabness and make a striking image as they are engulfed in flames.
Unfortunately the effective visuals are mired in an extremely static staging that robs the drama of any cohesion and reduces much of it to a series of poses.
Richard Margison, looking more menacing than amorous, moves stiffly as Enzo, rarely indicating any real emotion or involvement. Vocally he is efficient, with an appropriately sized and well-produced voice, but one lacking any intrinsic beauty or Italianate style. He seems uninterested in connecting with, or even looking at anyone onstage except for the awkward moment when he and Elisabetta Fiorillo (Laura) embrace at the end of the love duet (and have difficulty positioning themselves correctly.) Not that Fiorillo offers much as his lover. Her mezzo is uneven and squally, and she offers little in the way of physical characterization other than occasionally repositioning herself and gesturing aimlessly.
The lower voices fare better. The direction of Carlo Guelfi’s Barnaba leaves him little room for any but the most awkward gestures (in the final scene he is positioned so far downstage from Gioconda he is forced to offer his advances from over his shoulder.) But at least his snarling baritone offers the right Italianate quality and his inability to sing legato is less of a deficit than it is in Verdi. Carlo Colombara as Alvise offers a well-produced bass of modest size and an appropriate musical style dripping with venom.
Ewa Podle? as La Cieca briefly offers a reminder of what a performance of Gioconda was once about. Although not necessarily in the best vocal estate, she nevertheless throws herself into the drama both physically and vocally with full commitment. She is the trooper as she is literally thrown about the stage as the sailors accuse her of witchcraft in the first act.
And then there is Deborah Voigt in the title role. She starts at a disadvantage. Hers was never the ideal quality for this music and the middle of her voice has lost the plushness that it once had (this performance was post-surgery). Yet the top is solid and while she doesn’t really live Italian style, she approaches the role with abandon. While in the past I’ve found her performances unemotional and with a lack of involvement, no such charge can be leveled at her here. Hampered by the context of the production, she succeeds in offering a committed characterization and generally secure vocalism. Is it a Gioconda for the ages? No, but it is a very fair stab at it with the considerable resources that she has available.
The chorus, although it sings well, lines up dutifully on the staircases as if entering Avery Fisher Hall to sing Messiah. Close ups reveal individuals registering a minimum of distraction or involvement in what is happening on stage.
A highlight of the performance is the semi-nude but effective Angel Corella in the “Dance of the Hours” ballet. In the pit Daniele Callegari handles the orchestra with style, although whoever directed the video might have opted not to include a shot of the orchestra members chatting while the music is being played.
So is this what La Gioconda has become in the twentieth century? With more apt vocal equipment Voigt may have become a great Gioconda. As it is, this video is a pale reminder of why Ponchielli’s opera was once a thrill for lovers of great singing.
Well, what a shame these ladies didn’t essay the whole piece -- they could even have swapped roles during the course of the run.
But who could have been La Cieca: who could have competed in terms of volume and pizzazz?
I particularly like the sudden fear, and subjugation conveyed by la B at that single word ‘Ciel’ at 1’01 -- and ‘furia orrenda’ at 2’00.
Well, Belfi, La Bumbarina sang both roles, didn’t she? I remember from recordings how she floated that bigh B pianissimo in that phrase “Enzo adorato, t’amo”, it was most of the time heavenly.
this one is from Barcelona, a bit too late in her career, 1988, but still a fabulously floated note, around 29:10:
here’s another clip, from the Met, with Carlo, 1979.
Of course, the line is “Enzo adorato, ah, come t’amo”…
the 1988 one is partnered with Cossotto – an unlikely pairing – I remember at the end of the big catfight duet – Grace’s Bb is a tiny bit sharp, and Fiorenza’s a bit flat – the resulting vibrations are most upsetting……………..Catalan cows lowing in the nearby grasslands were unable to produce milk for at least a year after that
Also I love how *pissed* Grace acts when Fiorenza can’t sustain the last high note. As if Grace had breath for days at this point of her career. Has there ever been a more perfect encapsulation of “bitch please” on an operatic stage than 3:39?
O lordy, that was priceless! Thanks so much for posting as Grace’s Gioconda high notes are excellent and fearless, as they should be! She does really sound like a soprano in this outing. Love the pacing around like a panther, as well.
This has been an eye and ear opener.
Oh, that note was all Cossotto’s fault, entirely.
Dear Camille-et-une-nuits, did Grace ever **not** pace around like a panther in one of her roles?
I’ll certainly never forget her pacing around in pink ostrich feathers in a concert performance of Medea at the Barbican in 1983 or so.
Grace never felt fear or subjugation before anything apart from the occasional top C and the D flat at the end of the Sleepwalking Scene. What an evening that was, eh, Belfi? That ‘Sorgi, sorgi!’ in the Anna Bolena duet still rings in my ear.
I think I lost much of my upper frequencies after that coruscating unison top C at the end of that -
“who could have been La Cieca?”
Why that’s easy; of course it had to be JESSYE.
Well, I thought of Jessye, but i’m not sure she would sound contralto enough compared to the rampant chests of our two divas – I think (apart from Domingo doing it now), it would have been best suited to Boris Christoff in a frock……..
The answer is so obvious, you know, Borodina, are there any other true contraltos these days besides Ewa?
Kein problem…Jessye can sing baritone, too. In fact, she is currently considering Simon Boccanegra….MingosenzaDo would be eccezionale, to say the least, as La Cieca, but don’t say it too loudly as you may give him ideas…he hasn’t crossed the countertenor line–YET!