‘La Traviata,’ Theatre Royal

Press, 22 July 1989, Page 12

‘La Traviata,’ Theatre Royal

Verdi’s “La Traviata.” Presented by the Canterbury Opera with the support of the Bank of New Zealand. Theatre Royal. July 20, 22, 25, 27, 29, at 8 p.m. Reviewed by Paul Goodson.

“La Traviata,” Verdi’s three-act opera (not fouract, as the programme notes represent it) remains one of the most accessible and widely-per-formed works in the genre.

Canterbury Opera is to be congratulated on mounting a production which met the challenges inherent in casting, design and language with, in the main, inventiveness, common sense and serviceability. The decision to perform the work in Italian was the right one. Projecting an English text high above the stage, which alternated between summing up the action and providing a line-by-line translation, was a sensible concession.

There appeared to be an arbitrary element to this process, however, in terms of the actual translations used, exactly what was superimposed, and pace of changes, all of which could do with some readjustment. Lowering the projection by two metres would also have allowed more immediate visual coupling of the text with stage action. The set was spare yet versatile. The three-sided colonnades and porticos

provided natural entry and exit points and formed a suitable backdrop to the frozen chorus tableau of the first act. The “painter and decorator” set of Act 11, Scene one was at odds with the text, however, and distorted the import of Annina’s and Germont’s words and Violetta’s letter.

Lighting throughout was sombre and cold. Whatever the atmospheric underpinning of the plot intended by these generally vertically-aligned shafts, the salon scenes could have been heightened by side lighting and more brilliant colouring, especially the use of red, which would have given greater force and contrast to the stark monochrome of Violetta’s death scene. The movement of the soloists and chorus was wisely concentrated in the foreground; the high curtaining above the stage tended to swallow up sound from mid-stage backwards. There were a few oddities in stage direction, mainly concerned with the essentially bourgeois ethic of the plot. It wasn’t necessary, for instance, to have Alfredo and Violetta join hands in Act I, nor to have Alfredo lolling on his back at the opening of Act 11. Even Violetta’s sinking to the floor in Act I was somewhat clumsily done — better to reserve "ground effects” for times of real emotional

torpor. Expressions of passion or sentiment generally are often as well shown through suggestion rather than by overt action.

But there were many attractive touches — the gentle waltzing which accompanied Alfredo’s “Libiamo” and broke up the chorus’s tendency to linear regimentation; the tension and poignancy of the gaming scene; and the pacing of Violetta’s death. Any nineteenth-century opera demands at least two strong principals, invariably soprano and tenor. Nicola FernerWaite’s Violetta was a stunning portrayal. This singer has a full, generous tone, rich and even right through the range, but also agility well up to the coloratura demands of the “E strano ... Ah, fors’e lui” sequence. Her aria “Addio, del passato” was beautifully done.

She also has a commanding and magisterial presence which dominated the stage and gave her exchanges with the elder Germont real authority.

Against this strength of portrayal, both vocal and dramatic, Michael Fiacco had a daunting task. Vocally he brings a lovely flow of tone to Alfredo’s arias and exchanges. Except for sharpening and one or two exposed high notes, there was also security and strong projection. His treatment of vowels was

highly expressive. Dramatically, his mobile vocal features and a certain neutrality of physical interaction with his father and Violetta reduced the tragic dimension, and almost gave the appearance of youthful dalliance rather than scarcely-restrained passion.

His outrage against Violetta at Flora’s salon was packed with incipient drama and threat, but his return to his dying love needed more urgency and tenderness.

Graeme Gorton’s stage work has an authority which always captures and holds the audience’s attention. Act 11, Scene one is a long section, and though the baritone demands of Germont’s role occasionally overtaxed him, this was a wellsustained character portrayal. The chorus was vocally well schooled and crisp in articulation. An even more marked staccato where indicated and exaggeration of vowels would have lifted the brazen quality of the opening scene. The horror of Violetta’s humiliation at Alfredo’s hands was convincingly done. After a scratchy "Overture” and stodginess in accompanying string figures in the first act, the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Vanco Cavdarski, moved into assured collaboration as the opera progressed.