- Roméo
et Juliette: “Le Rêve
Était Trop Beau…”
-
- As
we left Genoa in the predawn darkness of 5:00 am to catch our
flight home, all was still. Even the great fountain in the
center of Piazza de Ferrari that faced Teatro Carlo Felice was a
cold, dark profile, bereft of the sparkling waters that had
animated it in daylight. Genoa was a city of dreamers on the
verge of waking to reality, reinforcing my own thoughts
preoccupied with a hard truth. Our hopes for Andrea’s Romeo et Juliette had run the same emotional gamut as the fate of
those ill-fated lovers—from exuberant anticipation to the
realization that a beautiful dream had been snatched away.
- Generally,
nothing good ever comes of a man walking onstage with microphone
in hand before a theatrical performance begins. In this case,
the full force of the message the Superintendent of the Teatro
Carlo Felice had to deliver on opening night of Roméo
et Juliette came slowly as I struggled to comprehend the
swiftly delivered Italian of his announcement. Roughly
translated, he explained that Genoa had been seized by an
extraordinary cold spell, as a result influenza was rampant,
Andrea had fallen victim, he had called earlier in the day to
say it was impossible for him to sing the opening performance.
The tenor in the alternate cast was called. But he was in even
worse shape. Andrea was consulted again. In the end, it was only
owing to his “great heart” that we were to have the “real
Andrea Bocelli” sing after all. A sigh of relief murmured
through the audience. But…
-
-
- “O nuit divine” (Act 2,
scene 5)
- Without
doubt, this production of Roméo et Juliette at the Teatro Carlo Felice was visually and
musically ravishing! The mostly young cast benefitted from the
spotlight that shone on all because of Andrea Bocelli’s
“straordinario” participation. Fabio Luisi, a native son of
Genoa, lent his extraordinary talent and his prestige as the
newly named principal conductor of the Metropolitan Opera of New
York. The sold-out performances were a welcome infusion for a
theater that is struggling, like so many other Italian cultural
institutions, from the financial cuts imposed by an economy in
crisis. Many had been drawn to Genoa from around the world to
take advantage of the rare opportunity of seeing and hearing
Andrea in a staged opera.
- Andrea
made a fine Romeo—clean-shaven, youthfully fit, all gray
banished from his hair. He was clad in a dashingly tailored
leather jacket of vivid teal lined in a deep tangerine that was
shown to effect in the stand-up collar that nicely framed his
handsome face. He was secure enough in his masculinity—and
tall enough—to carry off the generous gathered folds of the
courtly velvet pants that were set off by a pair of high cuffed
boots of brown suede. The role of Juliet is a coloratura tour de
force for a young soprano, and Andrea’s partner both nights,
Maite Alberola, sang brilliantly and was a supportive colleague,
interacting tenderly and passionately with her Romeo. Also,
Romeo’s lively young page Stéphano, portrayed with great
panache by Annalisa Stroppa, played a critical role at his side
to ease Andrea’s stage movements, but with incredibly skillful
subtlety. She brought the house down with her vocally secure and
dazzling rendition of the arrogant song in Act 3 that mocks the
Capulets and precipitates the unfortunate street conflict that
ends tragically. Certainly each one in the cast contributed fine
vocal highlights, and the chorus was particularly strong.
- With
suggestive simplicity, the set designs reinforced Gounod’s
romantically lyrical and emotionally dramatic work—for Act 2,
the sloping brick garden wall backed by an impressionistic line
of tall, dark-green cedars, so typical of the Italian
countryside, with the full moon projected on the backdrop among
the treetops; for Act 3, the architecturally massive striped
walls, rows of graceful archways, and the sloping
crescent-shaped piazza reminiscent of Siena and so many other
Tuscan hill towns; Act 4 suggested Juliet’s bedroom using
voluminous folds of white drapery cascading from ceiling to
floor; and for Act 5, the stark symmetry of four sepulchers
provided the grim backdrop for the tragic denouement.
- The
imaginative set design and staging also creatively allowed
Andrea to make the best use of his capabilities. How effortless
it seemed when he sought a hiding place to conceal himself from
the rival Capulet gang and dodged with agility around the side
of the sloping garden wall or leapt with athletic ease a good
three feet to reach the reward of his Juliet standing enticingly
above him on that same wall. Act 3 required a demanding sword
fight between Romeo and Tybalt that ends in Tybalt’s death and
is crucial to the plot. Cleverly, the fight begins in view of
the audience but is quickly moved to the hidden spot behind the
two rows of archways that formed a focal point at the front of
the stage. We hear the urgent clanging of the swords and, at the
pivotal moment, the two rows of arches are swiftly drawn back
into the wings of the stage revealing Romeo delivering the death
blow to Tybalt. As he has often done in previous staged
productions, Andrea demonstrated an uncanny ease of stage
presence, relaxed and secure, as at the beginning of the Act 3
wedding scene in Frère Laurent’s cell, when he strode
unhesitatingly from the back of the stage down the sloped floor,
stopped precisely beside Frère Laurent, and knelt swiftly and
easily at his feet. In this same scene, it required considerable
stamina for him to kneel upright on the unforgiving wooden stage
for the duration of the long wedding ceremony while
enthusiastically singing the exchanged vows.
- Andrea
effectively used impressive subtlety of gesture in his
characterization. Naturally, there are frequent love scenes
central to the action of the opera, and Andrea conveyed toward
Juliet a genuine tenderness in the kisses (a courtly caress of
his lips to her shyly extended hand at their first meeting in
Act 1), embraces (youthfully torrid stolen kisses in the garden
scene of Act 2), and gentle gestures of affection (the Act 3
scene that ardently consummates their love as husband and wife
before Romeo’s departure into exile).
- When
Andrea parts from Juliet at their first meeting, the final note
of his farewell aria that is like a gentle lullaby is punctuated
by his hand extended back to deliver a blown kiss to his
sleeping love. Andrea shows realistic effort to subdue his
initial anger when provoked by Tybalt in the sung dialogue
leading up to their fateful duel and finally unleashes
convincing justified rage at the death of his friend Mercutio at
Tybalt’s hand. The contrast he evoked between the two phases
of emotion was very effective. When Mercutio dies, he tenderly
closes the eyes of his beloved friend in a sorrowful stroke. In
the final death scene of Act 5, as he approaches the body of
Juliet on the sepulcher, he slowly draws the white veil that
covers her with a gesture of all-consuming sadness and kisses
her lips with a visible grief perfectly reflecting the lyric,
“mes lèvres, donnez-lui votre dernier baiser [my lips, give
her your last kiss].” When, in this same scene, Juliet learns
for the first time that her Romeo is doomed by the poison he has
taken, Andrea’s strong supportive embrace and loving stroke of
her hair effectively underscores the gentle words he sings with
an inspired sadness to seek to rally her: “Console-toi, pauvre
âme, le rêve était trop beau! [Console yourself, poor soul,
the dream was too beautiful!]”
-
-
- “Ah, jour de deuil” (Act
2, Scene 4)
- There
is a saying: hindsight is always 20/20. If only Frère Laurent
had told Romeo that Juliet’s death was merely feigned. If only
Andrea had somehow avoided the illness that, in fact, robbed him
of full voice. We will never know what he could have done in
this most challenging of vocal roles. Although our tenor made
the courageous choice to sing and tried valiantly to overcome
the effects of the malady that besieged his voice, the reality
is that his two performances were a shadow of what might have
been achieved.
- Yet,
despite this loss, there were many memorable vocal moments,
particularly the second night when Andrea did seem to rally (an
effort that may, in fact, have taken its toll and led to the
crisis that forced the final performance’s cancellation). Both
nights, the audience responded warmly to the evening’s
achievements, applauding solidly each of the beautifully blended
love duets and the strong high notes that Andrea managed in his
arias despite the toll taken by his illness—particularly the
long, high powerful note of final protest at the end of the
third act when Romeo responds to the sentence of exile.
- Perhaps
it is an unforgivable transgression in the sternly
tradition-bound world of opera cognoscenti to “break character”
and react to an enthusiastic audience response, but who would be
so unfeeling as to reprimand the compelling honesty of
Andrea’s grateful smile after he completed a very solid
rendition of “Ah lève-toi, soleil” that expresses the
yearning for the appearance of his Juliet in the tranquil garden
scene of Act 2. And
Romeo’s gentle aria of farewell to Juliet at their parting,
“Va…ripose,” was as delicate as a blown kiss, as ephemeral
as a dream imbued with the wistful melancholy born at the
soulful source of Andrea’s singular voice. Yet, in the final
death scene the second night, with perspiration on his brow, it
was clear that he had given all that he had and was physically
spent at the dramatic vocal moment when the lovers’ voices are
raised together to ask God’s pardon. Everyone seemed
appreciative of the cost required to give everything he could,
and the curtain calls were numerous. But the toll had been taken.
- Unlike
others who had seen the announcements on the Internet Monday
night of the forced cancellation of the third performance, we
went to bed dreaming of a chance for a rejuvenated Andrea to
display his true strengths. This was also Andrea’s assumption
when he left for Tuscany Sunday evening. Jack learned the
disappointing news from one of the State Department guards
protecting the American ambassador who was staying at our hotel
and had planned to attend the third opera. It is difficult not
to draw a comparison—the ill-fated houses of Montague and
Capulet—the ill-fated house of Bocelli. Painful memories
returned of the strike in Palermo that had robbed us of
Andrea’s Faust. We
shared our woes over breakfast Tuesday morning. One fan offered
a glimpse of the final death scene she had secretly recorded on
her camera. It was intensely dramatic and the singing quite
wonderful. Perhaps, after all, a DVD could be possible? Multiple
cameras and microphones were visible recording the performances
the first two nights, and there was footage from the dress
rehearsal. But with the doctor’s orders to Andrea to cease the
use of his voice for the immediate future, the finishing touches
for the CD and DVD projects could be in jeopardy. Only time will
tell.
- In
the end, we did decide to go to the final performance. The
French tenor Jean-Francois Borras, who had been called in at the
last minute to replace Andrea, was more than capable (albeit a
bit plump—the finely tailored leather jacket was a tight
squeeze and the love scene in the “floating” bed was more
than a little cramped for space). For me, the performance was a
bit like the waterless great fountain in the piazza. There was
no Andrea. The life had been drained from the experience. My
heart ached to hear another sing the gentle “Va…ripose,”
an aria that reflected so perfectly the singularly warm, natural,
delicate beauty of Andrea’s voice. Although there did not seem
to be a noticeable decrease in the audience numbers because of
Andrea’s absence, they were not nearly as responsive as they
had been to him.
-
-
- “Il faut partir, hélas!” (Act
4, Scene 1)
- Once
again, Andrea’s charismatic talent and great heart had
gathered friends to him from around the world and opened the
door to the delights of his beloved Italy. We had eagerly
sampled what Genoa, a city rich in history and culture, had to
offer. Because of our Tuscan tenor, we had basked in the beauty
of Liguria and the coastal towns of the dazzling “Italian
Riviera” and tasted the regional cuisine of the great port
that had launched Christopher Columbus to a New World. We had a
new opera to add to the growing list of musical treasures we
might never have known without Andrea’s inspiration to explore
them. For now, we would carefully tuck away the fragile moments
of magic we had gathered from an enchanting sojourn in Genoa and
each return to our homes that span the globe. As for Andrea, he
now prepares a new and most challenging role—as the daddy of
little Virginia. In bocca al lupo, babbo, and also to valiant
Veronica!
-
- by
Cami McNamee
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