Erkel’s Hunyadi László has been a staple of Hungarian repertoire since its composition. Set in 1456, the opera depicts a turbulent period in Hungarian history, with weak-willed King László V on the throne and the Gara-Cillei and the Hunyadi-Szilágyi leagues competing for power. While László Hunyadi is honorable and loyal to his king, Cillei and Gara are both aiming to grab the throne for themselves, manipulating the king into believing that Hunyadi is planning a coup against him, but while Cillei’s intrigue comes to light and he’s slain by Hunyadi’s supporters in Act 1, Gara succeeds, and the opera ends with Hunyadi’s execution.
Though riddled with intrigue and backstabbing, Hunyadi has a rather straightforward story, but Gábor Szűcs’s production (premiered in 2012) struggles with concise storytelling, lacking tension, clarity and coherency. Szűcs frames the story in a modern setting, with businessmen-like figures carrying around the major objects of the plot (such as the crown or Cillei’s letter), the relevance of which is never quite made clear. The staging then transfers us to the 1840s; a rather ham-fisted way of pointing out the quite blatant parallels between the political situation depicted in the opera and current at the time of its composition, with “true Hungarians” fighting against “foreigners”, and László V being a stand-in for the similarly ineffectual Ferdinand V. King László here, however, is depicted more like Franz Joseph, a baffling choice, as he was certainly a much-hated ruler in Hungarian history but hardly one known for ineptitude.
The production likes to keep busy, convoluting the staging: the projections and dancers distract from, rather than add to, the scenes they are involved in, the rigid choreography of the chorus comes across as comic (especially the standoff between Hunyadi’s soldiers and the king’s mercenaries, where the mercenaries angrily shaking their fists looks rather like something straight out of Monty Python), and the choice of splitting the trouser role of young Mátyás Hunyadi to have a young boy play him while the mezzo sings the role feels wrong.
The costuming is similarly perplexing. While 19th-century clothing prevails, the Hungarians dressed in national garb and the king's retinue in Austrian uniforms, László Hunyadi is, for the first two acts, wearing a leather coat that makes him look like a member of a biker gang rather than a Hungarian nobleman and Cillei's uniform seems to be closer to the Wehrmacht’s than the Imperial Army’s. The sets are sparse and rather nondescript, the castles of Buda, Temesvár and Nándorfehérvár hardly distinguishable, the only memorable piece of stage design being Hunyadi’s prison in Act III, a properly sombre and suffocating for his scene.