In the bicentenary anniversary of Giuseppe Verdi, tributes are aplenty. On Saturday evening, Los Angeles Opera presented a new production of the Italian master’s final work, Falstaff, though that wasn’t all. Following a spirited pre-concert talk by maestro James Conlon, a beautifully detailed bronze bust of the birthday boy was ceremoniously unveiled, a gift of the Italian consulate for permanent display at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. It was an impressive tribute and a fine feather in the cap of the relatively young company. Yet the performance to follow was the real treat.
Verdi’s last opera, a challenge in many facets, is one of his most surprisingly rewarding. This new production, directed by Lee Blakeley, was firing on all cylinders from the get-go. Based on two of Shakespeare’s plays, the action is necessarily specific to its original time and place. Bustling and intricate, this production delivers on authenticity. Sets and costumes by Adrian Linford were attractive and functional in the Tudor style. The stage was a raised, wooden Globe-like platform. The action was fluid and logistics were cleverly managed by way of a scrim that helped with transitions (it was also used as a projection screen between scenes). Verdi’s opera, already succinct, was even more so here.
The comedy was presented with a self-awareness that was endearing. But like well done Shakespeare, slapstick was kept at a minimum and the audience’s attention to subtlety was well rewarded. The exceptionally strong cast delivered and performed deftly, to say nothing of their musical prowess.
There was no doubt who the star of the evening was. Roberto Frontali’s performance as the portly knight was masterful. His character was endearing and nimbly delivered. The Italian bass’ voice was rich and complex in hue, but beautifully even throughout his range. It is a large sound that has the flexibility for such a demanding role. While occasionally slipping into “buffa” mode, his voice soared naturally and his high notes were tantalizing. Frontali’s is a voice is a throwback to the golden age of Verdi singing. His first-act monologue was a riot but sung with the utmost conviction in his character’s principals. Frontali’s Falstaff was sympathetic but haunting. This was an endearing character with serious shortcomings, who some of us may not be too far off from becoming – Frontali made that abundantly clear.
The rest of the cast, while not Frontali’s equal vocally, were splendid conspirators. Baritone Marco Caria was a dour and dupable Ford. His aria was a dramatic occasion and sung with a thrilling Verdi baritone sonority. His merry wife, Alice, was sung by the fine singing actress Carmen Giannattasio. A soprano of considerable vocal power, her voice broadened occasionally, but it was a steely, soaring sonority that Giannattasio manipulated for memorable dramatic affect. Erica Brookhyser was lacking in vocal core, but she was charmingly neurotic as the scheming Meg, a nervous counterweight to the brazen Alice Ford.