Calixto Bieito directs a moving Suor Angelica and Il prigioniero in Rome

The pairing of two one-act operas, Puccini’s Suor Angelica (1918) and Dallapiccola’s Il prigioniero (1950), is not new but is very fitting, and Calixto Bieito’s new staging at the Teatro dell’Opera di Roma highlights the common themes of imprisonment and disappointed hope. Both operas can be read on two levels: a literal-historical one and a metaphorical one. Their juxtaposition and the specific choices of Bieito’s direction here greatly amplify the metaphorical reading, conveying the universal tragedy of human hope frustrated by reality, of individual aspirations fighting aimlessly against higher, uncontrollable powers.

The touching points between the two operas go beyond the themes, extending to the music as well. The destructuring of the purely “melodic” concept of opera is already present in Suor Angelica, while Puccini’s perceivable influence on Il prigioniero leaves space to a more contemporary idea of opera that brings this destructuring to the next level, one in which we are not waiting for a pretty aria to move us. But we are, still, moved.

After the minute of silence observed in the theatre for the recent passing of Pope Francis, the curtain opened onto Anna Kirsch’s highly contrasting set. Brightly, coldly lit by Michael Bauer, a garden with wild flowers is surrounded by dark striped walls, which soon come to suggest, more than a cloister, but prison bars. The nuns happily appear on stage in their white cassocks and the musical atmosphere is initially one of lightness. The direction, though, taking freedom from the libretto, begins little by little to imply a similitude between the convent and an asylum, with some of the nuns acting like madwomen, as in the Abbess, sung effectively by Annunziata Vestri. The atmosphere shifts and the drama suddenly unravels with the visit of the La zia principessa of contralto Marie-Nicole Lemieux to Corinne Winters’ Suor Angelica.

Winters sang a great Angelica. Although showing a slight thinning of the voice in some of the top notes, her timbre was warm, her acting very natural. Perhaps due to her brighter contralto tone lacking enough contrast with the soprano, or to a too gaudy costume (a modern floral dress), Lemieux’ princess lacked the necessary solemnity and austerity required. Among the many secondary roles playing the different nuns, difficult to tell apart for their brevity and common costumes, one voice left a strong impression with her few lines even to the back of the theatre: Maria Elena Pepi’s La sorella infermiera. A mezzo-soprano with a dark, luscious colour and a sensitive interpretation, still part of the Young Artist Program of the theatre, she seems ready to take on much bigger roles. 

The same set was used for Il prigioniero, but here we see the garden lifting to leave a dark cell. In both operas, flowers symbolise the hopes and wishes of the “prisoners”, vanishing in contact with hard reality. The protagonist, the Prisoner, was sung by Mattia Olivieri, with a rich, resonant baritone. Ingo Krügler’s costumes were a mixed bag, sometimes playing against the story. Like the aforementioned case of the Zia Principessa, so for the Mother, sung by Ángeles Blancas, here in a very modern white suit and overall “postmodern” which looked out of place. Tenor John Daszack took the double role of the Gaoler and the Grand Inquisitor.

Michele Mariotti conducted both works equally well, from the sweet sounds of Puccini to the apparent harshness of Dallapiccola’s brilliant and complex score. The chorus showcased its full power and fascination in the second choral intermezzo. Overall this was a most successful evening, reminding the audience present in the not very full theatre that bel canto is not the only way opera can touch our spirits.