First presented in Perth in 2002, West Australian Opera’s Il trovatore (a co-production with Opera Queensland and State Opera of South Australia) is dedicated to the memory of director Elke Neidhardt, and here the stage becomes hers. Caringly powered by rehearsal director Matthew Barclay, Neidhardt’s exquisite direction and fastidious attention to detail generates and propels the drama of Giuseppe Verdi’s 1853 opera with captivating force, demonstrating a lively interplay between a solid-acting cast and precise timing of onstage action as events harmonise with Verdi's compelling music. Transposed with energetic seamlessness to the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, Neidhardt’s Il trovatore is a lesson in directorial rigour, leveraging Verdi's composition with biting freshness and immediacy.
Verdi's four-act opera is presented in two acts separated by one interval, each act consisting of two original parts without loss of the opera's content. This trifling change exemplifies the extent to which detail appears paramount. Act I concludes with such energy as Manrico saves Leonora both from entering the convent and being abducted by Count di Luna, that Verdi’s combined Parts I and II give a sense of jubilant completion under Neidhardt’s direction. The second half, in which hopes are thwarted, revenge and jealousy spiral and everyone is vanquished in one way or another, feels very much like a sequel.
Neidhardt sculpts each scene with a wealth of breathtaking moments. The slow-motion choreographed assault of the gypsies by di Luna’s forces as Azucena recounts her sensational story, the cheeky regimented undressing of di Luna's new recruits as they jiggle bare-buttocked before slipping into their uniforms, and the masterful, tense pistol duel between Manrico and di Luna are but a few of the directorial highlights which electrify, cajole and intensify the drama.
The detail in the direction is transferred to designer Michael Scott-Mitchell's set, creating a symbiosis with the drama. Suffering the ravages of war as its characters linger in a society smouldering under its brutality, impenetrable-looking brick and stuccoed utilitarian steely-grey edifices loom over events. Spatial expansion and contraction flow with undetectable ease, accompanied by lighting designer Nick Schlieper's astute dramatic flair and a spectrum of chiaroscuro intrigue. Judith Hoddinott's costumes of khaki uniforms, respectably styled period attire and loose-fitting gypsy rags bring equally considered contrast. And the cast delivered.
Making both her Australian and role debut as Leonora, soprano Jennifer Rowley is large in voice and expressive in range, displaying natural vibrancy and controlled phrasing. Opening with pensive yearning in "Tacea la notte placida", then frolicking with mature, seductive playfulness as she undresses to "Di tale amor", Rowley's Leonora continues to feed every aspect of the drama with heartfelt conviction. Culminating in her duet with di Luna in "Mira, d'acerbe lagrime", Rowley's performance tantalises with gravelly low notes, a broad middle range and feathery light highs. First freezing the performance with theatrical might to pause and weep, Rowley later erupts in a display of ecstatic coloratura as she secretly takes an overdose of pills, giving herself to di Luna in exchange for Manrico’s freedom.