The aftermath of an unfortunate tug of war between love and lust entwined in a city gripped by enemy occupation, Tosca’s story digs deep into the human heart. In Opera Australia's Melbourne première of a new production of Tosca by the acclaimed artistic director of Bell Shakespeare, John Bell, it's a remarkable feat that Austrian soprano Martina Serafin made it to the stage to enact her. At short notice, Serafin packed her bags and took the long haul journey from Europe to replace an indisposed Svetla Vassileva, herself the chosen lead after the controversial termination of Georgian soprano Tamar Iveri's contract earlier in the season. Excusing some dramaturgical concerns and displaying all the demands of an international career, Serafin frocked up in a breezy azure dress and delivered in a production excelling in visual, vocal and orchestral power.
Even before her entrance, this Tosca was going to win hearts. Act I's interior of the church of Sant'Andrea della Valle in Rome is a spectacular piece of scenographic realism, obliquely directed to the audience in gold and stuccoed glory, illuminated with a bright, silken light. The journey across Rome to Act II's austere renovated classicism of Scarpia's office in the Palazzo Farnese and the barbed-wire barricades atop a small section of the Castel Sant'Angelo's summit in Act III contribute striking visual poetry alongside the unfolding drama. Michael Scott-Mitchell's sets, Nick Schlieper's lighting and Teresa Negroponte's costumes of uniformed police and practical, period elegance raised the bar for the entire onstage cast. Transferred from the smaller stage of the Sydney Opera House where the production premiered last year, promises of proscenium infill panels, however, weren't apparent.
The visual realism perfectly marries with the dramatic and narrative power of Puccini's music reflecting Italian verismo and capturing the diversity of human emotion and the climate it exists in. Conducting a top, in-form Orchestra Victoria, Andrea Molino executed the musical landscape with immense beauty, bold colour and confident pacing, exposing their great strengths in Act III's extended orchestral opening as it supports the short aria of wafer-thin notes of the shepherd boy, sung sweetly by Miro Lauritz.
Bell updates Giacomo Puccini's enduring work with a vision both plausible and wretchedly frightening. Premiering in Rome in 1900 and originally set during French Napoleonic occupation in 1800, the work seamlessly reflects 1943 Fascist Italy when Nazi German forces advanced into Rome, here poisoning the stage with Nazi Reich uniformed police and their swastika flags. The unrest and brutality of war is fresh and intimidating.
Bell crafts Puccini's enduring work with a plethora of dramatic insight. With the processional entrance of the swastika flag-bearing police in the finale to Act I's Te Deum amongst a choral gem concluding with the Reich salute, Scarpia’s abrupt stabbing by Tosca, followed by the gentle extinguishment of the desk lamps to close Act II, and Cavaradossi's death by firing squad in Act III evoking the horror of Francisco de Goya's iconic painting, The Third of May, 1808, in Madrid, Bell inserts praiseworthy attention to the grander picture.