Sir David McVicar has become the predilect director of the Peter Gelb era at the Metropolitan Opera. In the current season, no fewer than four different productions – Norma, Cavalleria rusticana/Pagliacci, Tosca and Il trovatore – bear his signature. His style matches best the General Manager’s goal of bringing gradual changes to the list of Met’s productions without upsetting its conservative donor base too much. McVicar is not a radical, Regietheater type of director. He might change some circumstances here and there, but he is not going to move the action to a spaceship. On the other hand, his fluid directorial style is anchored by a vision and he is not impervious to fresh ideas. His well-crafted mise-en-scènes reverberate with many meaningful details.
The current production of Trovatore dates from 2009, having been first mounted several years earlier at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. It was actually McVicar’s Met debut. The action takes still place on the Iberian Peninsula, but the director changed the time from the 15th century to the first years of the 19th, the period of the Napoleonic Wars. There is absolutely no harm in this revision, but neither is it of too much help in making more palatable a libretto as full of foolishness and unbelievable events as any other. The production is supposed to reference Goya’s cycle of etchings The Disasters of the War but, besides an enlarged detail from A Pilgrimage to San Isidro, a mural from La Quinta del Sordo, there is very little of Goya’s imagery floating around. It is true though that, similar to the pervading mood in Goya’s late works, the scenery is bleak and depressing, with very little color in Brigitte Reiffenstuel’s costumes for gypsies and soldiers alike. Charles Edwards' rotating set allows the huge initial rampart with a long flight of stairs to quickly metamorphose into Leonora’s apartments, a gypsy encampment, a cloister or an enclosure with an immolation stake.
The set was truly effective in following the fast pace of the action. What was less successful was the moving around of vast number of choristers, occasional dancers and supernumeraries. Some of the scenes – the famous “Anvil Chorus” is a good example – were as crowded and as full of potentially distracting details as a Zeffirelli production. Neither were the stage entrances of the main characters and their interactions handled on the imaginative side.