Suspension of disbelief will only get you so far, but what Il trovatore lacks in rational storytelling it makes up for in a wash of irresistible melodies. These, however, haven’t been enough to save it from becoming the black sheep in Verdi’s middle-period flock of triumphs. The opera’s former popularity began to wane when audiences learnt to expect dramatic truthfulness as well as good tunes during a night at the opera, because Verdi’s porridge of a plot is as muddled as it is improbable.
Watching the 2023 staging by Adele Thomas for a second time brings a realisation that the settings by Annemarie Woods – basically a set of stairs that do tricks – are a white flag being waved by the director of a problematic opera. Whisper it quietly, but this is practically a semi-staging. That's not a bad thing, of course. After all, no other opera in the canon leans as heavily as Trov on verbal flashback and Salvatore Cammarano’s libretto was in sore need of a dramaturg to oil its wheels. As it is, the opening acts are effectively “Previously on Il trovatore…” as first Ferrando (the admirable bass Riccardo Fassi, who showboats his way through the opening scene in order to draw us in) then the shadowy Azucena (mezzo-soprano Agnieszka Rehlis in a charismatic and formidably well-defined character performance) expound the main characters’ fiery backstory.
Some of the visual kinks that adversely affected The Royal Opera’s new staging have been ironed out in this first revival. The trio of white picture frames that enclose the action still impede sightlines for patrons in the side seats but house director Simon Iorio has done a good job of taming the extremes, while the revival as a whole benefits from well cast, high-quality singers who bring conviction to their every movement and utterance. It's easy to forget how desperately inert it all is when such expert principals cut a swathe through the stasis.
On opening night Michael Fabiano was at his most vocally macho as Manrico, the good guy who vies with his beloved Leonora (Rachel Willis-Sørensen) to see who'll win the self-sacrifice stakes. The tenor was every inch the cool hero until an odd moment when he brandished a dagger at his inamorata in order to emphasise his character’s desire to put mamma first. That was weird.
Willis-Sørensen sang with radiant fervour and her delivery of “D'amor sull'ali rosee” had intensity to spare. There was magic in the air whenever she and Fabiano held sway together, so between Rehlis and the two lovers the Covent Garden stage caught fire. If Aleksei Isaev as the Conte di Luna wasn’t quite in their league (the Count is more a lurker than a man of action in this staging) his stylish baritone certainly had class.
Every aspect of the music was thrilling: Giacomo Sagripanti is a welcome visitor to the Covent Garden podium with his live wire dynamics and keenly judged tempo choices. A proper Verdian, in short. There is, moreover, little doubt that the Royal Opera Chorus relishes his direction; although when do they ever put a foot wrong under William Spaulding’s tutelage? As their peregrinations around Woods’ staircase were limited by the semi-staging they were able to concentrate on producing a fabulous sound. The Anvil Chorus filled the auditorium even if the modest pair of anvils, each played by a disembodied arm, were hardly the stuff of dignity.
Whether characters slink on from upstage or else pop out through advent calendar apertures, there is a decidedly Beetlejuice look to this Trovatore. All manner of garish make-up, masks and tunics compete in grotesquery and persistently confuse the eye (where is the soloist in this-or-that grouping and why is there no colour distinction to help the audience navigate the stage picture?) while the names of the mighty handful of dancers who animate so many otherwise static tableaux are shamefully absent from the printed programme. Nevertheless, despite these caveats and carps this Trovatore is a thoroughly engaging night out. It is a viable candidate for future revivals and – who knows? – further refinements. Provided they don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.
