Donizetti’s 75 or so operas provide ample opportunity for rediscovering obscure works. But although his Poliuto is rarely performed today, it once served as a star vehicle for tenors from Francesco Tamagno to Beniamino Gigli to Franco Corelli. Based on a play by Corneille, it fell foul of the Neapolitan censors and was reworked into a five-act grand opéra for Paris, Les Martyrs. Teatro Nuovo director Will Crutchfield is no stranger to Donizetti rarities, and has wisely opted for the dramatically tauter original Italian version. It’s one of Donizetti’s more interesting operas, with melodic and dramatic innovations that clearly anticipate Verdi. Though semi-staged, Teatro Nuovo made a strong case for Poliuto as an opera worthy of dramatic as well as musical rediscovery.

Chelsea Lehnea (Paolina) and Santiago Ballerini (Poliuto) © Steven Pisano
Chelsea Lehnea (Paolina) and Santiago Ballerini (Poliuto)
© Steven Pisano

Conductor Jakob Lehmann, conducting the Teatro Nuovo Orchestra from the violin (as was the convention during Donizetti’s time), opted for swift tempi and transparent textures that kept the action flowing. Period instruments allowed for greater rhythmic incisiveness and transparency, and a few brass fluffs aside one didn’t ever miss the sound of a modern orchestra. Ironically, the period instruments highlighted just how forward-thinking Donizetti’s score is – the brassy choral numbers, featuring the excellent Teatro Nuovo Chorus, a clear precursor to the Triumphal March in Verdi’s Aida over 30 years later. 

It also helped that Teatro Nuovo had assembled an excellent cast down to the smallest roles. Studio artists Krishna Raman and James Danner made strong contributions, with Louise Floyd’s resonant baritone a particular standout. As the Christian Nearco, Robert Kleinertz combined a winning stage presence with a vibrant tenor.

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Ricardo José Rivera (Severo), Hans Tashjian (Callistene) and Robert Kleinertz (Nearco)
© Steven Pisano

The high priest Callistene is the villain of the piece, a scheming zealot with an aptitude for manipulating the rest of the characters. Hans Tashjian’s velvety bass and fluent coloratura – what a trill! – impressed in his third act aria, a paean to religious hypocrisy that seemed frighteningly relevant to today’s politics. Elsewhere, his imposing stage presence wasn’t quite matched by his soft-grained tone which had trouble cutting through the ensembles.

As the Christian martyr Poliuto, tenor Santiago Ballerini started out stiffly with a muffled high register and stock tenor gestures. He quickly relaxed into the role, revealing a voice that combines sweetness and plangency when he doesn’t push. He showed off some impressively blazing high notes in his second act aria, a stentorian piece that anticipates Trovatore’s Manrico, but Ballerini was at his best in the final act. Imprisoned for his faith, Poliuto dreams of his wife Paolina; here, Ballerini pulled off some ravishing high pianissimi.

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Ricardo José Rivera (Severo) and Chelsea Lehnea (Paolina)
© Steven Pisano

The most impressive voice of the evening was baritone Ricardo José Rivera as the Roman proconsul Severo. Rivera is a real find, a true Verdi baritone with rich tone and seamless legato. It’s a voice with plenty of power, able to dominate the ensemble in moments of high drama. But Rivera is also capable of great vocal refinement, spinning endless lines of golden sound in his aria and in the Act 2 concertato finale. If his stage presence remains a touch anonymous, that will surely come with experience – with a voice like that, he’ll have a great career ahead of him.

But it was soprano Chelsea Lehnea who emerged as the real star of the show. The role of Paolina is the most dramatically interesting, torn between her first love Severo and her new husband Poliuto and his enticing new religion. Lehnea dug into all of the complexities of the role, making dramatic sense of some of the character’s more ludicrously fast changes of heart given the confines of the libretto. Lehnea’s singing was utterly fearless, even reckless at times, attempting some risky high pianissimi and then digging into her chest voice with vehemence. But it’s clear that her singing is backed by an extremely solid technique, with perfectly even tone production across her range, seamless legato, and fluent coloratura. Bel canto means, of course, beautiful singing, and there are plenty of young singers who can do just that. But daring, interesting artistry is far rarer, and can transform a Donizetti rarity into a thrilling theatrical experience.

****1