In his mission to bring us “comedy with a deeper perspective” Sven-Eric Bechtolf, to whom the Latvian National Opera has entrusted the direction of its new production in Riga of L'elisir d'amore, has taken a thoughtful approach to one of Italian opera’s most charming comedies and delivered an array of concepts, some less successful than others.
The updating of the action to Italy during the First World War is not a distraction – and allows designer Julian Crouch to offer crumbling ruins as a delightful rotating set – but it does not offer any great profundity to Bechtolf’s interpretation. The provision of little backstories in the programme for each character is a fun touch, reminiscent of directors and actors “digging” into a role, but one would probably have had the same reaction to the performance without them; Donizetti provides everything we need to know about the ensemble to shape our responses. At times, Bechtolf seems to be playing with bringing the audience into the action; the fourth wall is broken with confidential winks and nudges, while Dulcamara and his crew of ladies end the opera among the audience, flogging his potions and causing cheerful mayhem. I wasn’t sure if Bechtolf was stretching for a meta concept or some form of immersive experience.
The most enjoyable of the flawed conceits was Bechtolf's framing of Giannetta – the most developed and thoughtful interpretation of the second-tier character I have seen. She is given prominence in her stage positioning and we are shown a complex character that contrasts with Adina. Here, Giannetta is fiery but comic, and it is strongly implied that she herself has a case of unrequited love for Nemorino. Fond glances, deep affection and sympathy – but jealousy too – for Adina and a forceful defence of Nemorino from Belcore at the end of Act 1 make this a character about whom we care. Alas, thoughtful and admirable an approach as this is, Bechtolf isn’t quite able to reconcile his interpretation of the character in Act 1 with the gossipy gold-digger Donizetti presents in Act 2’s “Saria possibile?”.
Those misgivings aside, Bechtolf is to be commended for a production that is both fresh and genuinely funny. His characters engage with each other naturally, pace a few stand-and-deliver moments, and his portrayal of Dulcamara as a man slowly losing his skills – and fully aware of it – but who loves the game too much to retreat is compelling. So too are the final 15 minutes of Act 1, which Bechtolf makes shockingly dramatic: from Adina’s grief when she agrees to marry Belcore and then realises the next instant the magnitude of her mistake to Nemorino’s devastation and desperation. This was the most tragic and gripping rendition of this scene that I have witnessed, and it made the comic moments all the sweeter.