Stumbling towards the chopping block: Maria Stuarda premieres in Budapest

In a welcome string of belated premieres, Maria Stuarda finally received its first ever outing by the Hungarian State Opera, almost two full centuries after its 1835 premiere. The effort to integrate more of the unjustly neglected bel canto greats into the house’s repertoire is laudable, although the delivery left much to be desired.

Some aspects of this performance showcased the best the HSO can offer. The orchestra shone under Principal Conductor Martin Rajna’s energetic leadership. Showing great affinity for this repertoire, he drove the evening brilliantly forward with an exceedingly well-paced and thrillingly dramatic reading.

There was some stellar singing, too. Gabriella Balga’s Elisabetta was the unquestionable vocal standout. Here was a true bel canto singer, with an even, homogenous voice with equal force and richness across the registers, excellent coloratura chops, and a marvellous sense of style. Copper-toned and commanding, her Elisabetta was every inch the proud queen, fierce in her wounded jealousy, unrelenting in her hatred. Among the supporting roles, István Kovács’s Talbot stood out, showing off a warm and generous (albeit a touch gravelly) bass, while Melinda Heiter delivered a reliable Anna.

But little else reached the standard set by Rajna and Balga. Slovakian tenor Juraj Hollý may have cut a convincing figure onstage as Leicester, the object of two queens’ affections, but his cavalier appearance was little matched by his bright-hued, nasal tenor that tended to tighten and thin at the top, considerably dampening the ardent tone of his Act 1 duets. Baritone Norbert Balázs proved a rather weightless Cecil.

And, unfortunately, so did Orsolya Sáfár in the title role of the maligned Maria Stuarda, jumping in for (the presumably indisposed) Klára Kolonits. This was not a thankful task: Kolonits, the only previous Hungarian exponent of the role, was the raison d'être for this production. To Sáfár’s credit, she got through the role unscathed, even impressing in parts, with a strong, punchy middle put to proper use during the famous confrontation scene of the two queens. But her overall performance was marred by a heavy, unsteady vibrato, overripe tone, shrill top notes, and little sense of style or characterisation (especially glaring in contrast with Balga). Coupled with rudimentary acting, her portrayal managed to get across little of Maria’s desolation, vulnerability or strength of character.

A considerable portion of the blame for the uninspired acting, as well as the evening’s generally unconvincing results, lies unquestionably with director Máté Szabó, who is no stranger to serious Donizetti, having previously directed a less-than-triumphant Lucia di Lammermoor here in 2016. This second attempt demonstrates little improvement.

It is difficult to discern what story he is trying to tell here, despite the relatively straightforward rendering of the opera’s narrative. The scenic design is a jarring mish-mash: Anni Füzér’s costumes range from vague approximations of “period-appropriate” dress to leather biker gear and the cheap-skewing dresses of Maria. Csaba Antal’s set similarly tends towards flashy, anachronistic design with seemingly no guiding principle. The main set is a marble hall bedecked with neon EXIT signs, giant, gaudy pieces of armour and metallic rose windows, evoking a cathedral rather than a royal palace, with vending machines and protest signs also making an appearance. Rather than a potential commentary on the profoundly fictionalised nature of Donizetti’s (and Schiller’s) historical drama, it comes across as throwing everything at the wall and seeing what sticks. The space is dominated by a large staircase that restricts movement and often has to be moved around by stagehands, a clumsy and intrusive addition, characters ascending and descending without dramaturgical rhyme or reason.

The sheer sake of having movement seemed to motivate Szabó’s direction. Emblematically, during the Act 3 chorus of Maria’s attendants, the chorus changes locations about half a dozen times, not to any dramatic effect, but because it would have apparently been troubling to have them communicate their distress from a single spot. During the Act 3 trio, a tiresome play is made of Leicester repeatedly being restrained by and breaking from the guards who, at one point, are content to leave the raging courtier alone with the queen he tried to attack just moments before. With the compulsive focus on motion, clearly drawn portrayals and meaningful interactions fall by the wayside: characters remain one-dimensional and the articulation of the major conflicts of the opera is schematic and unconvincing. For a major house premiere, this was a disappointing misfire.