Although I have seen most of Verdi’s operas, I will admit that, like most opera lovers, until preparing for this trip and Hungarian State Opera’s concert performance, I was only dimly aware of Stiffelio. But the words “unfairly neglected” showed up in Verdi textbooks and James Imam’s recent review from Parma is nothing short of ecstatic, so I was prepared for the possibility that it might be a more important and dramatic piece than its obscurity suggests. But not prepared enough: “unfairly neglected” doesn’t begin to cover it.
Verdi was breaking new ground with Stiffelio, moving opera from historical and political events to a decidedly domestic setting. Stiffelio is a Protestant minister who undergoes the personal torture of dealing with the infidelity of his wife Lina, eventually taking strength from the New Testament story of the woman taken in adultery and forgiving her, just as her father, Count Stankar, furious at the stain on his family name, has murdered her lover Raffaele.
Domestic it may be, but the title role is complex and finely drawn and the reactions of each of the principals to the unfolding of events are told vividly and dramatically. Francesco Maria Piave’s libretto is strong and contains many hints of genius to come: the father-daughter scenes are clear precursors to Rigoletto, the opera which was to follow, while Stiffelio’s demand that Lina show him her wedding ring (which she has given to Raffaele) prefigures the treatment of Desdemona’s handkerchief in Otello. There are also moments unique to this opera, like the superb organ chorale which precedes Stiffelio’s final address to his flock in which, against all the odds, he preaches forgiveness.
Vocal performances were generally strong, but I have to give pride of place to bass Krisztián Cser as the priest Jorg, who had me sitting bolt upright in my seat from the moment he opened his mouth: it’s a voice with immense power, clarity and tautness of phrasing, which thrilled in every line. The gravelly depths may not quite be there (Cser is still relatively young, as great basses go), but this is someone I’d like to hear a lot more of.
Both our principals, Hector Lopez Mendoza and Anikó Bakonyi, were slow to warm up. Mendoza gave us clear diction and good dramatic phrasing from the outset, but the voice didn’t really open up until late in Act 1. By the time of the Stiffelio’s closing address at the end of the opera, the voice was warm, rounded and fervent to go with its other qualities. Bakonyí didn’t have the same clarity of diction and she didn’t convince me in Act 1, but from the point of her arioso which opens Act 2, as she expresses remorse by her mother’s graveside, she just got better and better: the ensuing aria was highly dramatic and its cabaletta superb. I’m afraid to say that Anatolij Fokanov, as Stankar, didn’t come up to the same quality: he seemed to struggle with the high tessitura, reminding one of quite how much stress Verdi inflicts on his baritones. Still, his suicidal soliloquy in Act 3 was handled with emotion, and the ensuing cabaletta proved just how capable Verdi was of taking an operatic convention which he cordially loathed and still managing to turn it to advantage.
Conductor Christian Badea summoned up some good moments of Verdian playing from the orchestra, from a fascinating, quiet pizzicato opening to the overture, followed by a gorgeous cantabile trumpet solo, through to some trademark whipping up of the drama in Act 2 and the moving religious chorales. Ensemble went astray on occasion, the unfamiliarity of the score undoubtedly a contributing factor.
Although it has its imperfections, Stiffelio explores ideas in a strong and individual way. This is no cookie-cutter love triangle: there is a great deal of talk about redemption and honour which is decidedly ambivalent about what honour should mean and whether it can be compatible with Christian goodness.
Up to a certain point in time, the reasons for the opera's obscurity are understandable. The concept of a married church minister as the hero was deeply unpalatable in the Catholic Italy of 1850 and the opera was horribly butchered by the censors: it ended up so far from Verdi’s original concept that he eventually rewrote the opera, not especially successfully, into a different setting (to be named Aroldo). But I can’t see any excuse now: Verdi’s autograph score, thought to be lost, has resurfaced and we now have critical editions which come close to the composer's original intent. This performance was thoroughly dramatic and fascinating not only as the immediate precursor to Rigoletto but as a work in its own right. This is an opera that deserves to be staged as well as heard.
