Baron Scarpia in Jonathan Kent’s 2006 production of Tosca for The Royal Opera was created by Sir Bryn Terfel. Playing against the suave aristocrat stereotype traditionally associated with the role – especially in the house’s Zeffirelli predecessor – Terfel’s Chief of Police was an intimidating, greasy-haired thug. The Welsh knight has returned for multiple revivals and, with this run rumoured to be its final outing, there’s an apt sense of completeness that he’s back in the frock coat, strutting his stuff.
Terfel is entirely inside the role. His gnarly Scarpia is sadistic in his pursuit of Tosca – even masochistic in the self-flagellation at the end of Act 1’s Te Deum – savouring the text which rolls around his tongue like his favourite “vin di Spagna”. He barks and snarls and rasps with menace. But for years there has been a marked deterioration in the quality of his ripe bass-baritone and when Scarpia is required to actually sing – the arioso “Già mi struggea l'amor della diva” where he rebuffs Tosca’s offer of money in preference for a more physical form of payment – he was sorely stretched, close to running on empty. Terfel still gets by on charisma though, a larger than life portrayal of a cruel monster, and humour too, deftly kicking away Tosca’s train before lunging in for the kill with all the stage experience of a man who’s been foiled by her cumbersome costume before.
Relishing their reactions to Terfel’s Scarpia were two compatriots – Natalya Romaniw in the title role and Aled Hall’s Spoletta – truly turning this revival into a “Taffia Tosca” from the Land of Song. There was Welsh fire aplenty in Romaniw’s diva, sparks flying in Act 2 as she rebuffs Scarpia’s groping hands. Her dark, voluptuous soprano soared to its heights with ease in a noble “Vissi d’arte” but she’s capable of lightness too, especially in “Non la sospiri, la nostra casetta” as Tosca tries to tempt Cavaradossi to their love nest in the opening act.
Aled Hall is a vicious Spoletta, aping his master’s brutality. The prayer Spoletta mumbles as Cavaradossi is being tortured was here rapped out as a taunt and he revelled in the “Conte Palmieri” insinuations when Terfel gave him instructions on Cavaradossi’s execution. After Tosca’s leap – Avanti a Dio, Boyo! – it’s Hall’s Spoletta who grabs the spotlight, scowling at the audience as the curtains close, a Chief of Police in waiting.
That the Welsh didn’t quite have a monopoly on our attention is down to SeokJong Baek’s Cavaradossi. The South Korean tenor who so impressed here as Samson two years ago just keeps getting better. He is much more at ease on stage now and his ringing tenor and wide open vowels fit the role like a glove, as does the sunny smile in his voice in Cavaradossi’s Act 1 teasing of Tosca. His cries of “Vittoria” were exciting without being unduly protracted and “E lucevan le stelle” was poetically shaped. He’s already a house favourite and his Calaf here later in the season should be thrilling.
Firm-voiced Ossian Huskinson impressed as Angelotti and Maurizio Muraro made much of the grumbling Sacristan. The Royal Opera Chorus launched into the Te Deum fervently, although their position in Kent’s staging – deftly revived here by Simon Iorio – has always been problematic, restricted to the upper reaches of the set, unable to intrude on Scarpia’s plotting as overwhelmingly as they should.
Making her house debut, Eun Sun Kim, Music Director of San Francisco Opera, conducted a lively performance, the brass presaging Scarpia’s menace with their opening chords, strings honeyed in the love duet. Cello and clarinet solos ahead of “E lucevan le stelle” were well shaped and Kim’s pacing pushed the narrative along urgently to make this a more distinguished Tosca revival than many in recent years.
