Washington National Opera kicked off its season with a new production of La traviata by its Artistic Director Francesca Zambello. Updated to the Belle Époque, it features a set with tall glassless windowpanes surrounding the center of stage. The walls, painted white, are backdrops to Violetta’s hospital room, her dining room, country landscape and party scene. Stunning lighting by Mark McCullough, efficient scene changes and lavish costumes all contributed to a straightforward account of a doomed romance between the courtesan and her young impressionable lover, Alfredo.
Zambello took some artistic liberties by bookending the production with a hospital scene. The curtain opens during the prelude to show Violetta in hospital with two other patients. Our heroine clutches a letter from Giorgio Germont, Alfredo’s father, as she recalls her life. The opening lines of the Act 1 and 3 are identical, albeit in different keys, so beginning and ending the opera in the same setting makes perfect sense. As Act 1 began, Violetta discarded her hospital gown to reveal a purple long dress for the party, as the beds were carried away and a long dining table brought in with elaborate banquets complete with candles; a dramatic turn. As another departure from convention, Zambello chose to insert an intermission between Scenes 1 and 2 of Act 2; this worked well to break up the story into Violetta and Alfredo’s romance in the first part and its tragic demise in the second.
Renato Palumbo conducted from memory, maintaining close contact with the orchestra and singers. The prelude was set at a deliberate tempo, and the strings played with such aching beauty that the audience was immediately hushed and carried into the drama. The tempo remained slow throughout the first half, but Palumbo defined the musical contours with clarity and nuance to build the drama. He opened the Act 2 party with a brisk tempo, a nice contrast to drive the story to its heartbreaking conclusion. He took care never to overpower the singers, and his coordination of the orchestra, soloists and chorus was seamless and masterful.
Russian soprano Venera Gimadieva, making her Washington debut, was a stunning Violetta. With her tall slender figure and big expressive eyes, she captured attention by her subtle gestures, a turn of her head, and body postures, reacting to others’ words and actions. Her soprano was clear and penetrating without excessive vibrato. She never forced her voice, nor resorted to flashy displays of coloratura. Gimadieva can sing long lyrical lines with continuous breath, quiet composure and absolute stillness, and her high notes opened with radiant beauty and floated into air above the orchestra with seemingly no effort, always hitting the note in the center without sliding up. Her Italian diction was exemplary, and her death scene was most memorable as her dying wish for Alfredo’s happiness came through with poignancy. There was not a dry eye in the house.