Verdi, Il Trovatore
In my trips to Belgrade a number of years ago, I never managed to catch an opera at the National Theater, whose stage also holds other types of drama. This week in Belgrade saw me overlap with Verdi’s Il Trovatore. This opportunity seemed doubly novel, as I do not believe I have ever seen Trovatore live, despite it regular showing up in standard repertory as one of the most-popular operas not only within Verdi’s canon but in general. Tonight I rectified both situations.
The music, as I already knew, was beautiful. But I left the performance wondering why exactly this opera ranks so high in the canon. It combines a silly plot (not unusual in opera, but maybe especially so in this case) with an idiotic libretto written by someone whose intention was to remove all drama. Many operas survive silly plots, few can survive poor books. Verdi’s wonderful music attempted to inject the drama, but utterly failed to do so. What a pity Verdi had not met Boito earlier (although Boito was only about ten at the time Trovatore premiered, he still could have done a better job fixing up the text).
Belgrade’s National Theater, as a building, did live up to its billing. The theater is a gem. It has a surprisingly tiny stage and auditorium. Although not very large, the auditorium is tall, with four levels, making the upper gallery rather high. This does allow, however, the music to rise, giving a fuller tone than I would have normally expected in such a small place. Yet the cast did not have to labor to project into the hall, nor even over the orchestra, whose position (spilling into the first boxes) was exposed and might in another house overwhelm the singers.
Ana Jorana Grajovic also deserves some of the credit on the podium. She conducted a clean and clear performance, using a precise but nuanced stick technique. Her orchestra sounded much better than I had anticipated, and clearly she kept them together. The chorus, also taking its visual cues from her, never missed anything, although they looked generally bored on stage, and the choral singing came off so precisely as to sound blockish.
The cast was also mixed. Many of singers in the smaller roles, but also Manrico (sung by Dusan Plazinic) had tired out their voices somewhere, as though they had spent the week yelling into a canyon hoping the echo would reflect a pleasant sound. It did not. Dragana del Monaco stood out as Azucena, clearly the star of this performance (she is the ex-wife of a son of Mario del Monaco, one of the greatest all-time Italian tenors; she perhaps understandably appears to have kept the name in her divorce despite a subsequent re-marriage). Dragutin Matic (Count de Luna), whose elaborate hair braiding looked exactly the same as the conductor’s, and Jasmina Trumbetash Petrovic (Leonora) also had enough stage presence, at least in this small house.
I bought a program, as usual. Nevermind that it was only in Serbian (this is Serbia, so fair enough), but it was recycled from 2011. While recycling should be applauded normally, the cast reflected that of two years ago, which for the most part did not match tonight’s. So the program was of no use. If they are going to recycle programs, they should probably not print the cast in them but instead put the cast on a printed sheet insert (they had those sheets anyway hanging in the entrance displays, so people could see the cast when coming into the building). I suppose they’ll learn this commonly-employed trick some day.