Donizetti, L’Elisir d’Amore
To get to the Staatsoper tonight required crossing a line of riot police manning barricades. Apparently this was not a good night to venture into the center of Vienna – the neo-Nazi “Akademiker Ball” was going on down the street, attracting thugs from all over Europe (and not just Hitler Youth, but equally-thuggish counter-demonstrators also looking for trouble). The police locked down the entire section of Vienna from Schwarzenbergplatz to Heldenplatz, and we had to talk our way in (funneled through a passageway inside a building rather than being allowed to enter the closed-off area from the street – underground passages from the subway were also sealed off).
Probably better, then, that the Hitler Youth did not know that tonight’s lead tenor was black and the lead soprano was Israeli, or maybe they would not have left the opera house alone.
The Staatsoper presented a charmingly no-frills Otto Schenk-directed production of Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore that will never get old. The staging, first produced in 1980, contained no gimmicks: it had just a single honest set and enough details to allow the characters to play up the comedy. And this they did.
As Nemorino, Lawrence Brownlee provided an intelligent characterization of the dim-witted peasant, who is not so quick at understanding what is going on around him but ends up doing just fine for himself. Brownlee’s beautiful voice also perfectly matched the role, more reminiscent of Tito Schipa than some of the bigger voices who often sing the part these days. Still, his instrument was big enough to fill the hall – a little sotto voce in the first act to save up for the big arie in the second, but always audible and with perfect Italian diction.
The portrayal of Adina by Chen Reiss was frigid towards poor Nemorino, warming in the end. There may have been a lack of chemistry between the two lead singers, although both were excellent in their own parts. I do not know how often they may have performed together before, and this may have impacted their acting relationship. Either that, or Reiss wanted to portray Adina as particularly cold (although it did not seem this way, since she did make the character somewhat flirtatious).
Alfred Šramek as Dulcamara and Mario Cassi as Belcore provided a humorous supporting cast. Guillermo García Calvo kept the orchestra light and on cue. From my seat, I could see that he had taken his mother’s name (Calvo, meaning “bald”) rather literally for someone in his mid-30s.