A rare return for the follow-up to Verdi's classic trio
The Sicilian Vespers is always going to be a challenging proposition. In a move smacking of sheer hubris, Verdi’s original epic version lasted over four hours including half an hour of ballet partway through. Stefan Herheim's production for the Royal Ballet & Opera removes that dance sequence but transports the plot from Palermo to Paris with the fearsome Sicilian rebel leader Jean Procida now portrayed as a mutinous ballet master. What next: Che Guevara as a South Kensington Zumba instructor?
This opera tends to get an awkward embrace by the Verdi megafans. This is partly down to its language (French) and its unwarranted length but also its place in the canon, coming immediately after his blockbuster trio of La Traviata, Rigoletto and Il Trovatore. It is also reflected in just how rarely it has been staged in London. Never seen at the Royal Opera House before 2013, Herheim’s take had a second runout four years later in 2017 before Daniel Dooner took the helm for this second revival; in contrast, you would need to take off both gloves and heels to count up how many times Verdi’s more popular works have graced Covent Garden.
Those who look deeply into everything and espy slivers of modern relevance in this work would be rebuffed by the dramaturg Alexander Meier-Dörzenbach; from his perspective, the emphasis here is not on nationalities or politics but on "the illusion and disillusion of theatrical representation". So is this one just for those aspiring to the exclusive Club dei 27 (an elite group of Verdi fans comprising of 27 members, each one named after one of the composer’s operas) or is there some timeless appeal which rises above the drawbacks?
Take away the confusing clash between Herheim’s dance school setting and Eugène Scribe and Charles Duveyrier’s original libretto and there’s still plenty to enjoy. Rather than the dedicated thirty minutes of ballet, we now see choreographer pieces from André de Jong embedded into the action while the dancers themselves take on the role of the downtrodden peasants. Indeed, Speranza Scappucci — making a vigorous debut as principal guest conductor of the Royal Opera — has barely started waving her baton before one of Procida’s charges is raped by the villainous Montfort; possibly in an attempt to avoid the kind of boos heard a decade ago, it is brief and with both performers fully dressed.
If there are two good reasons to grab a ticket, it’s the visuals and the vocals. Best appreciated from the balcony and upwards, floor-to-ceiling backdrops swoop in from the left and the right, depicting fiery images or holding multiple levels of seated soldiers or partygoers. Costumes are opulent, bursting with detail and colour. Befitting the dark tone of the work, the lighting from Anders Poll is deliberately muted until a blazing eye-searing finale. Even within its crepuscular tones, though, intimacy and intensity are thrust onto the stage in an intelligent and immersive manner. Opera should always be grand but this spectacle is one to savour.
As for the singing, this is a luxury cast with a quartet of leads working hard for each other and the audience. As the Sicilian rebel Henri who finds out late in the game that his father is the French governor Monfort, Ukrainian tenor Valentyn Dytiuk perfectly balances his defiance with his shock, horror and internal dilemma. Across from him, Joyce El-Khoury takes a little time to come up to full power as Henri’s love Hélène but, when she does, the Lebanese-Canadian soprano’s range is phenomenal.
The stern Procida is depicted magnificently throughout by Italian bass-baritone Ildebrando D'Arcangelo, his two consecutive solo arias a blazing display of talent. His archnemesis Montford is the lynchpin here and utterly dominates the later scenes thanks to some stunning acting and singing from Hawaiian baritone Quinn Kelsey. The Sicilian Vespers may be the black sheep of the Verdi oeuvre but there's a front four here that raise this production to a heavenly level.
The Sicilian Vespers continues until 6 October.
Photo credit: Tristram Kenton
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