BY BRIDGET O’BRIEN
Otello
Opera Monte-Carlo
Casino de Monte Carlo, 24 April
On April 24, in the heart of Monte Carlo, Monaco, I felt as if I travelled in time.
I joined a parade of the lavishly dressed and decadently accessorised in the grand Casino de Monte Carlo, within which we’d all waited to share in the unique pleasure of Verdi’s Otello. For some, it seemed the jewels were half the fun, and that applauding too enthusiastically might risk a damaged seam; but many others were starry eyed in anticipation of the on-stage grandeur daring to outdo the foyer’s opulence.
This opera of jealousy and manipulation premiered in 1887 at La Scala, Milan, close to 300 years after the play first took the globe. So the 2019 incarnation was informed by centuries of impression and interpretation, which is more than enough time to either dwindle out of relevance or compound in pertinence. But, as does anything built upon Shakespearean fodder – especially things passed through the dependable hands of a maestro like Verdi – it transcended timelines with its enduring power. The palatial theatre, erected within the landmark casino, held a cosy but capacity audience of 512. As the houselights dimmed and the towering velvet curtains to the riviera were drawn closed, the omnipresence of coattails and pearls dissolved any contemporary supposition.
The heroic overture commenced with energy, intrigue, and commendable sonic cohesion under the baton of Daniele Callegari. Helming the production were substantial performances by tenor Gregory Kunde as Otello, baritone George Petean as Iago, and soprano Maria Agresta as Desdemona.
Agresta made a dazzling entrance. After languid promenade boasting the first standout piece of Françoise Raybaud’s masterful historical silhouettes, her first line of coloratura recitative asserted her as one of the strongest musicians in the ensemble. She created an arresting aura of romance with her full and probing sound that felt as delicate as no more than an amorous whisper.
Desdemona is the victim of monstrous jealousy, and with such sweet lyricism about the composition of her role it’s easy to play into submission against the dominance of the antagonising males. However, Agresta, enduring right until her pitiful and prayerful soliloquy, matched the vigour and presence of Kunde’s Otello. The richness and sting of both their voices swam like syrup through duets of love, and fought formidably as their fidelity spiralled out their grasp.
Shakespeare’s soliloquys are celebrated for their ability to draw audiences in and around them, and these performance elements can be lost in proscenium settings. However, the artfully lit and outwardly delivered moments of monologue drew us into a globe-like setting, where Iago’s vengeance and villainy festered eerily, Otello’s trust palpably dissolved and Desdemona’s resign impaled the audience.
Petean’s Iago thrived upon this plinth. His perturbing voice adequately terrified me and had me salivating for his stratagems. He navigated the dichotomy between unctuous facades and straight-up evil cleverly, and with an unwavering bite to his sound.
Kunde’s presentation of the title character convinced me vocally before it convinced me dramatically. His tenor had the weight and gusto of a limitless baritone, and theatre teemed with his rattling resonance. Kunde’s portrayal commenced inoffensively, but as Otello absorbed the action around him, the splintering of his character was propelled. This slow burn rendered his bitter demise even harder to stomach.
The tempests in the score were evoked through an enthralling and unsettling use of projection. Initially this felt superfluous, but as the story unfurled, subtle distortions projected onto the pillars of the existing set mapped our descent into madness. In the fracturing of the physical setting I felt the assertions and schemes of the characters unravel.
Verdi’s affinity for composing choruses as commentary in pieces can be a theatrical obstacle. It seemed that the intention was to personify the individual members of the chorus, but the ensemble moved with too much synchronicity rendering individual actions a little premeditated and pantomime. However, they managed enough fluidity about their movement and enough cohesion in the sound to pardon this.
Even strangers to this tragedy could have guessed the impending fates. It is always difficult to strike a balance between gracious depictions of death and penetrating examples of consequence. We were presented with a jarring and sickeningly undignified finish. The means of murder had the protagonists seeming small for the first time, with a defenceless Desdemona in no more than a nightgown. The literality of drowning figuratively laundered the characters of their power and impositions. Desdemona’s fortitude from the floor was harrowing and the final stitch in Otello’s transformation to wholly abhorrent was unmissable.
We often believe that stories so old deserve some sort of revitalisation, and unfortunately, I’ve grown to expect that of pieces like this. But director Allex Aguilera confirmed that the only truly vital element is faith in what the Bard, Boito, and Verdi have had to say.
Images courtesy Opera Monte Carlo, credit Alain Hanel.
