BY ANGUS MCPHERSON
Luisa Miller by Verdi
Opera Australia
Sydney Opera House, 11 February
A happy domestic scene frozen in white marble depicts a family, armchairs and fireplace, set against a jet-black void. White smokes creeps around the edges of the stage and flickering candle-flames assemble in the gloom. As the overture plays, the marble begins to shift, the floor moving as the statuary slowly slides backwards, the floor becoming the back wall and then the ceiling, shiny black surfaces casting distorted reflections. The removal of the statues exposes a woman wearing a white shroud, lying within a circle of flowers.
Opera Australia’s production of Verdi’s ‘Luisa Miller’ is full of dark beauty, brilliant ensembles and harrowing psychological drama. This is the Sydney premiere of a co-production with Swiss company Opéra de Lausanne by director Giancarlo del Monaco. ‘Luisa Miller’ was first performed in 1849 and is staged less frequently than the string of hits that began two years later with ‘Rigoletto’. In fact, this is the first time it has been performed in the Sydney Opera House.
The opera opens on a sombre scene: Luisa, sung by Nicole Car, lies on the stage. The chorus is gathered around and dressed in black; the women holding bouquets of white flowers, the men holding tall candles. After the ominous overture, the chirping of woodwinds and the chorus’s cries of “Wake up, Luisa!” are ironic and disconcerting. William Orlandi’s funerary costuming and motifs continue throughout the opera, steeping it in a sense of unavoidable doom.
Luisa, the daughter of a retired soldier, is in love with Rodolfo, the son of local aristocrat Count Walter. The Count disapproves of the union, as does his steward, the unsubtly named Wurm, who wants Luisa for himself. Their machinations force Luisa to denounce Rodolfo and dishonour herself, falsely declaring love for Wurm and breaking Rodolfo’s heart.
Orlandi’s stage is kept bare except for a few scattered chairs, shifting floors altering the sense of space and light. This minimal set makes for a thematically tight production (though there is a little too much impassioned chair-throwing) and the sombre colours and lighting are sustained with few changes over the three acts. The bleakly pared down set and costumes keep the focus on the fascinating personal drama of the opera.
Nicole Car brings stunning virtuosity and affecting depth to the role of Luisa. Fresh from overseas triumphs and the launch of her debut album, her bubbly ‘Lo vidi, e’l primo palpito’ injects the opening scene with life, briefly dispelling the sepulchral atmosphere, and her emotional duet with her father, sung by Slovakian baritone Dalibor Jenis, in the third act is one of the dramatic highlights of the opera. Jenis enters the stage as a feeble old man in Act I, but soon brings force and dignity to his role. Daniel Sumegi is a cold and brutal Wurm, his unflinching extortion of Luisa is terrifying and the mellow colouring of his overwhelming bass pairs beautifully with Raymond Aceto’s crackling power as Count Walter. Mexican tenor Diego Torre makes a suitably troubled Rodolfo and his ‘Quando le sere al placido’ is thrilling. Mezzo-soprano Sian Pendry brings her warm, rich voice to the part of Frederica, bedecked in an elaborate 1930s gown.
The Australian Opera and Ballet orchestra under Andrea Licata’s baton are superb, the soloistic clarinet lines shining through and the Opera Australia Chorus sing impressively, their dynamics vivid and exciting.
Salvatore Cammarano’s libretto throws up a number of challenges. Characters are often left to amuse themselves on stage during arias – the Count smokes during his son’s ‘L’ara, o l’avello apprestami’ and while Luisa sings in Act II, Wurm reads the newspaper or idly toys with her. The forward momentum of the final act is arrested by an excruciatingly drawn out death scene, the gruelling demands of which Car and Torre meet with courageous intensity.
The dark, elegantly unified design and skilful direction of ‘Luisa Miller’, combined with a stellar cast of singers, creates a riveting drama of profound beauty and sophistication, and makes a convincing case for awarding the opera a more prominent place in the repertoire.
Image supplied. Credit: Prudence Upton.
