BY LUCY RASH AND MEGAN BURSLEM
Opera Australia
Tosca by Puccini
State Theatre, Arts Centre Melbourne, 12 November 2014
Blurb:
Narrative is powerful. That of Puccini’s Tosca incredibly so. In fact, as the curtain fell on the tragic final scenes of Opera Australia’s 2014 evolution, we knew we had to conduct this review differently. This is our act-by-act recount of OA’s performance of one of the greatest operatic masterpieces on earth. This is Tosca for the (somewhat) uninitiated.
ACT I
In Act I we are introduced to lovers Mario Cavaradossi (Mexican tenor, Diego Torre) and Floria Tosca (Martina Serafin) who are in a tizzle over a woman pictured in the artist Cavaradossi’s painting. From the moment the curtain is drawn, Michael Scott-Mitchell’s set shines with opulence. Doused in pastel blues and deep, pious golds, it’s every bit the perfect physical representation of Puccini’s overtly plush operatic grandeur. It frames the onstage action perfectly; Tosca accuses her husband, albeit cheekily, of having an affair with this blonde and supremely beautiful woman. Cavaradossi denies his involvement and declares his undying love. She believes him, yet jealousy lingers in the wings.
Meanwhile, Cavaradossi has harboured the prison escapee Angelotti (Steven Gallop) in the church under the nose of the Sacristan (the devilishly funny Luke Gabbedy) and vows to keep him from the clutches of the darkly and wicked Nazi leader, Scarpia (sung by the inimitable Claudio Sgura). Enter Scarpia with a scowl so heinous that it – as reviewer Lucy so eloquently put it – “burnt a hole in my face”. Scarpia is conniving, to say the least. He convinces Tosca that Cavaradossi is having an affair in the hope of increasing his chances with the much-desired leading lady. Tosca runs to Cavaradossi only to find him alone. Bad move – Scarpia’s men were hot on her tail.
From the moment he enters, it is ridiculously clear that Sgura will steal the show. His stage presence is exhilarating as he towers (both metaphorically and literally) above the rest of the cast. What is lacking here however is the chemistry between the lovers Cavaradossi and Tosca. The lust and angst with which the story oozes is unfortunately something that never quite unfolds. Here is where background knowledge comes in handy: considering that Serafin had but one week of rehearsals for this production (she has replaced Svetla Vassileva who withdrew due to illness), the singers are clearly having a good crack at the task. It is just unfortunate that the sincerity doesn’t quite hit the sweet spot.
We are left at the end of Act I with that sinking feeling of impending doom. Welcome to Fascist Italy, 1943.
ACT II
We are situated in a bleak office chamber, where two red flags of fear are forebodingly hung from the ceiling as though representative of the blood spilt during this time.
Captured, Cavaradossi is now at the mercy of Scarpia and his face-melting scowl. If Tosca tells Scarpia where the escaped Angelotti is hiding, he will free her lover. She eventually gives in to the foreboding fascist, yet there is one more thing he wants…
Catastrophically in love with Cavaradossi, Tosca will do anything to save him from the firing squad. Yet when Scarpia reveals his rampant x-rated desires (and when that scowl morphs into a ghoulish sneer) her determinism takes an unexpected turn; we’re thrust into a moral dilemma reminiscent of that at the heart of ’90s flick favourite, Indecent Proposal: the malevolence of the man repels her, yet love triumphs and she reluctantly agrees to produce the goods. After all, what is one sacrifice for the life of a lover? It is agreed that Cavaradossi will be shot with blanks, faking his own death. Papers are signed for their escape and Tosca foolishly takes Scarpia’s word that she will live happily ever after with the man of her dreams. While Scarpia cavorts in the success of his blackmail bastardry, the overcome, yet not-quite-defeated Tosca conceals in the folds of her dress what looks like an oversized (and no doubt sharpened) bread knife. As Scarpia smugly forces himself on her, the empowerment of hate and disgust overwhelms her and she forces the blade again and again into the unsuspecting villain’s chest. Scarpia falls. Dead.
Scenes so raw and intense – especially those prickling overt sexual violence – must not be easy to sing, let alone act. Yet, Serafin maintains character like a boss for their entirety. There are times when the entire audience fall deathly silent, as if frightened that any creak or scrape will reveal our position within the claustrophobic sequence of events. A scene this believable can be attributed to Sgura and his remarkable talent to embody the heinous villain the role begs of him.
ACT III
Cavaradossi is sent to the heavily barb-wired concentration camp and laments his love for Tosca in a one of the opera’s most beloved arias, ‘Elle lucevan le stele’. The crowd laps it up and begin to fall for the Mexican-born tenor. Tosca enters and tells her lover of the bargain hatched with Scarpia, as well as the tale of his killing by her own two hands. Cavaradossi would be shot, she reveals, with blanks. “You must be convincing when you fall!” she pleads. And he was – too much so. From the grave, Scarpia’s wickedness prevails: his blackmail is fraud. Tosca wails with grief upon finding her lover dead. Alarm bells sound as Scarpia too has been found murdered. Tosca is cornered by a group of trigger-happy prison guards and shot on the spot. Thus ends Puccini’s opera.
It’s an emotionally draining act, one must admit, for both the audience and the singers. Interestingly, original productions had Tosca jumping from a balcony at the opera’s conclusion in a powerful, autonomous display of self-judgement. In this adaptation, Tosca is shot by guards after failing to identify a route of escape. Although Serafin throws her hands up in spine-chilling defiance, one can’t help but think that neither the deliverance nor the redemption that the fiery, iron-willed Tosca is meant to experience.
Who does succeed in fortifying the depth of emotional experience rendered by Puccini’s score is Italian conductor, Andrea Molino and the wonderful Orchestra Victoria. Though it takes an act to truly ground itself, the sound is lush and brave. Special mention to the horn section for its defiant and vastly impressive opening to Act III – the audience at the front of the stalls quite literally fell back in their seats!
An overwhelming round of applause was given to all cast members at the conclusion of the performance, developing no sooner into a standing ovation. We try our best to summarise this exemplary production, yet gracefully surrender our final statement to quote our seated neighbour, who proclaimed excitedly as the curtain fell: “GOOD GRIEF!” … followed by a breathless, yet resounding, “wonderful”.
Image supplied. Credit: Jeff Busby.
