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Donizetti, L’elisir d’amore: (Revival) Soloists, Chorus and Orchestra of Welsh National Opera, Rory Macdonald (conductor), Wales Millennium Centre, Cardiff, 12.2.2009 (GPu)

Conductor: Rory Macdonald
Director: Daniel Slater
Designer: Robert Innes Hopkins
Lighting Designer: Simon Mills
Choreographer: Tim Claydon

Cast:
Nemorino: Dimitri Pittas
Adina: Camilla Roberts
Dulcamara: Neal Davies
Belcore: Mark Stone
Giannetta: Megan Llewellyn Davies
Dulcamara’s Assistant: Rhys Battle /  Liam Simons

The Full Cast

Quite apart from the quality of Donizetti’s music, L’elisir d’amore has two significant strengths: first, an archetypal plot, full of resonant echoes – in terms of character-types and situations – of the great traditions of comedy and, indeed, of folklore; second, a masterful libretto which is genuinely poetic (and funny), written by a man fully conscious of his story’s debt to tradition (but seemingly liberated rather than inhibited by that consciousness). That man was Felice Romani (1788-1865), and when one talks of ‘his’ story, the phrase can only be used rather loosely. Written in some haste, Romani’s libretto for L’elisir was a translation and adaptation of a text, Le philtre, which Eugène Scribe had prepared only a year earlier (L’elisir was premiered in 1832) for Daniel Auber. And, incidentally, Ascribe’s libretto was based, in turn, on the play Il filtro by the Italian Silvio Malaperta.  Romani’s version is infinitely more poetic than his original (not least because of some key additions which do much to deepen it emotionally), with a tenderness and subtlety quite beyond Scribe’s reach. Romani was scholar as well as poet – he published a six-volume dictionary of mythology, alongside the many libretti which he wrote, for Mayr, Bellini and Donizetti. There can be no doubt that he was well aware of the deeply traditional elements in the story, nor that he respected them and saw their value and meaning.  The text he prepared (perhaps as hurriedly as legend suggests) for Donizetti’s use in L’elisir articulates far more than the simple rustic comedy which the opera has sometimes been taken to be.

The resulting work is a very knowing, very self-aware piece, full of allusions to literary, mythological and operatic traditions. Donizetti’s own music echoes more than one of his preceding operas and the libretto is studded with references to, amongst others, Cupid and Mars, Paris (the Trojan abductor of Helen, that is), Croesus and Pandora. And, of course, the whole mechanism of the plot is set in motion by Adina’s reading aloud of the story of Tristan and Isolde and the effects of the love philtre. Though Romani’s libretto sets its tale in a Basque village (though not in this production) such a context of mythological, epic and romantic allusion seems to hark back to an earlier stage in operatic history. This is a work deeply embedded in tradition and all the better for it.

Daniel Slater’s production – originally created for Opera North – shifts the action to a seaside resort in Italy, presumably in the 1950s. In general the shift is a happy one – the story is, as suggested above, archetypal rather than merely ‘local’ in its significance. The stage is a blaze of bright light – in a cold February how nice it was to see so brightly blue a sky! The production bubbles with energy, is well choreographed (by Tim Claydon) and balances hectic action with moments of repose, crowded scenes with solitary ones, in a fashion that constantly engages the attention. There is plenty of inventive (and some pleasantly traditional!) comic business, though not to  the point of excess or intrusiveness. Adina’s farm has become ‘Hotel Adina’, with Nemorino being one of the waiters in the establishment; Belcore and the men under his command have become sailors rather than soldiers (logically enough given the new coastal setting). A few trivial absurdities are thrown up – even in a production which stresses Nemorino’s lack of intelligence and sophistication, it is surely an odd hotel waiter who can’t recognise wine; it jars that the sung text should insist on words like ‘soldati’ even at times when the stage action vividly shows us Nemorino being persuaded to join the navy! – but there are many compensations in the sheer joi de vivre that permeates the whole setting, abounding with vespas, drunken locals, gossiping women, quarrelling couples, sexual assignations, amateur artists et al. The arrival of Dulcamara (and a rather delightful boy assistant) by hot air balloon – which was very well contrived – is no innovation (it has featured in many a production since, at least, Nathaniel Merrill’s version for New York’s Metropolitan Opera in 1960) but fitted admirably here, adding to the colour and vivacity of the whole. It is not perhaps unduly fanciful, given the considerations discussed earlier, to see in Dulcamara and his arrival a kind of (false) deus ex machina, arriving like Apollo in a baroque opera, an Apollo intending, on this occasion, to exploit the complications that the humans have got themselves into but, inadvertently, proving the means to resolve them.

 Adina: Camilla Roberts and Nemorino: Dimitri Pittas

As demanded by such a production the ensemble work was excellent. The chorus were – this always seems to merit saying where WNO are concerned – uniformly excellent. The dynamics of the opera’s narrative focus on a community’s rejection of the outsiders (Belcore and his men), its own identity strengthened by the experience of temptation and rejection, and the work of the chorus brought this out very well. All of the principals made their contributions to the theatrical success of the evening. As Adina, Camilla Roberts began somewhat nervously but settled as the performance went on; judged by the very highest standards Roberts never quite carried absolute conviction in the considerable vocal demands of the role, the sense of effortfulness evident at a number of points. But there were plenty of good things too, not least in the splendid clarity of her high notes. This was Roberts’ debut in the role and the considerable promise was clear, even if her Adina was not as fully characterised as she might be. Neal Davies was a nimble-witted (and footed) spiv of a Dulcamara, lithe and energetic. His closing joy in his (mistaken) belief that he really had sold Nemorino an effective love elixir was itself a joy to behold and some of the theatrical humour (as in some excellent business with his wig) had an improvisatory quality about it. Vocally, Davies was never less than highly competent, even if he never dazzled in the way that some performances of, say, ‘Udite, udite, o rustici’ can. Dulcamara’s Act II duet with Adina brought the best out of both Davies and Roberts (and was, incidentally, very well staged). For some of Dulcamara’s music, however, Davies’s voice is perhaps a little on the light side; but this was, overall, a very attractive interpretation of the role. Mark Stone’s Belcore was a model of self-regarding self-confidence, especially immediately after his arrival (on a vespa, naturally, out of the way of which others had to move). Again, vocally speaking, this was a performance that let no one down and made a valuable and proper contribution to the whole ensemble, without ever achieving any memorable individuality.

One performance which will certainly stick in the memory was the Nemorino of Dimitri Pittas. This was, I believe, Pittas’s British debut, and it was certainly an impressive one. This was a charmingly (and occasionally irritatingly!) naïve Nemorino – positively dim-witted at times! But Pittas never left one in any doubt as to the depth of Nemorino’s emotional capacity, of the sincerity of his love for Adina. Vocally he was immensely assured, and displayed a considerable ease in the bel canto idiom. There is a definite radiance to the voice, firm yet tender, and capable of both grace and strength. The set piece of  ‘Una furtive lagrima’ was splendid, done with unshowy suavity of line; though the aria is a set piece, yet it is worth stressing that Pittas made it work as a natural and proper expression of the character, not merely a display of the singer’s vocal skills. Elsewhere Pittas showed himself a very accomplished ensemble singer and everywhere there was a winning sense of ease and naturalness to his work. His performance as Macduff at the Metropolitan in New York, during the 2007-2008 season garnered some very impressive reviews. This is a young tenor of whom we shall surely hear much more – British listeners should take the chance to hear his Nemorino if they possibly can.

The young Scottish conductor Rory Macdonald drew some generally very good playing from the orchestra, though the overture was perhaps a little stiff and the orchestral blend was, at that stage, less than perfect (it improved greatly). Macdonald’s support of the singers was generally very effective and made its own very considerable contribution to an enjoyable evening in the theatre. Donizetti’s (and Romani’s) opera may have been written somewhat hurriedly (two weeks according to Donizetti’s own account), but it betrays no signs of haste and this was a production which allowed many of its virtues to shine and make their proper theatrical impact.

Glyn Pursglove

Pictures © Brian Tarr

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