Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center, N.Y.; April 19, 2010
Composed during the particularly fecund period between 1815 and 1822 when he was musical director in Naples, Armida is unusual even for Rossini, whose output and styles cut a wide swath. In all, he composed nine serious operas for Naples, of which Armida was the third (in November, 1817), taking occasional time off to pen ten other operas for Rome, Venice, Milan and Lisbon. The plot, taken from the 16th century poet Torquato Tasso (which, in turn, was borrowed from Ariosto’s “Orlando Furioso”) and was treated by other composers as well – Haydn, Gluck, Graun, Salieri, Handel – takes place during the First Crusade and involves the Damascan sorceress/princess Armida, who loves, is loved by, and bewitches the paladin Rinaldo. She takes him from his Christian, soldierly duties and thereby undermines the Christian Crusaders. When two fellow paladins find him they show him his reflection in a shield, and, horrified by how weak he has become, he tears himself away from Armida and leaves. In a rage, she follows, but to no avail, and she cries out to the powers of hell for vengeance.
This is the only opera in Rossini’s oeuvre that involves magic, but unlike some other composers who treated the subject, he seems more interested in the love story, and vocal, rather than stage, machinery. He composed the role for Isabella Colbran, the woman who was to become his wife – she was the mistress of the Neapolitan impresario, Domenico Barbaja at the time – and he rightly concentrates on showing off her voice. Her opening number is filled with glorious, florid coloratura; in act two she has a show-stopping rondo with huge leaps and endless runs and trills; and her final scene is a grand display of madness, passion and wild drama. And in between there are three rapturous, long-lined love duets with Rinaldo. Moreover, she is the only solo woman’s voice in the opera; it otherwise calls for six tenors and two basses. Rossini fills the opera with a few of his finest set pieces, most sensual orchestration (with a grand cello solo for the second act love duet and violin solo for the third act), and very daring chromatic writing for the hellish finale. Even the ballet music, normally a nightmare in opera, is so expert – and gloriously scored – that it surprises and delights.
The Met’s new – and first-ever – production of the opera correctly uses the critical edition by Charles and Patricia Brauner, which clarifies and highlights the composer’s brilliantly colored orchestration. Director Mary Zimmerman, who offered a stupid, obnoxious read on Bellini’s La sonnambula last season, has kept many of her non-ideas to herself this time, although precisely what she was hoping to achieve is unclear. The show is full of whimsy – I guess an attempt to take it utterly seriously would have been too literal and unsophisticated. Love and Revenge, the two factors that rule Armida, watch silently over the proceedings, the former is a cute girl in a little red dress, the latter is macho and dangerous looking. By the show’s end – as the mad Armida is torn between the two both textually and through Rossini’s marvelous music – they are literally pulling her from side to side. Cupid is carried off stage as Revenge wins and Armida curses and swears destruction. Little devil-figures jumping around are funnier than they are menacing. Richard Hudson’s sets and costumes are in accord with Ms Zimmerman’s approach. A white curved semi-circular wall with eight doors backs the stage; obviously fake palm trees (they are blue) and sand set the scene for fantasy; a field of plastic flowers in act three makes the playground effect even clearer. Costumes for Armida are stunning but have little to do with the period, and the Crusaders, in red and gold, are dashing. Graciela Daniele’s choreography for the ballet varies between charming and silly, and at one point, the male devils wear tutus.
One could not help feeling that Renée Fleming, who first sang the role of Armida 17 years ago, was taking it easy for most of the evening. The role is a killer, and while Ms Fleming handles the wild coloratura well, hers was not a virtuoso turn; moreover, she seemed to be saving herself. For the fantastic finale, she is placed at the front of the stage, with a drop curtain behind her (so that the sound has nowhere to travel but into the theater) allowing her to sing to maximum effect, and she tore the house down, letting go with everything she had been holding back. Her scoopy mannerisms showed up occasionally during Rossini’s languid love duets, but there seemed to be no complaints from the audience. But the role needs a darker tone and absolutely impeccable coloratura – perhaps Joyce DiDonato, a mezzo, can take over the part next time it is presented.
The tenors had a field day. The star was Lawrence Brownlee as Rinaldo, cementing his place as one of today’s finest bel canto tenors. Utterly at ease throughout the role’s two-and-a-third octaves (up to high D) and both fluent and forceful in his coloratura, the newly slimmed down Brownlee was superb. John Osborn, as Goffredo, a Christian leader, sang with passion and ringing high notes; the jealous paladin Gernando came to life through José Manuel Zapata’s portrayal; Yeghishe Manucharyan was stylish as Eustazio, Goffredo’s brother. Ubaldo and Carlo, the paladins who rescue Rinaldo in the last act, were sung by Kobie van Rensburg and Barry Banks, respectively. Their three-tenor number was thrilling, with Banks interpolating high notes with abandon and style. They confronted Rinaldo as if the plot really mattered, with spotless enunciation and energy.
The two bass voices – Peter Volpe as Armida’s uncle Idraote and Keith Miller as Astarotte, Armida’s chief demon – sang with fervor despite the former looking like a conehead from Saturday Night Live and the latter wearing a silver devil suit and being made to writhe all over the stage. Riccardo Frizza’s leadership suited his leading lady; at times, realizing the weakness in her mid-range, he held the orchestra back a bit much and he underemphasized Rossini’s string attacks at forte. The horn players, with plenty to do, were having a blooper-filled evening, but the Met Orchestra otherwise played well, with special kudos going to the solo cellist, violinist and harpist.
Armida will be performed again on April 22nd and 27th and May 1st, 4th, 7th, 11th and 15th.
Robert Levine
