I feel somewhat guilty about not liking this performance, and I cannot figure out why Covent Garden would have bothered to immortalize it on video. Granted, the temptation to capture a young cast in this most youth-oriented of operas is understandable–and John Copley’s 1974 production (which I actually saw, and admired tremendously, on a trip to London many years ago) remains the soul of non-fussy, traditional, honest shows. I was particularly taken at the time by the multi-level Café Momus scene, the idea for which was usurped–and wildly elaborated upon–in 1982 by Franco Zeffirelli at the Met. But this performance turns out to be Bohème-lite, and there are a handful of finer DVDs of this opera to be found.
The wonderful sets are looking a bit tattered and colorless, but space is used intelligently, and neither the sentimentality nor the humor is overblown. If tears are to be wrung from the audience, it will be through the music and the voices, but alas, at least in my corner, the eyes never even welled up.
Russian soprano Hibla Gerzmava is an impressive singer. Her voice is attractive and of a good size, her use of dynamics intelligent, her long breaths, both in “Mi chiamano Mimi” and her Farewell, most welcome if a bit show-offish. But she does not radiate “Mimi” the way Scotto or Freni did; the voice does not open in a particularly Puccinian manner, she exhibits no fragility, and close-ups betray a lack of spontaneity.
Her Rodolfo, looking suitably baby-faced, is Teodor Ilincai, a 26-year-old Romanian tenor. The voice is sweet, pliable, and well-trained; top notes, including a pair of well-placed Cs, are easy and ringing, and he colors his words and notes. He probably is a fine Nemorino and Alfredo at the moment; Rodolfo, to my ears, requires a bit more body. Anyone who recalls Nicolai Gedda in the part will understand–there is nothing seriously wrong with the performance, but something is not right. Ilincai’s sound is more innately Italianate than Gedda’s, so I think all we have to do is wait and we’ll be in for a real treat. (I checked him out on Youtube.com and heard perfectly pitched arias from Ernani and Turandot; both were a size too large and he shouted them.)
Gabriele Viviani’s Marcello is a complete portrayal. It may not be one for the books, but he listens as well as he sings, he’s involved and has style and an appealing, warm sound. Jacques Imbrailo’s Schaunard–a role easy to forget–is memorable, and the Colline of Kostas Smoriginas is fully-rounded and impressively sung. Inna Dukach, Moscow-born and New York-raised, is the Musetta, and she falls into every overdone cliché the character tends to carry with it, both dramatically and vocally–skirts-a-flying, high notes-a-squalling, and all of it turning to sympathy and goodness for the last act.
The real excitement comes from the leadership of Andris Nelsons, who seems to really love the score at its most playful and intimate as well as for its grand moments. He indulges Ilincai’s tendency to skip ahead of the beat, but he otherwise leads a tight ship, well-balanced and filled with theatricality. As expected, both orchestra and chorus are excellent, as are both picture and sound. Direction for TV is terrific, with a true sense of space for the Bohemians’ garret as well as fine close-ups and reaction shots. Had I been in the audience for this performance, I would have been pleased, but it is not for repeated viewings. If only the performance radiated a sense of true urgency or true passion!
Those interested in a video Bohème would be wise to find an old Kultur performance with Freni and Pavarotti from San Francisco in 1989, or the same tenor and Renata Scotto from the Met (on DG) from 1977, despite far less sophisticated filming techniques and sound. Either will exhibit the true power of Puccini’s characters. And I still have a warm spot for the Teresa Stratas/José Carreras performance in Zeffirelli’s Met production despite both singers being slightly stressed. It will drive you to tears.
