Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center, N.Y.; September 26, 2005
Franco Zeffirelli’s production of Verdi’s final opera, Falstaff, has been on display at the Met for more than forty years (it was shined and polished in 2002) and it’s still a delight to behold, and only a bit tattered around the edges. Zeffirelli is, of course, a grand traditionalist, and so his production, sets and costumes hold no surprises. But the story is told clearly and with great wit and warmth, and the Tudor look of the Garter Inn and the Fords’ home are filled with fine detail, while the Windsor Park scene is properly magical, if a bit over-crowded, with animals and extras practically hanging from tree limbs.
All eyes and ears were on Bryn Terfel, the smooth-voiced Welsh bass-baritone who can apparently do no wrong, whether as Wotan or Falstaff. Terfel is a big man and he’s padded for effect here as well, but he’s still sprightly – this Sir John is still full of life. His movements and facial gestures are grandly stagey and he clearly loves “playing” this character, whether he’s boomingly intimidating Pistol and Bardolph or cooing amorously at one of the Wives of Windsor, reducing his tone to a slender thread. He catches the true depths of Falstaff’s humiliation and self-pity as he sits dripping from the Thames (he climbs wet, out of the orchestra pit) and if he misses the irony in the final turnaround, well, there’s just so much an audience can demand. Terfel’s is quite a performance.
He is well-matched by the others in the cast. Roberto Frontali’s warm, rounded, clearly Verdian baritone is just right for the outraged Ford; Matthew Polenzani impresses, as usual, as the lyrical, smitten Fenton, and what a joy it is to hear Jean-Paul Fouchécourt as Bardolfo: he makes one wish the role were bigger. The women are equally splendid, with Stephanie Blythe’s big-toned, grand-looking Quickly dominating all of her scenes, Patricia Racette singing Alice with spontaneity, generous tone and right-on high notes, up to those staccati high Cs, and Heidi Grant Murphy a lovely Nannetta, shining brightly in her last act aria and, along with Mr Polenzani, in each of their mini-love duets. Maria Zifchak is a notable Meg Page, one whose voice does not get lost in ensembles.
“Falstaff” is a conductor’s opera, and James Levine knows the score and treats it even more lightly than in previous seasons. He underplays the heavy brass in the opening chords and the winds chirp brilliantly throughout. The Met Orchestra can do no wrong lately – I doubt any other orchestra has more reliable horns. The pacing is close to ideal, with just a bit of a lag in the final scene.
There are six more performances of “Falstaff” at the Met this season, through October 22nd. It’s a near-perfect evening at the opera, a great work performed with humor, beauty and wisdom.
Robert Levine
