Libiamo

An opera post? Surely not.

I know about as much about opera as I do about maths and philosophy but, ever one for the expansion of horizons and the evasion of work I'm supposed to be doing, I'm slowly getting there. I've actually attended a grand total of three operas (Dvořák's Rusalka, Puccini's Madama Butterfly, and Verdi's Macbeth) and own recordings of two others (Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro and Verdi's La traviata), which I suppose isn't too bad on the face of it.

I've always appreciated opera in the same way that you would appreciate any other piece of orchestral or choral music: simply as music. While that approach is fine to a point - and naïve as this may sound - it's only very recently dawned on me that opera is as much about the staging and performance of it as anything else. Sure, the music is at the very centre of the whole thing but an opera - far more than, say, a symphony or even a choral work like Handel's Messiah - is meant to be performed. It's meant to be staged. We're meant to immerse ourselves in it as we would a play.

This has been starkly brought home to me by my recent viewing of the 2005 Salzburg Festival staging of La traviata with Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazón singing the parts of Violetta and Alfredo. I cannot recommend this highly enough.

Netrebko is wonderfully cast as the Parisian courtesan - beautiful, flirtatious, impassioned, physically and emotionally racked - and the chemistry between her Violetta and Villazón's Alfredo is palpable. Both internationally acclaimed singers, but also both wonderful actors.

Traditionally set in the Parisian salons of the 18th century, this production modernises the action and dispenses with chandaliers and chaises-longues in favour of a bare set. The only prop that remains on stage for almost the entire performance is a simple clock, menacingly counting down the hours that Violetta has to live. One particularly effective moment occurs in the first act as Violetta's pleasure-hungry guests leave her party and the clock's hands speed up, hurtling her, to her panic, towards her grave. The clip is here:



If you're not familiar with the plot of La traviata it's worth reading through a synopsis beforehand to appreciate what Willy Decker has done with the staging. Aside from that the best thing to do is get stuck in - if for no better reason than it'll have you singing the brindisi for days after: