Peter Konwitschny’s Brechtian (he says) version of Verdi’s La traviata takes no prisoners. He wants us to think and engage. And emote—it hits you in the solar plexus. No stage set as such to distract from the overpowering emotions of a love thwarted by convention. Love drives them all, all kinds of love, altruistic and amour propre, for good or bad. But what voices to deliver the goods—they are the set—just listen and you can see it all. Solo arias, duets and trios perfect. And an intimidating chorus that could have stepped out of bourgeois-baiting Buñuel.
I can hardly breathe at the end. I feel I’m hearing it anew. The applause is ecstatic. How does Nicole Chevalier (great coloratura) in the lead role sustain her breath in a two-hour production with no interval—it’s a tour de force performance. She made her ENO stage debut in Henryk Górecki’s Symphony of Sorrowful Songs in April, and if her singing was remarkable then, this time it is even more so.
She holds the centre of the stage right to the end, as her doctor (bass Jonathan Lemalu), her lover (fine tenor Jose Simerilla Romero in his ENO debut as Alfredo) and his father Giorgio Germont (gloriously rich baritone Roland Wood) abandon her to a solitary death. Such is her lot in an existential life peopled by the contemptuous rich, who use, abuse and spit her out.
At her end, Alfredo joins his father and the doctor on the other side of the orchestra pit. They sing from the stalls as if she has already crossed the river Styx. All the while, conductor Richard Farnes calmly navigates Verdi’s stormy waters. I am close enough to watch him. This is ENO’s second revival of Konwitschny’s 2013 production, this time under the directorship of Ruth Knight, and why have we waited so long...
Italian La traviata, so well-known and beloved by many, based on the French La Dame aux camellias, is given a Weimar vibe in English translation (Martin Fitzpatrick). A universal tale through the literary ages of the ‘fallen woman’, the consumptive Violetta in black (blond in the country scenes) ‘Louise Brookes’ bob (Pandora’s Box) stumbles her way on a bare stage (with solitary chair) peeling back stage curtain after stage curtain only to find another and another behind it. And so it goes till the final curtain…
There are no wizards behind any of them—it’s a clever concept, a shallow world, which doesn't recognise real love when it sees it. And a patriarchal society in which the woman must be either madonna or whore. Or thrown on the scrapheap—the aging waitresses gone to seed in grotesque Cabaret style may be a joke too far.
When Alfredo’s father begs her to give up his son, so he doesn't disgrace the family and ruin his sister’s chances of making a good match, the loving Violetta agrees after his persuasive aria. There’s no need to emphasise it with the visual aid of bringing Germont’s schoolgirl daughter (not in the original) into the dumb show, and it makes nonsense of the libretto. Does kind Violetta break with Alfredo out of solidarity with the female against the patriarchy? Or simple selfless love?
I guess Konwitschny is driving a point home in this modern dress European production. Just look around at the glitzy celebrity audience with wine glasses in their hands (I get one spilt over me as an already inebriated lady eases her way along the row behind me—I go home with sticky hair but with my ears and heart tingling). Konwitschny must want us to see our reflections on the stage (Gogol once said something to that effect).
Germont redeems himself with a heartfelt aria when he visits the ailing Violetta in her country home at the end—he has misjudged her. It’s heartbreaking. Love makes people do the worst things. Jealousy drives Alfredo to malign Violetta. Between them, they destroy a fragile flower, who was going to die anyway but maybe without the anguish. Yet, she triumphs over them all.
The production is a must-see—its sucks you in slowly, then ramps up the tension, the passion, the febrile vibrations. Absolutely stunning, and the curtain call is celebratory. Chevalier looks surprised at the reception. Everyone takes to the stage, cast, chorus (fabulous as usual), crew and the whole orchestra. ENO at its inclusive best—what a treasure, sadly struggling to survive...