the savor of verdi's "falstaff"
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WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 8, 2014
The Savour of Falstaff
Met - January 3, 2014
Lei: Tutto nel mondo è burla - that’s how Verdi’s anti-hero Falstaff salutesthe public in the composer’s last work: an ode to wine, food, women andearthly pleasures, because “life is nothing more than a joke.” And comingfrom the father of the most stirring operatic dramas, with heroines andtheir lovers tragically dying left and right, it’s quite a statement.
Lui: Verdi’s farewellopera is indeed a veryBoccaccio-esque romp inthe realm of appearances,practical jokes, feints andpranks. The world of theDecameron’s signaturebeffe and burle. There iseven a sort of umbilicalcord refrain that repeatsthroughout the operalinking the Fenton-Nannetta subplot to a
kernel of Boccaccian wit. It’s a quote from the seventh story of the secondday of Boccaccio’s Decameron: “Bocca baciata non perde ventura, anzirinnova come fa la luna” (“The mouth that has been kissed does not loseits savor, indeed it renews itself just as the moon does”). The young lovers,apparently avid readers of the medieval Italian author, quote it to eachother in their flirty duets, and Nannetta always finishes Fenton’s sentencefor him when he starts to utter it. Even the only truly romantic bit of theopera is, thus, a nod to the jesty Boccaccio.
Lei: AmbrogioMaestri carried the
Photo credit: Sara Krulwich / The New York Times
THE AUTHORS: LEI & LUI
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show, not surprisinglysince he celebrated his200th Falstaffperformance during thisrun at the Met. What istruly impressive is thatMaestri is only 43, andstarted performing thisrole at 31, when RiccardoMuti noticed him inMilan and worked with him on developing a “younger” voice for a roletraditionally performed by older singers. Maestri’s acting was superb, withunexpected light and fluid movements and an effortless comic force dottedwith a few strokes of tragic awareness. Also, it really makes a differencewhen someone with his articulation performs Falstaff, really savoring andowning every single word, doing justice to the richness of Boito’s libretto.Maestri was the only singer on stage 100% understandable at any givenmoment, while some of his colleagues’ Italian diction was not always asclear.
Angela Meade confirmed herself as a strong solid singer, who performedAlice Ford with verve and confidence. I found Meade’s acting to haveimproved, looking a bit more mobile on stage when compared to when Isaw her in Ernani. Mezzo Stephanie Blythe was very impressive asMistress Quickly, her deep dark timbre was so clear and powerful that shedwarfed everybody else, including Maestri. I’ve seen her before as Azucenain Trovatore but this was the first time I was so struck with the strengthand fullness of her voice. Lisette Oropesa’s Nannetta was pretty goodthough at times her lyricism was a tad too frail for my taste. Her duets withPaolo Fanale’s Fenton were pleasant but lacked punch, coming across asmore nostalgic than ardent young love.
Photo credit: Sara Krulwich / The New York Times
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Metropolitan Opera
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Lui: The setting is mostlysuccessful in making thematerial moreapproachable, moving theaction of the first act froma medieval tavern to a1950s wood paneledhotel, where Falstaffgorges himself on roomservice. Carts of foodlitter his chamber. In
addition to the symbolism of the environs Falstaff inhabits, the thematicimportance of class difference is further conveyed through the contrastbetween the protagonist’s grandiose old world aristocratic outfits and themid-century modern Mad Men sorts of costumes that adorn the rest of thecast. Setting a piece like this in the pivotal postwar period, with itsexplosion of suburban life so vividly represented by Alice Ford’shumongous yellow kitchen in Act II, is a perfect fit for the central tensionsof the story. Falstaff is, after all, a decadent and debauched minoraristocrat trying to fit into a petit bourgeois society that is on the verge ofsupplanting the old order, the values of which he is the lingeringembodiment, and that manages to have its way with him. In the finalsequence the tables are turned (and quite literally so in Carsen’schoreography of the climactic scene) on the voracious appetites of ouromnivore. The man who once held the fork and knife is now under theforks and knives of the bourgeois society that is out to teach him a lesson.He is now on the table being poked and prodded so he knows what it’s liketo be on the other side of his careless appetites.
Lei: While I am all forfreshening up productionswith modern takes, I cannotstand it when for the sake ofmodernization things arepushed too much and theaction does not match thewords that are being sung.This happened in Scene IIof Act II, here set in AliceFord’s kitchen, when thelibretto makes multiplereferences to a paravento (dressing screen) that the ladies set up in aspecific way at Alice Ford’s instructions and that serves as hiding place forFalstaff first and for Nannetta and Fenton later. In this production whenfolks mention the paravento they mean alternately a cupboard and atablecloth. I recently saw a video of the 2001 La Scala production ofFalstaff where a real paravento was used that not only corresponded tothe libretto but also worked as a better theatrical prop since it divided the
Photo credit: Catherine Ashmore / Royal Opera House
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Metropolitan Opera
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space with a split screen effect that was much better than hiding singers ina cupboard or under a table. Also, I did not fully understand the sensebehind the crowd of men, dressed like private detectives, who stormed intoAlice Ford’s kitchen and proceeded to throw stuff from all of her cabinets.While it may have been intended as an absurdist comic touch (many in thepublic laughed), to me it just seemed awkward.
Lui: Perhaps it is meantto be a comment on theprewar social order that isnow being undermined byconsumerism on adifferent scale and of adifferent kind. Theshower of suburbanconsumer goods that
pours from the cabinets and cupboards of Alice Ford’s kitchen in the madmanhunt scene is reminiscent of the finale of Michelangelo Antonioni’s1970 film, “Zabriskie Point,” with its surreal clouds of conspicuousconsumption raining down from the sky after a desert mansion isdestroyed in an presumably imaginary explosion. Carsen’s production ofFalstaff seems to level a lighthearted critique of postwar capitalism. Thesuburban mores of Alice’s brave new world present a petty substitute forFalstaff’s corrupt aristocratic appetites. His love of endless bottles ofXeres, polli, tacchini, fagiani and acciughe finds its kindred spirit in herkitchen full of copious amounts of consumer products.
Lei: On a separate note, do we really need to have a real horse chewinghay onstage at the beginning of Act III? I am not sure what bothered memore, its entirely superfluous presence or the public cheering for it. I sawon archive photos that in the London run of this production AmbrogioMaestri actually rode a horse in the park scene. My guess is that the ridingmay have been such a scary experience for all parties involved that this
Photo credit: Sara Krulwich / The New York Times
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Metropolitan Opera
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time they kept the horse on the side just munching hay, while Falstaffdrinks mulled wine. In any event, while real livestock may be acceptable inAida’s triumphal march in the outdoorsy Arena di Verona, draggingdrugged beasts on any other operatic stage as some sort of extra realistictouch or comic relief is never a good idea. I think I may still be haunted bythe couple of sad big grey dogs used for the Met's Anna Bolena huntingscene in 2011.
Lui: The absurd and unnecessary exchange with the horse is actually oneof my favorite scenes in the opera. This is where Falstaff seems to havereached rock bottom. He has been thrown out with the dirty laundry andhe’s hanging himself out to dry in what we could call, in the arc of hischaracter development, his deepest darkest cave.
Io, dunque, avrò vissuto tanti anni, audace e destro
Cavaliere, per essere portato in un canestro
E gittato al canale co’pannilini biechi,
Come si fa coi gatti e i catellini ciechi.
Che se non galleggiava per me quest’epa tronfia,
Certo affogavo. Brutta morte. L’acqua mi gonfia.
Mondo reo. Non c’è più virtù. Tutto declina.
Va’, vecchio John, va’, va’per la tua via; cammina
Finché tu muoia. Allor scomparirà la vera
Virilità dal mondo. Che giornataccia nera!*
In this bit, the musicality of the language of Boito’s libretto is phenomenal.His spirits are crushed and the sound of his words are heavy and gloomy.His couplets rhyme on soundslike biechi and ciechi, tronfia and gonfia, vera and nera. Then he takes his
Photo credit: Sara Krulwich / The New York Times
fateful first sip of mulled wine, which opens his eyes and his mind to thebrighter side of life and the sound of his language follows suit.
Buono. Ber del vin dolce e sbottonarsi al sole,
Dolce cosa! Il buon vino sperde le tetre fole
Dello sconforto, accende l’occhio e il pensier, dal labbro
Sale al cervel e quivi risveglia il picciol fabbro
Dei trilli; un negro grillo che vibra entro l’uom brillo.
Trilla ogni fibra in cor, l’allegro etere al trillo
Guizza e il giocondo globo squilibra una demenza
Trillante! E il trillo invade il mondo!...**
His solitary reflection onthe pleasure of drink ispunctuated by alliterativespeech patterns full ofinternal rhymes on thesounds of words withrolling R’s and double L’s.The rapid succession oftrillo, grillo, brillo,allegro, squlibra, andtrillante all roll off thetongue like a birdsong.
His newfound happiness is inscribed in the text itself. Now Verdi is famousfor his drinking songs and I’ve counted one in virtually every Verdi operaI’ve yet to see: from Libiam nei lieti calici in La Traviata to Ernani’sEvviva, beviam beviam, a libation is never lacking. In Falstaff, Verdi givesus different kind of ode to wine. This time it is melancholic and solitarybut uplifting nevertheless.
Lei: This was my first live Falstaff and I had low expectations of enjoyingit much due to its unconventional format (no real arias, music often feelinglike schizophrenic virtuosism). Three things made me reconsider afterseeing the Met’s production: the complexity of the libretto, the highlypleasurable action on stage and Levine’s electrifying conducting. Boito’slanguage is rich and poetic while at the same time light and funny, withlines such as “L’enorme Falstaff vuole / entrar nel vostro tetto / beccarvila consorte / sfondar la cassa forte / e sconquassarvi il letto.” (“theenormous Falstaff wants / to enter your house / pinch your wife / breakopen your coffer / and smash your bed”). Maybe the cast was excited aboutworking with James Levine or Robert Carsen’s direction deserves thecredit. No matter the reason, the action on stage was energetic andaccurate across the board, bringing to life the score and the libretto as adelightful yet explosive package. James Levine made fireworks out ofVerdi’s music, with an intensity and pace that left this Falstaff skeptic outof breath – in a good way.
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Metropolitan Opera
Posted by Zerlinetta at Wednesday, January 08, 2014
Labels: Antonioni, Blythe, Boccaccio, Boito, Carsen, Ernani, Falstaff, Fanale, Levine, MadMen, Maestri, Meade, Met, Oropesa, Shakespeare, Traviata, Verdi
* I, then, having lived so long as a brave and skillful Knight, end up carried in a clothes-basket, tossed
in the river with the stinking wash, like a kitten or a still blind pup. Without this buoyant paunch, I’d surely have
drowned. A nasty death. Water swells me! Evil world! There’s no honor left, all goes to pot. Go, old Jack, go thy ways;
travel until thou’rt dead. Then true manliness will be gone from the world. What a black day!
** Good. To loosen one’s vest in the sun and drink sweet wine. A sweet thing! Good wine chases away the gloomy
thoughts of sorrow, lights up the eye and one’s thoughts; from the lips it rises to the brain, wakening the fairy smith of
trills, a black cricket who sings in the reeling brain, waking to trills every fiber of the heart. The joyous air quivers to the
trill, a thrilling madness intoxicates the happy globe, the trill quivers through the entire world!
Photo credit: Sara Krulwich / The New York Times
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Metropolitan Opera
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