Il Trovatore @ Royal Opera House, London
Verdi’s operas are always extravagant in their storytelling. For this one, throw away the synopsis, don’t even try to understand the plot and just enjoy the staging, music and singing. If you insist on having an overview of the opera, think Where the Wild Things Are meets Castle of Ontranto (with extra Gothic) and occasional hints of Henry V and The White Queen, in Annemarie Woods’s designs and Adele Thomas’s direction. And throw into all of this, the ballet Still Life at the Penguin Cafe, (particularly its costuming influences). At times it also feels a bit Wilkie Collins, very sensation novel and more!
Though we’re in the later Middle Ages and I think this is meant to be a lush historical epic, costuming is extremely stylised, and the staging uber bleak and spartan. Woman, Leonora (Marigona Qerkezi), loves Man, Manrico (Gwyn Hughes Jones). Man is a troubador, Manrico. (We often hear him singing off-stage). The opera’s all about him — the Troubador! Woman is also loved or lusted after by the Count di Luna (boo hiss), (Juan Jesús Rodríguez), who looks like an early Tudor, and who has an army…and a sidekick, who appears to have three hellhounds, Black Shucks straight out of Bronte novels. But the hellhounds are devoted faithfully to the henchman, who has great armour, straight out of Looking For Richard. Then there’s poor Manrico’s mother Azucena (Yulia Matochkina), who is an outcast and treated as a witch, apparently because she murdered her baby son. Or did she? Everyone loves to remind her of this at every opportunity. She’s full of anguish, because she can’t really recall what she did, and has experienced huge trauma in her family in the past. She has a secret about Manrico and the Count too. Azucena also has some of the greatest Verdi lyrics in this opera. Yulia Matochkina sang powerfully and beautifully, standing out in a night full of beautiful music and singing. She’s wearing a very bedraggled surcote or Houppelande, with wonderful open sides. At one point she wears a wig as a disguise, which is uncovered, and then the wig is chucked around by the horrible rabble, before further Gothic misery (and great singing) ensues.
Their troops fight it out, there’s a duel, Manrico is imprisoned and faces execution by the Count — until Leonora sacrifices herself, (in more ways than one). This is the story at face value, and it’s got the recognisable ‘Anvil Chorus!!!’ Leonora thinks Manrico has been killed in the duel, and tries to become a nun, all to avoid marrying the Count. The Count is having none of this and invades the convent to get her back. Manrico is alive, they reunite and possibly marry or pledge themselves — it’s unclear as soon Leonora is marrying the Count instead to save her goaled lover from a death sentence. Somehow, he’s in prison with his mother, which provides some tender moments. Leonora’s sacrifice proves to be more faithful and more deadly than Manrico understands — and determined to the end, the Count continues with Manrico’s execution regardless. Only there’s a reveal… and that family revelation is awkward to say the least.
What you get is sensory overload on overdrive, some baffling costuming and a stepped stage with a sheer front. This provides something for the hellhounds to caper around, but at the same time, thrills the audience as any of the cast could fall into the orchestra pit at any time. How they don’t is due to their extreme skills. At other points, post-battle, stripey corpses in thick body paint litter the stage, until they are carefully dragged, or up and zombie walk, off. Then there are various flaps and holes in the stage which Wild Things/Penguin Cafe chorus (meant to be Roma aka the hard workers, possibly enslaved by the Count) pop out of to sing during significant moments. Sadly, absolutely no Anvil on stage during the Anvil Chorus — but as so much in Emma Woods’s choreography was happening, was it even missed?! Ditto the sense of two lords/men with private armies fighting each other; only the Count seemed to have troops.
The henchman has chicken feet, (like Baba Yaga’s house). His three hellhounds have ‘Viking’ horned helmets. Pure Maurice Sendak. You can turn them into Schuyler Sisters and make sure you spot them all every time they’re on stage. The henchman has a Henry Tudor haircut, but possibly may be channelling Richard III or Edward IV. Leonora’s BFF has gone full hennin and wimple with long hanging pointed sleeves, in dark forest green. Leonora starts off more Renaissance Fayre, but eventually joins in with long hanging pointed sleeves too. However, she does need to move around the steps, apparently marrying or pledging with Manrico on a raised up set of steps — so she does have a need for speed rather than gliding! (I found myself worrying about how they were going to get down again safety — thankfully it’s a lift up, lift down ramp). Then there are the hard-working Anvil Chorus villagers or townsfolk — they’re all in Penguin Cafe bodysuits, like giraffe-zebras and caper about. Work is the last thing on their minds despite singing about it. and they never produce the Anvil which is the theme of their song. For everyone is staying alive!
The whole opera is conducted moving up, around and down the steps, in an deeply austere setting. The lighting makes this production, showing us where we are at any time. The troops (I felt that we only really saw the evil Count’s not Manrico’s) generally positioned themselves in a shuffle at the side of the stage or appeared to limber up pre-battle. Some great stage punches were thrown! I’m not sure that I saw the war lords fighting with their pledged men, their private armies, as Verdi’s original suggests. Not that I minded because nuns vs soldiers vs hellhounds, in a freeze-frame was spectacular.
Like Sienese paintings, the nuns had glowing golden halos, solid discs above their heads, and when not being menaced by hellhounds, were quite good at fighting off a soldier with a pikestaff. No respecter of nuns, the Count was determined not to let Leonora get away by fulfilling her vows. But saving herself and with a rescue from Manrico, she lives to sing another day! The hellhounds continue lolloping around, sniffing the air. Every so often the henchman will turn up to get new orders for the army. I think he might die in battle — but it was hard to tell, as in the next scene he was up and around again! Hell henchman and hellhounds?
Meanwhile, there’s big romance, tragedy and reveals, really tender care in the prison scenes between Manrico and his suffering Mum, and the most wonderful tunes and songs. The henchman is nimble on his feet and Leonora’s crucifix necklace becomes a subject of tussle between the Count (boo hiss) and Manrico.
So sublime was the music and singing that I forgot to read the English subtitles (it’s sung in Italian). I was mesmerised by the staging and all the spectacle taking place on the stage. As ever in opera, everyone dies happily ever after — apart from the Count, who has to live with what he has done.
Even more drama happened in the curtain calls, where one of the hellhounds produced a Palestinian flag, which a distressed person tried to grab off of them, twice, from the wings. No security obvious in any of this. There was booing — for the flag or the action, who could tell? By the end we seemed to be clapping the flag not the performers or the performance, and whilst art should, must challenge, was this it? On the other hand, if you ever thought a three hour opera was tedious — this is not your opera! The drama at the end mirrored the ferment in the staging somehow.
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