(Photo: Roberto Ricci)

Experiencing Verdi in Busseto, the composer’s birthplace, remains a stirring prospect for any devotee of Italian opera. The Festival Verdi has wisely extended its activities beyond Parma’s Teatro Regio, bringing opera and concerts to venues throughout the city and its environs. Having previously attended a performance of “Il trovatore” in a seldom-used opera house in nearby Fidenza, I welcomed the Festival’s continuing tradition of presenting a Verdi opera in Busseto’s diminutive, 300-seat Teatro Verdi, named in honor of the town’s most illustrious son.

(Photo: Roberto Ricci)

Having witnessed Franco Zeffirelli’s imposing productions of “Aida” at La Scala and the Arena di Verona, I approached this revival of his Busseto staging with some trepidation. How could an opera so intimately associated with the monumental conventions of Grand Opera possibly accommodate itself to such a modest stage? The result proved unexpectedly rewarding. Indeed, I preferred several aspects of this miniature “Aida” (seen October 16) to the more spectacular incarnations with which Zeffirelli had accustomed audiences elsewhere.

The extravagant pageantry that constituted one of the opera’s principal attractions had sometimes threatened to overwhelm its dramatic substance in larger theaters. Here, the reduction of scale restored the centrality of the fraught relationships among Aida, Amneris, Radamès and Amonasro. Their conflicts acquired greater immediacy, and the intimate scenes gained a psychological conviction that the grander productions had not invariably achieved. However, the compromise was not without cost: the dances in the second Act’s triumphal scene were omitted, while the celebrated Triumphal March became less a conventional spectacle of massed splendor than a parade witnessed through the excitement of the assembled crowd. Yet the ingenuity of the conception more than compensated for these inevitable sacrifices.

(Photo: Roberto Ricci)

Illuminating Cast

The comparatively young cast was largely unfamiliar to me, with the welcome exception of mezzo-soprano Teresa Iervolino. The overall vocal standard exceeded expectations.

Federica Vitali made an appealing Aida, particularly through her finely controlled pianissimi and convincing acting. Her lyric soprano, however, lacked the spinto or dramatic heft often associated with the role. In the intimate dimensions of Busseto’s theater, this was scarcely an insurmountable disadvantage; indeed, her vocal profile suited the production’s more restrained proportions. Dramatically, however, her interpretation faltered in the third Act. Rather than presenting a woman torn between patriotism, filial loyalty and her love for the commander who had defeated her nation, she appeared too much the accomplished, manipulative seductress. Whether this was Vitali’s own conception or the result of the revival direction, it diminished the poignancy of Aida’s predicament.

(Photo: Roberto Ricci)

Iervolino, whom I had heard earlier in June as Enrico in Donizetti’s “Enrico di Borgogna” in Venice and two seasons ago as Suzuki opposite Saioa Hernández’s dazzling Cio-Cio-San in Barcelona, proved a particularly gratifying surprise. During the past decade, she had been associated principally with Handel and bel canto, making her assumption of the heavier Verdi mezzo-soprano repertoire all the more noteworthy. Her Amneris combined vocal authority with dramatic incisiveness. In the fourth Act, against the sombre backdrop of the priests judging Radamès as a traitor, she delivered a performance of such intensity that the audience erupted in entirely deserved thunderous applause.

Tenor Vincenzo Costanzo was the least persuasive of the principal singers, a distinction that reflected the exceptional level of his colleagues rather than any fundamental inadequacy. He sang securely, negotiated the notes with ease and produced an impressive squillo, but his phrasing lacked elegance and nuance. Fortunately, the small theater seemed to discourage vocal forcing. His acting was less successful: somewhat stiff in repose, he was unconvincing when oddly attempting to convey cruelty in his final Act duet with Amneris. He fared better in the concluding tomb scene, where restraint served him more effectively than emphatic gestures.

(Photo: Roberto Ricci)

The revelation of the evening was South Korean baritone Hae Kang as Amonasro. His interpretation ranked among the most compelling I had encountered in the role, notwithstanding having heard some distinguished exponents. He possessed the virile timbre, authoritative stage presence and incisive vocal character of a true Verdi baritone. Most impressive was his phrasing, which gave the Ethiopian king’s paternal anguish and political resolve equal weight. His Italian diction was also the clearest among the principals, a particularly striking accomplishment in a cast whose other leading roles were entrusted to native Italian speakers.

More Musical Details

At the helm, Giuseppe Mengoli demonstrated a keen understanding of the elaborate orchestral palette of one of Verdi’s richest scores. The impressionistic atmosphere of the opening of the third Act was especially successful, its delicate orchestral coloring establishing a mood of suspended intimacy. The theater’s limited dimensions nevertheless exposed individual orchestral and choral details that occasionally came at the expense of a fully homogeneous ensemble. The Filarmonica Arturo Toscanini responded with flexibility and expressive range, once again demonstrating its natural affinity for Verdi. The Coro del Teatro Regio di Parma, prepared by Martino Faggiani, was equally commendable.

(Photo: Roberto Ricci)

The audience’s enthusiastic response confirmed the success of an undertaking that might initially have seemed ill-advised. Busseto’s “Aida” did not attempt to rival the monumental spectacle of the world’s largest opera houses. Instead, it offered a persuasive reminder that Verdi’s drama could flourish when pageantry yielded precedence to character, and that Zeffirelli’s theatrical imagination was not dependent on sheer scale. In this intimate theater, the reduction of grandeur paradoxically brought the opera closer to its emotional core.