(Photo: Agnese Zeltina Latvian National Opera)

Latvian National Opera’s new production of Offenbach’s “Les Contes d’Hoffmann” was no simple reflection on the poet’s failed love affairs, in which the Muse/Nicklausse attempts to convince Hoffmann to forsake love’s attraction in favor of poetry.

Rather, the director, Aik Karapetian, had an intriguing and very different reading in mind that turned it into a mushroom drug-induced journey of the subconscious, accompanied by Lindorf, his archenemy, and his friend, Nicklausse, who was transformed into a cat.

Karapetian Fails to Meet Expectations But Delivers a Largely Successful Production

Karapetian’s detailed program notes, outlining his imaginative take on the piece, certainly whetted the appetite. The narrative becomes a vehicle for exploring Hoffmann’s deeper motivations and suppressed feelings, in which the chorus takes on the persona of myriad Hoffmanns behaving as he would like to behave to reveal his inner desires, while Olympia, Antonia and Giulietta become different aspects of Stella’s character. Hoffmann, himself, is redefined as an unsuccessful artist rather than a poet, although there appeared to be no dramatic significance for the change but seemed to relate to aesthetic considerations relating to the staging.

Unfortunately, Karapetian’s reading did not always translate into practice. The chorus is unavoidably too passive to have a significant impact in the desired manner, and its members, therefore, struggled to create meaningful and distinct portraits of Hoffmann; if they had not been dressed in identical clothing to Hoffmann during the prologue and epilogue, the whole idea would have passed by unnoticed. The same could also be said about the three female protagonists; there was no noticeable allusion or signs to the fact that they were supposed to be aspects of Stella’s character.

This did not mean, of course, that the staging was unsuccessful. The problem was one of expectations; the performance fell short when measured against what Karapetian himself had set out to achieve, which gave rise to feelings of disappointment. Fortunately, there was far more to this staging. While recognizing the melodramatic and tragic elements that underpin episodes within the opera, Karapetian was also keen to play up the work’s comic aspects, which at times proved to be very successful indeed in keeping the audience entertained. The end of Act one provided a typically amusing example, in which Nicklausse, as a cat, wandered across the stage with Olympia’s amputated arm in his mouth, readying himself for a tasty meal. Likewise, Hoffmann’s smoking of a very large mushroom also had people laughing out loud.

The characters’ movements were also sensitively managed to inject scenes with nuance to flesh out the drama. After having stabbed Hoffmann and leaving him to die, for example, Giulietta and her entourage leave, walking slowly and proudly up steps at the rear of the stage to embark on a boat, their aloof looks of disdain encapsulating their opinion of Hoffmann.

Mikelis Fišers set designs were inconsistent; at times it was somewhat lackluster, as in the prologue, in which Hoffman’s insipidly-colored apartment created a sense of boredom and failed to capture the interest, while on other occasions the stage was neatly arranged to successfully promote an atmosphere that enhanced the drama, most noticeably in Act two, in which Antonia’s house was created by dark wooden pillars bathed in subdued lighting that allowed a heavy sense of foreboding to hang over the scene.

In fact, it was Eugenijus Sabaliauskas’ imaginative lighting designs that tended to save most of the scenes. He displayed a real flair for highlighting the points of dramatic significance and establishing an atmospheric context.

However, it was Kristīne Pasterenaka’s with her imaginative and amusing costume designs that caught the attention. Antonia’s father, Crespel, was brilliantly costumed to look like the evil Count Dracula; Giulietta was an over-the-top Mae West lookalike, dressed in red; Olympia was made up to appear as half-human, half-machine, and ended up at the end spattered in blood, while Nicklausse’s blue cat costume was wonderfully bizarre. Hoffmann, however, who could have done with a little help to raise his profile, was given no favors, and often his costume ensured he faded into the background.

A Strong Cast Compensates for a Less Than Convincing Hoffmann

The gods did not smile favorably upon tenor Giorgio Berrugi’s performance in the role of Hoffmann; everything seemed destined to ensure that his character was marginalized, and it was not all his fault. Perhaps understandably given the reflective nature of the production, he was too often upstaged by those who surrounded him, who were given strong personalities and allowed to impose themselves on the drama. Hoffmann was too passive and at times reduced to the role of an observer. Even in the fight scene with Schlemil, he was overshadowed by the exit of Giulietta and her party. Karapetian’s directorial decisions had a significant impact on how Hoffman was perceived, as did his insipid costume, and they were not well-disposed to highlighting the character.

While Berrugi’s singing was technically correct, with occasional pleasing episodes in which he displayed lyrical beauty, the overall impression was not particularly positive. He failed to create a strong vocal characterization; he appeared content to allow the music to do the work and did not impose himself. His voice has a fairly homogeneous quality that, at times, bordered on monotonous, which only added to the impression. On the other hand, he was supposed to be portraying Hoffmann in a drug-induced state.

The four soprano roles were each undertaken by a different singer. All performed well, but it was Annija Kristiāna Ādamsone who stood out with a breathtaking performance as Olympia. She possesses a wonderfully agile voice, which she employs with absolute precision and is able to thrill the audience with her stunning coloratura and her ability to pop out pitch perfect notes as she glides freely across the line. There is no sign of stress or anxiety in the voice whatsoever. Her voice has a freshness, purity and beauty, which she showed off to good effect in the aria “Les oiseaux dans la charmille,” which received the biggest ovation of the evening. She also proved herself to be a skilled actress as she waddled mechanically around the stage, convincingly unaware of any of the accepted forms of behavior, nicely illustrated when she started to eat the cat’s food.

The role of Antonia fell to Inna Kločko, who successfully captured her character’s loving innocence and emotional fragility with a sweet rendition of her opening reverie, “Elle a fui, la tourterelle,” in which her gentle and sensitive phrasing beautifully revealed her tender and compassionate character. Her duet with Hoffmann, “C’est une chason d’amour qui s’envole,” allowed her to display a more exuberant and passionate side to her nature, in which her vocal agility impressed, while in her dying utterances, “Mon père!” no one could have failed to be moved by the emotional depth she brought to the scene.

Soprano Tatiana Trenogina created a larger-than-life Giulietta that played up her role as a courtesan, although she possibly overdid the comedy a little as her seduction of Hoffmann crossed the line into absurdity and sat awkwardly with the fight that followed. Trenogina put in a good singing performance that showed off her pleasing upper register, her formidable resonance that allowed her to climb easily above the orchestra, and her ability to mould the vocal line so that it perfectly captured her superficial seductive charm.

Evija Martinsone completed the quartet of sopranos with a solid depiction of Stella as the vain and demanding diva, although there were no obvious connections to the other three characters that were supposed to represent aspects of her character.

More Cast Highlights

Mezzo soprano Štepánka Pučálková put in a very impressive performance as Nicklausse the cat. Always on the move, she acted out the role as a cat, rubbing herself against people’s legs, stealing food and generally doing cat things. It was hugely entertaining, and she made an excellent companion to Hoffmann during his drug-induced exploration of the unconscious. She possesses an attractive, colorful, and flexible voice, which she used expertly, varying dynamics, employing accents and colors to bring depth to her character’s emotions.

Bass Rihards Mačanovskis’ characterized Lindorf as imposing, cold and vicious. It was a roughly hewn portrayal, which left the audience in no doubt as to his evil intent. He stayed in character throughout the performance despite also covering the roles of Coppélius, Dr. Miracle and Dapertutto, who were not presented as distinct characters; he was always Lindorf; even his costume remained the same. It proved to be a sound decision as it reinforced the connection between the three acts and supported Karapetian’s reading. Mačanovskis’ expressive singing was authoritative and forceful, with an engaging seductive quality that captured his underlying malicious intent.

Bass Krišjānis Norvelis cut a sinister figure as Crespel and dominated the stage with his imposing authority, which he underscored by the intensity with which he was able to imbue his voice. He also played the role of Luther.

Tenor Andris Kipluks put in an energetic performance in the roles of Andrès, Cochenille, Frantz and Pitchinaccio, in which he displayed ability, both vocally and as an actor, in successfully defining each character as a separate person. His essaying of Cochenille, in particular, was excellent; he managed to turn the relatively minor character into a hilarious, larger-than-life figure.

Baritone Rihards Millers dressed up to look like a mad scientist gave an amusing portrayal as Spalanzani, while baritone Juris Ādamsons produced a suave, swashbuckling picture of Schlémil.

Mezzo-soprano Ilona Bagele playing the role of Antonia’s mother sang well, as did bass Artis Muiznieks and baritone Armands Silinš-Bergmanis as Hermann and Nathanaël, respectively.

The Latvian National Opera Chorus, under the management of Aigars Meri, made a strong impression in the variety of roles with which it was engaged. Its singing was vibrant and displayed close attention to the changing dramatic situations.

Conductor Frédéric Chaslin elicited a fine reading from the Latvian National Opera Orchestra, in which he captured the immediacy and liveliness of Offenbach’s engaging melodies while sensitively managing pace, textures and dynamics to promote the onstage drama and, where appropriate, allowed the orchestra to dominate. Crescendi were allowed to bloom and exude energy, which successfully captured the emotional extremes. There was even a playful element to the performance, in which the blustering brass occasionally mocked the behavior of the characters.

Overall, it was a reasonably successful production; it was dramatically satisfying and at times very funny, even if it did go a little too far on the odd occasion; there were some fine singing performances, especially from Annija Kristiāna Ādamsone, whose Olympia will live long in the memory. However, one left the theatre somewhat disappointed as it did not meet the expectations that Karapetian managed to generate.