
Opera Australia 2025 Review: La Traviata
Samantha Clarke Leads Splendid Cast in Verdi Classic
By Zoltan Szabo(Photo Credit Guy Davies)
Giuseppe Verdi’s “La Traviata” directed by Sarah Giles for Opera Australia (OA) was performed in three Australian states, before it arrived at the Sydney Opera House in the first days of 2024. Given its overall success, it comes as no surprise that a revival in Sydney took place barely a year later.
It is a stylish and carefully thought through production, elegantly juxtaposing the (perhaps faux) glitter of 19th-century party life of the French upper class with the tragic realities of a courtesan, Violetta’s (La Traviata), life and death. Over the sublime opening notes of the orchestral Prelude, the stage action begins unusually with the images of a seedy, late-night party in a dream-like slow motion sequence. Our eyes are soon attracted to a bedroom on the left where the courtesan is wiping her thighs in a post-coital depressed daze – nothing sublime or glamorous about that. Her “services” are rewarded by the satiated, slowly awakening Baron, performed by Richard Anderson, with a beautiful gown – one of the many splendid dresses she gets to wear during the opera. Everybody can admire her exquisite garments, while so few are permitted to witness the torments of her soul.
Violetta coughs heavily before she enters the party, then soon moves to another side of the room to cough again. She is attracted to midnight gatherings, the flow of champagne and the company of her many friends, but if she seems reluctant or even too cynical to believe young Alfredo Germont’s sincere announcement of love, then who can blame her? She is yet to realize that her maid, Annina, performed by Catherine Bouchier, is taking her fate more to heart than her seemingly closest friend at the party, the frivolous Flora, Angela Hogan.
With sympathetic contributions from set and costume designer Charles Davis, and lighting designer Paul Jackson, Giles’s staging works splendidly. She moves the partying OA Chorus smoothly through the public scenes and finds gentle intimacy in Violetta’s interactions with people close to her, including Alfredo and later, his father. The dramatic hiatus between the first two acts is resolved by Violetta at the conclusion of Act one lying on her bed, finally convinced and overjoyed by Alfredo’s genuine love and the immediate opening of Act two finds her in the same position – but by now three months have passed (as Alfredo’s first words inform us) and her lover is sitting by her side gently holding her.
Silently moving dividing walls allow scene changes from bedroom to party, from Paris to the countryside. There, behind Violetta’s living room, the open backstage allows us to see a withering tree, by which silhouettes of the protagonists (including Alfredo’s sister who is only referred to in the opera) are walking by in recurring pantomimes. This visually stunning effect is perhaps overused in Act two and ultimately leads to the problematic ending of this production of the opera, where the dying Violetta, having uttered her final exclamation, “Oh gioia!,” leaves those around her in body and spirit, swapping places with her alter ego, who takes her place on the death bed.
The meritorious qualities of the direction are particularly commendable in the crowd scenes. For example, at the opening of the second half (Act two, scene two in Verdi’s score), where the so often cringe-worthy attempts of chorus members to dance, be merry and even to follow the conductor are avoided by the chorus seated facing the audience, as if in a theatre, watching two dancers representing gypsies, matadors and the like.

Samantha Clarke as Violetta in La Traviata. (Photo Credit Guy Davies)
Both chorus and orchestra performed at a dependably high level, with some lovely solos from the concert master and the principal oboe in the final act, deepening Violetta’s tragedy. While the visual effects of an opera depend on the work of the director, the flow and beauty of its sound is placed firmly in the conductor’s hands. Johannes Fritzsch has decades of operatic experience both in Australia and around the world, and has worked numerous times for OA in the past. His excellent sense of rhythm, thorough understanding of the late-Romantic Germanic repertoire, disciplined approach to balance, tempi and characters made him an eminent conductor of the music of Richard Strauss, Alban Berg, Erich Korngold and other masters. The same qualities are not necessarily the most important ones for an Italian opera stirring up as much passion and controversy as “Traviata.”
He led both the stage and pit with empathy and a thorough understanding of the score. Yet, the stunning, death-prophesying prelude to the opera sounded satisfyingly melodious rather than making the audience shiver with foreboding. Verdi’s dramatic shock effects, for example, the frightening string unisons, signalling Germont’s unexpected arrival to Violetta’s country estate lacked their intended sense of dread. The composer’s frequent instructions to extreme and suddenly changing dynamics and seemingly excessive tempo markings (velocissimo!) often lost their significance, because they sounded neither particularly extreme nor excessive. Thus, the breathless urgency and flamboyant passion leading up to Violetta’s Act two “Amami, Alfredo” lost its desperate tones in favor of pastel hues. One could expect more from an opening-night fervor.
Of the three major roles, Germont is perhaps the most complex. His callous determination to break up the relationship between the young lovers is based on his small-minded protection of middle-class values. His insistence that Violetta leave Alfredo presents him as utterly heartless; however, Verdi’s music makes us gradually accept, even understand his predicament. His pleading Act two aria to his son, “Di Provenza il mar,” requires great dramatic qualities. His remorse and acceptance of Violetta, albeit too late, in the final scene is heartbreaking. José Carbó possesses a mellow baritone voice, possibly a shade too light for this role. A truly dramatic Germont inspires our loathing, at least in his first scene with the trapped Violetta. Carbó’s portrayal was too noble and his singing, while utterly sincere, is yet to develop further to present Germont’s immense journey in this work.
His son, Alfredo, performed by Ji-Min Park, may have suffered from opening night nerves initially. His voice seemed curtailed by tightness, and this was exacerbated by a rapid and often harsh vibrato in the Brindisi and later. Matters improved during Act two as did his acting, and the final scene, with the able assistance of Germont, Doctor Grenvil (Shane Lowrencev) and Annina, gave some of the most memorable moments of the evening.
Just how memorable such a performance is greatly depends on the eponymous courtesan, guided by the strength of her love, doomed by her generous acceptance of unacceptable ultimatums, and killed very young by tuberculosis. Samantha Clarke as Violetta already a year ago on the same stage proved to be utterly convincing with the sheer elegance of her vocal skills and her presentation of this role added further depths in its extremes. While her reply to Alfredo’s Brindisi was still coquettish, all shallow feelings were replaced by self-doubt and the morsels of burgeoning love in the following scene, “E strano.” Her defiant “Sempre libera” felt not quite as heedless as a year ago (possibly because the orchestral texture was less provocative and brillant, despite the composer’s instructions to that effect). On the other end of the emotional scale, accepting Germont’s demands and wishing his unknown daughter a happy life in Act two’s “Dite alla giovine” was a clear gesture of a heartbreaking sacrifice. One could imagine a different characterization of Violetta, but hardly a better one.