(Photo credit: Klara Beck)

After its premiere in Dijon, in collaboration with the Orchestre National du Rhin, Verdi’s “La Traviata” arrives in Strasbourg. If the Burgundian production was disappointing, in terms of staging, performers and conducting, the Alsatian revival is far more successful.

Admittedly, many of the elements of German director Amélie Niermeyer‘s Dijon production remain, such as the parties in the building under construction in the eighties, the partygoers in gold stilettos and rhinestones, ending up bloodless in the final acts, and even the poor bugger with the canine mask and demeanor, but the Strasbourg production has blended them into a less crude staging. The parallel between the AIDS years and the syphilis years is a cliché that it would have been wiser to use other than the oft-repeated moralistic perspective of the punishment of debauchery by these diseases. After all, they didn’t only strike in these festive circles. And the beginning of Act two, during which Alfredo and Violetta drink cocktails on deckchairs, also raises questions, as this behavior does not seem to be that of people willing to disregard their former way of life. Nonetheless, Strasbourg’s turnaround is essentially due to the acting, which is more natural than in Dijon.

First of all, I must salute the Russian soprano Julia Muzychenko, who finally plays a woman whose illness progressively handicaps her movement in the last act. I would have liked Nadine Sierra at the Bastille earlier this year, or her colleague Melody Louledjian in Dijon a short while ago, to have done the same. And Italian baritone Vito Priante as Giorgio Germont, in his encounter with Violetta, is not just a patriarch lecturing his son’s mistress but, like Ludovic Tezier at the Bastille, a man explaining the consequences of his present concubinage. Unfortunately, Samoan tenor Amitai Pati‘s Alfredo remains rather uncertain in his character’s progression. He only comes into his own in the final act, including vocally.

But, above all, musically the production of this “Traviata” has improved. Like Brazilian-Israeli conductor Debora Waldman in Dijon, Austrian conductor Christoph Koncz in Strasbourg maintains a highly Mozartean approach to the score, relying essentially on the violins, but unlike his colleague. The work on the winds, particularly the brass, as Simone Young is currently demonstrating in “Don Carlos” at the Opéra Bastille, is always very delicate in Verdi, and can easily become fanfare noise. Hers is still clumsy, but her conduct remains elegant and racy, with Delacroix-like colors of great interest.

And here, too, I must salute Muzychenko. Admittedly, her voice remains a little too acidic during the first part of the first act, contrasting with that of her Samoan colleague, who is too basic to use the metaphor of chemistry. Hers opens up, like a young wine that needs to be shaken in a decanter to release all its aromas, in her first solo, becoming less aggressive, more legato and rounder. Her “Traviata” aria in the last act, “Oh, come son mutata!” becomes more touching, and her encounter with Giorgio Germont more authentic.

The evening’s other pleasant surprise is Priante’s Giorgio Germont, whose tone is certainly firm, but never imperious with Violetta, and harsh when reprimanding her son.

I would have liked Pati’s voice as Alfredo Germont to have been revealed much earlier than in the last act, to have been more audible opposite Violetta in the first, firmer in the group scenes and more assertive on his own. His great aria “Lunge da lei per me non v’ha diletto!” at the start of Act two seems almost indifferent, alas, and his rage during the second party anecdotal. He only really becomes interesting during Violeta’s death in the third act, his voice finally firm enough to stand up to those of Violetta and bass-baritone Michal Karski as Doctor Grevil, whose deep, almost cavernous bass holds our attention.

I’d have also liked to see that, apart from the Annina of Uruguayan soprano Ana Escudero, whose frank, clear timbre catches the ear, the other secondary roles, such as the Baron Douphol of French baritone Pierre Gennaï or the Flora Bervoix of Franco-British soprano Bernadette Johns, lack color.

However, throughout the opera, the chorus seem to be enjoying themselves, remaining united and comprehensible despite all their stage acting.

The main performers, as well as the conductor and orchestra, rise above their verve to deliver a lively opera. The production was saved.