Q & A: Italian Baritone Bruno Taddia On His Role as Licinius in Spontini’s ‘La Vestale’
Highlighting Taddia’s Premiere at the Pergolesi Spontini Festival in Jesi
By Jennifer Pyron(Photo: Matilde Fassò)
Italian baritone Bruno Taddia is embarking on his most challenging role yet as Licinius in Gaspare Spontini’s “La Vestale,” with libretto by Étienne de Jouy, for the Pergolesi Spontini Festival in Jesi. OperaWire dives headfirst into asking Taddia all about how he connects with this role and what it means to him as he performs for this special festival on October 18th at the Teatro Pergolesi.
OperaWire: What have you discovered about Spontini’s opera “La Vestale” while studying the role of Licinius?
Bruno Taddia: First and foremost, I have come to realize that we are dealing with a masterpiece that is in itself a puzzling riddle. Swaying as it does between the need to “put the 18th-century opera to rest” and to leap into a new century, this is an experimental work written by an ambitious young composer, eager to explore new paths and become the voice of a new era. What makes this masterpiece so compelling is that even though tradition claims its assets within the music, it also showcases a strong drive towards future and innovation. This makes “Vestale” an extraordinary, contradictory work, ripe with analytical challenges. And it is precisely for this reason that it becomes incredibly engaging for an interpreter wishing to delve into such a complex and rich context.
OW: Do you feel you can relate to Licinius as a philosopher?
BT: I was saying that Spontini aimed to be the voice of a new age. But what age is this? It was a time when a provincial islander was able, through his own actions in society, to become the Emperor of the French. This is the essence of the Napoleonic era: what did Napoleon tell his soldiers? That each one of them potentially carried a marshal’s baton in their knapsack, meaning each of them could become the commander-in-chief. This meant that one’s rise in society was not determined by bloodline or status but by what they could achieve within the society itself. It was a Copernican revolution, the magnitude of which we struggle to fully grasp today, because we have anthropologically internalized it into our collective imagination. But at the time, it was earth-shattering, and it held Napoleonic society together as it conquered Europe.
Spontini offered the newly emerging Napoleonic regime its soundtrack, its narrative, on a silver platter. Napoleon, recognizing the potential of “Vestale,” facilitated its staging. Licinio, a young man without any notable standing, after being denied the hand of Giulia by her patrician family, leaves for the campaign against the Gauls. In five years, he defeats them and returns to Rome as a general. However, during his absence, Giulia’s dying father has bound her to the sacred duties of the Vestal Virgins, a role reserved for noble families in Rome. Upon Licinio’s return, though a triumphant hero, he must face the reality that Giulia can no longer marry him because she is devoted to the cult of Vesta. And here we find the Napoleonic spirit: instead of giving up altogether, he defies traditional law and breaks it. He succeeds in winning Giulia back, and triumphs over the old regime represented by the High Priest, the guardian of tradition and persecutor of the errant Vestal.
The new spirit of the age. At this point, I can’t help but recall a famous episode that can shed deeper light on what it means to interpret Licinio through a Napoleonic lens. It’s October 13, 1806 (just a year before “La Vestale’s” premiere) in Jena, a city invaded by French forces, which would soon defeat the Prussian army. As Napoleon passes through the town, a 36-year-old man, who had just finished writing his masterpiece, The Phenomenology of Spirit, is among the curious crowd. That man is Hegel, who later writes in a letter that he saw in the emperor “the World Spirit on horseback”—a striking vision of an individual who, concentrated in a single point, radiates his presence over the world, dominating it.
This snapshot captures The Phenomenology of Spirit: the image of spirit acting through historical dialectics. How can we not see in Licinio, and his story, the very “travail of spirit” that Hegel describes? In the midst of historical hardship and struggle, Licinio triumphs, embodying the journey towards what Hegel famously calls the “foaming cup of spirit” in the final pages of The Phenomenology. This apotheosis, where all contradictions are reconciled, mirrors Licinio’s victorious odyssey, an artistic depiction of the historical-philosophical tension of the time—the belief that history, through its many upheavals, has a purpose, a direction, and a grand culmination.
OW: How do you prepare for this complex role?
BT: I usually make it a point to read extensively about both the author and the work itself. From there, I try to broaden the scope of my research based on what I can gather about the author’s intent. At the same time, I work on analyzing the libretto and the musical writing in the score as thoroughly as possible. My coach, Maestro Christian Schmitz, plays a crucial role in guiding me through this process, and when I have specific questions, I often turn to my composition teacher, Maestro Bruno Zanolini, for additional insights. I also make a habit of reaching out to scholars who have studied the author in depth. In this case, I got in touch with Maestro Federico Agostinelli, the curator of the critical edition we are performing, who has been very generous and available to discuss some of the challenges surrounding the sources. We are still in contact today. Last thing for me? Learning the notes, of course.
OW: What is Spontini’s composition like for Licinius?
BT: I must admit, it would be easier for me to explain atomic fission! The complex vocal texture of Licinius in relation to modern vocal classifications goes hand in hand with the intricate editorial history of this masterpiece. If we only look at the 19th-century printed edition of “La Vestale,” the Erard edition, we see that Licinius has a higher range than Cinna. However, Federico Agostinelli’s critical edition revealed that in the first version, it was quite the opposite: Cinna was the higher role, and Licinius had a lower range. Why is that?
Let’s start by noting that “La Vestale” was written by Spontini in 1805 without any specific commission, in anticipation of having a ready opera for the right moment, which came a year later. Without dwelling on the circumstances that delayed the premiere, it’s essential to note that the original version was composed without any reference to specific performers, guided solely by the composer’s musical vision. When it came time for the stage production, Spontini had to make decisions based on the available singers. The adjustments made during this process are not yet fully understood, and we lack documents that could shed a light on them. What we do know is that the original score underwent modifications—melodic adjustments and exchanges—to adapt the work to the situation, and on this basis, “La Vestale” had its first performance.
In both versions, we observe that both Licinius and Cinna navigate the higher registers of the tenor voice, while also dipping into lower, more baritone-like passages, embodying the ‘tenor taille’ voice, which defies modern vocal classifications. As a result, casting directors face a real conundrum: Who should be cast? A baritenor, a baryton-martin, or a dramatic tenor?
I would start with the materials at hand: if we choose to perform the critical edition of 1805, we know that Licinius, in the ensemble sections, is written about a third below Cinna, and in ensembles with the soprano, roughly a tenth below—essentially in the baritone range. Therefore, it is appropriate, for the 1805 version, to cast a baritone with high notes for Licinius, while for Cinna, a tenor capable of handling the lower register is necessary.
This intricate classification of the two roles is one of the most fascinating aspects of interpreting this masterpiece. It reminds us how its performance and understanding constantly challenge us to make decisions that allow us to explore the score in-depth, without ever reaching a definitive conclusion.
OW: What inspires you most about Licinius and “La Vestale?”
BT: Spontini did not love singing for its own sake, but rather singing as a vehicle for drama. The music he composed for Licinius alternates between recitative and extremely short arias, almost in the form of an arioso. This conveys the fiery nature of his character and expresses his volcanic impulsiveness and vitality. I hope to bring this Spontinian vision to life for the audience.
OW: What can you tell our readers about the Pergolesi Spontini Festival in Jesi? What are you looking forward to most about this festival?
BT: Jesi is a beautiful town in the Marche region, rich in history. It is the birthplace of Frederick II, who, in a burst of modesty, called it ‘my Bethlehem.’ It is also the birthplace of Pergolesi, and just 10 km away, in the town of Maiolati, where Spontini was born. I believe this is an ideal place to conduct research on these two composers and the cultural milieu in which they lived. We must commend the foundation for its significant decision to stage “La Vestale.” It is an enormous investment, one that I hope will create new synergies and reintegrate this extraordinary work into the operatic repertoire. Congratulations to the foundation, and here’s to even greater things ahead!
That said, I invite your readers to come and discover this masterpiece in Jesi and in the cities where it will be performed (Piacenza, Pisa, and Ravenna), especially since this version proudly boasts the distinction of presenting all musical numbers uncut.
OW: In your opera career, what roles have been your favorite to perform thus far?
BT: Don Giovanni and Falstaff are definitely iconic roles. Oreste in “Iphigénie en Tauride” brings a lot of dramatic intensity, while Eisenstein and Dulcamara add a comedic touch. Lord Ruthven from “Der Vampyr” is an intriguing character.
OW: What roles do you hope to perform in the future?
BT: Pelléas, Wozzeck, Guillaume Tell, and Onegin as debuts. Among those I have already debuted, Falstaff and Don Giovanni are the most notable… and perhaps also Oreste (from “Iphigénie en Tauride”) and Eisenstein, as mentioned earlier. And why not, Licinio.
OW: Last question, what inspires you most as an opera singer and how do you translate this as a teacher and public speaker to your audience?
BT: To communicate expressed emotions and feelings, telling stories. And to move towards research and inquiry. Philosophizing, being in the theater, singing, and speaking to an audience are all the same after all.
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