(Photo © [2024] Clive Barda)

Puccini’s “Tosca” is, in effect, a historical 18^th Century fable as seen through 19^th Century eyes; still resonating here in the  21st Century purely because its story of love over politics – played out by Tosca, an opera singer; her lover the heroic painter Cavaradossi; and the thoroughly unpleasant dictator Baron Scarpia – combine to produce a timeless, almost feasible tale.

The problem with long running or much revived productions is that unless you can constantly attract new audiences, they can only stand the test of time for so long. As handsome as this still looks, Jonathan Kent’s creation is beginning to look a tad threadbare at the edges and is rumored to be on its last run.

Designer Paul Brown’s sets are still suitably atmospheric and Mark Henderson’s light creations serve well in intensifying the mood by highlighting key components of the set. The first act Church of Sant’ Andrea Della Valle, brooding ecclesiastic solemnity with its gilded staircases flanking a large effigy of the “Madonna;” a huge wall mural, “a la Michalangelo’’ accessible only by elevated, scaffolded supports to enable our hero, Cavaradossi, to work on his masterpiece.

The “Madonna,” however, pales into insignificance in the impressive stakes with the gargantuan  and most realistic depiction of “Archangel Michael slating Satan” statue that takes centre stage for the second act in Scarpia’s apartment within the Palazzo Farnese. I always found this enormous prop to be both wonderfully iconic and IRONIC, given the absolute hellish and devilish nature and disposition of the Baron whose quarters the statue looks down upon.

Born to Sing This Role

And there can surely be no better satanic incarnation than globally acclaimed Sir Bryn Terfel, who was born to sing this role. Tangibly malevolent, a big man with a big presence and character, he struts around with rancor and loathing in equal measure. He appears towards the end of act one  at the top of the staircase in the church, surveying his subjects with distaste; an almost visible aura permeating from his imposing figure. The voice has lost some of its steel of late, but his lustrous, bass-baritone still possesses much beauty. His “Te Deum” at the cessation of the first act is spellbinding, not just because of his vocal endeavors but because of his sheer magnetism which compels one to not take your eyes off him. In a brief interview with him two years ago, I opined that he seems to get better in the role the more he sings it. He responded that he had “grown into the role” over the years and that the music takes over him; such is the “power of Puccini.”

The object of his lascivious desires on this occasion, is the Welsh soprano Natalya Romaniw standing in for Sonya Yoncheva. As Floria Tosca, for the most part, she portrays an endearing character. Her interactions with her beau, Cavaradossi, in the first act were, in turn, comedic and enchanting.  I perceived that she lacked gravitas in her second act engagement with Scarpia and I felt she lacked conviction the way she first repelled him and ultimately dispatched him. She rallied well for the final act with Cavaradossi on the prison roof, from where Tosca eventually leaps to her doom.

Vocally, she has much beauty when singing softly, but I found her to be lacking penetration in the upper register and, at times, producing an occasional hint of shrillness at the top where I felt she was over-exerting. Moreover, I noted a lack of clarity in her enunciation. Her duet in the first act was accomplished and her explanation to Cavaradossi on how she had thwarted Scarpia’s lustful endeavors, together with her directions on how her lover should act and fall in his “mock” execution made for an enjoyable final act.

She was most brave in commencing her famous, second act aria, “Vissi D’arte” facing back of stage, seemingly huddled to the giant archangel statue, which produced some impedance to her efforts, and the final passage, “perché, perché, Signore, ah, perché me ne rimuneri così?” lacked any real impetus and the desperation necessary to really nail the piece.

Anyone reading South Korean tenor SeokJong Baek’s resume might ask questions as to how, having sung baritone for around 15 years up until the corona virus pandemic, he has enjoyed what can only be described as a meteoric rise, debuting in tenor roles at the Royal Opera House, the Met and elsewhere. Had those posing such queries been present at this performance, I have no doubts they would have received conclusive answers. For SeokJong  possesses a powerful, dynamic tenor instrument, reinforced with its baritonal undertones, that positively pings all around the auditorium. A gleaming, brilliant top with squillo, he also employs an occasional, subtle guttural sob, a pleasing inflection that adds potency to his endeavours. It was fellow South Korean tenor, the acclaimed  Yonghoon Lee who suggested to SeokJong that, despite already having a good baritone voice, he could triumph as a tenor. He subsequently, to piano accompaniment, attempted to sing “Recondita armonia” where he surprised everyone with his upper register. If it sounded anything like his take on the romanza from this performance, it wouldn’t be difficult to see why it was thought he had great potential. Wonderfully powerful sung with beautiful legato on the line “E te, beltade ignota.” That fine breath control and legato again in evidence in his duet with Tosca where he sings “Ah! M’avvinci nei tuoi lacci, mia sirena” and again when singing the line commencing “Quale occhio al mondo può star di paro.”

His cry of “Vittoria! Vittoria!” in the second act was most potent, impactive without any hint of the  ostentation that some tenors frequently imbue it with.

His performance of the opera’s keynote aria, “E lucevan le stelle” was very emotive and deserving of applause that the orchestration didn’t leave room for.  SeokJong Baek is a remarkable talent whose star is, unquestionably, (I predict) going to continue to soar.

British bass-baritone Ossian Huskinson did a splendid job as escapee Cesare Angelotti, a rich tapestry of vocals which denoted well the angst and despair of the former consul.  Another Jette Parker member destined for good things.

Italian bass Maurizio Muraro sung a formidable Sacristan with deep, expansive clarion tones, perhaps the finest I have heard in this role. Moreover, he conducted his duties here in a suitable, curmudgeonly yet jocose pantomime fashion.

Scarpia’s right hand-man and lackey, Spoletta, is here admirably effected by Welsh character tenor Aled Hall who was fabulously obsequious and strolled around, in the words of an Al Stewart song, like Peter Lorre contemplating a crime.

The chorus of the Royal Opera sung with their usual gusto, as did the children’s chorus whose antics in church in the first act contrasted brilliantly with the oppression and sternness of the Baron.

Eun Sun Kim is making her debut in this role, commanding the Royal Opera orchestra. With his passion for dramatic and exciting orchestration, Puccini can easily overwhelm the singers with his enthusiastic scores, and it takes a knowledgeable and deft baton to keep a good balance. For the  most part, she succeeded in maintaining that balance although I would have liked her to afford the opportunity for the audience to show their appreciation for particular passages and arias by way of applause.

I started this review by suggesting that it is important to perhaps look to something new and fresh in order to attract both new and ongoing audiences.

In the centenary of the great maestro’s death, perhaps with its heady mix of politics, love, death and devotion Tosca will always hold up well as a Puccini masterpiece.