(Photo: Maria Albrechtsen Mortensen)

The revival of interest in Vivaldi has seen numerous performances of his operas over recent years, of which his 1735 work, “Griselda,” has proven particularly popular. Reading through the libretto, however, may leave the reader slightly perplexed as to why a work with such an absurd plot, with little in the way of dramatic integrity and characters that display psychological inconsistency, is able to hold the attention of audiences. Although exceptions do exist, librettists of the period paid scant attention to such matters, being more concerned with creating a series of verses suitable for setting as arias, usually in the da capo form, representing emotional states; that this might require an unbelievable twist in the drama or a hard-to-believe change in a character’s personality was not considered a matter of importance. The only surprise being that in this case the libretto was written by the highly regarded poet Apostolo Zeno and revised by the playwright Carlo Goldoni.

The drama concerns King Gualtiero, who, much to the anger of the populace, has married a low-born shepherdess called Griselda. Now, worried about a potential revolt, he decides to replace her with someone of a more suitable background.

However, the libretto takes a series of ridiculous twists. Rather than simply divorcing, exiling or even murdering her, Gualtiero embarks on a campaign of psychological torture, which includes sending her back to the peasant dwelling of her birth, verbally abusing her, forbidding her to see her young son ever again and forcing her to choose between death or marriage to Ottone, a man for whom she feels nothing but repulsion. And in a particularly vicious act, the woman Gualtiero presents to Griselda as his new bride just happens to be their daughter, Costanza, who Gualtiero had secretly abducted when she was a child, telling his wife that she was dead. Moreover, everything Gualtiero does is simply a test to discover whether Griselda possesses a noble character, even though they have been married for over 20 years. And so, it continues, with plenty more nonsense along the way, ending with the traditional lieto fine, in which Griselda naturally forgives Gualtiero for his psychopathic behavior.

Lachaussée Sharpens the Focus of the Drama

The director Béatrice Lachaussée presented the drama so that the audience remained sympathetically engaged yet distracted from the libretto’s absurdities. Her solution was to create a focused, streamlined presentation of the narrative in which the fundamental drivers of male aggression and power were contrasted with female compassion and inner strength by highlighting Griselda’s humiliation and abuse at the hands of Gualtiero and Ottone while presenting her as an almost saint-like character.

Gualtiero was portrayed as emotionally cold and dismissive, completely unperturbed by Griselda’s suffering, to the extent that it was difficult to believe that he ever loved her. He publicly humiliates her by stripping her of the royal symbols, removing the crown, the royal jewelry and even her fine clothing, leaving her standing unadorned in a plain dress. And when he finally realizes that she is indeed a woman of high moral character and wants Griselda back, he rushes off the stage in an emotionally unbalanced state. Ottone’s treatment of Griselda is even worse. Love is the last thing on his mind. He lusts after her and wants her at any cost; he is physically violent and is clearly capable of raping her and even threatens to kill her son, whom he abducts. Between them, they inflict untold psychological torture and cruelty on Griselda. They have no redeeming qualities; they are brutish, violent and psychopathic, while she remains steadfast and strong.

It was not a particularly subtle or nuanced exploration of the theme, but given the limitations of the libretto, it was a fair attempt and, more importantly, provided a degree of coherence, built dramatic tensions and successfully encouraged the audience to empathize with Griselda.

In one final twist, Lachaussée decided to alter the ending: rather than having Griselda reconcile with Gualtiero, she steps away from him and symbolically embraces a blanket of flowers as she opts for a peaceful life. Of course, she forgives him; any other action would have undermined her saint-like nature and worked against her moral superiority vis-à-vis the men who have terrorized her.

The sets, designed by Amber Vandenhoeck, did little to capture the attention, other than provide the necessary backdrop to the drama. The first scene opened onto a stage consisting of the expected arches, statues and plinths, which gave way to a barren rock and a few leafless trees for Griselda’s banishment. The final scenes were played out among a fountain and a few arches.

What really brought visual splendor to the stage were Anja Vang Kragh’s costume designs, which mixed the ornate flamboyance, color, and sparkle of the baroque with a mediaeval look. Glen D’haenens’ lighting successfully contrasted the bright colors of the court with the dark, heavy, dim light of the forest, which conjured up the necessary atmospheric effects.

Mortensen Elicits Convincing Musical Interpretation

The musical side of the production was overseen by its musical director Lars Ulrich Mortensen, who elicited a fine performance from Concerto Copenhagen, from which he drew out a rhythmically vibrant and melodically strong reading. The sound was fresh, energetic, bright, and possessed a convincing momentum that helped drive the drama forward. The balance within the orchestra was carefully managed, allowing the textural quality of the work to shine. He was also attentive to the needs of the singers from whom he encouraged strong performances.

Tenor Terrence Chin-Loy successfully presented Gualtiero as unpleasant, proud and egocentric. He was demanding and refused to listen to any advice or suggestions that did not suit his own aims. His departure in the final scene could be likened to that of a child upset by not being able to get his own way and exposed his emotional immaturity. In what was a solid vocal performance, his detailed, articulate and carefully accented recitatives stood out, successfully capturing his authoritative and kingly demeanor. While his arias were all given satisfying, clearly expressed renditions, they tended towards understatement with elegant, if somewhat unambitious, embellishments.

Contralto Noa Beinart produced a finely layered characterization of Griselda, in which she convincingly gave voice to her seething and turbulent emotions but filtered through her developed sense of dignity and moral fortitude. She did not allow herself to fall into the trap of overstatement or posturing and never descended into hysterical outbursts. Her Griselda was self-possessed and refined, which was reflected in her singing, so that no matter how severely provoked or distraught she became, there was always a certain amount of restraint that gave a polished veneer to her performance. Her rendition of the aria “Son infelice tante,” for example, captured her unhappiness beautifully, without attacking the lines with unnecessary force, but relying on gentle inflections to carry the effect.

The wonderful vocal control, tonal beauty and ability to furnish the line with stunning embellishments made soprano Mari Eriksmoen as Costanza the standout performer. Every aria she sang was a sheer delight. Her rendition of “Agitata da due venti” was absolutely superb; not only did she capture the excitement and energy of the piece, but her wonderfully crafted ornamentations replete with dizzying coloraturas mixed with precise trills and audacious leaps had the audience transfixed.

Countertenor Christopher Lowrey, playing the role of Costanza’s lover, Roberto, produced a dramatically strong performance that captured his conflicting emotions of having to support the king despite his own feelings for Costanza. In the aria “Che legge tirana,” he gave voice to his suffering and rage with an expressively compelling interpretation, which showed off his vocal flexibility, finely moulded phrasing and beautifully crafted embellishments that were perfectly aligned to the emotional quality of the text. In fact, the promotion of the text was always at the forefront of his performance; his articulation was clear, and effects were never gratuitous or superfluous to their emotional integrity.

Soprano Marlene Metzger, who is currently in her second year of the company’s Young Artist Program, made a striking impression in the role of Ottone, whom she characterized as young, sexually aggressive and vulgar. She possesses a fresh, bright, youthful voice with a pleasing tone and considerable versatility, which she used with confidence and freedom to develop her character. Her arias were delivered with a series of spectacular effects, of which “Dopo un’ orrida porcella” was perhaps the most thrilling. Certainly, there were no half-measures; she held nothing back as she unleashed a series of flamboyant coloraturas and ornamentations in an animated display, full of dynamic movement and emotional accents. Likewise, her acting was lively and engaging and successfully created a portrait of Ottone as somewhat immature and undoubtedly a psychopath.

It was a remarkable display from Metzger, who appears set for a very successful career. While her excellent vocal quality cannot be denied, her unbridled enthusiasm occasionally led to a lack of elegance in her delivery and an occasional harshness in the upper register.

Countertenor Ray Chernez was in the relatively minor role of Corrado and spent most of the time as a background figure, stepping forward only to sing a couple of arias, which he performed confidently and with a pleasing effect, although occasionally overpowered by the orchestra.

Musically, this was an excellent production, although the libretto’s shortcomings were difficult to ignore, despite the strong focus Lachaussée was able to bring to the drama, and if visually it was a mixed presentation, it was certainly not an alienating experience.