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OPERA REVIEW
Vaness' "Norma" Bel Canto Redefined
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By Mary Ann Smart
"Bel canto" is one of those evocative, elusive phrases--full of meaning,
but impossible to define. Often infused with a regretful nostalgia for
some lost style of the past, the words refer at once to a historical moment
(centered in the 1830s), a manner of performance, and a non-naturalistic,
overwrought dramatic world. But Saturday evening's opening of "Norma" at
the San Francisco Opera suggested yet another meaning: that "bel canto"
opera takes wing when the performers fail to sing, or fail to sing out
fully, daring a delivery poised halfway between song and speech.
For me, the realization that "this" was what Bellini should sound
like arrived in a flash near the end of the opera, as Carol Vaness
declaimed the opening lines of Norma's aria "Qual cor tradisti" ("This
heart you have betrayed") as a series of gasps and spasms that conveyed the
Druid priestess's guilt and sorrow, while also spinning out a stunning
sense of the aria's longer line. The moment was beautiful and rare enough
to prompt thoughts of the supernatural, the fantasy that Vaness was
channelling the first Norma, Bellini's adored Giuditta Pasta. Vaness was not only more accurate than the notoriously out-of-tune Pasta. Vaness could command a greater vocal depth than a soprano in the 1830s who never had the experience of singing Puccini and then never had to pull back her forces to nurture Bellini's nuances.
The performance was slow to reach these expressive heights.
Bellini was cruel to his prima donna, positioning her showpiece, "Casta
diva," within seconds of her first entrance. Vaness brought true presence
to that entrance, cutting through the clusters of drably costumed warriors
and priestesses like a knife blade. The aria itself was less sure, its
opening sustained notes sounding too low for her (although she later
triumphantly proved this to be untrue), the florid conclusion pleasant but
unremarkable. It was a shock to see Norma cut the throat of a sacrificial
victim during one of the most rapturous phrases, but the innovation neatly
hinted at a split between Norma's steely coldness in public and the passion
she later exhibits in more intimate confrontations with Adalgisa and
Pollione.
For much of Act I, I found myself wondering what it would be like
to hear the evening's superb Adalgisa, Anna Caterina Antonacci, in the
title role. Antonacci's focused sound, flexible phrasing, and clear
diction seemed ideally suited to Bellini's restrained and precise music,
while Vaness's more generous voice sometimes seemed almost too rich,
especially in flashing moments of fury like the opening passage of the Act
I trio ("Oh non tremare, o perfido"). From her first recitative, Antonacci
emanated a profound understanding of Adalgisa's every word and every vocal
gesture.
It took time to adjust to the sharp contrast between the two
women (and to their occasionally awkward blend), but as Vaness gained
confidence in the second act, the opposition served the drama beautifully.
Even their hair reinforced the dichotomy, with Antonacci's carefully
smoothed-back style a perfect analogue for her controlled performance, and
Vaness's depths of pathos and instability mirrored by her unruly curls.
The human sacrifice during "Casta diva" was one of very few
surprises offered by director Andrew Sinclair and designer Jose Luciano
Varona. Every scene was played out against the intimidating backdrop of a
huge mistletoe tree, broad enough at the top to suggest the roof of a
house. After the performance I happened to glance at the designs for
Alessandro Sanquirico's original 1831 staging, and was surprised to note
that that first production (at Milan's La Scala) used no fewer than five
backdrops, all full of color, light, and contrast.
Granted, Varona's overwhelming grey tree had symbolic force, blotting out the horizon and acting as an austere limit for characters and action. Unfortunately this drab vision, which might have commented effectively on the Druids' oppressive letter-of-the-law religion, also reinforced all the negative stereotypes associated with bel canto opera. It was difficult to think beyond the familiar visual trappings--shapeless and generic Classical
drapery for the priestesses, layered body-concealing drapery for the tenor,
shuffling processions of spear-carrying chorus members--to get at possible
meanings behind the cliches.
But "Norma" may be one of the few operas that benefits from static
staging, and the physical intensity of the two sopranos was more than
enough to energize the dreary visual conception. Sinclair seems to have
directed his divas toward a sculptural minimalism well suited to the
opera's Classical subject and vocal restraint. Adalgisa/Antonacci
specialized in stylized movements leaning away from a center of gravity, so
that she often appeared tensely off-balance like a piece of Renaissance
statuary. Norma/Vaness was stagier, using arms and hands in sweeping gestures around an upright and regal torso. Physically, as vocally, Vaness's more extreme, unpredictable style was ultimately even more moving than
Antonacci's careful balancing acts.
"Norma" is not kind to its men, and this production did little to
raise Pollione and Oroveso above the level of props for female rivalry and
emoting. Andrea Silvestrelli sounded best in Oroveso's more war-like
moments, when his edgy, baritonal bass cut well through the chorus.
Typically, Oroveso's best moment is a silent one, when he sheds tears in
response to Norma's final plea that he forgive her and protect her children
("Deh! non volerle vittime"); here Silvestrelli managed to reach past his
caricaturish waist-length white beard to suggest real feeling.
If anything, Pollione is even more cursed, required to appear worthy of the
love of two fascinating women while having little to sing beyond conventional tenor muscle-flexing. As for Norma, Pollione's hardest task comes within seconds of arriving on stage, and Michael Sylvester's obvious pain in reaching the high C in "Meco all'altar di Venere" provoked the most palpable shiver of empathy I've ever felt run through an audience. Sylvester recovered heroically to sing the rest of the part with a robust energy and a nicely focused tone, if little timbral variety. As Norma's and Pollione's respective confidants, Christina Lamberti and Gary Rideout were impressive. Samantha Siegel and Lauren Sliter made unusually charming and expressive children. The orchestra, under the direction of Patrick Summers, upheld the season's exceptional standard of orchestral
performance.
(Mary Ann Smart teaches music at the University of California, Berkeley.)
©1998 Mary Ann Smart, all rights reserved
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Anna Antonacci and Vaness