Somewhere in my extensive Internet search for a plot synopsis I could understand, I read Enrico Caruso once said all it takes for a successful production of Il Trovatore is the four greatest singers in the world.  I don’t know if the Met had that but I thoroughly enjoyed the production I saw this week.   Even if I was unable to find a synopsis that made complete sense to me.  

From what I was able to gather, the backstory of Il Trovatore is years earlier (before the action of the opera) a gypsy woman was burned at the stake after being accused of making the baritone Count Di Luna’s infant brother sick.  She demands her gypsy daughter, the mezzo soprano Azucena, exact revenge.  So Azucena abducts the infant in question and plans to throw him onto the fire that consumed her mother.  However, in the madness and horror of the situation, Azucena becomes confused and throws her own infant son onto the fire, much to her dismay.  She then adopts Di Luna’s infant brother, the tenor Manrico, and raises him as her own.  This leads to the action of the opera in which the tenor and baritone who battle for the affections of the soprano Leonora are in fact brothers.  Unfortunately this is not revealed to them until it is too late to stop three of the four leads from dying leaving the baritone alone, heartbroken and horrified. 

I’m still confused as to how someone becomes so confused, even in a situation as horrible as one’s mother being burned publically at the stake, as to throw the WRONG infant into a fire.  Especially one’s own infant.  That threw me tremendously. 

But regardless of my confusion at times about the plot, I found Trovatore far peppier and immediately engrossing than the other operas we have seen so far.  While all of them had wildly different plots and a variety of composers, we have seen several Verdi operas but none with the same pizzazz-y musical execution.  What a difference a conductor can make.  The pace of the opening and first few scenes seemed a bit too fast to me, the singers appeared to have trouble keeping up –were behind a little, seemed to be gasping for air, especially when the bass, Christophoros Stamboglis, was going up the stairs during the opening scene.  But the quick tempo of conductor Daniele Callegari made the story and music more alive and immediately engaging.

The staging worked for me as well.  Its use of basically a single wall revolving in the center of the stage created believable depth and variety of scene onstage.  However, the Met does need to oil the stage or at least have some WD-40 on hand as at a key scene transition the turning stage groaned and creaked loudly which took me out of the moment. 

Marco Berti, whom we saw perform Calaf in Turandot this year, performed admirably and was greatly received.  I did see something odd in his bio however.  Under Met Appearances was listed “Cavaradossi in Act II of Tosca for the opening of the 2005-06 season.”  Just act two?  I understand if he had to step in mid performance for a sick singer but why only Act II?  Who did Act III?  Did the sick singer have a miraculous recovery and return for the final act?  I couldn’t find more on this no matter how hard I googled.  But I am not a great googler sadly.  

Speaking of Tosca, Il Trovatore made me wonder in just how many operas does the baritone torture and/or threaten to kill the tenor so the soprano will sleep with him?  I now have seen two.  I guess I will google this as well.

The baritone, Alexey Markov, was great I thought.  Very rich voice and commanding stage presence.  Especially in his knee high leather boots.  Seemingly part of the uniform for many baritone roles I have seen. 

This was my first time hearing the famous Anvil Chorus which was riveting.  I did have a question about it though.  Are the anvil guys onstage professional percussionists?  As if they missed a beat the effect would be disastrous.  Are they choristers?  I was too wrapped up in the music to tell if they were actually singing or not.  Regardless it was amazingly exciting, as was most of the performance. 

There were many tuxes in the audience, which made me happy strangely.  The Met is one of the few places you can wear a tuxedo on your average Wednesday night and not be out of place.  The well dressed slightly offset the typically crappy mid week audience.  For example, on line at the concession stand at intermission, I did hear out of towners criticizing the size of the soprano.  That she looked like a “lamp shade” and therefore could not believe her as a romantic figure inspiring such love and devotion.  They laughed heartily.  I have heard this kind of criticism levied at opera often, sadly I think by myself on occasion in the past.  But that night it just annoyed me.  My anger quickly though turned into pity for the tourists however.  That something so trivial would prevent them from getting caught up in the beauty of the singing and performance.  I guess I’m becoming one of the converted. 

– Elizabeth Frayer and Shawn E Milnes