Richard Eyre’s setting still looks fine, especially the opulent party scene of Act I and the gambling scene of Act II Scene 2 with its gypsies and matadors dancing on a giant green baize card table. By its end, I was filled with hatred for the man, for all the silver tongued, melodious, full-bodied beauty of his voice.
Hvorostovsky’s performance was dazzling, bringing the whole scene to life. Germont is by no means a copy of Verdi’s father any more than Violetta is a copy of Strepponi, but the sanctimonious disdain with which Germont treats Violetta and the dignified way in which she responds ("I, sir, am a woman and in my own home") are ciphers for the way Strepponi was treated, and every bar of the music drips with Verdi’s anger. A bit of background: when Verdi wrote La traviata, he was living in sin with Giuseppina Strepponi (whom he later married), much to the disgust of his father and the local bourgeoisie. The emotional core of the opera – the point at which the tragedy really starts – is in Act II Scene 1, in which Germont confronts first Violetta and then his son. Both he and Damrau sang their roles with a definite bel canto feel, as opposed to the fuller and more dramatic style adopted by some.īut for me, vocal honours of the evening went to Dmitri Hvorostovsky’s Giorgio Germont.
His voice is also clear and bright his diction is impeccable and his phrasing elegant and open. Vocally, Francesco Demuro was well matched to Damrau as Violetta’s lover Alfredo. All the while, her timbre is clear and attractive, whether on a held high note or on gymnastic coloratura. Damrau’s vocal technique is nothing short of astounding, most particularly her control of dynamics: she can sing a note at any volume level from the softest to full throttle, moving between volume levels. Violetta was sung by Diana Damrau, recent winner of the Female Opera Singer of the Year award. The formula has been running with Richard Eyre’s production for twenty years, and judging by last night at Covent Garden, it shows little sign of faltering. Take a straightforward, uncontroversial production, find three singers sufficiently at the top of their game to be box office draws, and let Verdi’s magic do the rest – after all, it’s an opera that has everything: melody, pathos and searing social commentary that was well ahead of its time. With Verdi’s La traviata, the Royal Opera has a simple formula.
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