Inertia thinks she's the Queen of England. She treats me as her subject and expects obeisance from me whenever she passes. I'm sorry to say, she usually obtains it. I, more often than not, bow to her; after she proceeds down the royal street of dreams, I stare into space and lose track of time. Last Saturday, my mind's eye saw her approaching from the distance. "Maybe we should stay home," I told my wife, "I'm feeling a bit lazy. Besides, Fedora isn't Don Giovanni. "Nothing doing," my wife replied, "we're going!" This time Inertia passed by without a bow from yours truly. Inertia is very British; she walked on pretending not to notice my lapse of protocol. But she must have felt at least a little slighted, for this time a native-born jewel in the crown, (that's how I imagine Inertia would have referred to her, this time, Nirmala, my queen, won.) I put on my coat and we left for Charles Theater in Baltimore, where a live HD performance of Fedora, an opera in three acts by Umberto Giordano, was about to take place on January 14, 2023.
I had never heard the opera before. I expected a so-so performance of a so-so opera; turns out I was only half right. The Met cast was outstanding; the staging by the Scottish designer Charles Edwards, was excellent as well.
First a few words about the opera.
Umberto Giordano (1867-1948) was an Italian opera composer who composed a string of operas in the Italian verismo style. His most famous work is André Chénier, composed in 1896. A few years before that, Giordano attended a performance of the French play, Fedora, by V. Sardou. Fedora was played by Sarah Bernhardt. Giordano thought the play would make a fine opera; he contacted Sardou to obtain the rights. Sardou refused, because at the time Giordano was largely unknown; after the success of André Chénier, however, Sardou changed his mind and gave Giordano permission--for a fee, of course--to compose an opera based on his play. The first performance was very much a success; the major tenor role was sung by Enrico Caruso, who encored an aria after the first performance.
Operas, especially Italian operas, were very popular at the time. "Talkie" films were still a generation away. The people went to operas in those days to be entertained; they were the rough equivalents of soap opera fans of today, although they had better ears for music. The plot of Fedora could easily be transposed to episodes of As The World Turns, or even episodes of La Rosa de Guadalupe. It was emotional pitch that was popular, not Shakespearean drama.
And, boy, does Fedora ever contain non-stop raw emotion. It's as if the singers were singing from a thready tightrope suspended over an abyss--and, with the public listening far below them, they had to sing in full voice to be heard. The tessitura of the voices of the main characters is high as well.
During an intermission, one heard an excerpt from a future production of Don Giovanni, specifically the aria, Deh! veni alla finestra, which Don Giovanni sings. It was a pleasure to hear someone singing a ballad without attempting to shatter a vase in the next room. The main singers of Fedora have to negotiate almost hysterical emotion. In this performance, I admire the athletic prowess of the soprano and of the tenor to be able to endure so well the stentorian singing that the score demands.
The Tele Novela plot begins with Fedora at the villa of her fiancé, Count Vladimir. She is to marry him the next day, but alas! he is brought on stage mortally wounded. Is Fedora devastated? You bet. The next act takes place during a party in Paris. Fedora is confronted by Loris, who is the alleged assassin who killed her fiancé, Does she fall in love with him? You bet. Nevertheless, she sends a letter to the police back in Petersburg, denouncing Loris and his brother as nihilists and murderers. Does she live to regret this letter? You bet. Loris returns and tells her the reason why he had a duel with Vladimir is because he seduced the former's wife and was only marrying Fedora for the money. They declare their love. The third act takes place in Fedora's villa in Switzerland. A secondary character named De Siriex tells Fedora that the count's father, after reading the letter, had Loris's brother arrested, who died a horrible death in prison. The melodrama is advanced by the fact that Loris's mother died of grief when she heard the news. When Loris learns of the letter he is outraged; then he finds out that it was his love, Fedora herself, who penned it. She begs for forgiveness and in order to ensure its arrival, she swallows poison. Does she die in Loris's forgiving arms? You bet. The end.
The score is supposedly suffused with gorgeous melodies, but, on first hearing, I wasn't convinced. Nothing like La Donna è Mobile, an aria which Verdi deleted from rehearsals of Rigoletto, because he knew it would be leaked and everyone would be humming it before the premiere. I doubt if anyone left Fedora with melodies from the opera suffering from a melodic earworm.
The cast was outstanding. Sonya Yoncheva, who sang the title role, has a truly amazing voice, rich and full with a beautiful tone. The Polish tenor, Piotr Beczala, less of an actor, was nevertheless very effective in the title male role. He looks a bit like the late Robert Goulet, but sang a lot better. The secondary roles of Olga and De Siriex, sung by Rosa Feola and Lucas Meachem, did not disappoint.
At the premiere, the young Enrico Caruso sang the role of Loris. The most famous aria of the opera, a short aria, Amor ti vieta, as mentioned previously, was encored by Caruso after the first performance. Here it is sung by Piotr Bezcala himself:
A beautiful voice, no doubt, but here is a version by Placido Domingo, whose voice, at least to my ear, has more character:
I'm very glad that I attended a performance of this opera. But what if I hear of another performance of Fedora? The goddess Inertia stares me down. No worries, I tell her, I'm staying home; perhaps I'll practice scales. She smiles.
