LA FORZA DEL DESTINO
The Strange Beauties of Our La forza del destino
La Scala’s splendid, surging version of Verdi’s 22nd Opera
“But Clotho, whose wheel spins day and night,
for him not yet had drawn that yarn,
which, on the fatal spindle piled,
she allocates to each soul that breathes … “
The Divine Comedy of Dante
Purgatory, Canto XXI, 25-27
Sinfonia
Ah, yes, those operatic dealings into the cultural inquiries regarding the existence of Fate as entwined about our everyday fears and superstitions, our uncontrollable destinies. A young Verdi knew well of tragic outcomes in life, he losing his wife and two children in a short span of time. We can hear this in the horror of those three harsh fortissimo notes sounded twice that begin the Sinfonia of La forza del destino as an overture created for the second edition of his opera, for La Scala, seven years after the Russian premiere in 1862. It was Fate again that appears as the composer was attracted to the original Spanish drama of the same name by Ángel de Saavedra, more so for the political stance of that man, whose Don Álvaro o la fuerza del sino of 1835 indeed created the first success of Romanticism in the Spanish theater. Its themes were steeped in much that was also represented in Verdi’s works: love thwarted by social margination and family honor, loyalty to the homeland, revenge, mistaken identities, and the afflictions set forth by chance happenings. This new production that opened La Scala’s season has inexorable destinies placed upon a counter-clockwise revolving stage as its key principle; Time marching on, yet backwards, wherein the characters instinctively choose to move forwards, as if to escape from what has already passed, to cancel what was of ill sorts. This in itself is a fatal error as what has been pre-destined, set into motion, cannot be challenged. Here, our thoughts perhaps return to the three mythological Moirai sisters of Ancient Greece, as to the Norns in Wagner’s Götterdämmerung, and the Weird Sisters in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, all of them holding our fragile destinies in their hands, our thread of life ever-ready to be tragically snapped.
Many of us who have grown up with Opera think of Verdi’s La forza del destino with love and affection, returning willingly to the theater again and again upon news of its revival. Our first encounters remain with us perhaps mainly for what we would describe as ‘beautiful music,’ probably, too, for those comforting stretches of religious character; an organ, a church, candles, the comforting words of a priest. We may have somehow associated this opera with I vespri siciliani, Simon Boccanegra, and Un ballo in maschera, and came to understand the reasons for this later on as we became better acquainted with the composer and his historical, all-too-human figures caught up in spiritual and political strife. So then, ‘beautiful music’, but yet diverse from La Traviata, Rigoletto, and Aida, where we encounter a cornucopia of arias and duets asking of the characters great sacrifice in the name of love, but it is only in La forza del destino that their suffocating encounters with destiny pursue them relentlessly.
“Exotic and irrational entertainment”
In giving an account of this most recent production, one does well to recall that Opera (referring to 18th Century Italian creations) had been defined as “an exotic and irrational entertainment,” to say unrealistic, concocted, tangled in its storyline. This established, La forza del destino has been accused of having a silly libretto, of being too long, as well as somewhat confusing as regards its dramaturgy what with stretches of inaction and displacement as the ‘chase’ motif has the three main characters wandering in desperation. How unbelievable that a pistol handed over to the father of one’s beloved as a sign of non-malevolence, as a confession of guilt punishable by death even, could mortally wound that person. Absurd, yes, but this is one of life’s uncanny, unreasonable coincidences. And this single, swiftest of seconds of Fate exploding, this ‘forza’, will do no less than unmercifully condition the lives of all the innocents involved. Verdi himself referred to his work as “an opera of ideas, of intentions becoming thoughts,” and here we have a series of episodes directly related to the turn of events surrounding the characters he created. The incongruous, the surreal, is not in any way a dramatic device, but a sad re-telling of the unbelievable.
Impetus and Society
Verdi was linked emotionally to the noted Spanish writer, poet and dramatist, Ángel de Saavedra y Ramírez de Baquedano, certainly due to the fact that he participated in the War for Independence which attempted to defeat Napoleone, something Verdi was involved in politically in later years. Saavedra’s drama of 1835,
Don Alvaro o La fuerza del sino anticipates Spanish Romanticism, and yet, more than being theatre, this play comes off as a pictorial novel in music. This brings in itself associations with Giacomo Manzoni’s novel, The Betrothed, as to the etchings of Francisco Goya’s series, The Disasters of War. Verdi lived in a special moment, that of Italy’s independence in 1861, along with the establishment of the Kingdom of Italy. Yet, it was the artist in him that sought material linked to Shakespeare, though, ironically, he had recently abandoned the idea of setting King Lear to music. This tells us something of his visions for creating the music of what was to become La forza del destino. Shakespeare is the quintessence of what Man is, tragic in his weaknesses, and therefore destined to err. In Shakespeare, too, there is the supernatural or magic, even the forces of Nature intervene. On the contrary, in Saavedra, we meet that Pessimism which brings crushing doom along with it. The characters, however, are driven to disaster by only one external episode, a freak accident, one going against the proposed life plans of the protagonists. All is set in motion, and every dramatic turn is sustained by the irrational actions and social pressures and conventions which determine them: chance meetings, false beliefs, and unexplained turns of events. Much of this we have in Opera, thus a mature Verdi could again handle his characters as victims, and we sense that only death would resolve their turmoil, or perhaps even reward them with justice in the afterlife; sadly, divine intervention as in Don Carlo will not prevail here.
All-too-passionate outbursts of love and hate
The only true perplexity Verdi had was in the problematics linked to his noble-blooded characters, who exist remotely from society. Leonora seeks solace through religion, and the confines of a monastery, while both her brother and lover live incognito among soldiers and the populace. We note, too, that there are only three characters involved in the action. Between them and those of the ‘real’ world, soldiers, monks, nuns, merchants, we have a figure offering the peace and comfort of a religious reality, sanctuary and isolation from society, Padre Guardiano. Verdi saw this, and for the premiere in Russia of 1861, he insisted on the insertion of those human artefacts within society, socio-politico in their patriotism as involved in wars. Musically, Verdi was to draw upon religious music of great spaciousness, as well as rousing military choruses. Yet, something was missing; that is, until Verdi asked for scenes in a comic vein so as to counterbalance the lugubrious, the turmoil of existence of the misplaced Leonora, Don Alvaro e Don Carlo whose all-too-passionate outbursts of love and hate will only lead them towards destruction. There is something wonderfully natural, however, about the fortune-teller and activist Preziosilla, the street vendor Trabuco, and Fra Melitone. In truth, these two camps sadly never balance out, and there is a weakness in dramatic structure. The essence of Verdi’s revolutionary aspirations blends with the catholic and the patriotic, while what touches upon the sentimental relates to pathos. Any production of this opera would require an utterly convincing staging, which it receives here, as we shall see.
“Not to alter 1 idea, 1 scene, 1 word of the original version in any way”
Francesco Maria Piave, then poet in residence of Milan’s Teatro alla Scala, was called upon to write the libretto, and this, their tenth collaboration, brought about an intense exchange of letters, wherein the composer’s suggestions proved invaluable. Verdi, a well-versed man of the theatre was an excellent judge of a literary figure’s qualities, Friedrich Schiller, Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas fils, and, of course, Shakespeare. Through he commented much on the English bard of bards, he hardly ever spoke or wrote of Schiller, and pleaded with his librettists not to alter one idea, one scene, one word of the original version in any way: this especially so for Don Carlo. Thus, a battle scene from Schiller’s Wallenstein Trilogy was inserted into La forza del destino, making commentary on historical events, mostly relating to the fervor of nationalistic emotion in fighting wars to preserve the homeland’s unity through repelling invaders. The peninsular Italy had always been subject to invasion by sea, as by its northern mountainous regions touching three countries, this referring to 1862, the year La forza del destino premiered.
Though less appreciated overall by many Verdi fans, we must admit that the arias, duets, and choral scenes here are among some of Verdi’s best; perhaps so as they convey inner thoughts in a particular way. As stated, the plot revolves around only three main protagonists, all living in the wake of that fatal pistol shot that ended the life of Leonora’s father, the Marqués de Calatrava. Verdi masterfully creates moments of emotion on three levels: the character’s desperation experienced in solitude, not shared; duets of love and hate when they meet, often not through recognition at first, and almost always by chance as confusion and chaos reigns; and one’s involvement with the populace, whether soldiers, monks, or street merchants as wars take their course. To note, the level of communication between them all is almost non-existent. Here is where the endless libretto is criticized for being confusing, operatically unrealistic, ridiculous. Above all, the ending, both the first version of 1861 in Russia and revised edition for La Scala in 1867, hastily, unsatisfactorily rounds out the eventual destinies of all. But wait. Can there be other possibilities? The tormented existences of Leonora, Don Carlo, and Don Alvaro, as shaped by that horrible twist of fate caused by the pistol accident are realistic. And we must not forget what led to that: Leonora’s unfortunate insistence that they wait one more day to elope so that she may see her father again. Family ties and duty come before love, and this we have in other operas. But what is rare is that all is conditioned by that slip of fate; the time is out of joint,” as Hamlet notes. And Verdi’s score explores this phenomenon, right from the very first notes of the ‘sinfonia.’
“La vedova scaltra”- Alex Esposito
Maestro Riccardo Chailly’s admirable leadership in the orchestra pit seemed to take its heart from the symphonic elements in the score, leaning upon leitmotifs recalling the musical structures of Wagner. At La Scala in these recent years, Chailly has championed Italian composers, many of whose works were in close association with that Milanese shrine. Yet, in listening to this season’s opener, one hears much emphasis placed upon the ‘symphonic,’ upon the unison and interplay between the instrumentalists. His recordings of the Bruckner and Mahler cycles with the Dresdner Philharmonie echo here. In itself, Verdi’s ‘Sinfonia’ that sets the spirit of the piece in motion is revealing. Those first six accented half-notes, marked loud (f, and not staccato) are meant to strike us as the pistol’s bullet that kills the Marqués. It is Fate knocking at the door, horribly chilling, piercing, and giving way to the strings rushing forward, a droning that drags us into the action’s dramatic awakening. Listen, too, to the clarinets, bassoons and trombones insisting with that knocking; and all is destined to be played very softly (pp). On diverse recordings of this orchestral prelude with which the opera begins, Chailly took two totally different approaches in hitting those first destiny blows; one is fast, dry, voluminous, the other fuller, prolonged. At La Scala’s opening, he began with the fuller notes but cut them off as if the golden thread of our destinies was broken. A trio of winds brings us the second theme, it being a somber, melancholic refrain, almost a Sicilian funeral march, repeated eight times, but with a dry trill at the seventh; Verdi’s touch of an undercurrent of doom, as, too, the violins insist with that rushing melody of tragedy’s insistence. Immediately after, softer than softer (ppp), we have the third leitmotif; it is Leonora’s plea asking God for help in her desperation. As heard in the opera’s Fourth act, an organ will accompany a Latin prayer as sung by monks, and she, moved, will respond to their voices praising God’s presence in us, feeling the relief, the tranquility that perhaps only religious music can offer. Chailly captured the violas and celli fully in their ominous tremolo. Small details, yes, but each version carries the weight of Verdi’s psychological feeling towards the tragedy he will confront on the stage. This is to say that the music of La forza del destino is so emotionally charged that it is brought to us through different nuances. Through the opera, Chailly aims for clarity, a dry preciseness which allows the music to remain intact, a song that reflected the goings-on upon the stage. The clarinet solo from Act 3 expressed the extended range of that instrument, mellow in the deep register as rarely heard expressing pathos in its fullest; the staging here was beautifully Done, adding, and not distracting from the music. Fra Melitone and Don Alvaro drifting about both stop some soldiers from bickering under the stress of war and give them hope in their fears and delusions of victory.
Maestro Riccardo Chailly’s admirable leadership in the orchestra pit seemed to take its heart from the symphonic elements in the score, leaning upon leitmotifs recalling the musical structures of Wagner. At La Scala in these recent years, Chailly has championed Italian composers, many of whose works were in close association with that Milanese shrine. Yet, in listening to this season’s opener, one hears much emphasis placed upon the ‘symphonic,’ upon the unison and interplay between the instrumentalists. His recordings of the Bruckner and Mahler cycles with the Dresdner Philharmonie echo here. In itself, Verdi’s ‘Sinfonia’ that sets the spirit of the piece in motion is revealing. Those first six accented half-notes, marked loud (f, and not staccato) are meant to strike us as the pistol’s bullet that kills the Marqués. It is Fate knocking at the door, horribly chilling, piercing, and giving way to the strings rushing forward, a droning that drags us into the action’s dramatic awakening. Listen, too, to the clarinets, bassoons and trombones insisting with that knocking; and all is destined to be played very softly (pp). On diverse recordings of this orchestral prelude with which the opera begins, Chailly took two totally different approaches in hitting those first destiny blows; one is fast, dry, voluminous, the other fuller, prolonged. At La Scala’s opening, he began with the fuller notes but cut them off as if the golden thread of our destinies was broken. A trio of winds brings us the second theme, it being a somber, melancholic refrain, almost a Sicilian funeral march, repeated eight times, but with a dry trill at the seventh; Verdi’s touch of an undercurrent of doom, as, too, the violins insist with that rushing melody of tragedy’s insistence. Immediately after, softer than softer (ppp), we have the third leitmotif; it is Leonora’s plea asking God for help in her desperation. As heard in the opera’s Fourth act, an organ will accompany a Latin prayer as sung by monks, and she, moved, will respond to their voices praising God’s presence in us, feeling the relief, the tranquility that perhaps only religious music can offer. Chailly captured the violas and celli fully in their ominous tremolo. Small details, yes, but each version carries the weight of Verdi’s psychological feeling towards the tragedy he will confront on the stage. This is to say that the music of La forza del destino is so emotionally charged that it is brought to us through different nuances. Through the opera, Chailly aims for clarity, a dry preciseness which allows the music to remain intact, a song that reflected the goings-on upon the stage. The clarinet solo from Act 3 expressed the extended range of that instrument, mellow in the deep register as rarely heard expressing pathos in its fullest; the staging here was beautifully Done, adding, and not distracting from the music. Fra Melitone and Don Alvaro drifting about both stop some soldiers from bickering under the stress of war and give them hope in their fears and delusions of victory.
Maestro Riccardo Chailly’s admirable leadership in the orchestra pit seemed to take its heart from the symphonic elements in the score, leaning upon leitmotifs recalling the musical structures of Wagner. At La Scala in these recent years, Chailly has championed Italian composers, many of whose works were in close association with that Milanese shrine. Yet, in listening to this season’s opener, one hears much emphasis placed upon the ‘symphonic’, upon the unison and interplay between the instrumentalists. His recordings of the Bruckner and Mahler cycles with the Dresdner Philharmonie echo here. In itself, Verdi’s ‘Sinfonia’ that sets the spirit of the piece in motion is revealing. Those first six accented half-notes, marked loud (f, and not staccato) are meant to strike us as the pistol’s bullet that kills the Marqués. It is Fate knocking at the door, horribly chilling, piercing, and giving way to the strings rushing forward, a droning that drags us into the action’s dramatic awakening. Listen, too, to the clarinets, bassoons and trombones insisting with that knocking; and all is destined to be played very softly (pp). On diverse recordings of this orchestral prelude with which the opera begins, Chailly took two totally different approaches in hitting those first destiny blows; one is fast, dry, voluminous, the other fuller, prolonged. At La Scala’s opening, he began with the fuller notes but cut them off as if the golden thread of our destinies was broken. A trio of winds brings us the second theme, it being a somber, melancholic refrain, almost a Sicilian funeral march, repeated eight times, but with a dry trill at the seventh; Verdi’s touch of an undercurrent of doom, as, too, the violins insist with that rushing melody of tragedy’s insistence. Immediately after, softer than softer (ppp), we have the third leitmotif; it is Leonora’s plea asking God for help in her desperation. As heard in the opera’s Fourth act, an organ will accompany a Latin prayer as sung by monks, and she, moved, will respond to their voices praising God’s presence in us, feeling the relief, the tranquility that perhaps only religious music can offer. Chailly captured the violas and celli fully in their ominous tremolo. Small details, yes, but each version carries the weight of Verdi’s psychological feeling towards the tragedy he will confront on the stage. This is to say that the music of La forza del destino is so emotionally charged that it is brought to us through different nuances. Through the opera, Chailly aims for clarity, a dry preciseness which allows the music to remain intact, a song that reflected the goings-on upon the stage. The clarinet solo from Act 3 expressed the extended range of that instrument, mellow in the deep register as rarely heard expressing pathos in its fullest; the staging here was beautifully Done, adding, and not distracting from the music. Fra Melitone and Don Alvaro drifting about both stop some soldiers from bickering under the stress of war and give them hope in their fears and delusions of victory.
The Materialization of Wars
As for representing the stage action, Leo Moscato and his crew did a truly excellent job in every way. The lighting was superb, not wandering, evocative as rarely seen (Alessandro Verazzi), and the costumes (Silvia Aymonino) tasteful, harmonious through all the changes of historical periods, and colorful in an overtly pictorial way. The scenery (Federica Parolini) emotionally enveloped the revolving stage area, clearly as desired by the stage director’s wish to present the drama through the constant shifting of time and place. Some observed that this was climatographic, yet, with no use of film screens or projections, we were presented with an often-seen mechanical tool as purely theatrical in essence. The four seasons were hinted at as the characters were displaced in their efforts to find or hide from each other, and to reach a haven wherein a peaceful, perhaps miraculous resolution would lift them above worldly strife. As we know, this would be impossible, as Verdi’s music of tragedy tells us. Regarding these choices as solutions to presenting what we by now must understand is a difficult opera, we were made to believe that Chailly was focused on the aspects of ‘religion’, and Moscato those of ‘war’. This seemed to be far from the truth. There was no disunity, and it was as much Chailly to follow the stage action as was Muscato to respect Verdi’s musical language. Then too, yes, some defining all as being ‘too classical’. Well, La forza del destino is classical, not in its styling by necessity, but by its respect for the elements of history in its own time, changing, yes, but always a return to that ‘illo tempore’ which, as history itself, opens the doors to our futures.
So there was nothing wrong with Moscato choosing to represent four different periods of war. War is war. And, by the way, the choreography of the battle scenes (Michela Lucenti), criticised by some as badly realised, television-like, was for others pictorial, poetic as representations can be; yes, like Goya’s ‘Disasters of War’, so valid also as a social commentary on the glory despite the horrors on many a bloody ground. One thinks of Géricault’s great Romantic painting, “The Raft of the Medusa, with its desperate crew waving to a passing ship in the distance. The soldiers in the opera, from different historical periods, united in the common defence of their homeland, stood up bravely, facing the red and yellow flames of hell, heroically aiming their guns, only to be shot down by an unseen enemy, their bodies strewn about, almost sinking into a wounded earth that could no longer bear them. There were many sensitive touches from the director’s hand in these war scenes: a nurse running out of a Red Cross tent carrying masses of bloody gauze in her arms; Fra Melitone and Don Alvaro drifting about, stopping some soldiers from bickering under the stress of war and giving them hope in their fears and delusions of victory; a soldier using his helmet and a piece of cloth as a shawl to become a pregnant woman; one of the many soldiers in the war scene protecting his ears from the sound of exploding bombs. Truly moving, a real-life reference to All Quiet on the Western Front, when soldiers from three nations hear each other’s Christmas celebrations and decide to stop the war by meeting to exchange greetings. Here, in a flurry of snow, a Christmas tree potted in a washbasin is passed around and carried to the top of the trench as a symbol of peace, but also of good will.
Wonderful singing actors
The singing roles were well cast. It may sound trite to say this, but we must never assume that every character not only sings well, but also fits into his role musically, while acting with determination and vigour. Where can we find a Preziosilla (Vasilisa Berzhanskaya) so strikingly present, with the flaming red hair of an attractive gypsy, rousing the populace to the challenges of war with her ‘Rataplan’ showpiece? Her mezzo was brilliant and rich. The merchants and soldiers of the chorus who surrounded her were credible and made the presence of their small roles fundamental. Overall, the chorus (conducted by Alberto Malazzi) and the orchestra simply outdid themselves. The Marquis of Calatrava underplayed his role, and we could be forgiven for thinking that we were watching a reflective father struggling with his inner conflict as his noble origins were challenged by his responsibility to his daughter and family honour. As for the religious figures inherent in this conflicted engraving of Italy’s Risorgimento, we meet the resourceful Padre Guardiano (Alexander Vinogradov), well portrayed in the radiance of his goodness and evangelistic zeal, and the jovial but sensitive Fra Melitone (Marco Filippo Romano), on stage for a considerable time and kept even busier in Muscato’s production. Both sang extremely well and with insight into their characters.
Compliments to those in the other ‘comprimario’ roles: Mastro Trabuco (Carlo Bosi), Curra, Leonora’s maid (Marcela Rahal), the city governor (Huanhong Li), a surgeon (Xhieldo Hyseni).
The trio, who carry the central drama of those struggling to overcome the force of fate that has swept them away, had outstanding voices and appealing, believable artists in their roles.
The young American tenor as Don Alvaro (Brian Jagde) had just the right timbre for his role and sang expressively, especially in his duet with Don Carlo, which strangely was not applauded on opening night but was well received in subsequent performances. There is some truth in the comments about the subtleties of conviction; he lay back when it was time to put the pedal to the metal, but this will no doubt change as the performances go on. His acting was good, natural. Don Carlo di Vargas, Leonora’s brother (Ludovic Tézier) was supported by loud cheering, he is well known in Milan. His ringing top register maintains the ‘tessitura’ required by Verdi, approaching the range of a tenor. His snarling outbursts, reminiscent of Scarpia in Tosca, are imbued with the desperation of a nobleman bent on avenging his father’s death.
Extraordinary performance by a great artist
Finally, to speak of Donna Leonora (Anna Netrebko) is to praise the qualities of this consummate singer. The role requires her to be on stage for almost the entire first, second and third acts. Therefore, you have to be convinced by a Leonora who is emotionally shocked, lost, desperate and confused, as many emotions overwhelm her. For this reason, one needs above all poise to show what is going on inside her. The gestures, the movements when singing or simply acting, must capture our empathy. The way she deals with her father, with Padre Guardiano, with her lover and her brother requires delicacy and skill. Despite all the difficulties her life brings her, she is not a weak character. Netrebko portrayed all this and sang beautifully throughout. It may be true that everything is ‘too’ beautiful, meaning that there are musical embellishments that every singer adds or takes away from the music itself, especially in the arias and big scenes. Netrebko does something special with all this and brings the role Verdi created to life. This was an extraordinary performance by a great artist.
It is easy to like La forza del destino the first time you see it. Then it is also easy to feel what some call its flaws. And then, with a little more preparation and an effort to follow what is going on, to eliminate the contrasts, the opera Verdi had in mind emerges. All in all, it was a moving evening at the theatre, an unforgettable production that proved Verdi’s genius and wisdom in choosing Saavedra’s play as the subject for an opera. What may have seemed strange in the drama and music of the opera itself can only be related to its strange beauty, which captures Verdi’s feelings, his worries about the times, about Italy, and reveals doubts within himself about the constant uncertainties of life. This is a wonderful production that reveals human fragility and illusion, and on the revolving stage that La Scala presents to us, we may see ourselves.
La Forza del Destino
La Forza del Destino
La Forza del Destino
La Forza del Destino
