Forget Shakespeare

   

Remembering Shakespeare’s version of Romeo and Juliet is a positive disadvantage when experiencing Bellini’s operatic take on the story.   Bellini relied on another line of dramatic interpretation of the narrative used by his librettist Felice Romani who drew on Italian versions of the Romeo and Juliet story that predate Shakespeare. 

     Yes, the “star-crossed” lovers are recognizable, but the action of the opera is concentrated in a few dramatic episodes where most of the characters and situations from Shakespeare have been dispensed with, leaving a stark story of animosity, love, and, of course, death.

     The set design (Allex Aguilera) reminded me of drawings of the designs of Edward Gordon Craig from the 1920s, with monumental walls and a swathe of crimson curtain that opened this production and (although I could not see it from the stalls) a water-filled pool downstage.  They gave a sense of concentrated theatricality, and focussed attention on the five main soloists of this piece.

     The opposing factions of Capuleti and Montecchi were created by the chorus (directed by Pablo Assante), who sang well, but sometimes moved around the restricted space on the stepped staging mechanically rather than naturally, looking as though they were deliberately making their way to their next marks.

     The commanding figure of Capellio was sung by Alejandro López, who I have to assume was having a bad night as he lacked his usual projection and presence – and even garnered a few boos at the curtain call.  Similarly disappointing was Marko Mimica as Lorenzo, whose voice sounded throaty and unfocussed.  He could certainly sing the notes, but I found the sound thick and lacking in musicality.

    The two principals were, however, outstanding - Lisette Oropesa as Giulietta and Raffaella Lupinacci as Romeo - who were not only astonishingly good in their solos, but also approached the sublime in their duets.  They made the complexity of Bellini’s melodic line convincing and inevitable.

     Quite why all the characters were wearing what appeared to be Regency costumes rather than the older clothing expected was not made clear in this production, as I could see little in the accompanying staging to justify the change or to expand a concept or nuance that the choice might exemplify.  Similarly, the choreographed interlude, where accomplished dancers frolicked around a giant revolving central box (with an interior wall covered in fading, vaguely 70s geometric designs) was equally mystifying though interesting to watch.

     The orchestra, conducted with precision and enthusiasm by Riccardo Frizza, was superb, and at times it was almost like listening to an extended concerto for orchestra with so many of the individual instruments – the clarinet, harp and horns for example – having the space to demonstrate their musical qualities.

     The projections added little to the movement of the piece, and I felt that they could have afforded more space for directorial exposition to unify a production that broke conventions without fully sharing the reasoning behind those dislocations.

     The production concentrated on the lovers and made some attempt to show how love had been thwarted by politics or family pride, though those forces were not adequately developed and didn’t really work for me.  And yet the monumentality of the design together with the wonder of the sounds that the two principals produced will remain with me for some time.