In 1835 a war over operas – then in short supply – engulfed Europe. All parties involved were molto furioso. At its centre was Neapolitan librettist Francesco Florimo. He had contracted with fellow student chum at the Naples Conservatory and up and coming composer, Vincenzo Bellini, to write a libretto for his opera I Capuleti e i Montecchi. Without a dose of Florimo the opera would wither and die.
In the mid 19th century, there was a clamour for new operas to counter the contagion of Mozart’s Covid fan tutte which had gone viral in 1790. By the early 1830s two well-researched but hastily composed antidotes competed for attention, Gaetano Donizetti’s L’elisir d’Amore and Bellini’s I Capuleti. Both relied on one essential ingredient in short supply, a libretto from Florimo.
Bellini claimed he had a contract with Florimo. Florimo’s riposte was that, as Bellini hadn’t even written I Capuleti yet, his agreement to supply the libretto was on a “best efforts” basis only.
A peripheral figure, Piccola Sturze, muscled in on the brouhaha, threatening to publish full contract details in the Gazzetta privilegiata di Escozia, the house rag du jour of opera fans across Europe.
Bellini harrumphed that Florimo was not a good man, he had his little ways. Sometimes he wouldn’t reply to letters for days and days and days. Eventually, their friendship and collaboration would be repaired.
German opera houses claimed limited trial previews had shown adverse side effects in opera goers over 65, so refused to stage either opera, saying they would wait until Wagner came along with a pure German antidote instead.
Bien pensants across the continent shook their heads despairingly and said this would never have happened if their proposal for an Opera Union, driving towards ever closer harmony, with power to approve and distribute libretti, had been accepted. It would, of course, have to be based on Habsburg principles – unelected. Art predicting history.
Good news for us today, living in a world where petty squabbles over such trifles are, of course, a thing of the past. And, that I Capuleti, first staged in Venice in 1830, has been magnificently reprised by Zurich Opera and is now available on Vimeo.
Bellini and Florimo approach the Romeo and Juliet story from the perspective of the warring families, not, as more conventionally, that of the fated lovers. This allows otherwise peripheral characters to step into central roles. Capellio, Juliet’s father, leader of the Capuleti, and Lorenzo, the Capuleti family doctor play meaningful parts. The touching, but simple romantic tragedy with which audiences then, and we now, are familiar is transformed into a powerful drama of conflicting factions, fighting for dominance.
That meme resonates today, as much as it did in the 1830s and German producer, Christofer Loy, stages the drama in a modern setting. A revolving set takes the audience from scene to scene, stark rooms in the Capuleti palazzo. He chooses to distinguish the factions on the basis of class, not power, which strays from the original. Montagues and Capulets were rival gangs with similar origins and status. Loy’s Capuleti are tuxedoed gangsters, his Montecchi tweed-capped artisans. Here be underdogs.
Purists will have an attack of the vapours, but this device at least has the benefit of distinguishing who the hell is who. No need to identify family factions by means of slightly differently shaded tights and ruffs. And there are handguns, not swords.
Loy has been a prolific fixture on the European opera scene for forty years. He started his opera studies at the tender age of 14 and now boasts sixty productions to his credit. He has a distinctive voice.
What’s this production like? Think Peaky Blinders, The Musical. There are bullet-ridden bodies strewn all over the set. During the overture the stage revolves, first showing a traumatised Giulietta as a child, pulling her hair distractedly in the aftermath of a shoot-out which has invaded the privacy of her bedroom. The audience is left in no doubt. Violence is a course in her life. There will be no escape. The stage may rotate as time passes, but the violence and bodies are a persistent theme.
Her childhood is further traumatised in a disturbing repeated bathroom scene implying paternal sexual abuse. We are left in no doubt, Giulietta, sung by Ukrainian soprano Olga Kulchynska, is damaged goods. Romeo, mezzo soprano Joyce DiDonato, still has a tough job persuading her to favour love for him over family loyalty.
Ms DiDonato throws herself into the role of Romeo with the uncompromising commitment her fans expect. This performance is a tour de force – in acting and voice. She has a habit of starting important lines pianissimo, delivering a clear tone, introducing vibrato only as the volume swells. The effect on listeners is akin to being hit by an oncoming train that suddenly emerges from the distance with little warning. She is the pivot around which this production turns.
Alexei Botnarciuc, a Moldavian bass, plays the role of Capellio as a Marlon Brando wannabee, a gangster with slicked back grey hair. Threatening growls, as he bends his daughter to his will. Tebaldo is French lyric tenor, Benjamin Bernheim, who has a growing successful discography and has been trail blazing across European opera houses over the last three years until interrupted by Covid closedowns. When houses reopen his distinctive tone will be in great demand. Roberto Lorenzi, the Italian bass-baritone, who sings Lorenzo, won Cardiff Singer of the Year award in 2017.
This cast was an inspired blend of rising stars and Ms DiDonato, at the peak of her career. It worked extremely well. The score, delivered by Maestro Fabio Luisi, was Bellini-fluent.
Vincenzo Bellini was a comet who flamed across the opera firmament until his premature death in 1835 at the age of 34. His legacy of I Capuleti e i Montecchi, Norma, La sonnambula, Beatrice di Tenda and I Puritani is remarkable. Perhaps his work rate had something to do with the fact that in the 19th century composers were obliged to earn their livings. No subsidised, cosseted, residencies on offer.
Zurich Opera has delivered a milestone, absorbing interpretation of this opera. Giving Christofer Loy a free reign to bring I Capuleti up to date was a brave call. It worked. But one quibble; who the hell is The Companion, a character of indefinite gender, introduced by Mr Loy? He loomed deadpan throughout, silently haunting both Romeo and Giulietta, and, when not touching them up, stared meaningfully from side stage?
Acted by Gieorgij Puchalski, a dancer and Instagram influencer, it could have been the ghost of the murdered Mercutio. Who knows? But that is a mean quibble. This is a production of the highest artistic order, bringing Bellini’s masterpiece to the present day without distorting the work at the whim of the producer.