Anna Bolena: Fridman is a mistress of the bel canto art form
Gaetano Donizetti’s first big hit opera is back at La Fenice in Venice, after an absence of 157 years.
A spotlight focused on Anna Bolena’s retreating back as she walked in passive dignity towards her executioner. Then, slowly narrowed until only the rear of the queen’s head crowned with flowing red locks were lit. Standing starkly against the dark stage.
“Immolata una vittima è già!” (“Sacrificed, a victim already!”) whispered Rochefort, Smeton and Percy. They, also destined for the executioner’s head basket, were commenting on their very own preview.
Director’s post-it note, “Cut to black.” And so ended Gaetano Donizetti’s first big hit opera, Anna Bolena, back at La Fenice Opera House, Venice, after an absence of 157 years.
With as tenuous a connection to history as President Trump’s interpretation of foreign “tariff” levels levelled against America, Anna Bolena opens at a high point of drama. The moment when her marriage to Henry VIII is over. The randy monarch has already identified and fallen in love with wife No 3, Jane Seymour, (Giovanna Seymour), in the opera a close confidante of Anne (Anna) and a lady in waiting at her court.
Anne does not know that Jane is in mid-course of betraying her. Much of the plot hinges on the conflict of emotion Jane feels, torn between love for Enrico (Henry) and loyalty to her cuckqueaned friend.
Henry manipulates the plot from the start. He has instructed Lord Riccardo Percy, (Percy) to return from exile. Percy was childhood friend and eventually lover of Anne, but Anne dumped him in a calculated bid for the throne. To Henry, Percy is a catalyst who may provide unwitting grounds for his divorcing Anne. His spies will be watching their every move.
Add in Smeton, a dreamy page and court musician of Anne’s. He has the secret hots for her and wears a stolen miniature portrait round his neck – “Don’t open your shirt, Smeton, Henry will find the portrait!”. Doh! He does just that. The lovesick minstrel sneaks into her bedchamber only to overhear her passionate ensemble with Percy. Here you have all the ingredients for a phycological plot on a heroically operatic scale.
Donizetti and his librettist Felice Romani did not miss a trick. Blow by blow account here. In fact they liked the tricks so much that especially in the Second Act they repeated them in traditional lyrical “cavatina” followed by bouncy “cabaletta” form with such frequency that present day audiences squirm in their seats. Isn’t one “mad” scene enough?
In 1830, presumably they just drew the curtains in their boxes and settled down to dinner, or whatever they preferred to do to relieve the boredom. It does drag on a bit.
Frequently cuts are made, but director Pier Luigi Pizzi, in total charge of production, scenery and costume felt an obligation in this important opera house to stage an original, uncut version.
Pizzi, an astonishingly vibrant 94-year-old, has been directing in mostly Italian houses since the 1960s. He summed up the plot as succinctly as only a brilliant director can. “A black opera where discontent reigns.”
One thing is certain. He does not speak English. Or diplomatically affects not to. After dinner at the adjacent Ristorante Antico Martini, I bumped into Pizzi as he was coming down the steps of the Fenice in the drizzle.
Reaction scoop beckoned. I fired some laser-like observations and congratulations. Obviously, a veteran of such unexpected encounters with idiots, he smiled, nodded, wind-milled his arms encouragingly – then went on his way.
Pizzi’s chosen setting was almost unbroken dark grey and featured a stage in the form of a deep Gothic arched, receding space which could be transformed from Queen’s apartment in Windsor Castle to bedchamber, ultimately The Tower of London with minimal fuss.
The wooden structure, which never changed, was a metaphor for Henry’s overarching control of events. All the other characters were playing out roles determined by him.
The dress was of the period, but not over the top Holbeinesque, using occasional flourishes of red and cream which stood starkly against the unrelenting grey.
This was, surprisingly, the first time Pizzi had directed Anna Bolena. He has been round the Italian repertoire racecourse many times. Impressed by the famous 1957 production at La Scala, Milan directed by Luchino Visconti, with the immortal Maria Callas in the role of Anna, he felt a need to focus on the moral content of the opera, the dynamics of dramatic atmosphere surrounding the characters.
There were few externalities. The chorus of courtiers melted into the background as principal characters emerged from the score. Stark, sober, but not minimalist, Pizzi’s set imposed an impression on the audience that will endure.
In the absence of Callas, Russian soprano Lidia Fridman took on the role as a true dramatic – and musical - successor. Only 29, she was the standout revelation of an excellent cast. Fridman debuted at La Fenice in the lead role of Albinoni’s La Statira in 2019 and has since assumed many, taxing leading roles in Germany and Italy.
Blessed with a natural commanding stage presence, her articulation crystal clear, she took the score in her stride, including an almost impossible High D in the final mad scene. Truly a mistress of the bel canto art form.
Maestro Renato Balsadonna is a renowned international conductor and enjoyed a stint as chorus master at Covent Garden in the early noughties. Deeply rooted in opera he has an instinctive sense for the needs of singers. And of atmosphere. The opening scene in Anna Bolena is nocturnal, evoking mystery, followed by the pure emotion of the duet with Anne and Jane.
He is conscious of Donizetti’s box of musical tricks – themes for individual characters, represented by instruments. Percy gets a horn. “The score is full of motifs, connections, recurring themes that we will bring back to life on stage and share with our audience.”
La Fenice is a house worthy of its own opera. A jewel box of Murano glass and intricate elegant plasterwork, it has an air of lightness contrasting with the likes of the Palais Garnier in Paris, which seems overgilded and clumpy in comparison.
Built in 1792, La Fenice was an opera house so good – to parody that Frank Sinatra New York song – it burnt down twice. In 1836 and 1996. A tribute to the restorer’s art, it doesn’t look a day younger than 250 years old.
With plenty of promenading space, it pays to arrive early to crowd watch. Some amazing outfits. I don’t know Cruella De Vil personally, but the 101 Dalmatians ogress had pitched up wearing an ankle length black and white skin coat, apparently on lend lease from an unfortunate zebra.
Stand up hair, face lifts going back decades and copious eye liner reaching to the hairline completed the horror story. What on earth did she wear to Carnivale?
I was glad I had chosen to scrub up to black tie. Fitted right into the Venetian crowd. In my daughter Jane I was accompanied by a fashion critic in her own right. The puffed-up white silk bloused bird in the crotch hugging miniskirt, exposed black tights, spangly high heels and quaffing champers at the bar? “Russian hooker!”
Donizetti wrote three “Tudor” operas. The other two being Maria Stuarda and Roberto Devereux, set in the court of Good Queen Bess. Fascination with English history peppered the 19th century Italian scene. Verdi would follow the Donizetti tradition with his addiction to Shakespeare.
Donizetti used to be dismissed on account of the sheer volume of his output. Could any fastidious composer churn out 70 works? Nowadays, half a dozen is considered copious. Not all Donizetti operas are great works, but Anna Bolena is.
While sticking firmly to the rails of history, Donizetti uses a well-known story, populates it with familiar characters and explores in minute detail with wonderful music every facet of their personalities. Where better to experience Anna Bolena than in Venice?
In the artful hands of Pier Luigi Pizzi, to the tones of blazing soprano Lidia Fridman, an artwork of 1830 sprang to life at La Fenice with the relevance of any screaming headline today. The combo may even have sent Cruella De Vil back to her palazzo, to think again about that coat.