Why you must see this stunningly moving film portrayal of Verdi’s La Traviata
Filmed opera should be approached as a compliment to the classic staged performances, not as a replacement. That said, OperaGlass Works is building a portfolio of polished artistic gems.
La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi, OperaGlass Works, Soho House, New York, 16th March 2025
It must take a lot to make Sigourney Weaver burst into tears. But OperaGlass Works – mission: to boldly go in opera where no company has gone before – managed it. The occasion was last Friday’s screening of Verdi’s La Traviata – the American premiere of OperaGlass Works’ latest filmed opera. A viewing at the groovy Soho House Screenroom, in New York’s Meat-Packing District. Very cool.
Consider. The megastar Weaver played Ripley in Ridley Scott’s 1979 film Alien, maintaining her composure while astronaut colleague, Executive Officer Kane (John Hurt) famously gave explosive birth, ex pectore, to an alien Xenomorph during a convivial dinner party. No table manners, these Xenomorphs.
The credits rolled in Soho House following Verdi’s masterpiece. Hosting the evening, Sigourney came front of the screening room to moderate a Q&A with the film’s creators and OperaGlass Works’ powerhouse dynamos, Selina Cadell and Eliza Thompson.
The unflappable Ripley of 1979 was visibly shaken in 2025. Such was the tragedy-telling impact of this film. Proof that experiencing the power of opera in a chamber setting, up close and personal, is compelling.
What’s different? The starting point is the almost total elimination of the fourth wall, traditionally separating stage and audience. We are sucked into the storyline from the start, by a dancer flitting through the delightfully dilapidated set: the Grange, Hampshire. The venue takes the estate agent’s euphemism, ‘distressed’, to an entirely different level.
The camera ascends stairs, flits from room to room, comes suddenly upon characters as the plot unfolds. For those unfamiliar with the plot, dally here.
Violetta, a courtesan, is holding a fancy party and along with Alfredo and other guests, you are invited. Sitting in the plush velvet Soho House armchairs – with footstool, side table, lamp and a glass of bubbly. Brushing shoulders with Violetta, the Duke, the Marquis, Violetta’s friend Flora, the Barone.
You mentally check to see if you brought along a customary bottle of “Bolly”, as a hostess gift. It’s that real. You are there. And, often the singers turn, engaging you in their confidences with eye contact, not singing into the space above your head.
The staged version typically features a chorus of thirty. That works on a static stage set, but would not in the cramped quarters of an English country house. So, they sing out of sight, but their presence as guests at the party is cunningly alluded to by a troupe of dancers from Matthew Bourne’s company, choreographed by Etta Murfitt and Anjali Mehra.
The wonderful Lone Dancer is Michela Meazza. My favourite moment was her sequence on the garden set as a prelude to the confrontation between Violetta and Germont. It serves as a troubled, energetic, moody scene setter for the crisis to come.
Outside, nature takes control. There are always unforeseen hazards when filming out of doors. A raft of quiescent ducks on the lake suddenly became a swarming, quacking flight wheeling in the background behind Germont. Not only had he upset Violetta, Germont had rattled the quackers.
Lesser directors might have called, “cut”. Cadell and Thompson let the cameras roll. If you are filming in the country there will be ducks! Roll with it. As well as allowing country sounds their space.
The orchestra was not parked in a Hampshire kitchen, but Glasgow. The Royal Scottish National Orchestra, led by Jacqueline Shave was recorded separately, then blended with the voice track. “But, how were the singers able to perform to the score?”, I hear smarty-pants readers ask.
No problem, for they were following a repetiteur playing a piano on their earpieces. There was also the smart trick of introducing into plain sight an occasional instrumental soloist when the instrument’s voicing followed the vocals. The illusion was perfect. One assumed the orchestra to be round the corner, frightening the ducks, not 422 miles up the M3, M6 and M74.
The film is blessed by an outstanding cast. Susana Gaspar, a Portuguese soprano sang Violetta. She has form singing the role of Violetta outdoors. In 2021, she performed the role at Nevill Holt when the indoor theatre was shuttered because of Covid.
Gaspar is an expert at portraying tragic heroines. The murdered Gilda in Verdi’s Rigoletto, and that other victim of conspicuous consumption, Mimi, Puccini’s La Bohème. Her ability to convey vulnerability was exploited to the full by the camera.
Memorable heart stopping moments were the confrontation scene with Alfredo’s father, Germont, when she accedes to his request to give his son up for the good of the Germont name – “Why didn’t she just biff the patronising poltroon?” (ed.) And by her noble bearing, convince Germont she is not a slutty courtesan.
At the end, delusional, the camera allowed her a moment of solitude in a hazed-out background, an artifice impossible to achieve on stage. I think that was what provoked Sigourney to pull out her hankie.
For British tenor, Thomas Elwin, this was his first shot at the role. He portrayed the awkwardness of the lover who has admired Violetta from afar for a year, constantly calling to inquire about her health. Nowadays he would probably be de-Twittered as a creepy stalker. But he progressed through the roles of passionate, to spurned and then reconciled lover convincingly.
Baritone Roderick Williams has a deserved stellar reputation. I last saw him live in New York’s Park Armory, singing the role of Father in Michel van der Aa’s futuristic Upload.
There he was in a booth, slightly off stage, covered in sensors, kitted out with as many cameras as a self-drive Tesla being projected onstage as an Avatar to his Daughter, an astonished Susan Bullock. For Williams, being filmed in a Hampshire garden was a doddle. His engagement with the camera, hence every member of the audience was total. We were in Violetta’s shoes. Knew how she felt.
I hadn’t expected one advantage from the medium of film and that is the elevation of characters who appear onstage to have minor roles. Flora, Violetta’s friend, sung by mezzo-soprano Katie Bray, can be passed by in a crowd onstage. In the film she stood out, which has significance for the plot, explaining why Violetta rushed to her party in Paris when fleeing the country and Germont.
In some close what I shall call “gossip-shots” Flora dominated the screen. As a fan of understatement, I shall simply observe that Katie Bray seemed to exploit those opportunities deftly. Cruder observers may say, pure dead brilliant.
Fiona Kimm, who sang the role of Annina, Violetta’s ever-supportive maid heads her LinkedIn page – “Principal mezzo soprano – most opera houses near you!”. Kimm is a rejuvenans 72-year-old singer who has enjoyed an epic career and is still at the top of her game. Annina is usually a meek go-getter servant. Nothing special. Selling Violetta’s chattels in Paris, here, delivering letters there. That sort of thing.
She reminded me of a wonderful moment at a Sunday lunch party my wife and I hosted for the late great, but enormously self-satisfied Roy Jenkins at our West End home in Glasgow. It was 1985. Roy had defeated me in the 1982 Hillhead by-election. I had become an MP for Aberdeen South in 1983. But he was my “home” MP. I thought it would be rather fun – and courteous – to invite him for lunch. Good for him. He and Jennifer pitched up.
Alexander Gibson, the Scottish National Orchestra’s (no “Royal” yet” principal conductor and a neighbour was there, along with a fun crowd. After about a case of “this is a vewy gweat clawet” someone asked Roy, if when he was European Commissioner in Brussels, he had many servants at his official residence.
The great man cocked his head like a bird, thought and said with that famous speech affectation: “I can’t weally wemember. But there always seemed to be someone awound.”
Kimm, aided by the camera, was always around, and transformed her relatively minor role into a major one, concerned mentor and loyal friend. Inspired casting rewarded by uncompromising delivery.
Another aspect of the film experience was clarity of plot. The scene when Alfredo confronts Baron Duphol, Violetta’s new lover, at the gambling table when viewed from the perspective of an opera house seat is viewed as a flat plane, the confrontation between the two as Alfredo beats him consistently at cards somewhat distant.
The camera turned this into a blow-by-blow sequence of visceral emotion, ending in the throwing down of the Baron’s gauntlet after Alfredo shames the distraught Violetta by casting his winnings at her feet.
The future of filmed opera as another aspect of the medium is the subject of hot debate. Let me be clear, it is not an alternative. Even OperaGlass Works doesn’t make that claim. It is complementary, and might be thought of as an invitation to the opera for audiences now prepared to “brave” an opera house. It also provides useful insights, for those addicts well accustomed to staged opera, into film-staged performances available on the likes of Met Opera On Demand HD.
With Benjamin Britten’s Turn of the Screw and this La Traviata notched on their belts, the indomitable twins, Eliza and Selina are on the hunt for the next challenge. Twittering birds tell me Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro is in the running.
OperaGlass Works is building a portfolio of significant contributions to the operatic repertoire, each a polished artistic gem in its own right. The indefatigables deserve support.
As the credits rolled in Soho House we got to a list of donors. I had chipped in a measly amount. To my surprise, there, on the role of honour was my name. And just above me that of another of my heroines – Joanna Lumley. Absolutely Fabulous!
Subscribe to REACTION
 | A guest post by
|
