At the New York Met’s Saturday 7 October matinee performance of Verdi’s Nabucco the Babylonians stormed Jerusalem, torched the Temple and slaughtered the innocent. 

Earlier that morning shock headlines had reported Hamas’s attack on southern Israel, the killing and capture of civilians, soldiers, and the parading of a young girl’s naked body in a 4×4 with Hamas terrorists sitting on the apparent corpse.

Twenty-three-year-old festival goer, Shani Louk, was identified by her cousin from online footage showing her signature tattoos. Since, we have learned she may still be alive. Perhaps small consolation. 

We live in biblical times.

Nabucco was written by Verdi with sharp political intent, so we should not be surprised by the work’s ferocity, or continuing relevance today. The opera’s action unfolds with the impact of modern YouTube on scene real-time footage. Ultimately it tells of reconciliation. A message of hope a long way off in Gaza.

Let no-one moan that opera has no relevance to the modern era. In the Lincoln Center during that matinee performance we, the audience, had much on our minds.

Here is the blood-stained story of Nabucco.

ACT I

Jerusalem, 6th century B.C. The Israelites are praying for help against Nabucco (Nebuchadnezzar), king of Babylon, who has attacked them and is vandalising the city. 

Zaccaria, the high priest, appears with Nabucco’s daughter, Fenena, the Hebrews’ hostage. He reassures his people that the Lord will not forsake them. 

As the Israelites leave, Ismaele, nephew of the King of Jerusalem, is left alone with Fenena. The two fell in love during Ismaele’s imprisonment in Babylon, and Fenena helped him escape, following him to Jerusalem. 

Suddenly Fenena’s half-sister, Abigaille, and a band of disguised Babylonian soldiers appear. Abigaille, also inconveniently in love with Ismaele, tells him that she can save his people if he will return her love, but he refuses. The Israelites rush back into the temple in a panic. 

When Nabucco enters with his warriors, Zaccaria confronts him, threatening to kill Fenena. Ismaele disarms the priest and delivers Fenena to her father. Nabucco orders the destruction of the temple, which is convincingly put to the torch.

ACT II

Nabucco has appointed Fenena regent while he is away at the wars. Abigaille, back in the royal palace in Babylon, has found a document saying that she is not the king’s daughter after all, but the child of slaves. 

Foreseeing a future in which Fenena and Ismaele will rule together over Babylon, she swears vengeance on Nabucco and Fenena. Now is her moment. The High Priest of Baal arrives with news that Fenena has freed the Israelite prisoners. As a result of Fenena’s treason, he offers Abigaille the throne to and proposes to spread fake news. Nabucco has fallen in battle.

Elsewhere in the palace, Zaccaria prays for inspiration to persuade the Babylonians to give up their false idols. Ismaele enters and the assembled Levites accuse him of treachery. Zaccaria announces that he has been pardoned for saving a fellow Israelite – the newly converted Fenena. 

An officer victim of the fake news rushes in to warn Fenena that the king is dead, and her life is in danger. But before she can escape, the High Priest of Baal arrives with Abigaille and the Babylonians, who proclaim Abigaille ruler. 

She is about to crown herself and settle into the job when, to the astonishment of all, Nabucco, appears. 

He snatches the crown from her, faces the crowd and declares himself not only their king but their god. For this blasphemy, a thunderbolt strikes him down. Abigaille, triumphant, retrieves the crown for herself.

ACT III

The Babylonians hail Abigaille as their ruler. The High Priest urges her to have the Israelites killed, but before she can give the order, the disheveled Nabucco, recovering from his over-voltage therapy wanders in. Abigaille dismisses the crowd and, alone with Nabucco, tricks him into signing the death warrant for the captive Israelites. 

He asks what will happen to Fenena, and Abigaille replies that she too must die. When Nabucco tries to find in his garments the document proving Abigaille’s ancestry, she produces it and tears it to pieces. He pleads in vain for Fenena’s life.

Along the banks of the Euphrates, the Israelites rest from forced labor, their thoughts turning to their homeland. Zaccaria predicts they will overcome captivity and obliterate Babylon with the help of God.

ACT IV

From a window in his apartment, where he has been locked up by Abigaille, Nabucco watches Fenena and the Israelites being led to execution. Desperate, he prays to the god of Israel for forgiveness, pledging to convert himself and his people. His sanity restored, he forces open the door and summons his soldiers to regain the throne and save his daughter.

The Israelites are about to be executed. Fenena prays to be received into heaven when Nabucco rushes in and stops the sacrifice. Abigaille, full of remorse, takes poison and dies, confessing her crimes and praying to the god of Israel to pardon her. 

Nabucco announces his conversion and frees the Israelites, telling them to return to their native land and rebuild their temple. Israelites and Babylonians are united in praising God.

This production, by Elijah Moshinsky, dates back to 2001. It looks of its age but has the advantage of simplicity. Essentially a revolving set with one side an altar to the god, Baal, a convincing, humungous horned creature, on the other a wall much resembling the Wailing Wall in old Jerusalem. 

The latter forms an ideal static platform for the chorus. Va, pensiero, (The Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves,) the penultimate chorus in ACT III, is not just the singalong popular takeaway for homeward bound hummers. It is the core of this Verdi opera.

The Met Opera Chorus, at full strength, is a musical force to be reckoned with. The opening three chords rang out, followed by the introductory woodwind passage. In perfect time the temple wall swung into place, every nook and cranny filled with dejected slaves. 

Donald Palumbo, the Met’s legendary chorus master, achieves a wonder with this full-on chorus. He has them sing quietly. 

The sound world created is luminous, reflective and, when it occasionally swells to fortissimo, highly emotional. I think the trick in this Verdi chorus is to create a sense of intense introspection. These are people facing a horrible fate. They may be singing the same words, but they are emoting as individuals. 

“Let Him give us courage to endure our suffering” is the closing line. The orchestra dies away, leaving the final words fading to nothing – a cappella. As so often, the true test of success is the audience reaction that follows. Silence. For a full five seconds, followed by eruption. I’m sure in that quiet moment many minds were wandering far from the Lincoln Center. Mine certainly was.

The words of this chorus are what first caught Verdi’s eye when the libretto was first thrust into his reluctant hands by La Scala director, Bartolomeo Merelli. Why reluctant? Verdi’s wife and children had all just died and he was in no mood to compose an opera. He was, however, contracted to La Scala and the words of Va pensiero moved him deeply. 

As the composer, who was to go on to great triumphs, later noted: “This is the opera with which my artistic career really begins. And though I had many difficulties to fight against, it is certain that Nabucco was born under a lucky star.”

Moshinsky, who died of Covid in 2021, an avowed traditionalist, was acknowledged for his acute psychological insights and the theatricality of his productions. Those virtues sustain this production, rendering its twenty-one years in the Met repertory irrelevant. 

All the action, from Abigaille’s seizure of the crown to Nabucco’s resuming power, is presented without ambiguity. One missing feature from the original stage instructions is to be regretted. The statue of Baal is meant to shatter on Nabucco’s conversion. But here, Baal was facing backstage and kept his own counsel. Pity.

Moshinsky enjoyed a celebrated international career, and it is wonderful that examples of his exquisitely crafted productions live on. 

The quality of singing was mixed. Abigaille – presented as a sort of impossible Nadine Dorries, Miss Pushy character – was sung by Ukrainian soprano, Liudmyla Monastryska. Maybe she was having an off day, but she frequently pulled up short at the end of passages and her voice seemed to lack the conviction the character needs. Abigaille, that is. Not Nadine.

Maria Barakova, Fenena, a Russian mezzo soprano was in top form, as were George Gagnidze, a Georgian baritone and SeokJong Baek, a Korean tenor making his Met debut, in the roles of Nabucco and Ismaele respectively. 

In the pit was Daniele Callegari who I remember from his stint at Wexford from 1998 – 2001. Since, he has carved an international reputation as a Verdi expounder. He will be taking on Nabucco again in Lisbon in January 2024. Callegari drew titanic drama from the score. Cataclysmic thunderbolts were, well… cataclysmic. How do you do that with an orchestra?

The character portrayals were pitch perfect and seemed to jump out of today’s headlines. A head of state clearly growing incapacitated but propped up in power by his cabal of insider supporters. Guess who? The difference is, Nabucco recovered from his lightning strike. 

Back in Blighty, a deluded woman who grabbed an office of state clearly beyond her capabilities. At least Prime Minister Truss did not suffer a mortal blow on losing office. And perhaps when senses are sated, dulled even by the endless stream of graphic images portraying escalating conflict and unspeakable barbarism, turning to an opera like Nabucco is a way of reawakening that sense we must never let dull. Human emotion.

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