Author : Johan Uytterschaut
I have always been a fan of Robert Carsen. Not specially because of the Puccini cycle he realised in The Flemish Opera a few decades ago, but because of remarkable productions I saw here and there and that, time and again, ended up in my mental folder marked “to remember”. Amongst others a Rusalka, a Capriccio and a Ring cycle. The Falstaff now shown in New York was one of those, about ten years ago, then featuring Ambrogio Maestri as Falstaff.
The reason I appreciate Robert Carsen is the subtle phantasy he demonstrates. He is a master in creating relevant connections between the original spatiotemporal location, details in the words that (might) have a visual value, and a new setting. The New York Falstaff production is again a splendid example. The late 16th century décor of The Merry Wives of Windsor was, during the late 19th century – Boito’s and Verdi’s era – at a safe distance to perform jokes and pranks at leisure without creating too much offence for the then dominating rigid bourgeois morality. We could compare it to the transposing of Dumas’ Dame aux camélias to the 17th century in La Traviata. Carsen could have decided to squeeze Sir John in a modern suit, but he didn’t: he moved to the 1950’s, a time where an interesting tension between morality and vestimental opulence was present. The ladies in this production swirl, with visible pleasure, in their dresses through the settings that are either strictly conservative (e.g. Falstaff’s “club”) or playfully displaying pastel colours (Mrs Ford’s kitchen). To our eyes this evokes a highly amusing spectacle, reminiscing of Hollywood.
In that context the interactions between the characters are shamelessly inflated, putting the responsibility largely on the actors’ shoulders. It is a question of keeping a keen eye on the score, that being – lyrics and music – also conceived in the best opera buffa tradition: an ode to hilarity. Many a director could run the risk of getting lost in platitudes or irrelevant gags. Not Carsen. His personal adaptations are well thought out and keep in touch with the source. An example. Boito lets Falstaff’s henchmen be, literally, swept out after his diatribe on “l’Onore!”, with a broom. Carsen lets them being chased out, with a shotgun. Perfectly symbolizing Falstaff’s mindset: the hunt for women folk is on! One more for the road. In the scene with the washing basket, we can’t actually see Falstaff fall through the open window. But when Ford looks through that window to gloat over his enemy’s misery, he gets a splash of water thrown in his face. Two jokes for the price of one.
This New York production disposes of a choice cast of singers and actors. Michael Volle is a masterful Falstaff. Being 63, he still is an absolute hit, singing with great technical mastery and acting like the best. He is never to be caught on weaker moments, nor on overacting. Che artista! His colleagues live up to those standards. Every voice renders a top level in a demonstration of professionality: from Marie-Nicole Lemieux’ vis comica (Mrs Quickly) to Christopher Maltman’s vulnerability (Mr Ford). Equally worth mentioning: Ailyn Pérez’ Alice Ford (what a beautiful soprano!), Jennifer Johnson Cano’s Meg Page (a mezzo to die for), Hera Hyesang Park’s Nannetta (fresh and seductive), and Bogdan Volkov’s Fenton (a tenor to remember); the smaller parts neither fall out of tune.
Singing this opera with one of the world’s best orchestras is evidently a great luxury. Not only because of the treacherous complexity of the score; loss of concentration for a fraction of a second might end very badly. Conductor Daniele Rustioni takes care of every nuance, from vocal ensembles stretching to the limit, over orchestral outbursts testing the feeling of balance in every last musician, to impressionistically refined moments where the orchestra can do anything but lay back.
Conclusion: in this production, there is absolutely nothing to be haggled over.
Watch the rerun of the show on April 10 at Kinepolis cinemas.