The lowly tenor and the noble soprano are in love. The princely baritone is less than pleased. Many 19th century Italian operas can be similarly summarized. Verdi's "Un Ballo in Maschera" acknowledges this convention, but complicates it in an important way.
The tenor, Gustavus III (Julian Gavin), is no lowly vagrant; he is the king of Sweden. Far from the tenor stereotype of the young helpless romantic, Gustavus has the power to control those around him. His romantic escapades with his subordinate's wife take on a much darker quality. Boston Lyric Opera's interpretation of the Verdi masterpiece embraces this darkness and uses it to create a visually and aurally complex production.
The production's magnificent set-piece designed by Allen Moyer shifts and changes to follow the plot. In the first scene Gustavus addresses his advisors who sit in rows of chairs in a stately hall with chandeliers dangling high above. In the second scene the floor cracks down the center, the back wall recedes and hangs unevenly, the chairs are piled off to the side, the chandeliers fall halfway to the floor and smoke fills the stage to represent Mam'zelle Arvidson's (Nancy Maultsby) hovel where the characters will hear their fortunes.
In the following scene the crack in the floor widens, the walls recede further and the chandeliers drop to the floor as Amelia (Doina Dimitriu) goes to the graveyard to pick the herbs recommended to her by Mam'zelle Arvidson to cure her of her love for the king. The king follows her and the two declare their reluctant love for one another. Amelia's husband Captain Anckarstr?m (Chen-Ye Yuan) surprises them and discovers their feelings for one another.
In the following scene the fractured floor mends itself and the walls disappear as Captain Anckarstr?¶m rages against Amelia and joins forces with Counts Ribbing (David Cushing) and Horn (Michael Callas), two noblemen that the king has wronged. The three men lay out a plan to assassinate the king at his upcoming Masquerade Ball. In the final scene the set takes its original form, this time as a ballroom, where the King meets his tragic end at Anckarstr?¶m's hand.
Moyer's collapsible set-piece is the production's highlight. It masterfully chronicles the opera's majestic beginning, its descent into darkness, and its failed attempt at redemption. The epicenter of this darkness is Mam'zelle Arvidson's shack. The set creates an air of eerie dilapidation complimented by costume designer James Schuette and makeup artist Jason Allen who transform mezzo-soprano Nancy Maultsby into Arvidson, a wizened old crone. Maultsby's cavernous contralto and domineering theatrics complete the bone-chilling scene. All of these elements culminate to make the scene the production's most memorable.
Maultsby's spectacular performance calls attention to the production's choices for each of the principal characters. Tenor Julian Gavin, baritone Chen-Ye Yuan and soprano Doina Dimitriu all make their BLO debuts as Gustavus, Anckarstr?¶m and Amelia respectively. Soprano Heidi Stober who plays the count's page Oscar, and basses Cushing and Callas round out the supporting cast. Separately, the singers excel, and the opera provides several opportunities for them to showcase their impressive individual voices. The ensembles, however, are evidence of the cast's diverse singing backgrounds.
Of all of the cast members only Julian Gavin has extensive Verdi experience. His impressive list of credits includes such titles as "Don Carlo," "La Forza del Destino," "Ernani," and "La Traviata," among several others. Chen Ye-Yuan and Doina Dimitriu also have experience with Verdi, but their credits are mostly Puccini roles. Heidi Stober has an impressive Mozart background, and Cushing and Callas have composers such as Donizetti, Handel and Weill to their names, but none of these performers has significant Verdi experience.
These diverse backgrounds provide interesting and often stunning interpretations of the opera's many arias, but when they come together for duets and ensembles, the discrepancies become obvious. Instead of blending together their voices violently cut across one another, refusing to harmonize, and constantly asserting their individuality. The result is off-putting, and often disturbing.
But as the set breaks apart and reassembles, creating the production's eerie darkness, and the king abuses his power to declare his love for Amelia, disavowing his place in the sympathetic soprano/tenor romantic coupling, the production asserts that it has no intention of warming and welcoming the listener. Every aspect of the production is harsh and unfriendly, and the impressive collection of voices that refuse to compliment one another only adds to this effect. Despite its unpleasantness, the result is complex and thought provoking.
Earlier in the season Boston Lyric Opera relied fully on impressive singing talent for its bland interpretation of Puccini's "Madama Butterfly." BLO redeems itself with "Ballo in Maschera" by sacrificing the vocal beauty that it prized so much in "Butterfly." This production is proof that there is more to opera than pretty voices singing pretty music.
