The Los Angeles Opera opens its season with a Traviata that is spelled R.E.N.E.E. F.L.E.M.I.N.G.

We do not believe that the Los Angeles Opera could have begun a new season, its 21st, any better, or under more ideal circumstances than playing its cards with none other than Verdi’s most heartfelt melodrama, "La Traviata". Despite its years, 153 to be exact, it is still a great attraction and irresistibly beckoning.

Though it must be remembered that it was the same work which closed last year’s season badly, when stage director Marta Domingo decided to give it new twists, the local Company gambled that this time the Verdi’s masterpiece would leave its lyrical and dramatic imprint.

With a new cast and the same Marta Domingo offering the ‘Traviata" of 1999, it has become finally evident that the Los Angeles Opera has surged majestically as one of the best (and we hope most responsible) in these United States. And it will continue to surge as long as singing actors such as those engaged for the inauguration of the new season are allowed to display their vocal art together with the orchestra pit, as well as capitalize on the efforts of non-inventive stage directors who crave to make a name for themselves at the expense of the story and the texts.

VERDI’S LA TRAVIATA
This "Traviata" bodes well for the Los Angeles Opera fortunes. It was well executed, well directed and well received by a clamoring public which erupted from time to time into thundering acclamations and welcomed responses.
To be sure, this was not a perfect "Traviata". For there were a few blemishes, negligible of course.

One fact is very much in evidence: this "Traviata" is spelled R.e.n.e.e. F.l.e.m.i.n.g, a Violetta of the first order who is beautifully lyrical, dramatically sound and joyously attentive to the minutest detail.

Though she might lack a High E Flat to crown her "Sempre libera" (Always free), this great American soprano offers a deep study of Violetta by paying homage to the text of librettist Francesco Maria Piave.

Renee Fleming faces all the obstacles of the Verdian music with aplomb and a will to succeed borne out of a deep understanding of the words. No other soprano that we have heard has put so much anguish, so much resignation and so much consternation in "Dite alla giovine" (Tell the young woman) in the second act, and no other has decried her love so expressively as in "Amami Alfredo, amami quanto io t’amo" (Love me, Alfredo, love me as much as I love you).

In the third and last act, she paints just as fine a picture as she had at the beginning. Brava!

In this exhilarating evening, Miss Fleming had two fellow artists (seen later as they too applauded the great effort of the evening star) who shared the people’s plaudits: Mexican tenor Rolando Villazon, an Alfredo of note who sings with fire and passion, but has a tendency to grossly overact. Much has been written about this tenor. His publicity has been overwhelming, but it is entirely possible that the role of Alfredo is not to his liking as other tenors have stated. Moreover, his pronunciation is faulty in that he almost always drops one of the consonants when there are two as in "La disfida acetto" rather than accetto. (I accept the challenge).

The third member of the trio (who should be placed second) was Italian baritone Renato Bruson, last heard here in 1982 in the "Falstaff" offered by the Los Angeles Philharmonic directed by the late Carlo Maria Giulini.

His Germont is severe, authoritative, demanding and yet understanding and nostalgic when he sings a much applauded "Di Provenza" (Of Provence) with a vocal effort that became more fluid and more focused as the opera unfolded. When one thinks of his age, his vocal art is still surprising for he still carves out a deep portrait of the elder Germont with elegance, understanding and implacability.

In the orchestra pit, new Music Director James Conlon conducted the Los Angeles Opera Orchestra without restraint and with a deep sense of understanding the Verdian score. He also opened all the time-honored cuts, including the aria "O mio rimorso" (O my remorse) of the second act as well as the second stanza of the aria "Addio del passato" (Farewell to the past).

One regrets the lack of orchestral intonation in the Prelude of the last act, but it is safe to state that Maestro Conlon is a welcomed addition to the Los Angeles Opera.

Marta Domingo prefers to stage the opening act outside in the garden rather than in the Violetta’s salon; she still thinks that Flora Bervoix’s home, decorated in vivid red, is taken as a brothel; she still introduces "death" to Violetta in the form of a man who puts her to bed, and has the latter sing her great aria "Addio" on the floor rather than in front of a non existent mirror after she has muttered "Ah come son mutata" (Ah how I’ve changed). We guess that no two people think alike.

Completing the cast was the Flora Bervoix of Suzanna Guzman, the Gastone of Daniel Montenegro, the Marquis D’Obigny of Lee Poulis, the Baron Douphol of Philip Kraus, the Dr. Grenvil of James Creswell, the Annina of Anna Alkhimova, the Giuseppe of Sal Malaki, the Messenger of Mark Kelly and Flora’s Servant Tim Smith, all accrediting themselves well enough.

A special "bravo" to the choral forces of Maestro William Vendice, to choreographer Kitty McNamee and to lighting designer Duane Schuler.

Luigi Smaldino

 

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