Opera Chic

Trittico Gets The Plasma Treatment

(above: Barabara Frittoli in Suor Angelica on top of Ronconi's scary dead Madonna from Scala's Il Trittico)

Classica broadcast via satellite a live transmission from the Thursday night performance at La Scala of Puccini's Il Trittico. OC endured it once again so she could bring you legal shots of the performance via her Canon camera and Samsung plasma. Chailly's conducting remained heavenly even through the canning and compression of live sound to media, although Team Ronconi's odd set designs appeared much darker on screen. The key singers, of course, were much more emotive, with Suor Angelica's Barbara Frittoli even admitting in a post-performance interview that the music moved her so much that she was crying just before one of her arias. suffering for art and all. 

The performance was hosted by Classica tv host Gianandrea Gavazzeni's son, he of oddly-composed facial hemispheres, who coolly interviewed both Barbara Frittoli and Leo Nucci (Nucci in full costume and makeup and fake nose, relaxed as a lamby only minutes before getting on stage for his Schicchi) in his II ordine palco between intermissions. There was also a small pre-recorded piece on both Maestro Chailly (who masterfully dissected the evolution of Puccini's style, more on this in a later post) and director Luca Ronconi.

Oddly enough, it was also the first out of the previous three performances where Mariana Lipovšek as Zia Principessa in Suor Angelica wasn't booed loudly at the curtain call. Ronconi didn't show up at curtain call. no boos? a weird coincidence, since the loggione had booed after every previous performance (they didn't like the staging). were they absent?  diplomatically silent? good faith? bad? hmmmmm.

Puccini's Trittico will be rebroadcast on Classica a few times next month: April 19 (9pm), 21 (8am), 23 (1:30pm), 27 (10:15am), and 29 (11am). Dayuuum.

OC made a niiiice leetel photo album of a few dozen screenshots, which you can enjoy here. Below are a few of the highlights.

(above: Juan Pons strangles Miroslav Dvorsky in the finale of Il Tabarro.)

(above: The nuns of Suor Angelica walk all over the giant plastic Madonna)

(above: Barbara Frittoli takes her curtain call with her immortalized son)

(above: Leo Nucci in Dante garb as Gianni Schicchi with a prosthetic nose)

(above: Vittorio Grigolo takes a curtain call for Gianni Schicchi: well-deserved applause)

Il Trittico @ La Scala: Mehhhhhh

‘*^*OC*^*` is barely conscious after the four hour marathon of Puccini’s masterpiece Il Trittico earlier this evening at Teatro alla Scala, and will try to share more impressions of the 3-in-1 opera tomorrow. For now, the angry rabbits on the bottom of her Marni heels are screaming to be put back in their white shoe baggies, so this’ll be quick:

Riccardo Chailly coaxed the most gorgeous, intelligent, satiny flavor from the Orchestra della Scala, a sound so inspiring and delicate, perfectly controlled and shaped, he complimented every voice that rang across the stage, but managed to hold the spotlight. Il Tabarro, Suor Angelica, and Gianni Schicchi were attacked differently, each one with a marked flare. Chailly was the indisputable champion of the evening, leaving the singers to trail behind. Of the most competent singing, we had, well, slim pickings. Gianni Schicchi’s Rinuccio was sung by lithe yet powerful Vittorio Grigolo, one of the brightest lights of the entire evening with a forceful, gorgeous voice. Close behind was Leo Nucci in the title role of the third Il Trittico opera, although it’s more his charisma than his twilight, tepid tone. Barbara Frittoli as Suor Angelica sang laudably, but her Puccini is not terribly resonant, and constituted as one of the weakest performances I’ve seen her in. Of course, you can't speak about Il Trittico without mentioning Lauretta's O mio babbino caro, but as sung by an acidic Nino Machaidze, let's not.

Luca Ronconi’s offensive and frankly lazily executed sets detracted greatly from Chailly’s creaminess, the orchestra’s flawless gift-wrapping, and the entire ensemble’s singing efforts. The most jarring and incongruous was Suor Angelica’s set, which consisted of stark bluish walls and a gigantic plastic form of Madonna (not the Dior-wearing, Brit-speaking, Lourdes-spawning singer) prostrate on the ground, which the sisters of the order traversed across and walked through tunnels snaked above and through her. wtf? Gulliver’s Travels. Alice in Wonderland. Who dropped mushrooms before laying down the sketches??  We get the symbolism ok ok but the execution came off like a Madonna slip-n-slide water theme park. As Frittoli lamented over her dead son, she was sprawled across the comically immense saint, and all sympathy for her trauma was nullified in light of such an odd, drug-induced visualization. The set for Gianni Schicchi was equally armature, and was simply a sunken bedroom with every square inch of surfaced draped in maroon red fabric with gold accents. The harsh, unyielding, and static lighting didn’t help much either.

At the end of the night, my outfit was more memorable than the production, although Chailly's genius will haunt my dreams. v(º_o)v