Giuseppe Verdi set
Salvador Cammarano's adaptation of Schiller’s Kabale und Liebe (Intrigue and Love) to music to produce the first opera of his now
identified “middle” period. In this phase, the composer rejected previous
formats of love duets followed by a chorus, which had previously dominated
Italian opera. The opera is known as Luisa Miller, named after the apparently
blameless heroine who, in the version Cammarano intended, dies tragically along
with her lover at the end. In the case of Luisa Miller, the composer’s
departure from the norms of stage melodrama initially led to the work’s
troubled premiere in Naples. Verdi would never again write for Teatro San
Carlo, but, as we know, did move onto other things. Cammarano’s adaptation of
Schiller’s Intrigue and Love moved the plot decisively towards the “love”,
but in a new production of the opera in Valencia, the intrigue is again in
focus. The main themes, however, of this re-envisaged production are clearly
social class, family loyalties, stereotypes, individualism, and feminism.
Valentina Carrasco’s
production makes perfect sense, despite at times appearing to be merely
decorative. We are presented with a doll factory setting. The director herself
makes the point that dolls and the images they present are largely aimed at a
female audience.
Luisa’s father,
Miller, owns the factory and he is worried because his daughter is in love with
Carlo, a stranger of unknown attachment or descent. When Luisa sings of her
love for him, the factory workers immediately think of marriage and
stereotypical dolls, representing grooms and brides, are brought together in an
unfeeling embrace to signify the conventional marriage that awaits. At first
sight, this could be literal, it could present a stereotypical idea of romantic
love, but it could be kitsch, or it could indicate the conventional thought
that dominates a small town. But as things progress it is symbolic of Luisa’s
state of mind, a reality that will change by the opera’s end.
Carlo, it transpires,
is in fact Rudolfo, the son of the local count, who regards his subjects as
possessions. They must conform to his wishes, and certainly not oppose them.
This is the kind of patriarchal society that this production of the opera will question.
Wurm, the previous suitor of Luisa, reveals the true identity of Rudolfo as the
count’s son and thereby casts doubt in everyone’s
mind about the lover’s intentions. Was the name change just to hide the
aristocratic origins of someone who just wanted to seduce a nice girl from the
town? This is the doubt he sows in Luisa’s mind.
In a weak point of the
libretto, and the count and Wurm reveal to the audience the fact that the
count’s fortune came about by an act of murder against his own family. Here,
the characters do little more than tell the audience the plot. It is clumsy,
but then Wagner did it repeatedly. The two men, however, decide that their
interests are best served by sticking together. The count reveals that he has
marriage plans for his son, the suitor being Federica, a rich, well-connected
duchess. Rodolfo, who is sincere in his love for Luisa, is not impressed
despite having grown up with his intended spouse.
To signify a hunt
called by the count, the toy factory displays cuddly dogs. Again, at the time,
this could be taken as petty and decorative, but they reinforce the concept
indicating that the count will hunt his own prey and stop at nothing to get his
own way. When Miller, Luisa’s father, criticizes the count, he is imprisoned.
Luisa is then confronted with the plot hatched by Wurm and the count to lever
Rodolfo out of her life and replace him with Wurm, thus achieving what he
himself and the count want. The dogs, incidentally, reappear in act three, this
time set as a pack by Luisa to indicate that now she has become the huntress in
wanting to achieve a change her own life. It is this aspect that becomes the
twist that makes this production of Luisa Miller so convincing.
Threatening
consequences for her father, Wurm has Luisa write a letter in which she falsely
admits to her duplicity in leading on Rudolfo to get her hands on his money. It
is clear that Luisa is being manipulated, but in the context of events, what
other choice does she have? She cannot countenance her father’s death or even
suffering, and this is in marked contrast with the count’s act of familial
murder to amass his fortune. Rudolfo, on reading Luisa’s letter, takes it at
face value and such is his desire to internalise his grief, he contemplates
death whilst at the same time threatening his father with the revelation of his
crime. Wurm, meanwhile, rubs his hands together in expectation of triumph, the
same hands that will explore Louise’s body.
The letter is written, Rudolfo suspects intrigue. The plan is working. Wurm and
the count will get what they want. Louise’s father
can be released.
With marriage
preparations on the way, Rodolfo has decided that it he cannot get his own way
then no one else is going to have Luisa. He decides that the two of them will
take poison in the final act of defiance and enduring love (as he sees it!).
Luisa seems to have not agreed or even been consulted about such a plan. It is
another example of how the males assume they can impose their wishes on women.
Luisa has, however, lined up her hunting dogs. She has thus become the huntress, and it dawns
on her that she can take control of her life. We suddenly see lots of brides
and grooms, stereotypical dolls, of course, hanging by their neck. The stereotypes
are going to be erased. Rodolfo takes his poison in what is now perceived as a
selfish, self-seeking act of revenge born of his own pride, perhaps. But, in
this production, Luisa throws her helping of the poison onto the ground, thus
refusing to conform with Rudolfo’s wishes.
Thus we have the final
redemption, not Wagnerian adoption into heaven, as Luisa sees the light of her
own independence from all this male intrigue and in-fighting. As the dying
Rodolfo and Miller, Luisa’s father, bemoan the death of a bride doll representing
Luisa (signifying their stereotypical view of women), Luisa herself walks
towards the light of her own future carrying a groom doll, a stereotype she now
controls. If you remain Romantically inclined, it is heaven she approaches via
death, and she carries with her memory of Rodolfo. She did not, however, take
the poison, and she had previously become the huntress by lining up her pack of
dogs. It is enigmatic, perhaps, powerful, yes, and, in the end, it brings
together in perfect sense a production that might at first sight have seemed
disparate.
The singing of all
concerned was, however, the opera’s undoubted highpoint. Freddie De Tommaso as
Rodolfo and Mariangela Sicilia as Luisa were simply faultless. They were more
than this, however. Rudulfo’s arrogance and at the same time sincerity were clear.
Freddie De Tommaso struck the balance between confidence of his masculinity
married with a sense of inferiority with regard to his father. Mariangela
Sicilia’s Luisa combined the simplicity of female prospects at the start of the
opera with the growing realisation that something had to change to release her
from the frustrations of a life controlled by others.
Alex Exposito’s count
was convincingly powerful, whilst conveying the fact that he was hiding
something embarrassing behind the status. Gianlucca Buratta’s Wurm was slimily
convincing. Germán Enrique Alcántara as Miller sang every line elegantly and
with clear meaning, and the Maria Barakova as the Federica, the duchess-suitor
played a role that was a little one-dimensional, but she sang and acted with
terrific and convincing style. This was a woman who knew what she wanted, but,
because of Luisa’s assertion of independence, she was denied her prize. At the
opera’s end, it is only Luisa who walks towards new existence with confidence.
Everyone else has suffered, but then everyone else was in some way involved in
the intrigue that was designed to entrap her. It is therefore, but triumph for
feminism that Luisa’s new resolve prevails.
It must be sad that I
have not mentioned the music. Having opened the review with the name “Giuseppe
Verdi”, I have not yet mentioned anything about the music. Verdi has apparently
played second fiddle, but not so on stage. The music of this opera bursts with
ideas and textures, all perfectly communicated and played by the Orquestra de
la Communidad Valenciana under Sir Mark Elder. Luisa Miller might not be one of
Verdi’s better-known operas, but in this production, it is a roaring success
that makes perfect dramatic and musical sense.


