NEW YORK — Twenty-two years after a triumphant house debut singing Alfredo in La traviata, Rolando Villazón made his Metropolitan Opera directorial debut Oct. 6 with a new production of Bellini’s La sonnambula. A puzzling production of a problematic opera was enlivened by some of the most splendid singing I’ve heard at the Met in a long time.
Bellini’s seventh opera is an opera semiseria, a serious opera with comic elements and a happy ending. The story is set in an unnamed Swiss village and revolves around Amina, the kind and innocent adopted daughter of the miller’s widow and the town’s darling. Villazón’s Swiss village is a closed, chilly place: an empty room lined with doors, with snow-covered mountains above and behind the walls. Dressed in severe black clothing, the villagers function as guardians of a strict moral code. (Sets are by Johannes Leiacker, costumes by Brigitte Reiffenstuel, lighting by Donald Holder.)
Amina is betrothed to the landowner Elvino, who in turn is loved by the innkeeper, Lisa, who spurns the love of the peasant Alessio. Energy shifts with the arrival of a mysterious stranger, Rodolfo, who turns out to be the long-lost son of a local count. Lisa provides him with a room and briefly flirts with him until she hears someone coming. That someone is Amina, walking in her sleep into the Count’s bedroom. Discovery of the escapade turns Elvino and the entire village against Amina, even when the Count assures them that Amina was asleep. Lisa is about to take Amina’s place as Elvino’s bride, until Amina is seen sleepwalking across a narrow bridge and her virtue is believed.
Though known before the 19th century, as in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, sleepwalking was a fresh stimulus to the Romantic imagination and its literature seeded with madness and the supernatural. But Bellini’s plot (based on a French scenario) is a hard sell for modern audiences, with its barely credible story and the rigid conventionality of the setting. Villazón’s production acknowledges this with a surreal look reminiscent of Magritte, while humanizing the characters by emphasizing their foibles. Lisa is a schemer with her eye on Amina’s man; Amina is sweet but naive and impulsive. Elvino is emotionally remote and concerned with appearances, and the worldly Count Rodolfo feels entitled to pleasures frowned upon by the community, like a cigarette or casual seduction.
The chorus, active from the beginning, is perhaps too prominent: coming and going through doors, encircling the soloists and gesturing in unison, even spitting on Amina when she is believed to have strayed. Details were striking but didn’t always hang together. But the glory of Bellini is melody, and this cast more than did justice to the demands of soaring long lines and delicate phrasing. The production was easy on the eye and didn’t detract from the work of a wonderful cast.
In her eighth Met assignment, Nadine Sierra cemented her place as one of today’s finest bel canto singers. The role of Amina was written for a soprano sfogato — a contralto or mezzo-soprano with a high extension. Sierra is undeniably a soprano, but her dark timbre gave the middle of her voice emotional depth as well as a solid foundation from which she launched stratospheric high notes and gossamer filigrees of coloratura. She phrased with delicacy, spinning lovely legato lines. Her signature cavatina-cabaletta, “Ah non credea — Ah, non giunge,” earned a raucous, extended ovation.
As Elvino, tenor Xabier Anduaga was vocally splendid, with even registers and a rounder tone than is typical in today’s Spanish-speaking bel canto tenors. A slight stiffness to his acting suited the character without interfering with his beautiful blend with Sierra. If visually their chemistry wasn’t always persuasive, their duets sounded like a match made in heaven.
As Lisa, Sydney Mancasola wielded a bright soprano with an easy top and ample flexibility. Her character’s cagey practicality was a nice foil to Amina’s too-good-to-be-true innocence. Bass Alexander Vinogradov’s Count Rodolfo, ample of voice and sophisticated in demeanor, brought authority and a sense of the world beyond the isolated village. Bass Nicholas Newton made an assured and resonant Alessio in his company debut, and Deborah Nansteel was a warm and sympathetic Teresa. Solo dancer Niara Hardister, dressed in filmy white, embodied Amina’s restless alter ego with free-form, improvised-appearing movement.
Conductor Riccardo Frizza’s relaxed tempos felt slack at times but allowed the soloists ample freedom to caress each phrase to their liking. It was a glorious night of bel canto.
La sonnambula runs through Nov. 1. For information and tickets go here. A live in HD stream to cinemas airs Oct. 18. The Met will stream the Oct. 14 performance live on the Met website (audio only). Do yourself a favor and listen. It’s a rare feast for the ears.
