BOSTON — Semi-staged opera invites challenges. The main reward seems self-evident: to illuminate the great opera scores, like Samuel Barber’s Vanessa, which the Boston Symphony Orchestra offered in a concert version Jan. 8 in Symphony Hall, by bringing musical issues directly into focus.
But when soloists arrange themselves onstage with a sizable orchestra and another chamber ensemble, and with two choruses stuffed into the lobby, semi-staging often leaves too many sonic obstacles to overcome. Barber’s luxuriant score provides enjoyment right from the overture, and music director Andris Nelsons excelled with its many details. Yet the difficulties that some of the soloists had projecting let much of the steam out of its enjoyment.
Vanessa, with a libretto by Barber’s longtime partner Gian Carlo Menotti, stormed onto the scene in its much-anticipated 1958 premiere at the Metropolitan Opera. It was the first full-length American opera at the Met in two decades. Two years before the premiere, after Menotti had completed the libretto and Barber had not written a note, the New York Times ran a breathless article about its progress. Vanessa went on to win a Pulitzer Prize the year of its premiere.
The opera’s production history seems spotty compared to the starry debut, but it has found its artistic champions. Barber’s vocal score loves its soloists, especially the two female leads, and multiple one-namers — Kiri, Flicka, Steber — have graced the roles. Soprano Jennifer Holloway sang Vanessa here, with mezzo-soprano Samantha Hankey in the more prominent role of her niece Erika.
Menotti creates a stagnant parlor drama: The Baroness Vanessa has waited 20 years for her departed lover Anatol to return. Time stands still in the barony. Vanessa has covered the mirrors and hidden herself away, avoiding any sight of change. Erika (about 20 years old — hmm) lives with her. Might Vanessa be her mother? Menotti drops no hints. The ambiguities enhance the narrative.
Anatol finally returns — but as Anatol junior, son of the long-gone (and dead) lover. The parlor reawakens. Anatol proves a rake by inheritance, bedding Erika the very night of his arrival, then immediately turning to Vanessa and, confoundingly, winning her over.
Quite soon Erika is pregnant, Vanessa feels delusional love for the father/son, some part of this must be incest, and everyone should be booking time on a couch. Erika’s life unravels as Vanessa and Anatol marry and leave her behind. The opera closes with Erika re-covering the mirrors and assuming Vanessa’s place in waiting.
Were it powerfully executed, this story could be as tense as Ibsen or Chekhov. This libretto is not. In fact, Barber’s music shows far more empathy and suggestiveness than the libretto. In Barber’s infectious voice, the music traipses easily through angular segues and chocolate-smooth arias. An eloquent baritone himself, Barber gifted his singers with lines that sit lovingly in their instruments.
Holloway and Hankey, the blended star-crossed stars, both sang elegantly over the din with distinction and power. Hankey articulated Erika’s complexities with energy, and her fans should hope that “Must the Winter Come So Soon” never leaves her repertoire. As an actor — even with the recital-type limitations of semi-staging — she convincingly portrayed Erika spinning herself into victimhood, all the while marveling at other’s delusions. Couple her tour-de-force acting with her voice, and Hankey has power-star qualities.
Vanessa maintains an indifferent relationship to reality, and Holloway blithely emboldened her character’s follies. Her long-awaited lover is dead, but she falls for his shady son almost instantly, then thoughtlessly plans to abandon her niece. Holloway made it all believable.
Both male leads were substitutes, although not new to their roles. Tenor Ganson Salmon sang a polished Anatol but was well under the sonic mix too often. Noted mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter, as Vanessa’s mother, and bass Wei Wu, as the major-domo, also met their fates in the orchestral barrage. Too often the supertitles alone provided narrative. But Patrick Carfizzi stepped in successfully as the nostalgic and comic Old Doctor, singing with robust flair.
The production was a collaboration with Boston Lyric Opera, whose chorus was joined by the Tanglewood Festival Chorus in the intimately sized entryway.
Nelsons relentlessly pursued the details in Barber’s delicious score. Solos and accompaniments drifted through harp, English horn, and flute, along with chamber settings and solos among the string principals — densely orchestrated all, executed with intensity.
