VIENNA – “An accursed business!” exclaims the impresario Fallito at the center of Florian Leopold Gassmann’s L’opera seria. “You’d be crazy to get involved.” In a staging by Laurent Pelly that opened Feb. 28 at the Theater an der Wien, the character is surrounded by a sextet of mimes who will chase him like furies in the final act.
As Fallito (Italian for “little failure”) faces the wrath of his troupe and laments the struggle to cover costs, the 1769 work expresses a timely sentiment: The Vereinigten Bühnen Wien, or Vienna Stage Association, which administers the Theater an der Wien, was just hit with five million Euro in budget cuts. Earlier this year, it was announced that the Kammeroper — a smaller stage of the Theater an der Wien that is also home to Baroque opera productions — will be at least temporarily closed next season.
Yet the mood in the audience was mostly upbeat through the twists of L’opera seria, a farce about the conventions of 18th-century Italian melodrama that has been mounted in Vienna for the first time since its 1769 premiere at the Burgtheater. The production, under the baton of Christophe Rousset, traveled here from La Scala, where it had a slightly different cast and, rather than the house orchestra (as was the case in Milan), with his own ensemble, Les Talens Lyriques.
The stage work has particular resonance in Vienna. Held in high esteem across Europe, Gassmann was summoned here in 1763 to succeed Gluck as ballet composer and would become the teacher of Antonio Salieri. He also founded the city’s first concert association, the Tonkünstler-Societät, in 1771. Both his daughters became leading opera singers, performing in the premieres of works by Haydn and Mozart.
As program notes inform us, Viennese operagoers in Gassmann’s time were known for their sophistication and high demands. The city was an artistic melting pot for opera from Italy, ballet from France, and progressive theater from Germany. Comic opera became among the most popular genres as Italian opera seria (literally, serious or tragic opera) became the object of criticism and mockery.
L’opera seria falls on the heels of Gluck’s first two so-called reform operas, Orfeo ed Euridice and Alceste, which — in collaboration with the poet Ranieri de’ Calzabigi — turned to French opera in order to overcome certain Italian formulas. Gassmann’s opera focuses on artistic and structural reform within the music and text themselves: predictable cadences, ridiculous lyrics— Fallito’s ignorant demands on the composer Sospiro and librettist Delirio materialize before our eyes and ears.
Sospiro’s offstage love aria for the young singer Poporina (“Barbara! E non rammenti”) transmits passion and tortured emotion, while other romantic numbers are formulaic and superficial (for example, Smorfiosa’s “No, crudel, d’amor capace,” sung in rehearsal). The satire reaches its pinnacle in the third act, when the fictitious work the troupe is preparing, L’oranzebe, is staged replete with its own overture (performed here from the harpsichord by Rousset) and unmistakably overstylized arias. The work also comments on the conventions of ballet through the character of Passagallo: “We don’t need a plot or an idea, just coupés, brisés, balancés, chassés, and pirouettes,” he states.
The score benefited from the driving energy of an early-music ensemble, and the cast was unified by high quality. Julie Fuchs, as the prima donna Stonatrilla, was apparently recovering from a respiratory infection and occasionally held back yet was overall lush-voiced, charming, and coquettish. In the high comic role of Ritornello, Josh Lovell drew laughs as he hammed up his arias while investing melodies with a penetrating tenor. Particularly hilarious are the moments when he insists to Delirio (Roberto de Candia) that they replace the name of the mythical sea monster “Scylla” with the island “Sicilia.”
Petr Nekoranec was a touching Sospiro, Serena Gamberoni a fierce Poporina. Andrea Carroll gave a dynamic performance as the seconda donna, Smorfiosa, and Pietro Spagnoli was belligerent but vulnerable as Fallito. Alessio Arduini brought Passagallo to life with just the right touch of caricature.
Lavish period-style costumes with humorous touches, such as oversized bows and inventive wigs (designed by Pelly together with Thomas Le Gouez), added to the fun. Choreography by Lionel Hoche brought elegant ballet steps that evolve into more modern, tongue-in-cheek moves (the humor was augmented through an all-male ensemble in tutus). Yet the tone was never so over-the-top as to disrupt the frame of the action.
The evening was an opportunity to revisit the opera wars of the 18th century but also consider parallels to today’s landscape. As budgets are slashed in European capitals, the need to reinvent or reform opera from within and find competent managers remains pressing. Otherwise, we may be damned to the final lines of the opera, which does not culminate in a lieto fine (happy ending): “An impresario either fails or dies.”
