SALZBURG — Rossini’s Il viaggio a Reims is as entertaining as it is politically laden. Commissioned for the coronation of the French King Charles X and premiered in his presence in 1825, the dramma giocoso features a lineup of characters, alluding to everyone from Tsar Alexander to Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, Napoleon’s adviser. Perhaps most interestingly, the character of Corinna is a personification of Greece, which at the time was in the throes of a war of independence against the Ottoman Empire (assisted by France, Russia, and England).
A new staging by Barrie Kosky at the Salzburg Whitsun Festival here brings all 18 characters to life and draws laughs with Kosky’s signature slapstick humor. As seen at the May 22 premiere, interpolated text also slows down the pace of Rossini’s score and rewrites it as a paean to today’s brand of pan-European, apolitical values. Kosky states in program notes that the libretto about a group of aristocrats who find themselves trapped in a hotel on the way to a coronation contains “virtually no plot,” which has a grain of truth, yet the evening was on the long side due to stretches of spoken dialogue in different languages and hysterical screams.
Il viaggio a Reims was written as a series of closed numbers including arias that parody opera seria and sophisticated ensembles such as the “Gran pezzo concertato” for 14 voices. The strongest narrative thread emerges through the romantic longings of the characters for one another (Lord Sidney is secretly in love with Corinna, and both Don Alvaro and Count Libenskof are smitten by the Marchesa Melibea). Kosky mines this dimension of the story while also setting out to lend the characters more psychological depth but goes overboard in his agenda to make the work amusing in contemporary terms.
The work climaxes in a pageant of songs that reference England (lifting the melody from “God Save the King,” which would later become “My Country, ’tis of Thee”), France, and Tirol before Corinna sings of the divine happiness that will reign under the to-be-throned King. In a clever touch, Kosky has her lyre (here, a harp) go up in smoke and fireworks. He also ignores the indication of a tableau vivant featuring the French royal family (as per the libretto by Luigi Balocchi), instead having Corinna — here, the springtime event’s artistic director and veteran international soloist Cecilia Bartoli — jump out of a giant birthday cake.
The moment may be a consciously ironic reference to upcoming celebrations for Bartoli in Salzburg this summer including a gala performance of this opera Aug. 8. Nonetheless, the gag came across as self-indulgent given the weight of Corinna in Balocchi’s text. Perhaps even more gratuitous is the rewriting of the final chorus: Rather than exclaiming “Viva la Francia” (long live France), the full cast praises the virtues of “music” and “joy.” If the sentiment is not completely out of place given the Scene Six tribute of Barone di Trombonok to Bach, Haydn, and Mozart, Il viaggio a Reims is also not an “Ode to Joy” in the spirit of Beethoven.
Sets by Rufus Didwiszus create a simple but elegant space for the action to unfold, transforming seamlessly from a hotel lobby to a corridor where the various suitors approach their conquests. Don Profondo’s Scene 16 aria elaborating on French, Russian, Spanish, English, and Polish typecasts was cleverly illustrated with doors opening to successively unveil Don Alvaro, La Contessa di Folleville, and more. Costumes by Victoria Behr add a cartoonish aesthetic, with oversized ruffles and inventive wigs for the women and colorful top hats for the men.
The cast included the rich-voiced Marina Viotti as Marchesa Melibea, the talented Florian Sempey in the highly comic role of Don Profondo, and Mélissa Petit, who brought quicksilver coloratura to the role of Contessa di Folleville. Baritone Misha Kiria invested the right touch of satire as Barone di Trombonok (a personification of Prince von Metternich), and soprano Tara Erraught was delightful as the hotel hostess Madama Cortese. The ensemble Les Musiciens du Prince – Monaco, under the baton of Gianluca Capuano, performed with a Baroque aesthetic that was at times a bit too charged for Rossini’s frothy score, yet coordination with the action onstage was never lacking throughout the zany evening.
The audience was particularly amused when Bartoli tapped her head simultaneously with a high-pitched chime that brought extended passages of trilling to an end. As polished as the production may be, its aesthetic has little to do with Rossini. Which begs the question: Why not create a new work instead? A guest performance of Die Kleine Meerjungfrau (The Little Mermaid) the following evening showcased a close collaboration of the choreographer John Neumeier with the composer Lera Auerbach on the classic tale by Hans Christian Andersen. Classic ballet moves alternate with narrative, contemporary gestures, while the tonal but fresh, compelling score carefully underscores the action.
As the Whitsun Festival’s centerpiece, Il viaggio a Reims was an interesting choice for the event, which was founded as a sanctuary to promote unity and healing in the aftermath of World War I. Yet no work of art should be taken out of context, and certainly not in the interest of pleasing an audience. As the continent faces some of the same issues that rocked nations in the 19th century, Rossini’s work could have been an opportunity to reflect on the extent to which history shapes the present day — all the while with a wink and a laugh as we raise a toast to the glory of France.
