Puccini’s Tosca has adorned our opera houses for so long that there must be a temptation to do something different with it. The original, however, mixes a love story with political villainry so brilliantly that any change is liable not to work well. One should not tamper with perfection.
Annilese Miskimmon’s new version for the English National Opera sets the action in an unspecified modern military dictatorship instead of the Napoleonic wars of the original. As always, the love between opera singer Tosca and painter Cavaradossi is cruelly disrupted by police chief Scarpia, who lusts after Tosca, and his envy for Cavaradossi is heightened by their intense political differences. That much remains the same, of course, but the whole story becomes much less effective than usual because of the changes Miskimmon brings in.
The original version has very contrasting sets for its three acts: a church, Scarpia’s study, and a rooftop execution scene. The new version employs the puzzling innovation of setting the entire opera in some sort of concert hall, scattered with diverse musical instruments. The church sacristan and a statue of the Madonna are both still there, though it is not clear what either is doing in a music room. To give the setting some meaning, a variety of musicians wander in and out, without actually doing anything, and Scarpia’s vicious henchmen delight in smashing the musical instruments from time to time when they are not torturing Cavaradossi or beating up various other characters.
Perhaps the idea of turning up the overt violence is intended to make the story match the violent age we live in, but brutality is far more effective when left to simmer offstage than when it is depicted so clearly. The role of Scarpia, played by British baritone Christopher Purves, comes over as thuggish rather than brutally sinister, which is the ignoble quality that has made him my favourite operatic villain.
The romance between Tosca and Cavaradossi also lacks its usual tenderness. Both French soprano Axelle Fanyo and American tenor Chaz’men Williams-Ali tended too often to deliver their arias far too often facing the audience rather than looking directly into each other’s eyes. Even Tosca’s principal, pitiful Vissi d’arte (I lived for art) aria was similarly sung to the audience, losing much of its anguish. Another problem the main characters faced was often being shunted off to an onstage balcony in order to give prominence to some comparatively irrelevant action on the stage in front of them. The result was that they were difficult to hear above the orchestra or the sound of a choir which had been given a prominence it did not merit.
Such in English with a rather clunky translation, this all added up to a disappointing evening, which was rounded off by replacing Tosca’s dramatic suicidal leap to her death with a more visually startling end that was difficult to comprehend. In all, it was a three-star performance of a two-star production of a five-star opera. The best thing about it was the powerful playing of the orchestra under British conductor Ben Glassberg which brought out the magnificence of Puccini’s music. Apart from that, the only good thing that sticks in my memory is the novel hiding place Tosca finds for Scarpia’s body.
If you have seen Tosca a dozen times before and long for a different interpretation, there is a chance you will approve of this one, but otherwise you are strongly advised to wait for a more traditional Tosca to come along.
