We journeyed north to Edinburgh on Friday to see "Norma" with Cecilia Bartoli singing the title role. This production was originally seen at the Salzburg Festival, and more recently has been in Zurich. With Bartoli in fine form, with a younger soprano Adalgisa, with the opera uncut and played on period instruments, this was a stunning experience.
Anyone expecting a Callas-like singer in the title role would have been disappointed; as would anyone expecting Druids meeting in a sacred grove, confronting Roman occupiers. Instead, we had French resistance fighters in occupied France during World War II. But after quailing somewhat at some gratuitous violence early on, any thoughts that I might need a Regiemask were definitively put away. The drama focussed down to the three principal characters - the two priestesses, and the rotter of an occupying commander who had seduced them both. With Bellini’s superlative music, superb singing, and intense and convincing acting, this was a white-hot searing drama, one of the most intense I have ever experienced in the opera house.
The evening was a definitive presentation of bel canto as a dramatic art form. Not once did there appear to be unnecessary floridity in the music. It all served the dramatic purpose. Not once did one have a secret wish that it might be Puccini. Puccini seemed tame by comparison.
We left the theatre on a high. Walking back over the North Bridge to the station for the sleeper home, the fireworks from the Tattoo lit up the sky over the castle. They seemed a fitting celebration for an extraordinary evening.
Anyone expecting a Callas-like singer in the title role would have been disappointed; as would anyone expecting Druids meeting in a sacred grove, confronting Roman occupiers. Instead, we had French resistance fighters in occupied France during World War II. But after quailing somewhat at some gratuitous violence early on, any thoughts that I might need a Regiemask were definitively put away. The drama focussed down to the three principal characters - the two priestesses, and the rotter of an occupying commander who had seduced them both. With Bellini’s superlative music, superb singing, and intense and convincing acting, this was a white-hot searing drama, one of the most intense I have ever experienced in the opera house.
The evening was a definitive presentation of bel canto as a dramatic art form. Not once did there appear to be unnecessary floridity in the music. It all served the dramatic purpose. Not once did one have a secret wish that it might be Puccini. Puccini seemed tame by comparison.
We left the theatre on a high. Walking back over the North Bridge to the station for the sleeper home, the fireworks from the Tattoo lit up the sky over the castle. They seemed a fitting celebration for an extraordinary evening.
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