Despite a change of programme and the absence of the eagerly-awaited participation of Joseph Calleja, Albert Storace finds the Verdi tribute at La Scala intriguing.
A seasoned concertgoer seated next to me said she thought that an all-Verdi concert only featuring some of his instrumental music was not much of a tribute. Force majeure led to Riccardo Chailly conducting the Filarmonica della Scala in a concert lacking the planned vocal element.
Joseph Calleja had been scheduled to lend his voice to this event, but circumstances dictated otherwise. The programme, complete with a biographical note and photograph had already been printed and distributed to all who turned up at Milan’s temple of opera.
The programme was, of course, appropriately adjusted; some parts were changed and other instrumental pieces added. But naturally, the most important thing then was how it was performed on the night.
In both versions of the programme, Chailly’s intention was to highlight the importance and significance of certain pages from early to middle Verdi. Had the four chosen arias been sung, one could have had a curious and even specialist kind of peep at early Verdi.
They were mainly alternative arias to the ones Verdi had originally written for the tenors who had sung in the premieres of operas such as Ernani, Attila, I due Foscari and Les Vêpres Siciliennes. These are all operas which are infrequently performed, so you can only imagine the luxury of hearing the alternative versions Verdi wrote for certain other tenors of the day.
Regarding the purely instrumental pieces, which were the evening’s fare, the choice was also very interesting, mixing the familiar with the less familiar. It was a successful mapping of Verdi’s development in his use of the orchestra and its colour and texture.
The sinfonias for Nabucco and Giovanna d’Arco were retained in the second version of the programme, while that for Alzira was not. The Nabucco sinfonia is one of Verdi’s most popular, the opera still frequently performed and peppered with memorable themes. These were beautifully projected by an orchestra reflecting to the least detail what Chailly wanted to elicit from it.
As an opera, Giovanna d’Arco has not had a happy history but the sinfonia survives, and hearing it as performed during the evening, one wonders why it is not heard more frequently.
The new insertion in the programme was the Introduction to Jérusalem, the re-make of I lombardi all Prima Crociata, which Verdi wrote for Paris. It was followed by the Airs de Ballet which he wrote (in Pas de quatre, Pas de deux, Pas solo and Pas d’ensemble), something which at the time was very much de rigueur for a Paris production.
The selection from Lês Vepres Siciliennes was retained in Chailly’s choice, and he did well to include it because, with the overture, he reminded how, by 1855, Verdi had mastered the form. This is a powerful piece of work, a mix of drama, lyricism and sweeping energy culminating in a very well-wrought and exciting climax.
The other part of the selection was the four-movement Les Saisons. This is not merely an obligatory ballet insertion to meet the demands then fashionable with grand opera, but an integral part of the plot and very relevant to its stage context.
The four contrasting moods and atmospheres of the seasons were very well evoked and the circa 130-strong orchestra and its esteemed director were repeatedly applauded until an encore was conceded. It seemed inevitable that the opening of La Forza del Destino (1862) should be the chosen work, because this was the last great operatic orchestral opening Verdi was to write.