Beethoven’s Fidelio, Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, 02.01.2022

The closest I have ever been to listening to a perfect performance of Beethoven’s Fidelio is Karl Böhm’s DG studio set with Gwyneth Jones, James King and the Staatskapelle Dresden. Some will say it’s not even perfect. Indeed, it’s not, but still it is my desert island recording, because its imperfections make it even more convincing to my ears and my heart. Actually, enjoying a performance of Beethoven’s single opera has more to do with embracing its liabilities than profiting from its assets.

The performance at the Teatro del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino this afternoon had evident liabilities. First, at this point in his career, Zubin Mehta no longer commands the necessary energy to conduct a work as demanding as this. He trod cautiously – tempi were invariably slow, accents lacked vigor, at times it even felt like a graduation concert. Although the orchestra’s string section is more consistent than one would guess, it is hardly the nec plus ultra in articulation. The French horns, however, were mostly bumpy. The fact that all members of the chorus wore masks brought about a rather muffled choral sound, what made the performance even less edgy than one would wish.

All that posed an extra challenge on soloists. Excitement was produced exclusively by their singing. Also, the fact that the conductor gave them all the time of the world offered advantages and disadvantages: there were many opportunities for breathing pauses but it also meant that some long phrases became really more challenging in terms of breath. For a while – probably until Pizarro’s aria – the performance seemed to be about the mechanics, but especially in the second act, even in these almost cerimonial circumstances, something happened in the dungeon scene. That was the point in which the liabilities became to play in favor of expression – we could feel everyone’s engagement and, even heavy-footed and a bit stolid, the performance for a while generated two or three sparkles.

It didn’t hurt at all that there was a truly strong cast on duty, even starry, some would say. First, there was Lise Davidsen in the title role. In terms of ease, she probably has no rivals in the role today. There is no bar in this music that seemed to require any effort from her – and she seemed to be willing to make everything even more impressive by rejecting opportunities to steal a breath almost every other soprano would crave for. Maybe I’m used to the effort, but sometimes there was an impression of detachment, something the stage direction only seemed to stimulate in this gag-centered semi-staged concert in which director Matthias Hartmann seemed to believe that Leonore’s main concerns are making everybody believe she is a guy and keeping Marzelline as far away from her as possible. Ms. Davidsen is probably the youngest Leonore I have ever seen in the theatre , and in spite of her vocal facility, one can hear that there’s more in her voice that she presently offers. There are moments when she sings with a Nilssonian steel, and I can’t help believing that, at this stage, this works better for her than when she tries Flagstadian weight. In those moments, the voice can sound a bit opaque. By writing this I don’t mean to seem a nay-sayer. On the contrary, I really believe Ms. Davidsen is in her way of being the leading dramatic soprano of her generation – and the fact that she is already capable of such abandon in a famously difficult part only speaks in her favor. 

With her shimmering soprano, Francesca Aspromonte has the right sound for Marzelline. Moreover she seems comfortable with the style and her German is more than acceptable. She rises to the most challenging moments, but at times lacks finish and the tone spreads too. 

I had seen Klaus Florian Vogt as Florestan in Berlin a couple of years ago. I was impressed then by how adeptly he navigates through this perilous part and how right he sounds in term of style – if distinctively unheroic. This afternoon, he seemed even more at ease. In terms of volume, he did not need to fear the competition in this high-octane cast. Even if one had the impression of a Tamino on steroids, this was a voice that was always on top of ensembles. One cannot forget that here his enemy Pizarro was given the voice of Tomasz Konieczny, not always true in intonation but almost scary in terms of power and intensity. Franz-Josef Selig no longer has the mellowness of tone of his prime, but it is still a voice of outstanding roundness and darkness. I would say that the occasional roughness makes him more believable as Rocco than in those days when he sounded like Sarastro in disguise. Luca Bernard was well cast as Jaquino, appealing in tone and clear in diction, and Birger Radde was a competent Don Fernando.

As hinted at above, I don’t think that the semi-staged option meant any gain in terms of insight. On the contrary, the insistence in comic relief only diffused dramatic tension. And some ideas – the women in the chorus in glittery party dresses, for instance – were frankly self-defeating. A concert version would have probably been more efficient.