For a full operatic evening, Pietro Mascagni’s opera in one act, Cavalleria Rusticana (“Rustic Chivalry”), is so often coupled with Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci that regular opera-goers refer to “Cav ‘n Pag” as inseparable twins. Refreshing, then, to see Opera North subvert the norm and stage Cavalleria Rusticana with Aleko by Rachmaninoff (surely the winning obscure answer for a Pointless contestant in a one-act operas pairing round).
This is not the first time that Opera North has branched out in this direction – their “Little Greats” season in 2017 featured different one-act opera combinations on different evenings. This time though the pairing will remain stable throughout the run, setting up an intriguing dramatic exploration – what if a character from the first opera was permitted a second chapter in the next?
Let us first rewind to the beginning of Cavalleria – the curtain opens on a stark setting: a drab living room with peeling wallpaper on one side and an ill-stocked sklep on the other, framing an overbearing “church” – a simple wooden panel with a raised cross – symbolic of the uncompromising religiosity that will play a crushing role in the characters’ fates. Director Karolina Sofulak eschews the consoling Sicilian backdrops that mark more traditional productions (see Zeffirelli’s 1982 film for a splendid example) transferring the action to a harsh, pre-Solidarność Poland.
The ravishing three-minute overture may just hint at the storm clouds to come – but this production exploits the time to overlay the full sordid backstory. Santuzza’s “seduction” (not usually staged) is particularly brutal, setting up the character of Turridù – splendidly portrayed by Andrés Presno – as an increasingly unhinged mixture of callous sexual entitlement tempered later by guilt that drives his ultimate remorse. His opening Siciliana is no carefree reflection on a lover’s tryst but captures already what will become wild-eyed, poisonous obsession.
Giselle Allen as Santuzza is no less compelling as we see her obsessive religious beliefs collide with her perceived fall from grace. She may be deluded in her conviction that the love between her and Turridù was mutual and stolen away by the faithless Lola (though in this constrained “verismo” society could the man ever be at fault?). Her confession to Turridù’s mother (Lucia – transformed from tough shopkeeper to distraught mother – a heartfelt performance from mezzo Anne-Marie Owens) approaches hallucinatory extremes. We see the “church” creeping forward and an eroticised religious tableau emerge: Turridù becomes the crucified Christ with Lucia and Santuzza at his feet as two of the Marys – a clever coalescence of Santuzza’s repentant Magdalene and the passion plays that could be part of the villagers’ Easter Sunday celebrations.
In Santuzza’s final encounter with Turridù, the singers are at their best – Allen’s heartbreaking pleas utterly tragic while a tortured Presno finds himself caught between guilt at his male misdeeds and desperation to distance himself from his inconvenient fling. A shout out to Helen Évora here – elevated to the role of Lola from Opera North’s excellent chorus – who navigates adeptly between housewife bored with her marriage and siren who lures Turridù away. What follows is Allen’s terrifying transformation to an angel of fury – orchestrating and then dispassionately watching her former lover’s demise – both chilling and convincing.
Earlier when Alfio (baritone Robert Hayward) first appears – ignorant at this point of his cuckolded status – the claustrophobia lets up very briefly as he exults in his humble profession. Rather delightfully, Mascagni’s carter is transformed to a taxi driver replete with bright red Polski Fiat. While Turridù and Santuzza may be at the core of the drama, this production reserves its greatest interest for Alfio’s disintegration into jealousy. Once disabused following his electrifying encounter with Santuzza, the orchestra plays the famous intermezzo (notorious as the music that concluded the Godfather trilogy) which – rather like the opening overture – is not allowed to be a respite to the drama. Robert Hayward shows that fine singing is not enough for today’s opera singer as he silently breaks down, tearing wallpaper and smashing icons before withdrawing into his taxi with murderous intent.
This production ends brutally. Following his farewell to his mother (ah those tremolando violins!) – there is no offstage duel – instead a broken Turridù with no fight left in him staggers to his end, a shocking mafia-like execution at the hands of Alfio.
Fast forward then to the second half of the evening and to the coup-de-théatre mentioned at the outset – who is this standing on stage before us as Rachmaninoff’s woodwinds strike up their mournful opening but Alfio himself? Without even a change of shirt (or singer: this is still Robert Hayward). Though Alfio might be transported in time and place – has he been expelled from one society for upholding his rustic chivalry? Is Aleko a name change forced on him? – he is indisputably the same character driven by the same jealous codes and passions.
Rachmaninoff’s first opera – winner of a composing competition and put together in just three weeks – has been viewed as suffering dramatically from a hastily put-together libretto from a Pushkin poem. Karolina Sofulak’s direction refuses to acknowledge any perceived artistic deficiencies as she propels the drama from the opening. Again, the backstory is covered in the brief overture: Aleko’s past life weighing heavy upon him as he appears on the brink of suicide until he is distracted by the beautiful Zemfira taking his picture.
The stark set at the opening is abruptly transformed into a kaleidoscope of gawdy murals, Californian surf shacks and motifs from Copenhagen’s anarchist commune Christiania. Particularly after the austere Polish setting of the first opera the effect is positively psychedelic – reinforced by the surreal addition of a skyscape formed from dozens of unmatched lampshades. Such is set designer Charles Edwards’ stunning backdrop to the lawless and free-loving Roma Community of Pushkin’s original. The costume design from Gabrielle Dalton is a riotous patchwork from Hawaiian shorts to tie-dye T-shirts – rarely have the Opera North chorus looked so cool.
Zemfira’s father – played by mellifluous bass Matthew Stiff – tells a tale of his short youth and shorter love life (deserted by his lover of one year and left with a baby daughter). We have already acknowledged that today’s opera stars must do far more than just sing – but this is the first time I have seen a singer obliged to negotiate puffs on a spliff between phrases! Zemfira (deliciously sung by Elin Pritchard) has been with Aleko for two years – now disenchanted with him, she is caught between love for a younger man in her commune (Andrés Presno again – reemerging as the evening’s ill-fated tenor) and fear for the consequences of Aleko’s jealousy. As her father has just sung, “fatal passions exist everywhere” – and this free-loving seemingly idyllic commune is not exempt.
The two dances that follow are often played as charming interludes or balletic set pieces, but again Sofulak doesn’t let the drama flag. In the first dance, the men and women of the chorus thrust provocatively at each other. The wilder second dance sees them pairing off in abandoned dervish fashion while simultaneously they become the stuff of Aleko’s nightmares. Damaged ghostly souls from his jealous Alfio past emerge from the whirling mêlée and visions of Zemfira with her young lover torment him. This finally subsides into a gentle song to the moon, where the Opera North chorus get to channel a solidly convincing Russian bass sound.
The opera speeds to its inevitable conclusion. Pritchard captures the reckless beauty of Zemfira’s taunting cradle song to Aleko; we see in his following cavatina the writhing jealousy beneath (more proof if any were needed that Hayward excels as an actor as well as a singer). Before the murderous ending we are served a sumptuous intermezzo – a nod by Rachmaninoff to the influence of Cavalleria which would have been a recent sensation at the time of Aleko’s composition.
Here (as throughout both operas) the Opera North orchestra – despite its relatively small forces in the strings – delivers a full-bodied and richly romantic sound. There is a brief and welcome interjection from Anne-Marie Owens (as an older woman in the commune) delivering her verdict before Zemfira’s father condemns Aleko/Alfio once more to a life of exile.
Aleko may be an immature work from a 19-year-old Rachmaninoff and – as Opera North’s programme notes tell us – he may have been “ashamed to have written such nonsense” in later life. Yet the orchestral and vocal writing is a delight to listen to and foreshadows the best of the composer’s work that had yet to come.
For the 25-year-old Mascagni, Cavalleria was to be the zenith of his achievement – despite a lifetime to follow of prodigious musical output. Twinning the two operas and boldly marrying their dramatic themes makes for an intriguing and entertaining night at the opera: I warmly recommend catching it this week in Leeds before it migrates to Nottingham, Sheffield and Salford.
Opera North’s production of Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana and Rachmaninov’s Aleko:
Conductor Antony Hermus, Director Karolina Sofulak, Set & Lighting Designer Charles Edwards, Costume Designer Gabrielle Dalton, Movement Director Tim Claydon
All photography by Tristram Kenton. Main image: The Chorus of Opera North.