It is clear that everyone involved is enjoying every minute of their work: this may be the most important secret of this wonderful production. The number of people you saw after the performance smiling in satisfaction, with not a care in the world? Well, that was a miracle. The feeling of being on cloud nine lasted quite a while, as everything came together in ways it rarely does.
To be fair, old Verdi did provide very solid foundations for this with his opera. After he had given up opera composing, the librettist Arrigo Boito managed to convince him to write this masterpiece, in which he has a final hearty laugh at the world, in an atmosphere of wise cheerfulness, with each note in the work a testament to the love of life. Just as the character of Falstaff is himself. This epicurean personality, possessing a great appetite in every sense of the word, with a fondness for drink and a passion both for women and for any kind of enjoyment, is full of energy and is someone to marvel at. With all his missteps, lies and self-love, he is the very embodiment of all-encompassing pleasure in life. A dash of spice and salt to life. And Nicola Alaimo, who in this performance brings Falstaff to life – and has done so on some of the world’s leading stages – appears to have been destined for the role. He is not someone who needs extra padding in his costume to become Falstaff, all the while being given away by spindly legs. No, no, he really is fat, but is also nimble and quick to think on his feet; he is highly entertaining, and his voice easily fills the Béla Bartók National Concert Hall. As did the voices and personalities of the others.
The harmony and cohesion of their performance is like that of a real troupe. And that holds true not only for the singers, but also in their relationship with the orchestra, which is also situated up on the stage; the musicians serve as a living backdrop, almost blending in with the actors-singers, and at times becoming real characters in the story. The central pieces of the set are a couple of gigantic wine barrels and a podium, which is eventually transformed into something like an agora, or even a town square home to the most important goings-on of the small community. Thanks to the ingenious work of costume designer Andrea Tocchio, a tree with a key role in the plot rises before the very eyes of the audience, emerging as a fabulous creation built out of beautiful musical instruments. Choir members double as stage hands, by the way: they lift and carry, and then break into song, as do members of the orchestra, too; some of the female musicians appear as tulle-dress-wearing nymphs, standing in for dancers.
The enthusiasm of a student performance meets absolute professionalism, and together they serve up a breath-taking mix. That there are no elaborate sets does not detract from the performance. Anna Biogiotti’s costumes are strikingly beautiful, with the women appreciating the opportunity to show them off, while the men also of course seem to enjoy theirs. And when Falstaff – fat, yet wearing a tight-fitting costume of the brightest colours and patterns – sets about courting his chosen one, not lacking in self-confidence. We already know that a trap has been set for him; it is then that this overly decorated costume, clearly the result of careful design, truly does him justice. He becomes something of a buffoon, albeit one with a sense of dignity (he is a knight, after all). Creative lighting, the work of Tamás Bányai, contributes to the mood and “re-colours” even the costumes.
The atmosphere is a given, as each of the characters in Falstaff are full-blooded individuals. They are happiest when life is at its most vibrant and if there is something going on. By temperament, they are Italian. In other words: they enjoy living life to the fullest, even if life is oftentimes painful. The lovers whose separation is attempted, brought to life by Sylvia Schwartz and Xabier Anduaga, sing heart-wrenching songs, but are at the same time so deeply infatuated with one another that there is no way for them not to end up together. Some of Verdi’s other operas, by the way, describe so much horror, violence and hate; but in Falstaff, almost nothing is taken dead seriously. Here, not even the women want to take Falstaff’s life; they don’t even hate him, really. They just want the joke to be on him, and immensely enjoy making fun of him, just as they do of the husband who becomes suspicious without grounds. Eva Mei, Laura Polverelli and Yvonne Naef do a hysterical job bringing the characters of the other three Windsor women to life: they are as mischievous as can be and almost childish with their pranks. Tassis Christoyannis is the prototype of the simplistic, jealous husband. But he, too, is taught a little lesson.
In the role of Dr Caius, he is a stiff fellow, and a groom who is left behind – boring and perhaps a bit violent, but he does not end up being off-putting. Stuart Patterson and Giovanni Battista Parodi play the roles of Falstaff’s two servants: a duo of two careless and irreverent clowns. But there is no evil, and there is nothing mean-spirited about them: this opera of Verdi’s is one of fundamental radiance. Iván Fischer and Marco Gandini convey this radiance with their direction of the piece. Together with Verdi, they tell the tale of how worthwhile it is to rise above arguments, quarrels and jealousy; of how it does not make sense to be angry all the time; of how humour is a medicine that works; and of laughter being the best medicine. Let us roar with laughter instead of seething with anger!
Deservedly, the audience celebrates the artists at length and enthusiastically: there is much joy both on the stage and among the audience, for this truly was a first-rate performance of a quality rarely encountered.
You can read the original article in Hungarian here.
Photos of the opera performance were taken by Judit Horváth.
