“Review of Verdi’s ‘Falstaff’ at Lille Opera set in a hospital”

Composed by Verdi in the evening of his life, at an age when existential questions prevail, Falstaff takes place at the Lille Opera in a hospital, the last stage before the big leap into the unknown – “between asylum and sanatorium” explains Denis Podalydes – the director – in his note of intent. The idea is not new. Without going back to The queen of spades way Lev Dodin who in his time had left circumspect, Hamlet in Paris this season also opted for the health establishment. Around Falstaff bedridden because obese, the gossips become nurses; accomplices, patients or caregivers; laughter, grating; the stuffing, bitter. Having experimented with the infusion stand tempers the comic effect of wine poured in large swigs into the drip. Ourdi of theatre, the work on the movement catches up with the limits of a bias which burdens the magical dimension of the last tableau but respects the mechanics of the work – as proof, the laughter of the public during the performance. Only proves difficult to understand, for who does not know the booklet, the final substitution of the bride and groom.

In this opera with diabolical clockwork, everything is a question of balance and precision, theatrical and musical. Antonello Allemandi can’t avoid a few discrepancies in the large ensembles, the harmless consequence of a breathless reading that leaves the viewer hanging on the conductor’s baton. Joined by the choir in the last act, the Orchester national de Lille finds in Verdi’s score material to assert its symphonic cohesion at the same time as its instrumental qualities – ah! the tender languor of the English horn in Fenton’s sonnets. After yielding to the temptation of sound in the first scene, a fair balance is established between pit and stage until the concluding burst of laughter, liberating the energy accumulated during three acts and six lively scenes.

Reconciling the collective gesture with the individual word is also the challenge addressed to singers whose voices must match as much as distinguish themselves. In a team free of weak links, stand out in the background Julie Robard-Gender (Me) et Loic Felix (Bardolfo), both endowed with this presence which allows their character to exist, however brief their interventions. In the foreground, Silvia Beltrami (Quickly) et Clara Guillon (Nanetta) take the lion’s share, the first by one tale trumpeting and the savory roundness of “Reverenza” devoid of vulgarities, the second by the magic of spun highs whose purity competes with the freshness. Forced by the staging to play the service simpleton, Kevin Amiel attempts to lighten a tenor voice that aspires today to more fullness and less grace, when Fenton would like the opposite. Alice exposes the shortcomings in the bass of Gabrielle Philiponet and Ford the limits in the treble of Gezim Myshketa. The confrontation with Falstaff, gripped in a solid voice by Tassis Christoyannis, leads one to wonder if the two baritones should not have interchanged their roles. The Albanian could have offered the Baby bump the colors, the articulation, a certain vis comic which are lacking in the Greek, while the rigor, the nobility of the phrasing, the drawing along the line, the heroism would have suited the jealous husband better.

Simple supposition and minimal reservations that cannot call into question the overall dynamic. Passed away on the pool table during the operation which weighs him down with his belly, Falstaff juggles with a luminous globe like a leprechaun, a light way of reminding us that everything in the world is farce, even death.