G. Verdi
Arizona Opera
April 2008

Director & Scenic DesignerThaddeus Strassberger
ConductorJoel Revzen
Lighting DesignerNicholas Cavallaro
Costume Designer

Carrie Kunz

ViolettaAlexandra Deshorties / Erin Wall
AlfredoSean Panikkar / Chad Shelton
GermontStephen Powell
FloraChloe Moore
GastoneJamie Flora
Annina

Olga Perez

Erin Wall & Stephen Powell

Alexandra Deshorties

Chad Shelton, Erin Wall & Arizona Opera Chorus

Chloe Moore & Juan Aguirre


La Traviata has entered the “standard repertoire” and any opera company, large or small, can be expected by its audience to present it with some regularity. Why do we need to keep hearing this music, and experiencing this story? Do we need to experience it exactly as we did the last time – like a painting that can be viewed immutably many times over many years or is it something that lives and breathes and changes along with the rest of the world? These are questions that must be grappled with any time any opera is produced, but La Traviata presents us with many special problems.

Verdi was drawn to the story of La Dame aux camélias, a novel and drama by Alexandre Dumas fils, partly due to its contemporary nature. The story narrates parts of the life a young demi-monde “kept woman” who had died in 1847, only six years before the premiere of the opera. Far from the convention of the time, Verdi was excited by the idea of bringing a “modern” opera to the La Fenice stage in Venice. Theater management however, wary of the possible negative reaction from official censors as well as a conservative audience, became nervous and forced Verdi against his desires to present the opera in the “remote past” of the 1700’s. By the time it became more widely understood that Verdi had wanted 1850’s clothing (not costumes!) depicted onstage, that time period itself was nestled “safely” in the past, where the power of the contemporary references was completely defused.

So even when Verdi’s explicit demands are finally met, the meaning of his choices is no longer apparent. Here is the problem that any director today faces – how to recreate the power of Verdi’s original concept, but also to respect a performance history that audiences have come to appreciate, even demand. It must also be remembered that though the piece may be a very well-known to some in the audience, many more will be experiencing the opera for the very first time. How can both be satisfied at once? Is it even possible to do so?

In the 2000-2001 season, I was an assistant in Milan’s Teatro alla Scala during the centennial of Verdi’s death. That season saw several new productions of his works, as well as revivals of many of their classic productions. Even in the recognized “temple” of Italian opera, I saw much dissension over the best way to present the operas today. Many there believe that opera reached a kind of golden-era in the post-WWII era and we should endeavor to preserve that performance style. Others want to strip back 150 years of performance history to find out what Verdi “really” wanted in absolute terms. Musically, this often meant that interpolated high notes and high-flying cadenzas that do not appear in Verdi’s manuscripts were eliminated. In any case, in this day of jet-travel and recording technology, many of us have dozens of memorable performances etched into our memories, and the stripped-down “authentic” versions often seem pale in comparison. Neither solution seems wholly satisfying.

For the stage direction and design, similar difficult decisions must be made as well. Do we respect Verdi’s desire to have the opera presented as a contemporary drama and dress all the performers in modern 2008 clothing? Does the audience still find this approach hits uncomfortably “too close to home” and elicit Verdi’s intended reaction or is it simply risible in light of other clearly dated aspects of the libretto? Are there perhaps other ways to create an atmosphere of shock and outrage that meet Verdi’s objectives, or should we find our own motivation for playing the opera again, unrelated to Verdi’s intentions?

For this production in Arizona we have decided to focus the energy not on the particulars of the setting but on the human characters depicted. Ultimately for a powerful tragedy such as this one, some of the details can melt away. Suffering and ecstasy flow together in a sublime alchemy that reaches us not because we recognize the period of the fashion or the furniture or the architectural style, but because we recognize some our own troubled souls in Violetta, Alfredo, Germont and the fragile society in which they struggle to love and live.