Met Opera's 'Il Trovatore'

First, because Azucena was Verdi’s original choice for the opera’s title, let’s salute the woman who played that role, celebrating 25 years since her debut in the same role. Dolora Zajick inhabited the wild gypsy mother, projecting her gutsy chest tones as strongly as ever. At 63, she’s performed the part more often than any other person in the Met’s history, and this performance was a testament to her mastery of it.

Performing despite adversity

Second is the circumstance that baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky was giving his last performance before flying to London for brain surgery. The 52-year-old Siberian has received treatments for a brain tumor since June, canceling most of his performances since then.

Miraculously, the tumor did not affect his singing or acting. (I’m told he has problems with balance, but none of that was apparent.) For the past 20 years, Hvorostovsky has given immense pleasure with his suave singing and handsome stage presence. You may have other favorites among the great baritones, but no one can dispute that Hvorostovsky has the most gorgeous tone of all. His velvety sound has no equal in history, except perhaps for Ettore Bastianini. That Italian star had a somewhat similar tone and, ironically, died in mid-career of throat cancer at the age of 44 in 1967.

On this occasion, Hvorostovsky sang with smooth legato, plush soft passages, and a ringing high G at the end of his Il balen del suo sorriso (“the flash of her smile”) aria. That top note rang even more brilliantly on the telecast than it did on opening night. And his sound was richer than when I saw him in this production’s 2009 debut.

His cast, the Met orchestra, and the audience gave him long, well-deserved ovations. He can bask in the warmth of their love as he leaves for an uncertain future.

Not just a pretty face

Lead soprano Anna Netrebko also deserved raves. Until now, most of her fame was centered on being photogenic. Previously, she sang lyric parts and fluttery high coloratura roles, not without blemish. I’ve been outspoken in my criticism of her smudging of rapid notes and her occasional flatness on the top ones.

Now she has moved successfully into the demanding province of dramatic Verdi heroines. To my amazement and pleasure she did so with a fuller sound than before, powerful low notes and the essential mastery of the long Verdian line. This was most noticeable in Act IV when she had the romantic aria D’amor sull’ali rosee (“Fly on rosy wings”) with its rippling rhythm, followed immediately by her duet with the off-stage tenor, the Miserere in which she has to sound like a deep mezzo, and then the rapid cabaletta Tu vedrai che amore in terra (“There was on earth no love stronger than mine”) — all of this without a pause.

I salute her for not resting on her early fame but developing as an artist. Now I can’t wait for her to assume the other major Verdi soprano roles in A Masked Ball, Forza del Destino, Don Carlo, maybe even Aida.

An earthbound tenor

Alone among the principals, the tenor’s voice was earthbound. Yonghoon Lee sang with musicianship and varied his volume from piano to stirring loud passages, but he seemed to be pushing uncomfortably. His tones emanated from a tight throat rather than being placed in the “mask” so they would reverberate from the top of his head to the topmost balcony. And he sometimes was a tad flat.

Gary Halvorson efficiently directed the drama. The production by David McVicar with sets by Charles Edwards conjured Goya’s Spain with scorched landscapes and dark castles, cloisters, and courtyards. The story, of course, is about two men who are rivals for the same woman and, we discover in the closing minute after one of them kills the other, brothers.

The opening curtain was of Goya’s “Disasters of War,” appropriately suggesting imminent danger. The set rotated between scenes, which looked ponderous in the house but worked nicely with dissolving images on the cinema screen.