Verdi's "Masked Ball,' by AVA

Verdi's 1859 opera, Un Ballo in Maschera (A Masked Ball), often gets lost amid the crowd of works from the composer's middle period (11 operas in the decade leading up to it). In this bicentennial year of Verdi's birth we've seen revivals of his earliest works, like Oberto (1839) and I Lombardi (1843). And the Met is lavishing its resources on a new production of Verdi's final work, Falstaff (1893).

Now the Academy of Vocal Arts has taken this mid-stream opera from 1859 and turned it into one of my most exciting evenings of music drama in recent years, thanks to gripping conducting and playing by Christofer Macatsoris and the 31-piece orchestra, clear and nuanced direction by Tito Capobianco and a fresh crop of superb singers. The Academy seems to come up with emerging stars as quickly as its graduates are hired by the Met and other famous companies.

A Masked Ball is based on the real-life assassination of King Gustav III of Sweden, who was shot while attending a masked ball in 1792. But the romance between the king and Amelia, wife of the king's best friend, is strictly fictitious.

Wall of sound

The king is an urbane, fun-loving man with a sense of honor. Though he loves Amelia, he resists entering into an affair. But Amelia's husband Renato suspects infidelity and agrees to join an assassination conspiracy.

Without the pageantry that we find in Aida, Don Carlo and La Forza del Destino, this opera focuses on its human drama about romance and murder.

In Ballo, Verdi complemented passionate vocal melodies with an unusually rich orchestral score. Darker instruments like the oboe, cor anglais, cello and bass accompany the arias. Because the orchestra sits on a level with the audience in the Academy's home venue, its sounds came through with special impact. The singers were so strong, and so well prepared, that they were never swamped by the wall of sound in front of them.

Another Pavarotti

As King Gustav, William Davenport unleashed a tenor voice that has made great strides since his successful Philadelphia debut in Tales of Hoffman in 2011, when I commented that he showed "innocence and lyricism." Now he is coming to resemble the freedom and power of Luciano Pavarotti, whether your eyes are open or shut.

Marina Costa-Jackson, a first-year resident artist, was an Amelia with gratifying dark low tones as well as bright high ones. As Renato, Zachary Nelson displayed an excellent baritone voice, but his presence lacked the role's full tragic potential. Shelley Jackson as the page, Oscar, revealed a complete full voice rather than just chirpy coloratura.

Margaret Mezzacappa was ideal as Ulrica the fortune-teller. With her dramatic presence, large voice and wide range, she seems ready to portray this role in the world's major opera houses. The two conspirators, Musa Nsqungwana and Patrick Guetti, were bass-baritones who've starred in other operas. What an abundance of riches!

Vivid scenes

The propulsive urgency in Macatsoris's conducting impelled the drama towards its climax. The instrumental interjections were crisp and explosive, and the orchestra functioned as a true partner in the drama, not just as accompaniment to the singing.

Large mirrors added glamour to the king's court, making the small chorus appear to be more numerous. Ulrica's fortune-telling den was especially spooky, and it was fitting to see her reappear later in the opera (though she has no more lines) because she personifies fate. The scene of Gustav and Amelia's meeting was vivid, too, with the shadow of bodies hanging from gallows.

Good idea, but…

That scene at the end of Act II concludes with Renato escorting his wife back home, as the plotters laugh upon discovering Amelia's rendezvous with the king. Normally, Act III starts the next day in Renato's living room with him denouncing his wife. But Capobianco made that action follow right after the Act II denouement: Renato and Amelia entered their home wearing the same clothing. This ingenious idea connected the scenes and gave immediacy and propulsion to the story.

Just one problem: The couple's spat was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was the co-conspirators. But Renato had concluded Act II by telling the conspirators to come to his house "tomorrow." So what were they doing there in the middle of the night?

This gaffe could be easily solved. When the English captions are shown near the end of Act II, leave "domani" untranslated. Have Renato simply tell the conspirators to come to his house, period. It wouldn't be the first time a caption failed to offer a complete translation of the Italian original.