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"TOSCA" AND THE SHOCK OF THE NEW

Luc Bondy's new production of "Tosca" at the Metropolitan Opera was met with boos on opening night. James C. Taylor has a few words for these traditionalists ...

Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE

Anyone surprised by the audience outcry over the new production of Puccini's "Tosca" at New York's Metropolitan Opera would do well to recall a lawsuit brought against the Met a few years back. Sybil Harrington left the Met millions for “new productions to be staged in a traditional manner.” Then one day the family claimed that a 1999 staging by Dieter Dorn of Wagner’s "Tristan und Isolde" was not “traditional”, and insisted that funds used by the Met should be returned to the estate.

The suit was dismissed in court, and roundly laughed at in opera circles. Dorn’s staging was sparse and didn’t have period costumes, but it was hardly unconventional. I recall one opera wag who put it best: “It was a staging of a Wagner opera with a fat tenor and a fat soprano. How can you get any more traditional than that?”

While not all Met regulars and donors are this ridiculous (or litigious) in their theatrical tastes, Manhattan remains much more resistant to change than even some of the smallest European cities with opera houses. The night I saw Luc Bondy's new "Tosca" (which infamously earned boos on opening night and has been roundly denounced by New York's media and online cognoscenti), Gerard Mortier was in attendance. Mortier is a Belgian opera intandant  who has successfully pushed innovative productions during stints in Salzburg and Paris. Sitting through Bondy’s show, he must have breathed a sigh of relief. If a production of "Tosca" that features a church, an apartment and a castle (in that order—as the libretto calls for) can cause this much scandal, god only knows the uproar that would have greeted a Mortier tenure at New York's City Opera. (Mortier was to begin running Lincoln Centre’s other opera company this season—but he dropped out when it became clear that the board had neither desire nor money for challenging fare.)

On October 10th the Bondy "Tosca" was seen around the world—in 900 cinema houses in 42 countries—courtesy of the Met’s HD Broadcast series. Unsurprisingly, the booing was confined to New York. Don’t get me wrong, booing is a healthy reaction to bad performances. In Europe it is a sport, expected on all but the most successful first nights. Yet Met audiences are usually a pretty polite crowd.

This is what got the Met faithful in a tizzy: first, Bondy’s staging had some risqué touches (a painting of the Madonna in Act I had a breast exposed, the villain in Act II gropes three floozies); second, the production, by Met standards, is a bit drab—instead of a large majestic church, apartment and castle, the audience sees a few brick walls and some maps of Italy. But most of all, what the audiences were protesting was the decision by Peter Gelb, the Met's general manager, to replace the opulent, 25 year-old production by Franco Zeffirelli. (In interviews Zeffirelli has done little to dampen such protests, saying Bondy was “third-rate” and his approach “idiotic”.)

The revanchists claim that Zeffirelli’s production was “grand opera” and “faithful to the composer’s intent” and that Bondy’s staging—particularly his introduction of the floozies—is “sacrilege”. But to what? Scarpia is a character that forces Tosca to have sex with him in order to save her lover’s life; is it really that much of stretch to believe that he cavorts with hookers (on stage for all of four minutes) or might grope the statue of the Virgin Mary?

If the rallying cry is that Bondy’s perversions distract from the music, I would ask these critics to remember what a "Tosca" at the Met looked like ten years ago.
In October of 1999 (the first time I saw Zeffirelli’s production) Luciano Pavarotti starred as Tosca’s painter/lover, Cavaradossi. This is surely the type of evening the Met's purists would have loved. But while Pavarotti’s voice was unforgettable, it came at a price. There were snickers in the audience whenever a character asked about who ate the Cavaradossi’s lunch (especially, when the Sacristan asked “are you hungry” and the mammoth Pavarotti responded “I’m not hungry”). This awkward juxtaposition was plainly as distracting as Bondy's giggling skanks. And what about when Cavaradossi is murdered in Act III? Pavarotti was so fat that after the gunshots rang out two soldiers had to slowly lower him onto a soft bed of hay. How is that not a betrayal of Puccini’s “verismo” shocker ending. (In Bondy’s show, the execution is staged so that one feels the shudder of a violent death.)

There are no such things as perfect productions. Zeffirelli’s show, even without obese tenors, had problems. In Bondy’s production, much of what Met audiences are responding to is that it isn’t pretty to look at. But then Tosca is a story about torture, attempted rape, murder and suicide by jumping off a castle wall—does it really have to be pretty to look at?

What really matters in opera is the singing and acting. In Bondy’s production two of the lead performers, Marcelo Álvarez and George Gagnidze, are fine singers yet middling actors, and then there is Karita Mattila, arguably one of the world’s best singers and operatic actors, who assumed the title role for the first time at the Met. Her voice may not be a perfect fit for Tosca (it lacks the classic Italianate style and a certain warmth), but she displays incredible technique. The breath control, the ability to convey emotion, the conviction—it’s all there. In “Vissi d’arte”, Tosca’s famous Act II aria, Bondy could have had Mattila dressed in a Ronald McDonald outfit and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Bondy’s "Tosca" is perhaps not inspired, but it’s hardly the fiasco or “end of civilisation” that too many New York opera-goers would have you believe. The boo birds on opening night are simply not facing reality—or history. The Tosca in that 1999 performance was Elizabeth Holleque. (Who? Exactly.) The Dow back then was on an 8,000 point upswing and now it’s recovering from an 8,000 point plunge—the Zeffirelli was an expensive Met exclusive; these days the company has to co-produce with other opera houses to pool resources. Okay, Bondy may not be Zeffirelli; Alvarez is not Pavarotti. But Holleque is not Mattila; Obama is not FDR and Berlusconi is not Garibaldi. Deal with it. Times change. Nothing stays the same—except the music: Puccini is still Puccini. That’s why we go to the opera—the Met revanchists should remember this.

(James C. Taylor is the host of "Theatre Talk", a radio programme on KCRW. He writes about theatre and opera for the Los Angeles Times and Opera Magazine. His last piece for More Intelligent Life was "What was Mahler thinking?")