‘Le Prophète,’ ‘Anna di Resburgo’ and ‘I Capuleti e i Montecchi’ Reviews: Resurrections and Raucousness

At Bard SummerScape and Lincoln Center, three operas depict fiery conflicts and family feuds, from a Reformation-era religious rebellion to a timeless tale of ill-fated lovers.

By 

Heidi Waleson

July 30, 2024 at 4:58 pm ET

Jennifer Feinstein and Robert Watson in ‘Le Prophète.’

 PHOTO: ANDY HENDERSON

Annandale-on-Hudson, N.Y.

This season’s opera rarity at Bard SummerScape is Giacomo Meyerbeer’s “Le Prophète” (1849) in its first new American staging in nearly five decades (the Metropolitan Opera last put it on in 1979). French grand opera was the Ringling Brothers extravaganza of its era, and this one is a big show—five acts, nearly 3 1/2 hours of music, huge choruses, ballets, a trio of high-powered solo singers, plus dramatic scenic effects. Christian Räth’s astute production (through Aug. 4) shifted the 16th-century story, which has a historical basis, into the modern era: Jean de Leyde, manipulated by a trio of sinister Anabaptists into leading a rebellion that quickly spins out of control, could represent the pawn of any group that seeks to use religious zealotry for political ends.

It’s a riveting and rousing piece, in part because the libretto by Eugène Scribeand Émile Deschamps skillfully balances the personal and the political. Jean’s desire for revenge against the wicked aristocrat who abused Berthe, his fiancée, turns him into a tyrant who is even worse, destroying the innocents he loved and wanted to protect. One dramatic example among many is the lavish coronation scene, in which Jean declares himself the “Son of God” only to be swiftly undermined by the claims of Fidès, his beloved mother.

For the set, co-designed by Mr. Räth and Daniel Unger, three enormous antique books moved around and served as backgrounds, towers and canvases for Elaine McCarthy’s projections—most notably pages from an old French edition of the Bible’s Book of Revelation—all enhanced by Rick Fisher’s lighting. A giant cross became a runway. The specificity of Mattie Ullrich’s costumes—which included modern guerrilla-wear for the rebels and shiny, floor-length black coats that enhanced the creepiness of the three Anabaptists—together with Mr. Räth’s directing, made the numerous situations and location changes clear. Most of Catherine Galasso’s choreography was for eight angels with wings made of charred book pages; much of the big Act 3 ballet suite was cut. 

Heldentenor Robert Watson flailed on his high notes in Act 2 but settled nicely into Jean’s stentorian utterances for the rest of the show. Jennifer Feinstein was a powerful Fidès, her mezzo even and colorful throughout the role’s wide range. Soprano Amina Edris brought a wiry intensity to Berthe. The three Anabaptists—tenor Brian Vu and a pair of booming basses, Wei Wu and Harold Wilson—made excellent villains. Leon Botstein’s conducting was relentless, but the orchestra—complete with organ and extra brass—and the excellent chorus kept up. A simple light change depicted the final conflagration, as Jean burns down the palace with himself and everyone else in it. But otherwise, Bard devoted serious resources to making a case for 19th-century French grand opera.

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New York

Will Crutchfield, general and artistic director of Teatro Nuovo, also performed a resurrection this summer: He disinterred “Anna di Resburgo,” the sole surviving opera by Carolina Uccelli, which had its premiere in Naples in 1835 when its gifted composer was 25. Women had minimal opportunities to present theatrical work in early 19th-century Italy, and although Uccelli was praised by none other than Rossini, the king of bel canto, her fledgling career died almost as soon as it began.

Chelsea Lehnea and Ricardo José Rivera in ‘Anna di Resburgo.’

 PHOTO: STEVEN PISANO

Last week’s performance at Lincoln Center’s Rose Theater offered a tantalizing glimpse of what Uccelli might have become. She skillfully embraced and embellished the bel canto conventions, and the opera displays melodic facility and intriguing orchestration. However, it is hampered by Gaetano Rossi’s pedestrian libretto, and it is no surprise that Donizetti’s flashier “Lucia di Lammermoor,” which had premiered the previous month in Naples, swamped Uccelli’s effort.

In “Anna,” one Scottish lord has murdered another and framed the victim’s son as the assassin two years before the action begins. The innocent son, Edemondo, is now a fugitive and his wife, Anna, disguised as a peasant, has taken refuge with a local landholder. Norcesto, the son of the real murderer, is pursuing Edemondo, even though he knows the truth because his father confessed before he died. The faithful Anna is ostensibly the main character, but Norcesto, haunted by his secret knowledge, is more interesting. After a conventional first half, the opera picks up dramatic and musical momentum: Anna confronts Norcesto in a dramatic duet and Norcesto wrestles with his conscience in a graveyard aria before finally doing the right thing.

The trio of singers from last summer’s performance of Donizetti’s “Poliuto” took the leading roles. As Anna, Chelsea Lehnea’s soprano was large and flexible, but monochromatic, with an acidic timbre. Tenor Santiago Ballerini was a stylish Edemondo, especially expressive in the quiet sections of the opera’s musical high point—the aria in which he turns himself in to save his wife and son. Baritone Ricardo José Rivera was a forceful Norcesto, best in his slow, reflective passages. The large period-instrument orchestra, led by violinist Elisa Citterio, was lively and colorful if not refined; clarinetist Maryse Legault shone in her solo moments, and the chorus, after some initial hesitation, was solid. Marco Nisticò’s primitive semi-staging and Ms. Lehnea’s unattractive costumes (everyone else wore black concert dress) made the show feel more amateurish than it was.

Vincenzo Bellini’s “I Capuleti e i Montecchi” (1830)—a better, and better-known, opera—received a less compelling performance. Bel canto is about beautiful singing lines; this take on the Romeo and Juliet story, led by violinist Jakob Lehmann, was noisy instead, dominated by pounding rhythms and overwrought vocalism. As Giulietta, soprano Alina Tamborini had excellent diction and plenty of sound—starting with the extreme crescendo on her very first word, “Eccomi” (“Here I am”)—but little vocal grace, and mezzo Stephanie Doche’s Romeo was colorless. Of the secondary characters, tenor Robert Kleinertz as Tebaldo, Giulietta’s intended bridegroom, seemed to think he was singing Verdi at the Metropolitan Opera, not Bellini in a venue one-quarter its size. The natural horns came to grief more than once; Ms. Legault’s clarinet solos were again transcendent. The background projections of period stage designs were handsome, but Mr. Nisticò’s minimal direction did not illuminate this version’s conflicts, which, unlike in Shakespeare, involve warring Guelphs and Ghibellines and Giulietta’s sense of filial duty.

Ms. Waleson writes on opera for the Journal and is the author of “Mad Scenes and Exit Arias: The Death of the New York City Opera and the Future of Opera in America” (Metropolitan).