Simon Boccanegra is distinctive, among all Verdi’s operas, for its darkness of tone, and for abjuring the vitality which, in his other works, the characters display, despite or because of the desperate situations which they are in.
Simon Boccanegra is distinctive, among all Verdi’s operas, for its darkness of tone, and for abjuring the vitality which, in his other works, the characters display, despite or because of the desperate situations which they are in. One comes away from this opera with the sound of baritones and basses in one’s head, no melodies — there are hardly any — and the sense that reconciliation between old foes can only be truly resolved when one of them dies. It is an impressive work, but I can’t help feeling that it owes some of its very high critical esteem at present to its sheer difference.
Even great performances of it have left me feeling depressed, while English National Opera’s new production, directed and designed by Dmitri Tcherniakov and conducted by Edward Gardner, energised me mainly by its perversity, and dismayed me mainly thanks to the provincial mediocrity of most of the singing and acting.
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