★★✰✰✰
Nobody will deny that Puccini’s Madama Butterfly is a product of its time for many reasons. But directors Moshe Leiser and Patrice Cauriers’ production that returns to the Royal Opera House, is also a product of time; after 20 years and multiple revivals, the production feels past its use by date, lacking an electricity to bring it back to life.
Set at the turn of the 20th century, Pinkteron, an American Lieutenant, marries the Japanese Cio-Cio-San who takes on the mantle of Madama Butterfly, an adopted identity as fabricated as her sense of Americana that she insecurely clings onto after Pinkerton returns to America. But in trying to adopt an American way of life, she is accused of betrayal of her community and eventually isolated by both worlds with tragic consequences.
Lianna Haroutounian gently imbues Cio-Cio-San with desperation as if the tragedy is deepening her emotional intelligence in real time. Initially she is delicate, easily moulding herself to cater to Pinkerton’s gaze but she grows emotionally throughout. Her arc culminates in the famous un bel di vedremo here gorgeously rendered by Haroutounian, the final expression of her desperation before reality sets in.
At 28 years old, De Tommaso is a rising star in the opera world. His Pinkerton is vocally crisp and delightfully bulky, but his physical performance is often static. Consequently, there is no chemistry between Haroutounian and De Tommaso. But intentional or not it feels right, after all their relationship is more about imperial and gender power structures than love.
It is Cio-Cio-San and Suzuki, her maid, whose relationship is kindled by genuine warmth. Patricia Bardon’s Suzuki is affectionate but tormented. The full extent of Cio-Cio-San’s delusion shines through Bardon and her melancholic vocal performance.
Yet the production lacks a sense of electricity to charge it. Perhaps this is the fault of the set: it aims for realism but is dull and monotonous for the most part, with bland lighting adding little atmosphere. The backdrops are jarringly two-dimensional giving the production an antiquated feel. There is unused negative space above the set that is occasionally lit to suggest a night sky, but other than that does nothing, leaving a big on-stage nothingness. There is admittedly one visually arresting image thrown in at the end, but its symbolic value is too conspicuous to be genuinely poetic.
One cannot help but feel that a new production would be different in two ways. Firstly, it would be sexier. Take Oliver Mears’ recent Rigoletto earlier this season at Covent Garden or Daniel Fish’s radical upheaval of Oklahoma! where the sexual and politics undercurrents fuse together in one seductive rollercoaster ride. Secondly it would confront the nastier aspects that usually go unnoticed and unresolved. Both Rigoletto and Oklahoma! did this in a way that made them feel both dazzlingly and dangerous. And there is a lot of meat to chew on in Madama Butterfly.
The creative team have taken immense care in approaching the revival. The programme notes how costumes have been amended to use authentic materials to better reflect real Japanese customs. Consultants have been brought in to help capture snippets of Japanese life, from advice on make up to smoking pipes. This is all very well (and important) but it does not promise energising the opera in a way that approaching it from a blank canvas would be more likely to do.
Words by Alexander Cohen
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