Voice, technique, charisma: Anastasia Bartoli gives a magnificent performance as Abigaille in Macerata

Not that it was necessary, but the "Nabucco" that opened the Sferisterio Festival in Macerata marks the definitive establishment of the ‘most prominent’ prima donna of the moment as a soprano specialising in domineering, ambitious, imperious and even somewhat witch-like female characters. We are, of course, talking about the ‘other’ Bartoli – not Cecilia but Anastasia – the most exciting new talent to emerge from the small, old-world realm of Italian opera in recent years (as was, moreover, to be expected, given that her mother-teacher-Pygmalion – shall we say? – is Cecilia Gasdia, a singer who possessed the same temperament and intelligence, though not the same overflowing voice, and who is now the successful superintendent of the Arena di Verona). As is well known, Abigaille’s part is one of the most gruelling soprano roles ever devised by Verdi: even his future second wife, Giuseppina Strepponi, lost her voice performing it – a voice that was, in any case, already worn out from overuse. Needless to say, Bartoli II hits every note – which is rare enough in itself – and hits them perfectly, which is extremely rare, whilst soaring up and down a good two octaves, descending without straining and ascending effortlessly to a high C in pianissimo that alone is worth the entire evening. We take this for granted, though it is by no means a given.

Two other observations are worth noting, if anything. One concerns only us die-hard opera buffs. Abigaille is usually cast with late-Verdian or even verismo sopranos because they have the powerful voice. The problem is that they lack everything else, including the vocal agility which, as performed by Bartoli (obviously with the varied d’accapo passages in the cabalettas), demonstrates that Abigaille is not Turandot’s grandmother, but Semiramide’s granddaughter. In short, the character’s Rossini-Donizetti lineage becomes, for once, evident, both from a vocal and a dramatic point of view: a Verdi-style variation on the theme of the ‘princess-mantis’, much like the roles written for Colbran by Gioachino or those for Ronzi-De Begnis by Gaetano. The second point, which is of interest to everyone: the personality, the charisma, the magnetism – call it what you will – that this tall, strong, tattooed woman (a former paratrooper, in fact – a far cry from Vannacci…) begins to exude the moment she steps onto the stage. A mesmerising combination of volume, technique, physique and presence that makes Bartoli the Abigaille of our times – stylistically speaking, even better than Anna Netrebko; yes, I’ve said it – the blasphemous word has slipped from my lips.

It’s a pity that there’s a void around her. On the podium, Fabrizio Maria Carminati rightly opts for a Verdi who isn’t overly barricadero in his first opera, but – between the orchestra’s lacklustre performance and a few pauses that drag on far too long – he only manages to pull it off in flashes. Nabucco is the usual Mongolian baritone (Mongolia now exports more baritones than Volkswagen does from Germany), Ariunbaatar Ganbataar: plenty of volume, a slightly ‘dirty’ timbre and technique in need of refinement. Alberto Comes is good; he has the merit of singing Zaccaria in his own voice – not enormous, but well-controlled. The same goes for Laura Verrecchia as Fenena, whilst Alessandro Scotto Di Luzio’s Ismaele leaves something to be desired. Paul-Émile Fourny’s staging is so insipid that in a hypothetical World Cup of insipidity it would come second precisely because it is too insipid. To begin with, covering the Sferisterio’s magnificent wall with projections depicting, of all things, a wall makes little sense; but then there are constant, irritating little absurdities, such as Ismaele saving Fenena whilst standing more or less on the other side of the stage: a hypothetical rescue, so to speak.