Livermore’s ‘Le siège de Corinthe’, a cry of resistance against the new barbarians

The Pesaro Opera Festival is all about Rossini. Forget the controversy over Nolan’s "Odyssey": the finest of the young generation went to sacrifice themselves for Hellas, from Byron to Santorre di Santarosa

18 AUG 26
Translated by AI
Image of Livermore’s ‘Le siège de Corinthe’, a cry of resistance against the new barbarians

Photo: LaPresse

This year’s highlight – indeed, the plat de résistance of the Rossini Opera Festival in Pesaro, or ROF as we Rossini devotees call it – is "Le siège de Corinthe" (1826). For his debut at the Opéra and in French opera, Rossini revisits the most experimental and forward-looking title (alongside "Ermione") from his Neapolitan years, "Maometto II", and subjects it to a twofold reworking: stylistic and dramaturgical. Political circumstances also play a part. Greece was in revolt against its Ottoman masters, and the exploits of the insurgents – though not always easily distinguishable from those of common bandits and/or pirates, as Mark Mazower recounted in his recent, formidable "Greece 1821" – inflamed a European public steeped in classical literature. Forget the controversies surrounding Nolan’s "Odyssey": the finest of the young were going to sacrifice themselves for Hellas, from Byron to Santorre di Santarosa; and indeed Gioacigno himself, two years earlier, during his well-paid London tour, had composed "Il pianto delle Muse in morte di Lord Byron" ("The Lament of the Muses on the Death of Lord Byron"), in which he wept in the first person whilst singing the part of Apollo. Moving from Naples to Paris, the heroic Venetians of "Maometto II" are transformed into the no less heroic Greeks of "Le Siège", whilst the sultan remains a tyrant in love; Negroponte becomes Corinth; the contralto en travesti becomes a tenor – or rather, a haute-contre; and the usual choral and dance numbers, indispensable to the ‘grande boutique’ – as Verdi called the Opéra – are added. The political significance of the remake remains: an ‘instant-opera’ on current affairs of war, as if today an opera composer were to write about the war between Russia and Ukraine.
Davide Livermore’s fine direction plays on this very aspect. The Greeks, who in Gianluca Falaschi’s magnificent costumes appear as chic and floral as in the paintings of Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, are barricaded within Corinth’s restricted traffic zone alongside the classical ruins, besieged by boorish Turks who are always clutching their mobile phones, taking selfies at the most inopportune moments, throwing rubbish into the Aegean and stubbing out cigarette ends on the capitals – which, incongruously, are Ionic rather than Corinthian. Message received: the new resistance is that of the values of our civilisation against the new barbarians – Trumpians, Putinists, Vannaccians and so on and so forth. Musically, everything is efficient and, in the case of Carlo Rizzi’s conducting, even authoritative. But it’s a bit generic, in the sense that hardly anyone has addressed the stylistic issue (at the Rof?) of restoring the French specificities of "Le Siège". It is true that Rossini, even in that role of ‘Inspecteur général du chant en France’ which was a source of delight for caricaturists, rid the Opéra of the notorious local ‘école du cris’, and steered the old tragédie lyrique towards the new, bombastic horizons of grand opéra. But he did so by adapting to the French tradition, not by subverting it. One should hear, in the orchestra, a hint of Gluck filtered through Spontini (and, after all, in Naples, Rossini had conducted "Fernand Cortez"); in the singing, that of "déclamation lyrique", and perhaps in a slightly less barbaric form of French.
The only person to have thought of this is Maxim Mironov, who runs Néoclès with impressive stylistic results. Vasilisa Berzhanskaya sings beautifully, but the effusive praise in the mainstream newspapers is excessive, as her coloratura is often a matter of grace rather than power, and her recitatives are somewhat lacklustre. Adrian Sâmpetrean is talented, but lacks the vocal and physical presence of Mahomet; Matteo Roma has the right voice for Cléomène, but his French would kill off—albeit immortal—all the members of the Académie; Simón Orfila’s Hiéros is thunderous; Anna-Doris Capitelli’s Ismène is delightful, and, unusually, even the dance divertissements choreographed by Erika Rombaldoni are a treat. The performance was well received by a small, select audience (at the second performance).