Luisa Miller

by Giuseppe Verdi, libretto by Salvadore Cammarano

seen at the London Coliseum on 19 February 2020

Barbara Horáková directs Elizabeth Llewellyn as the titular heroine Luisa, David Junghoon Kim as her lover Rodolfo, Olafur Sigurdason as her father the Miller, James Creswell as Rodolfo's father Count Walter and Solomon Howard as Count Waler's aide Wurm, with Christine Rice as Count Walter's niece Federica, Nadine Benjamin as Luisa's friend Laura, and Adam Sullivan as an unnamed citizen. Alexander Joel was the conductor, and the set designer was Andrew Lieberman, with costumes by Eva-Maria Van Acker.

This 1849 opera saw Verdi turn from heroic politico-historical subjects to a more intimate setting in which political forces might well be at play, but domestic loyalties and betrayals are equally if not more significant. His libretto was based on a Schiller play, Kabale und Liebe (roughly, Intrigue and Love), though as might be exected the action was simplified and abbreviated. The situation is a familiar tale - a lowly girl and a young nobleman in disguise fall in love, and face travails in the form of parental opposition (on both sides), confusion on Luisa's part when she discovers that Rodolfo is not whom she thought, and finally disaster as Count Walter and Wurm ensnare her in dishonesty so hat her father may be freed from arrest and torture. Rodolfo, in despair at being forced to marry his cousin Federica, and revolted by Luisa's apparent betrayals, contrives for them both to drink poison; in the throes of death she can assert her true love for the dying Rodolfo, and the youngters leave their respective fathers desolate.

There is a melodramatic element to all this, and one feels a thoroughgoing villain might have despatched the Miller despite Luisa's capitulation to Wurm's demand for a fateful letter denying her love for Rodolfo. However this would have deprived Verdi of the chance to explore one of his favourite themes, that of father and daughter against the world, which is one of the high points of this opera. The libretto calls for the death of Wurm at Rodolfo's hands, but in this production he survives; the director feels that unleashed evil cannot be so conveniently dealt with.

There are other distracting directorial interventions to contend with. Far from a 17th-century Germanic setting, we are in an abstract white space; during the overture two children (evidently Luisa and Rodolfo) use broad black felt pens to scribble 'Amour' om the white side panels, and there are further more destructive drawings and scrawls besmirching the pristine white walls as the evening progresses, until finally black paint is slowly dripping down the walls. In the meantime the chorus (ostensibly villagers) first appear in awful commedia costumes with whiteface, though later, mercifully, they are dressed more soberly. Four dancers represent the swirling emotions of the main characters, and moments of great stress are invariably signified by the afflicted character either removing, or having taken from them, an outer garment of clothing. Sometimes this made sense dramatically, but at other times it just looked gratuitous. A stuffed straw figure hung crucified upside down, and stuck with arrows, was also very distracting.

Though an investigation of the inner torments of the characters is not in principal a bad idea, I feel that in this case the visual presentation was more of a hindrance than a help in clarifying the action. This is a pity, because musically the production was very fine, with superb singing by the cast, especially a radiant Luisa from Elizabeth Llewellyn, and some commanding stage presences (Wurm in particular). The orchestral playing and chorus work were also fine.

Once again ENO had trouble filling their vast auditorium (2359 seats). Those who had bought gallery tickets were moved down to the dress circle both for their own comfort and to give a better impression of a numerous audience. Despite the too-distracting directorial interventions, the evening was very well received due to its musical quality.