Arts & Events

On Saturday, October 22 I attended another operatic rarity offered by Céline Ricci’s Ars Minerva, a company dedicated to reviving long forgotten Italian Baroque operas. This year’s offering was Astianatte by Neapolitan composer Leonardo Vinci, whose operas have never before been seen in USA. Having read an online summary of Astianatte on the Ars Minerva website, I also left myself plenty of time to read the program notes and synopsis at the ODC Theatre in the Mission District where Astianatte was presented. The plot, I read with interest, involves Andromache (Andromaca in Italian), the widow of the slain Trojan hero Hector, and her young son, Astayanax (Astianatte in Italian). In the aftermath of their successful siege of Troy, the Greeks and their allies debate over what to do with Andromaca and Astianatte. So, having reviewed the plot and briefly greeted Céline Ricci in the lobby, I took my seat in the theatre and noted the projected backdrop which read “Teatro San Bartolomeo, Naples, ASTIANATTE, 1725.” 

Then a representative of ODC’s management made a brief announcement which included the news that technical difficulties were preventing the use of supertitles for tonight’s performance. 

A slight groan was heard from the audience. Then Matthew Dirst seated himself at the harpsichord and began conducting the overture to Astianatte. The chamber orchestra of eleven string instrumentalists was augmented by two trumpeters. Meanwhile, the stage set consisted of what seemed to be a make-up table, a chair or two, and a clothes rack bearing a motley collection of pants, tunics, vests, etc. What this stage set had to do with an opera that takes place shortly after the fall of Troy was a mystery, one that, alas, was never resolved. 

Indeed, when singers made their way onto the stage things got even weirder. The costumes were outlandish in the extreme. Several members of the all female cast wore bizarre headdresses featuring spiky extensions. Contralto Jasmine Johnson in the role of Andromaca also wore a headdress that seemed to symbolise a crown. To make matters even weirder still, two cast members in the roles of Pylades, (Pilade in Italian), the male friend of Orestes, and Clearte, male attendant to Pyrrhus (Pirro in Italian) were sung by sopranos who were costumed in white hoop skirts and the aforementioned spiky headdresses. They flounced around the stage like two floozies. In a trousers role as Pirro, king of Epirus, mezzo-soprano Deborah Martinez Rosengaus initially appeared in an all white outfit but was soon helped into black pants and vest by the two floozies, who chose the new outfits from the clothes rack. Andromaca was also given a black cloak. In the opening dialogues between Andromaca and Pirro, the singers expressed their emotions not only vocally but also with highly mannered facial expressions and bodily gestures. Pirro expressed his love for Andromaca while she angrily refused his affections, even shoving him to the floor at one point. Pirro’s resentment at this treatment was initially consternation but soon degenerated into anger and vituperation. It was all very arch and mannered, almost campy. 

It is then announced that Orestes (Oreste in Italian) is arriving with an embassy from the Greeks. Mezzo-soprano Nikola Printz as Oreste entered the stage by descending through the audience. Singing in her dark, velvety voice, Nikola Printz as Oreste demands that Astianatte be killed lest he become the enemy of Greece when he grows up. If Pirro refuses to kill Astianatte, Orestes will not allow Pirro to marry Oreste’s cousin Hermione (Ermione in Italian). Refusing this ultimatum, Pirro says he will renounce Ermione — a position he can easily take given his passion for Andromaca. This decision by Pirro secretly pleases Oreste for he loves Ermione and she has in the past returned his love. 

This convoluted plot develops with Andromaca continuing to angrily refuse Pirro’s affections, even when he offers to save and protect her son Astianatte. She would rather see her son die than to betray Hector’s memory. Now angry in return, Pirro tells Oreste he will accept to kill Asstianatte and marry Ermione. Oreste fears he is growing mad with anxiety and the fear of losing his beloved Ermione. In a lengthy aria, Nikola Printz as Oreste mounted a step ladder provided by the two floozies and threatened to commit suicide by leaping to his death. At one particularly dramatic moment, Nikola Printz’s Oreste entered into a brief dialogue with concertmaster Cynthia Keiko Black’s violin. As Act I ends, Oreste suddenly flips himself backwards while clinging to the step ladder’s top rung by his lower legs, thus suspending himself in the air. 

Leonardo Vinci, following in the footsteps of Alessandro Scarlatti, was a leading composer of Italian Baroque operas. Working initially in Naples before venturing to Rome and Venice, Vinci largely set in place the Neapolitan style, which consisted of an enlarged dimension and scope of the aria. Vinci employs many mannerisms of rhythmic or harmonic expression. Syncopations and appoggiaturas are used with great expressive effect, and, as we hear in Astianatte, vocal coloratura is clearly in the service of extreme emotions. In this Ars Minerva production of Astianatte, Jasmine Johnson’s coloratura as Andromaca, as well as Deborah Martinez Rosengaus’s coloratura as Pirro, had ample opportunities to express varied extreme emotions. Likewise, soprano Aura Veruni as Ermione and Nikola Printz as Oreste also had their moments of coloratura that expressed their extreme emotions. Indeed, all the singers in this Astianatte were excellent in their vocal technique and phrasing. Even the floozies, sung by sopranos Daphné Touchais as Pilade and Jayne Diliberto as Clearte sang beautifully even as their stage mannerisms remained flouncy and campy. 

During the intermission, ODC’s technical problems were solved and supertitles were available for the rest of the opera. Acts II and III proceed quickly. Act II is particularly full of dramatic music as Andromaca wavers back and forth in facing Pirro’s affections and his own wavering resolve to kill Astianatte unless Andromaca marries him. Oreste, goaded by Ermione, stabs Pirro, who is rushed offstage by the floozies. Oreste is caught by the people of Epirus and placed in prison. Act III opens with Clearte reporting that Pirro is dead. But this is a stratagem to test Andromaca, who suddenly realises she may love Pirro after all. This is surprising, to say the least, for thus far she has expressed only contempt for Pirro, whom she treats as “barbaro.” When Pirro rearrives well recovered from his wounds, he and Andromaca pledge their love, repeatedly singing “Hai vinto amor” (“Love has conquered”). After still more twists and turns of this convoluted plot, all’s well that ends well as Oreste is freed from prison and marries Ermione while Astianatte is returned safely to his mother, now the adored wife of Pirro. 

Céline Ricci’s direction was, initially, at least, far too mannered for my taste, and I found the stage set and its frequent resort to the clothes rack for costume changes, quite tedious and adding nothing to the plot. Further, the costumes of Marina Polakoff were bizarre, to say the least! Projections by the German-born artist Entropy were unobtrusive, though clearly not depicting anything the aftermath of the fall of Troy but instead depicting architecture and decoration of the Italian Baroque period.