United Press International
By Frederick M. Winship
The New York City Opera is giving Gioacchino Rossini's opera "Ermione" it first fully staged production in New York, revealing an operatic masterpiece that is so tragically dramatic and richly melodious that it is bound to enter the repertory of more U.S. companies.
Written in 1819 for the Teatro San Carlo in Naples, "Ermione" was withdrawn after one performance due to poor reception by the opening night audience, and it wasn't staged again until 1987. Its original unpopularity was ascribed to the unremittingly joyless plot, so different from the comic opera ("opera buffa") for which the young Rossini was popular, and the casting of an anti-heroine in the title role.
Rossini never attempted to revive it in his lifetime, claiming that "Ermione" was an opera "for posterity" and not for contemporary audiences.
Nevertheless, it is his finest non-comic work, an "opera seria" as the Italians call such operas, and it is ripe for appreciation by today's opera aficionados who treasure the composer's bel canto works whether comic or serious. "Ermione" already has been performed by the Santa Fe, N.M., opera, and the City Center production has been co-produced with the Dallas Opera.
"Ermione" is based on a drama by French playwright Jean Baptiste Racine that was adapted from material from a play by ancient Greek dramatist Euripides. It is a story of love betrayed, resulting in violent vengeance, in the wake of the Trojan War. Ermione, the heroine, has one king killed and turns another into a fugitive in her wrath as a woman spurned by the man she loves.
The story turns on the fickle affections of King Pirro, who has plundered Troy and fallen in love with Andromaca, the widow of the Trojan hero, Hector, and decides to marry her although he already is engaged to Ermione.
When Andromaca exploits Pirro's affections in order to save the life of her captive son, the jealous Ermione persuades an admirer, Oreste, to avenge her honor by murdering Pirro, an act that forces Oreste to flee into exile and Ermione to commit suicide.
All this is told in two acts with only eight major musical numbers interrupted by recitative, chorus, or some dramatic utterances. The final number lasts more than a half hour and is interrupted only by two tenors in duet who sum up the opera's message by singing, "Love without judgment and you always bring misfortune." Three of the lead male roles are tenors, another unconventional aspect of "Ermione."
What makes the opera a success -- perhaps triumph is a better term -- despite these unconventional aspects are the in-depth characterizations of its protagonists, sensitive arias that arouse strong emotions, and the glories of a florid, chromatic score which calls for all the difficult vocal ornamentation typical of early 19th century opera. It also contains a great rarity: a nonet chorale, rather than the usual octet, sung by the nine leading characters.
The City Opera's meticulous casting based on vocal dexterity and the tasteful physical production consisting of minimal sets and ravishing costumes also help to make "Ermione" a totally satisfactory operatic experience. George Manahan conducts the City Opera orchestra with grace and a knowledgeable grasp of the Rossini style that reflects the lilting aspects of Mozart and foreshadows the melodramatic aspects of Verdi.
Bulgarian soprano Alexandrina Pendatchanska is magnificent as Ermione, both dramatically and vocally, in a trying role that ranges from hysteria to madness. Swiss mezzo-soprano Ursula Ferri is a powerful stage presence as Andromaca, displaying a beautifully controlled voice of heavenly sweetness, especially in coloratura passages.
Illinois-born tenor Gregory Kunde, an outstanding actor making his City Center debut, is a suitably flighty Pirro whose voice tends to lose its fullness in strenuous upper passages but is warm and pleasing on the whole.
English tenor Barry Banks gives a strong vocal accounting of Oreste notable for cascading roulades, and the third tenor, Texan Shad Shelton, is particularly effective in his duet with Banks.
John Conklin's simple set of sliding marble doors set off by antique statuary and classic urns opens onto vistas of agitated seas and cloud-piled skies, sumptuously lit by Duane Schuler, and Peter J. Hall's costumes are in the antique Greek style, richly adorned as befits a royal court. The production has been directed with great attention to dramatic detail by Helena Binder.
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