Floria Tosca is one of opera’s most complex and compelling heroines. Unlike the innocent victims who populate so many operas, Tosca is a celebrated diva – passionate, vain, even narcissistic, and fiercely jealous. Yet she is also a deeply devout Christian. When the man she loves is arrested and tortured, she will stop at nothing to save him, and when pushed to the limit, she overpowers one of the most ruthless villains in all of opera.
Based on Victorien Sardou’s play, made famous by Sarah Bernhardt, Giacomo Puccini’s Tosca premiered in January 1900. It has since become one of the world’s most beloved and frequently performed operas. I have seen about five productions of Tosca across different continents, but the new production at the Israeli Opera in Tel Aviv was the first that truly moved me. Ido Ricklin’s thoroughly modern staging has its share of glitches, yet it also offers a series of striking tableaux. The evening’s crowning achievement, however, is the interpretation of the opera’s great aria, “Vissi d’arte,” conceived by Ricklin and brought to life by the magnificent Russian soprano Elena Mikhailenko.
As the chief of police, Scarpia has painter Mario Cavaradossi tortured in an attempt to force him to reveal the whereabouts of his friend, the escaped political prisoner Angelotti. But extracting information is not all he wants. Obsessed with Tosca, he proposes a bargain: if she submits to him, Cavaradossi will be spared.
In Ricklin’s production, Scarpia does this as he attempts to rape Tosca, beginning to tear off her clothes. Realizing she has no way out, she appears to surrender. As she slowly removes her golden dress, revealing her undergarments, she quietly sings “I lived for art, I lived for love… I never harmed a living soul!… Why, O Lord, why do you reward me thus?” The staging gives the famous aria an entirely new emotional and psychological dimension.
After murdering Scarpia with a broken bottle, Tosca smashes the cellphone he used to record her humiliation. As she leaves, she abandons her dress on the floor. It lies there like a corpse – a haunting reminder of what died in that room, not only Scarpia but also the woman Tosca had been.
A cellphone is also put to effective use in the first act. As Tosca prepares for her performance later that evening, Cavaradossi films her on his phone, as though he is about to upload the footage to Instagram. Other contemporary props, however – such as a takeaway paper bag and disposable coffee cups – feel less convincing and add little to the production.
Herold Falko’s sets are strikingly effective. The church in the first act is dominated by a gigantic painting of Mary Magdalene, suspended from the ceiling and covering much of the right side of the stage. Its overwhelming scale lends dramatic weight to Tosca’s jealousy of the unseen woman she believes posed for the painting. At the beginning of the third act, the image returns, enlarged even further as it is projected onto a scrim and brought to life through video art.
The second act, originally set in Scarpia’s apartment at the Palazzo Farnese, is relocated to what appears to be a police headquarters, complete with a torture chamber at the rear. From his desk, surrounded by computer monitors, Scarpia watches live footage from the theatre where Tosca is performing, turning him into an omnipresent figure of surveillance.
Yet the production’s most striking image comes at the end of the first act. Against a bare stage, Scarpia appears to hypnotize the crowd, whose every movement seems to obey his commands. Then, just before the curtain falls, blood pours down the back wall, foreshadowing the violence to come. In Puccini’s original staging, this is a scene of communal prayer, making Ricklin’s reinterpretation all the more startling.
Polish baritone Mikołaj Zalasiński delivered a commanding performance as Scarpia, creating an atmosphere of menace with every gesture as well as every phrase he sang. The supporting roles were all capably performed, but the one real disappointment was the Spanish tenor Eduardo Aladrén as Cavaradossi. His technique proved unreliable, and his voice lacked stability, particularly in the opera’s two great tenor arias: “Recondita armonia” at the hopeful beginning and “E lucevan le stelle” near its tragic conclusion.
Puccini’s score, constantly shifting between lyricism, playfulness, and explosive drama, received magnificent advocacy from conductor Dan Ettinger. Under his baton, the Israel Symphony Orchestra Rishon LeZion played with exceptional richness, precision, and vitality.
The Israeli Opera Tel-Aviv-Yafo האופרה הישראלית תל-אביב-יפו
Opera in three Acts.
Music by Giacomo Puccini (1858 – 1924)
Libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa
Conductor: Dan Ettinger
Director: Ido Ricklin
Set Designer: Herold Falko
Lighting Designer: Nadav Barnea
Sung in Italian with Hebrew and English surtitles
Cast includes Elena Mikhailenko, Mikołaj Zalasiński, Eduardo Aladrén, Oded Reich
Running time: 2 hours and 30 minutes including 2 intermissions
Photo credit: Y Zwecker