by Opera is big, in general: big sound, big emotions, big sets. So when Opera Australia announced that it was to stage Puccini’s Tosca at the Margaret Court Arena – a sports stadium with a capacity of 7,500 seats, although less than half of that is used – it did not seem to it was full praise. And yet, as the curtain comes down on the great tragedy, with the three dead and the smoke from the firing squad slowly clearing, the overarching thought is that they should have gone more.
Part of the problem is the musical itself. Tosca has a solo, glorious scene with a full chorus at the end of the first act, but for the most part it is a narrow and intimate chamber piece, almost three-handed. Its emotional sweep is broad in the manner of most Italian operas but it has a concise dramatic focus and psychological compactness. Looking at the distant stage from the utilitarian plastic chairs of the field, it takes some effort to connect with the subject. It’s certainly far from overwhelming.
Puccini wrote Tosca at the beginning of the 20th century and set it a full century earlier, during Napoleon’s turbulent occupation of Rome. The director Edward Dick does not defer to the real life of the period, preferring a vague, undifferentiated setting that suggests several things at the same time. The painted cupola that sits above the stage is straight out of the Renaissance, and the bedroom is a complete second act of 1980s Italian kitsch. There’s a laptop, through which Tosca watches her lover’s torture, and a bunch of hired goons who look suspiciously like extras from The Sopranos.
None of that matters much, however, in a production that so deliberately focuses on the predictable characters and the scrappy melodrama that surrounds them. Tosca (Karah Son), the famous singer in love with the painter Cavaradossi (Diego Torre), is enthusiastic but also suspicious and jealous. It is a trait that is ruthlessly exploited by police chief Scarpia (Robert Hayward), who openly uses her to track down escaped prisoner Angelotti (David Parkin) but wants her for his own carnal pleasure.
Scarpia is a mustachioed villain, and Hayward brings a charismatic swagger to the role, as well as a commanding, silky baritone. The character directly references Shakespeare’s Iago, but he is really more of Angelo from Measure for Measure, priggish and perverted. There is a great wealth of sexual orientation in the role, a fetishistic and fascist pollutant that Hayward only belongs to. This Scarpia is dirty and corrupt, but not particularly threatening. I would be interested to see what Warwick Fyfe does with the part, playing every night.
Torre is a great lover, a part he has previously played for Opera Australia and lives with poignancy and suppleness. That tenor never improved, swimming diligently through his vow of loyalty, “Qual’occhio al mondo” in act one, and soaring to the heights of plangent romanticism in the final act’s “E lucevan le stelle.” It has become Torre’s signature role and he wraps himself around himself like a luxurious, deadly coat.
Mac is strong and determined as the doomed heroine, skittish and steely, tormented and remorseless. Tosca plays a major role, flawed and unreliable in her initial interactions but increasingly self-empowered; she has gone into action, but there is no stopping her once inside. Mac brings a powerful dignity and sense of agency to the role – even if Dick is throwing herself down on the floor a lot – and her two-aria act, “Vissi d’arte” is rich and heartfelt.
The production looks smart, despite its eclecticism and reduced scale. Tom Scutt’s sets, with that cupola hanging precariously over the opening scenes that become a swooning disc of stars in the final act, are lush and clever. Fotini Dimou’s costumes are edgy and unusual – though in the case of the clear plastic mantle that covers the tortured Cavaradossi like upholstery on a cooked, sometimes awkward chook – and Lee Curran’s chiaroscuro lighting design is suitably mind-blowing.
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Orchestra Victoria – under the sure baton of Garry Walker – played that delightfully melodic score with great feeling, although it was a displeasure to send them away behind the sets and out of sight. It is necessary to amplify the venue’s logistics through a sound system, and the musicians and singers joke about it. It’s probably unavoidable in this context, but it will disappoint opera fans who are used to the acoustics of the world’s most famous opera houses. Newcomers may not be interested, willing to sacrifice vocal ability for clarity.
The newcomers may be the point of this experiment in terms of scale, due to the closure of the State Theater for renovations. Stadium opera is a bit of a turn-off for ordinary people – who prefer their surroundings as lush and expensive as their clothes – but it’s hard to see this being particularly persuasive for the uninitiated. Tosca is a crowd-pleasing masterpiece, and Puccini’s genius lives on from the transition to a terrible venue, only just. Those sets should feel memorable, even planetary, and the extraordinary “Te deum” from the chorus should sound thunderous and thrilling. Overall, this production feels too stripped down and distant. Sometimes with this art form, more is better.
