For Ambrogio Maestri, a bass-baritone, the title role of Verdi’s opera “Falstaff” has become nothing less than a second skin.
“On the days when I’m happy or sad, he takes on a different shape,” he said between rehearsals for the Paris Opera.
The Italian singer has performed the role about 400 times and in more than 20 different productions, he said. Falstaff, a gluttonous knight, is humiliated by the married women he courts, including Alice Ford, the ringleader of a plot to have him thrown into the Thames River. His latest performances have been at the Opéra Bastille in Paris, reprising Dominique Pitoiset’s classic 1999 staging.
He will return to “Falstaff” at La Scala in Milan from Jan. 16 to Feb. 7 for the Giorgio Strehler production, in which he first appeared as the character in 2001.
But Maestri, 54, does not live only for comedy. He has also plunged into the psyche of Scarpia, the sinister police chief in Puccini’s “Tosca,” which he will take on in mid-October at the Hamburg State Opera in Germany and again in February at the Vienna State Opera.
He discussed his latest turn as Falstaff, and more, in a recent interview. The following conversation has been translated from Italian, edited and condensed.
Tell us about the “Falstaff” staging in Paris.
It always works because it is beautiful and intelligent. Maestro Pitoiset finds the irony and the depth. He says there is no virtue in a world that is declining.
He also told me on one occasion to do nothing more and nothing less than follow the music. That is enough because Verdi immediately transports you.
Another favorite of mine is Robert Carsen’s production for the Metropolitan Opera. When Alice’s house appears with an enormous kitchen, there is always applause. The staging is also poetic. A true love of mine.
The character, of course, takes on different dimensions in Verdi’s opera than in Shakespeare’s “The Merry Wives of Windsor,” on which the opera is based. He is not just a jester but also a seducer.
Verdi and [the librettist Arrigo] Boito took, let’s say, the gist of Shakespeare but also made it a bit more Italian. It is interesting that this period saw the rise of the bourgeoisie — they became more powerful than the lords.
The female characters, of course, play enormous tricks on him, and he falls for them. They throw him right into the Thames River. Perhaps they just want to teach him a lesson.
But the ending of “Falstaff” leaves you a bit puzzled. A production should make you feel the loneliness of the character because actually he has no real friends.
So the opera is more than a comedy?
It is not a comedy in the mold of [Gioachino] Rossini or [Gaetano] Donizetti but something specific to Verdi. He had wanted to write a comedy for a long time and with “Falstaff,” he finally created something for himself. There are no dead bodies or politics. It is something new that only he could have written.
Vocally it is not always easy because you have to sing with falsetto, imitating the voice of a woman. This is something one has to be capable of. I’ve also learned to eat and drink while singing. It is difficult to sing when you have your mouth full.
The diametrical opposite of performing a tragedy such as Puccini’s “Tosca”?
Comedies help me to be a better actor. To really bring a score to life, you have to use your hands which, together with facial expressions, are very communicative. Italians, of course, gesticulate a lot.
But when I sing Scarpia, I don’t move my hands. He has everything under control. A simple glance is enough to say, “Be careful.” The smallest things take on tremendous meaning when done at the right moment, as called for by the music of Puccini.
It is, of course, a difficult role that has been sung by the great baritones of all times. But it has always carried me well, and I very much enjoy it. The only thing is that I don’t like to die. I ask directors to let me die on the breath, if possible. That way it’s less comical.
What are the criteria of a successful staging for you?
It isn’t a question of classical or modern. One can displace the opera to a different era if it is done intelligently, with a beautiful aesthetic, and in a way that is understandable to the audience.
We are not working in cinema. Let’s tell a story through the music.
The post A Veteran Falstaff Looks Back, and Ahead appeared first on New York Times.
