Anastasia Bartoli in Verdi's Ernani | Credit: Silvestri

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It was a treat to hear this early Verdi opera in the place where it was first seen Ernani was the first of Teatro La Fenice’s historic commissions from Verdi (which later included Rigoletto, La Traviata and Simon Boccanegra), and was premiered here in March 1844, two years after the then young composer’s triumphant debut at La Scala with Nabucco and, a year later, I Lombardi. 

After a lukewarm welcome at the premiere (attributed to the singers’ fatigue after a stressful rehearsal period), Ernani had a successful run and was important for Verdi’s future also because it brought him together with Francesco Maria Piave, (born on the Venetian island of Murano), who was to become his librettist also for Macbeth, I due Foscari, Il corsaro, Stiffelio, Rigoletto, La traviata, Simon Boccanegra and La forza del destino.

Producions of Ernani are relatively rare nowadays, compared to the ever popular Nabucco. Possibly because, although typical of Verdi’s youthful works and style – recitativo, aria, Cabaletta – and full of rousing arias and duets, it very long and vocally very demanding. La Fenice did its best and this was a musically satisfying and well cast production, under the baton of Riccardo Frizza, who conducted this youthful, virile score with verve and authentic Verdian style – always a joy to hear and so rare north of the Alps!

The cast of Ernani at Teatro La Fenice | Credit: Silvestri

His cast – all Italians with the innate ‘italianita’ it takes to do justice to Verdi roles – was headed by Piero Pretti in the title role, the rising soprano Anastasia Bartoli (no relation to the famous mezzo, but daughter of Cecilia Gasdia), as Elvira, baritone Ernesto Petti as the King and the veteran bass Michele Pertusi as Silva.

Pretti has the right timbre and ‘squillo’ for Verdi and the necessary high notes for this very demanding role. He sang all Ernani’s music with both bravura and subtlety, starting with his opening arias Come rugiada al cespite and O tu, che l’alma adora and gaining power and confidence for the trios with the King and Silva and Elvira, and the ensuing, terrible vow, Odi il voto o grande Iddio. He was also very moving in his last, pleading aria Ascolta, ascolta, ancor un ditto, just before the ‘dying trio’ with Elvira and Silva.

The King, Carlo, was excellently sung and acted by Ernesto Petti, a fast rising baritone and a nimble and accomplished actor, who used his stage presence and richly shaded voice to express Carlo’s tremendous mood swings. From the bravura of his act II aria Lo vedremo, audace, and trios with Elvira, Ernani and Silva, to the contemplative act III Oh, de' verd'anni miei, where the king is talking to himself and echoes his impending act of forgiveness and mercy.

Anastasia Bartoli, is a dramatic coloratura soprano with a huge voice, ideal for large theatres and arenas. An impressively accomplished artist, she tackled this very long, challenging role with fearless assurance and aplomb. The voice – almost too large for the middle sized Fenice – flooded the theatre with ringing, effortless-sounding high notes and with her thrilling rendition of the arias, Ernani involami and Tutto sprezzo che d’Ernani. She masterfully reigned in her large voice for Elvira’s soft, tender, almost always unhappy moments – as in Ah morir potessi adesso.

Silva, one of the implacable Verdi bass roles (and undoubtedly the most loathsome) was sung by the veteran bas Michele Pertusi – a seasoned performer who, despite not possessing a truly dark, basso profondo voice, did not disappoint. He looked and sounded suitably terrifying, right from his first appearance, when he confronts Ernani  (Infelice!... e tu credevi... che mai vegg'io!) to the terrible revenge he inflicts on the just married couple of Ernani and Elvira in the last trio, È vano, o donna, il piangere.

This accomplished cast were let down by Andrea Bernard’s dramatically adequate but visually dull production – the set was insipid and all the costumes (by Elena Beccaro) were in monotonous beiges and browns, with the exception of Elvira’s fire-red gown and white wedding dress. Still, it didn’t interfere with the truth of the work by superimposing superfluous directorial gimmicks. It just didn’t help it to shine more brightly.