When it works, a good performance of Tosca can be one of the most visceral experiences opera has to offer. When it doesn't, as in Covent Garden's latest revival of Jonathan Kent's 2006 strangely unatmospheric production, the furtive glances at watches are their own verdict.
The fault is not Puccini's. Tosca is one of the tautest operas he ever wrote. Nor is it Antonio Pappano's, who draws some fine playing in the pit. But Tosca needs at least one voice in the three main roles – and ideally all three – to leap across the footlights and make a really effective connection. Unfortunately, none of the three revival principals here quite does this, either vocally or theatrically.
Marcello Giordani's Cavaradossi probably comes closest, simply because he sings with such stentorian self-absorption. But a Cavaradossi must offer more than decibels, and Giordani's promising start soon became something of an old-school Italian tenor parody. By the final act, he was struggling.
As Tosca, Martina Serafin promises distinguished things, and she is committed and accomplished at several points, especially in act one. But her characterisation is too anonymous, a fact not helped by Tosca's frumpy frocks. The big moments in act two's confrontation with Scarpia (Juha Uusitalo) are efficiently rather than memorably done.
Uusitalo is part of the problem. His rather soft-voiced, almost likably raffish Scarpia not only has little of the snap and snarl the role demands, but lacks true vocal seductiveness. It is hard to imagine all Rome trembling before him, though the music tells you otherwise.
Things will surely be different next month, when the starry trio of Angela Gheorghiu, Jonas Kaufmann and Bryn Terfel jets in to take over for two performances, which will be recorded for cinema relay in the autumn. If that lot can't leap across the footlights, no one can.
The fault is not Puccini's. Tosca is one of the tautest operas he ever wrote. Nor is it Antonio Pappano's, who draws some fine playing in the pit. But Tosca needs at least one voice in the three main roles – and ideally all three – to leap across the footlights and make a really effective connection. Unfortunately, none of the three revival principals here quite does this, either vocally or theatrically.
Marcello Giordani's Cavaradossi probably comes closest, simply because he sings with such stentorian self-absorption. But a Cavaradossi must offer more than decibels, and Giordani's promising start soon became something of an old-school Italian tenor parody. By the final act, he was struggling.
Uusitalo is part of the problem. His rather soft-voiced, almost likably raffish Scarpia not only has little of the snap and snarl the role demands, but lacks true vocal seductiveness. It is hard to imagine all Rome trembling before him, though the music tells you otherwise.
Things will surely be different next month, when the starry trio of Angela Gheorghiu, Jonas Kaufmann and Bryn Terfel jets in to take over for two performances, which will be recorded for cinema relay in the autumn. If that lot can't leap across the footlights, no one can.
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