La traviata

Angela Gheorghiu. I'm basically not a fan. At times I've strongly disliked her, once or twice I've liked her very much indeed (but it's been shortlived in the extreme), mostly I've just remained indifferent. Going into Sunday's broadcast of La traviata I really wasn't sure whether it would be a happy experience or a disappointing one; nor was I particularly concerned either way. When I don't enjoy her, it's hardly the end of the world, and when I do it never unlocks any wider appreciation of her as a singer.

All the praise, weeks earlier, from the NYC based opera blogosphere had suggested I might; but on the other hand, all that praise came from people who probably liked her far better than I did in the first place, so it was no guarantee. As it happens, her Violetta worked for me. Smallish voice, yes. Not a problem. Particularly when it possess such expressive powers as here, and, where, with Alfredo and Germont père both suavely sonorous, her vulnerability and ill health were all the more inescapable. She had, too, an uncanny ability to convey vocally not just Violetta's pain and sadness - and joy - but the fear, both vague and all too clear, which intensifies all of those emotions: fear of falling for Alfredo, fear of leaving him, fear of death. She was not a Violetta I felt particularly close to but there's no question that she was a Violetta in whom I believed. Mostly. I'd have believed her even more if she hadn't treated "Ah fors'é lui" like a race. All the same, a memorable performance, though it has to be said: it's Violetta who appealed to me, Violetta's voice in which I took pleasure - not Angela's, if that makes any sense. This doesn't change anything, I feel no more moved than ever to make space for Angela Gheorghiu, either on my shelves or in my heart. For the duration of the broadcast, however, she had my attention and admiration.

All the same, if there was a voice in this Traviata which, in and of itself, took my fancy, it wasn't Violetta but Jonas Kaufmann, her richly voiced and meltingly sung Alfredo. I'm not a great admirer of Alfredo, mostly but on this occasion he was rather difficult to resist, for once a plausible love-interest. Throw Anthony Michaels-Moore into the mix and you have a rather delicious trio; I never expected to count  "Di Provenza il mar" among the highlights of the performance but his was a silken legato delight. I've always had a fascination with Violetta and a consequent tendency to dismiss and/or dislike both Alfredo and his daddy; as a soprano fanatic, too, I've tended to think mostly of Violetta. But here both men were so excellent, their characters so well-drawn and their singing so elegant and so delectable, I was happy for once to see all three sides of the story. Not just poor Violetta - poor everyone.