Tim Ashley 

Imelda de Lambertazzi

Queen Elizabeth Hall, London
  
  


The more you hear Opera Rara's revivals of Donizetti's lesser known works, the more you have to confront the composer's fascination with the macabre. At the end, the heroine kills herself by sucking poisoned blood from her lover's corpse. It is a measure of Donizetti's genius that when this potentially ludicrous moment arrives, it strikes us as a logical denouement.

First performed in 1830, the opera is a study of sectarian violence. In 13th-century Bologna, two aristocratic families, the Lambertazzi and the Gieremei, are waging urban war. Imelda is carrying on a clandestine affair with Bonifacio, heir to the Gieremei estates. Discovery of their relationship escalates the slaughter. Imelda's father Orlando rejects her as she dies, while her brother Lamberto, unhealthily obsessed with her sexuality, looks vindictively on.

Donizetti drags us through this tale at breakneck speed, dismantling operatic convention as he goes. The doomed lovers, unusually, are soprano and baritone. The Lambertazzi patriarchy consists of preening tenors. Sustaining the relentless tension is hell for the performers and it is here that the problems with Opera Rara's revival set in.

Donizetti presents Imelda as tough, though Nicole Cabell makes her genteel. Similarly, James Westman's handsomely sung Bonifacio seems bland. The persistent fire in the performance came from Mark Elder's ferocious conducting, and from Frank Lopardo and Massimo Giordano, both on blazing form as the father and son. The nightmarish atmosphere was immeasurably heightened by the abrasive sound of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment.

 

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