This bloody tragedy is emblematic of the composer, according to critic Alain Duault who presented its genesis at a captivating conference attended by Paul-Emile Fourny at FNAC, the day before the premiere. If “Tosca” represents a turning point in the composer’s style, it also embodies a pivotal moment in French operatic art. “Tosca,” performed in 1900, thus straddles two centuries and sits “in the middle” of the nine operas composed by Puccini, “four before, four after,” specifies Alain Duault. As for “Turandot,” his posthumous masterpiece since it was premiered two years after his death in 1924 and conducted at La Scala by Arturo Toscanini, it represents the ultimate example of “mainstream” opera as it could be conceived at the beginning of the 20th century.
Born in Tuscany, in the town of Lucca, the Italian composer was profoundly influenced by two operatic works. He heard the first in Pisa on the evening of August 21, 1875. At the age of 17, he walked from his hometown to the city of the famous leaning tower, about 25 km, to listen to Verdi’s new creation, “Aida.” A turning point in Puccini’s life as he then decided to devote his writing work to this musical genre. The second influence came from Bizet’s “Carmen.” At the confluence of these two works, Puccini becomes the composer for whom “musical energy brings to the character the violence of the stage, a physical and carnal commitment of the actors.” From the beginning to the final scene, “Tosca” does not deny it.
A quintessential Puccinian feature, an interweaving of the musical with the vocal evident from the overture: the curtain rises as the first measure sounds to reveal a singer in a setting both icy and refined, that of a church interior. It takes only a few minutes for tenor Brandon Jovanovitch to conquer the audience. This American from Montana, twice awarded at the MET auditions in New York, captures with the ease of his body language that gives a sense of great naturalness in his vocal expression. He sings as he breathes, effortlessly and without artifice. A striking effect that grabs the audience and instantly transports them to the heart of the dramatic action. “The magic in performance,” would say the American Masterclass professor Peter Elkus.
As for the voice, it matches the register of the play, enriching it with multiple shades oscillating between the sentiment of love where the Tenor seems to filter the notes without altering them, and the power of revolt where it accentuates the painful resonances.
