After the director Robert Carsen’s production of Verdi’s “Falstaff” had its premiere at the Royal Opera in London last year, word spread that it was wonderful — a thoughtful, affecting and hilarious staging that updates the action from the time of Henry IV to England in the 1950s.
Several companies are partners in this production, including the Metropolitan Opera, which is a lucky thing for Verdi fans in the New York area. The Carsen production had its Met premiere on Friday night and immediately became a high point of Peter Gelb’s tenure as general manager.
A splendid cast is headed by the powerhouse Italian baritone Ambrogio Maestri who simply owns the role of Falstaff. This was his 200th performance of it. At six-foot-five with his Falstaffian physique, Mr. Maestri certainly looks the part. A natural on stage, and surprisingly light on his feet, he makes Falstaff a charming rapscallion and sings the music with consummate Italianate style.
The other important news is that James Levine, who continues to recuperate from the illnesses and injuries that sidelined him for two years, is conducting this new “Falstaff.” As the audience wandered into the house on Friday, Mr. Levine was already in the pit, seated on the motorized wheelchair he conducts from these days, which had been placed atop the special elevated platform that serves as his personal podium. When the lights went down and Mr. Levine’s chair lift was elevated so that he could be seen, the audience broke into a sustained ovation. He is a rightly beloved artist.
Still, this was the first time that I have had concern over Mr. Levine’s work since he returned to conducting in May, when he led the Met Orchestra at Carnegie Hall in a triumphant concert, then followed up with his distinguished conducting of Mozart’s “Così fan tutte” at the house in September.
There were marvelous elements to his “Falstaff.” Prior to Friday’s performance, he had conducted the work, Verdi’s final opera, 55 times, which is a Met record. His insight into and affection for the opera came through consistently. Verdi’s score is a miracle of ingenuity. Inspired by the librettist Arrigo Boito’s breezy adaptation of Shakespeare’s comic verse, Verdi wrote music that responded minutely to the patterns and flow of the words. The music is a like a gossamer fabric of sewn-together snippets.
Mr. Levine revealed the continuity and structure of those snippets in this performance. The tempos he chose were sometimes restrained, allowing for enhanced richness and breathing room. No doubt during rehearsals the cast benefited from his expert coaching and experience.
But, there were shaky moments in the performance. “Falstaff” is an opera of ensembles, and some of these passages were a little scrappy. You could see singers glancing nervously at the prompter’s box and at Mr. Levine. Maybe this was opening night jitters and everything will fall into place. And, as always, Mr. Levine’s work had moments of glory, especially the silken delicacy and sheer magic he brought to the late scene when Nannetta, Alice’s sweet daughter, pretends to be the Queen of the Fairies during a prank the townspeople play on poor Falstaff, who thinks he is being attacked by needling witches and goblins.
Overall, when it comes to theatrical flair, captivating costumes, stage antics and imagination, there are not many shows on Broadway to rival the Met’s new “Falstaff.” As he has explained in interviews, Mr. Carsen thinks Verdi’s great comic opera is overcast with melancholy. The people of its community see the old ways of entitled aristocracy breaking down; new class structures are emerging. Mr. Carsen taps these resonances by placing the story in the 1950s when England was recovering from the Second World War, the grand homes of the entitled were being turned into hotels, and a modern age was emerging of self-made men and liberated women.
Though Verdi’s Falstaff clings to the trappings of aristocracy, he is a deluded, debt-ridden and comically pathetic character. This production opens in Falstaff’s lodging at the Garter Inn, a spacious room with oak-paneled walls, the impressive work of the set designer Paul Steinberg. Room service carts full of dirty dishes and empty wine bottles are scattered everywhere. We see Mr. Maestri’s Falstaff lounging in a double bed, reading a paper, his hair a mess.
