La Traviata | Opera Queensland
La Traviata was a spectacle of epic proportions. And not just the parts that were on stage. Entering the QPAC lobby for my first ever night-at-the-opera I had some idea of what to expect, but nothing could’ve truly prepared me for this other-worldly experience. Having mostly attended shows in bars, community halls, and small theatres - where a 7:30 start time means a 7:25 arrival and an opening night looks more like a pair of Doc Martens - I felt a little out of place amidst the fur coats and fascinators. My experience of La Traviata in this way held a strange reflective quality. As curtains rose on the lavish opening party scene, I couldn’t help but feel it was simply an extension of the pre-show mingling that I’d borne witness to just outside the doors. I’d also heard that opera, in its penchant for the re-staging of classic works and the capacity to afford to do so, often offers a vivid window into an era, a place, or a moment in time. And for Opera Queensland’s La Traviata, this was true of both the stage and the foyer.
Images including cover image: Visual Poets Society
There was a powerful interplay between the traditional and the contemporary, as director Sarah Giles and designer Charles Davis worked to draw inspiration from across the centuries. The costume designs of the party scenes, in particular, evoked this sense of Met Gala meets Victorian era (has that been a theme yet?). These moments felt like they could almost be feasted upon; an explosion of colours and fabrics and extravagance. I looked on in awe at both the stage and the people sitting around me, who, in their own way, were an embodiment of this collision of classic and modern.
Upon its release in 1853, La Traviata was deemed ‘radical’ for its staging of the story of Violetta, a Parisian courtesan forced to navigate love, security and pleasure within a world that dictated who and what a woman could be. As Sarah Giles in her Director’s Note points out, the reverberations of this time still echo through our own present day, ringing particularly loud amidst events such as the recent overturning of Roe v. Wade. Yet this is where I struggle to wholeheartedly embrace a focus on the continued re-staging of classics. Despite being a female-centric story, and featuring a ‘controversial’ female character, La Traviata is still a heterosexual love story written by a man. Perhaps this is an unfair or naive appraisal of a work that revolutionised the form, but it is hard to marry up the idea of ‘radicalism’ with one of opera’s most performed works. I’m unsure about our responsibility to maintain loyalty to the canon, particularly when the establishment of the canon is, in itself, a reflection of a particular time or of particular societal ideals. Yet is it, as Sarah Giles comments, a matter of perspective; does the importance of these works lie in our ability to look back on them from an ever-growing distance?
One of my favourite elements of the work lay in the dichotomy between the subtitles and the action on stage, which lent itself to a layer of humour that felt like an in-joke between performers and audience. In a strange way, the short length and impassive tone of the translations felt reminiscent of a meme-culture that turns to finding the ironic humour in relationships between images and text. I was amongst a pocket of audience members who also found joy in many of these moments, and in many other directorial choices. Giles’ most powerful work, however, could be found in the final scenes of the piece; a true moment of coalescence between design and direction. The incredible performance of Lorina Gore as Violetta became indisputable following this ending, as audiences witnessed her character completely transform, and slowly deteriorate before our eyes. The final image is one that will stay printed in my mind for a long time to come.
It’s safe - and probably more honest - to say that I went into my first opera experience with pretty low expectations. La Traviata managed to surprise me, and in the performances of the cast and the creative vision of the crew, a seed of appreciation for this artform began to grow. The moving musical soundscape, scored in real time by the talents of Queensland’s Symphony Orchestra, combined with the dynamic lighting and set design created a stage that was alive. But even still, I have an impulse to demand more liveness of the works that opera chooses to program. The irony that I, as an audience member, wouldn’t have even been able to understand or consider the radical and revolutionary nature of La Traviata without spending $30 on a program is also not lost on me.
Looking at the season Opera Queensland has planned for 2022, I'm hopeful that the company is working to push forward one of Australia’s most highly funded arts sectors, and hold it to account for reflecting the ideals of a changing populace.
