«Another bold and powerful dramatic investigation between past and present, between memory and contemporaneity, is that carried out by Maria Federica Maestri and Francesco Pititto, a project around and within a work that does not exist, of which there are scattered traces, fragmented clues. The unfinished is Giuseppe Verdi's Re Lear, an opera never set to music and of which only Antonio Somma's libretto exists, containing corrections by the composer himself. Always desired work, aimed at delving into the soul of the figure of the king/father/madman, but never brought to completion».
The well-known theatre critic Giuseppe Distefano, after the first presentation of Verdi Re Lear – L'Opera che non c'è_Premessa at the 19th edition of the Natura Dèi Teatri International Festival last December, notes: «The pictorial-installative vision is the silhouette of an immobile group arranged around a throne placed at the bottom of the stage box and made evanescent by the three transparent velars where, at multiple levels of projections, there are images of a man, Lear, whose voice we hear. On the details of his body, curled up or slumped, he lingers the camera's eye almost to make a mapping of it, investigating the movements and wounds of his soul […] Other moments of authentic emotion are found in the plastic depositions from the throne to the ground, the slow pace and positioning, the dragging a rope on a leash and the “arias” scattered – in the finale by Simon Boccanegra, “As in this dark hour…” – which dot the Verdi universe on the tragedy of fatherhood, rendered by Lenz as a scenic epiphany of desire».
Verdi Re Lear inhabits the two large halls of Lenz Teatro, with dynamic audiences invited to pass between the two spaces. Maria Federica Maestri, who takes care of the dramaturgy of space, installations and costumes in the show, suggests the reasons for this unusual choice: «The temporal concatenation of two separate spatial planes preserves and enhances the duplicity of the semi-virtual image of this work which connects real and non-real, traces and desires: the materiality of bodies, in dialogue with the immateriality of the image, generates a dream-image. Constructed through tears, subtractions, and leaps, the semi-virtual image produces a continuous detachment from the coherent image of the world; similarly, spectators in delocalized enjoyment, in subjective transit, in the transition from space to space, lose the unity and dramatic linearity of the traditional vision, and in total assonance with the artistic form of the work – giving scenic form to a desire – recomposing their own personal work-memory».
Francesco Pititto, head of research, dramaturgy, imagoturgy, and direction of this sidereal project, concludes: «Shaping a desire, after exploring its primary impulses and most hidden manifestations, is a fascinating path of all linguistic research; dressing a ghost and seeing it move only through the movement of fabrics is already having delivered it to the real world, which, Shakespeareanly, is made of dreams and nothingness.»
The musical consultancy for the selection of Verdi Re Lear's repertoire pieces is by M° Carla Delfrate, the singing consultant is Prof. Donatella Saccardi. Performers: Valentina Barbarini (Cordelia/Delia), Barbara Voghera (Fool/Mica), Giuseppe Barigazzi (Lear in image). Singers: Haruka Takahashi (Regan/Regana, soprano), Ekaterina Chekmareva (Goneril/Gonerilla, mezzo-soprano), Gaetano Vinciguerra (double Lear, baritone), Lorenzo Bonomi (double Lear/Edgar/Edgardo, baritone), Andrea Pellegrini (double Lear, bass), Adriano Gramigni (Gloucester, bass). Over voice by Rocco Caccavari. On stage are Rocco Caccavari, Paolo Maccini, Franck Berzieri, Carlo Destro and Paolo Pediri. Assistant director: Valeria Borelli. The technical direction is by Alice Scartapacchio, the production is by Lenz Fondazione. Verdi Re Lear is made in collaboration with the Conservatory of Music “A. Boito” of Parma.
Enrico Pitozzi on Verdi King Lear
Spectra | Anatomy for a Theatre of Voices
There are always at least two planes of the image.
One refers to the visible regime, the other to the sonic one. The one, that of the visible, acts immediately; because of this characteristic, it can be located, visible precisely. The other, the sonorous one, is connatured by a certain discretion, acts as in the shadows, diffusely, and expresses itself in duration; due to this characteristic, it cannot be located; we cannot determine exactly where it comes from in space. It is acousmatic, its peculiarity is not evidence, but depth; its logic is not that of event, but that of effectiveness.
II. One could thus synthesize, in my view, the features that illuminate Verdi's version of King Lear –inspired by Shakespeare – which Lenz Rifrazioni – now Fondazione is staging for Verdi's centenary. Work for which there is a libretto, but no musical score. Words exist, not their sound temperature. We are like this, Lavagetto says well, in front of “The ghost of an opera”.
Ghost, in fact, derives from the Greek φάντασμα and organized around φαντάζω «to show», φαντάζομαι «to appear». On the one hand, this declension refers to making an image of something that does not yet have its status. On the other hand, however, he ghostly says something that «he hints at», «suggests» without fully expressing, he allows a glimpse of because it testifies to an incompleteness, or rather the pervasiveness of a theme that has marked Giuseppe Verdi's entire production; only that he has done so under the radar, like an intense and widespread jolt, to the point of embracing much of his operatic production which, unlike this unfinished Lear, has seen the light of day.
So it is in this territory made up of scattered fragments, debris, magnetic elements and returns that the constellation around Lenz's version is drawn. For this reason, a ghostly King Lear derives from it, in which both the scenographic-installative composition signed by Maria Federica Maestri and the imagoturgy of Francesco Pititto clearly enunciate it, giving rise to a continuous blurring –an impossibility of seeing clearly – that produces suspension, as in an evocation or an evaporation: in any case, an unexpected epiphany.
III. So what strategy does Lenz adopt in this Verdi vision? Answering this question puts us back in line with the starting point, with the two planes of the image evoked above.
The suspicion is that Maestri and Pititto work by subtraction – another operational component of Verdi's musical thought; a subtraction that releases the driving force of music, where the word of song becomes sonority, phoné: matter that says, before and beyond the very meaning of the word, the sonic drive of the voice. Proof of this is what we could define, following Roland Barthes, as a writing aloud to which Verdi, let us remember him again – Lear's musical score is entirely missing, but the libretto exists – he seems to look and that Lenz emphasizes in the staging: the musical element is the voice itself, it is not accompanied by any sound that is not an expression of vocality.
Verdi's, in other words, is the actual composition of a choir of voices, sound material through which to unleash the creative power of music. And this is where Lenz takes a decisive step in Verdi's direction – because that's what he is, a King Lear conceived in the spirit of Giuseppe Verdi's music. The singers present on stage – two actresses acting as Fool/Mica and Cordelia/Delia, a Lear actor on video, two baritones to give shape to the double Lear on stage, a soprano Nerilla, and a mezzo-soprano Rosane/Delia – are arranged as sound activators, voices that literally appear as if from an afterlife, figures that actualize the power of the singing. There is a veil, both material – the tulle– and immaterial, almost metaphysical, that accompanies this work.
I would not know how to name it other than by tracing it back to the pulsation of life, because it calls into question existence itself: there is something that touches the bottom of life and its prolongation, as well as reason and its processes, is a sort of victory against death that is evoked on stage, because there is no other truth than this coincidence with the present, always however with a slight deviation, as on the side, as if to mark – despite everything – a lack, a not yet, an unfinished one.
Why this?
Because the music here, in the geometry of Verdi's thought, is the image of reason or rather, as Gille Deleuze says, reason in action. Music has the power –and this staging by Lenz claims it repeatedly– to graft the movement of things; it literally makes things exist from their dark, unnameable depths. Suspends time, delays disaster.
Strengthening this development of the forms that follow one another on stage is the collaboration with sound artist Robin Rimbaud aka Scanner who, in the wake of librettist thought, develops a series of sound compositions, in a chain that is not intended to accompany the singing, but rather to outline what we might call a true sonic dimension of the image: the sound image – its atmospheric potential – is the one that gives the background texture to the scene and by which the visual image is defined. So, just as there is a visual image, an auditory one seems to emerge forcefully on Lenz's scene. Here it is not just a question of grasping what manifests itself to hearing: this image to which Scanner contributes, has to do with what lies within listening, we must identify its characteristics and the collected point at which the intensity acts which makes a sound material an image and which, consequently, redraws the characteristics of listening. It opens the space so that the voice, on stage, can leave a trace. Fleeting, of course, like a glow. A patch of light on an anthracite background. It is therefore the sound –in the double perspective of the Theatre of Voices and the acoustic atmosphere – that dictates the temperature, the tuning between the elements of the scene. In this frame the visual image is its counterpoint, a plane, a vanishing point.
IV. The viewer is thus ideally positioned within this sound perimeter, facing the vision, a position from which it is possible to perceive all their variations, their imperceptibilities. Starting from this point collected in the sound – from what we have called the acoustic image – reconstruct the music that the sound hides. Perhaps this is precisely the challenge Lenz takes up with this impossible staging. Impossible because, literally, it is beyond all possibility: magmatic core, indefinite, to which to attempt –despite everything – to give a shape.
At this point, all that remains is to resolve the final step: what kind of listening are we talking about with this work?
Listening here, as in other Lenz productions, is a becoming: becoming sound, becoming phoneme, matter, vocal pulsation. Following this process requires a perceptual extension of listening, a letting sound penetrate and becoming, at the same time, sound in listening. Only in this way does imagoturgy – the logic of viewing images – acquire its full effectiveness: it acts in a latent way.
It therefore takes an eardrum, a prism, to perceive these ghosts: only an impossible ear captures the inaudible; only an eye capable of penetrating forms truly sees, and for the last time, what is before it.