Anna Bolena (1830) is the first of Gaetano’s Donizetti’s trio of Tudor operas, with Maria Stuarda (produced by Musica Viva in 2022) and Roberto Devereux following later in the decade. Like much of bel canto that went into relative eclipse with the rise of verismo late in the 19th century, Anna Bolena was rarely performed in the first half of the 20th century, and while today it is back in the standard repertoire, it is close enough to the edges to amount to a bold choice for a Hong Kong opera company.
So accustomed are we to standard narratives, that Tudor history viewed through the prism of 19th-century Italian opera can at times be almost unrecognizable: it can take a while to twig to the fact that the very Italian-sounding Giovanna is Jane Seymour and Enrico is Henry VIII.
The broad outlines of the story follow history. Henry VIII divorced his first wife Catherine of Aragon on somewhat dubious grounds to marry the witty and vivacious Anne Boleyn. There was also the small matter of a son and heir, in which Catherine had failed, as would Anne (Musica Viva makes a specific nod to history by having the very young Elizabeth, the future queen, appear on stage with her mother). But Henry was hardly the faithful type in any event.
The opera tells the story of Anne’s abrupt downfall: Jane and Henry are a done deal and all that remains is to get Anne out of the way. Anne had in real-life indeed been betrothed to a Lord Percy before Henry set his cap for her. But this Percy was Richard, not Henry (two Enricos perhaps being one too many) and hadn’t been banished, as the opera has it; Percy in fact sat on the jury for Anne’s trial. The accusations of incest with her brother George (Lord Rochefort) have a basis in history. And Mark Smeaton was a musician at Court who was accused of having been the queen’s (paid) lover. Both were executed along with Anne, but, in line with the opera, few historians today give the accusations much credence.
Jane Seymour was, as in the opera, Anne’s maid-of-honor, but in real-life, Henry and Jane had decency not to get betrothed, to say nothing of married, until after Anne was executed: she would not have heard the crowds celebrating her replacement. Jane, of course, managed to give Henry the male heir he so coveted, but dying herself in the process.
Musica Viva’s international cast for this rare production of Anna Bolena spanned four continents (North America, Europe, Asia and Australasia if one is counting).
The role of Anna is such that it has attracted the attention of a who’s who list of the greatest sopranos. Anna’s mad scene (Al dolce guidami, probably the opera’s best-known piece and a recital staple) was Donizetti’s first, to be followed later in his career by the more famous one in Lucia di Lammermoor.
Anna was sung here alternately by two brilliant coloratura sopranos—Lucrezia Drei from Italy Marlena Devoe of New Zealand—both in the early stages of their careers; we can expect to hear more of them. Relative youth helps: Anne Boleyn may have been as young as 29 when she was executed, and no older than 35 (there is some dispute about when she was born). Drei’s fiery Anna seemed to be channeling the spirit of the character’s daughter Elizabeth, while Devoe looked as though she had stepped straight out of a painting (or perhaps a film); the sumptuous costumes no doubt helped.
Devoe is yet another indication of how young operatic talent from Australasia can light up Hong Kong stages. While Hong Kong is hardly in Australia’s or New Zealand’s backyard, it is nevertheless much close than either the USA or Europe. One hopes that that both sides will awaken to the benefit in exploiting this relative proximity.
Although she is the “other woman”, Donizetti’s portrayal of Jane Seymour is, on the whole, sympathetic. Although she protests that she is a victim of circumstance (and perhaps Henry’s libido), there remains the question of whether when Giovanna says her love for the king is a torment that persists through her tears, she might just be protesting a bit too much. Giovanna was eloquently sung by two American mezzos, Hilary Ginther (who has appeared in Hong Kong before) and Laura Krum.
As in Maria Stuarda, the tenor love interest is more of a foil for the two sopranos than a fully-fleshed character. Riccardo Percy was sung Italian Manuel Amati and American tenor Alok Kumar, last seen in Hong Kong in Carmen.
Another singer who looked as though he has just stepped out of a film was Turkish bass Burak Bilgili, who combines a sonorous with an appropriately regal stage presence. He alternated with experienced Italian bass Enrico Marabelli. Indeed, whether by accident or design, one cast was largely Italian (Drei, Amati, and Marabelli), which the other hailed from primarily anglophone countries (Devoe, Krum, Kumar). The differences in interpretation were subtle but evident: one was a very Italianate Tudor court, while the other contained echoes (in style, one hastens to add, not in the immaculate diction) of British period pieces.
The leads were rounded by by local mezzo Carol Lin who sang the page Semton in both casts.