Arts & Events

On Friday, July 13, and Sunday, July 15, Berkeley Chamber Opera offers Giuseppe Verdi’s Giovanna d’Arco/Joan of Arc at the Hillside Club on Cedar Street. Following I Lombardi, Ernani, and I due Foscari, Giovanna d’Arco is Verdi’s seventh opera. It premiered in 1845 during the period Verdi referred to as his “prison” years, that is to say, the years when he churned out operas at a frantic pace to earn a living. Some scholars find more hints of Verdi’s future greatness in Giovanna d’Arco than in its immediate predecessors; but perhaps the most significant way in which this might be true is not musically but in this opera’s focus on father-daughter relations -- a subject that the mature Verdi returned to again and again, often very movingly. Loosely based on a play by Friedrich von Schiller, Giovanna d’Arco tells the tale of Joan of Arc’s mystical visions that inspire her to don helmet and sword to lead the French troops to victory over invading English troops. Departing from Schiller’s play in one respect, Temistocle Solera’s libretto eliminates Joan’s love-interest for the Frenchman Lionel and locates it instead in Carlo, or Charles VII, the French King. In both Schiller’s play and the Verdi-Solera opera, Joan of Arc is tormented by contending inner voices: a chorus of evil spirits urges her to seek the pleasures of the flesh while a chorus of angels entreats her to avoid worldly love and seek only the rewards of heaven. Throughout, Joan’s father, Giacomo, fears that his daughter has fallen in love with Carlo under the spell of evil spirits and a pact with the devil. 

In a brief program note, Berkeley Chamber Opera’s founding artisitic director Eliza O’Malley attempts to find contemporary relevance in this opera’s exploration of questions of moral purity, but this seems a little far-fetched. One hardly sees a Stormy Daniels in Joan of Arc. Nor a Donald Trump in Carlo. It’s even difficult to see Joan of Arc as a victim (or at least an ally) in the Me Too movement. Rather, Verdi’s opera, like Schiller’s play, examines a historically specific, 15^th century worldview centered on mysticism, superstition, and Christian notions of Good versus Evil. In this worldview, the flesh is considered Evil, and even the idealized love of Carlo and Joan is tainted with the Evil of the flesh. However, Carlo, at least, fights against this extreme Christian notion and argues from an enlightened position that the love he shares with Joan is noble, pure, and Good. Just how pure it might be becomes a pointed question, however, when Joan’s father, Giacomo, asks her publically whether she is still a virgin. Joan remains silent, even when Carlo urges her in a whisper to say yes and the people will believe her. It’s an interesting moment, especially since Carlo’s words give a broad hint that Joan may well not be a virgin.  

In this Berkeley Chamber Opera production, a ten-piece chamber orchestra is led by Alexander Katsman, with Jonathan Khuner on piano. Verdi’s overture is a good one. Here, it opens with a rumbling from the piano. It bookends with martial music, but in the middle there are lively trio passages in 3/8 time for flute, clarinet, and oboe. When Scene I opens, French villagers lament that English troops are overrunning their land. Soon Carlo, the Dauphin, arrives, and the villagers salute him as their King. Carlo, however, announces his intention to abdicate due to his inability to defend against the English. Sung here by tenor Salvatore Atti, Carlo recounts that he had a vision in which a statue of the Virgin commanded him to lay his helmet and sword by an oak tree. Villagers tell him such a statue does indeed stand in a nearby forest, but they advise Carlo not to go there as it’s haunted by evil spirits. Carlo chides them for their superstitions and heads to the forest shrine.  

Meanwhile, Giacomo, Joan’s father, harbors fears his daughter is communing with evil spirits near the shrine of the Virgin. So he spies on her when she goes there to pray to the Virgin for a helmet and sword with which to fight the English. In the role of Giovanna d’Arco, soprano Eliza O’Malley had a few rough moments on opening night in her first aria, her voice sounding uncharacteristically shrill on the high notes. However, this initial shrillness may simply have been due to insufficient warm up time, and in any case Eliza O’Malley sang beautifully as the opera progressed.  

Soon Carlo appears and places his helmet and sword beneath a nearby oak tree, as his vision ordered him to do. When Giovanna finishes her prayers, she discovers the helmet and sword, and she believes her prayers have been answered. She promises Carlo she will lead his troops to victory. As Carlo, tenor Salvatore Atti sang with robust tone and fervent admiration for young Giovanna. There are clear overtones of physical attraction toward Giovanna from Carlo, and in her enthusiasm for battle she seems to encourage his romantic sentiments. However, in voices meant to be heard only by Giovanna, evil and good spirits contend for her soul, and the good spirits warn her against worldly love. Giacomo, sung here by stentorian baritone Geoffrey Di Giorgio, is convinced his daughter has fallen in love with Carlo under the thrall of evil spirits, and he secretly curses her. 

Act 2 opens in the English camp near Reims, where the English soldiers have retreated after their unexpected defeat by the French led by the warrior maid at Orléans. Giacomo presents himself to Talbot, the English leader, sung here by bass-baritone J.T. Williams. Giacomo offers to help the English achieve victory over Carlo and his French troops led by his daughter, whom he believes was seduced by Carlo and has entered into a pact with the Devil. Eager for help, Talbot accepts Giacomo’s offer of help. 

In a garden, Giovanna sings the pastorale aria, “O fatidica foresta” in which she longs to return to simple country life. But Carlo enters and declares his love for her. In a moment of weakness, Giovanna admits she returns his love. But she then hears angelic voices warning her against all worldly love. Carlo tells her he wants her to be his wife and that she alone must crown him in the immediately forthcoming coronation ceremony in Reims Cathedral. Giovanna resists but hesitates. In the end, she goes through with the coronation ceremony as Carlo wished. But on leaving the Cathedral she accuses herself of being cursed. At this point Giovanna’s father, Giacomo, steps up and accuses her of being in a pact with the devil. Are you still a virgin? he asks. When Giovanna refuses to answer, the public turns angrily against her and demands she be burned at the stake.. Publics, it would seem, are easily swayed by demagogues and charges of impurity.  

However, when left alone with his daughter who is now shackled to the stake and ready for burning, Giacomo hears Giovanna’s fervent prayer to the Virgin and begins to realize he has been mistaken about his daughter’s true sentiments. In a moment of deep repentance, Giacomo unties Giovanna and sets her free. Musically, this is a deeply moving scene. Giovanna immediately redons helmet and sword and rushes off to win yet another miraculous victory for the French. However, a messenger arrives telling that Giovanna has been killed in the victorious battle. Her body is brought in, and all lament her death. However, she resusicitates, at least long enough to pardon her father and declare her loyalty to Carlo. Then, to a chorus of angels, Giovanna has visions of the Virgin welcoming her to Heaven, as the opera ends.  

Stage Director for Giovanna d’Arco was Elly Lichtenstein. Costumes were by Sherrol Simard. Lighting was by Andrew Ross. Conductor Alexander Katsman led a vigorous account of this early Verdi opera.