Jessica Blunt’s compelling role debut ignites Verdi’s La Traviata with WA Opera at His Majesty’s Theatre

A compelling role debut by soprano Jessica Blunt as the “fallen woman” Violetta lit the fuse on Verdi’s La Traviata for WA Opera at His Majesty’s Theatre this month. Blunt’s pairing with tenor Paul O’Neill’s lovelorn Alfredo, complemented by baritone James Clayton as Alfredo’s domineering father Giorgio, tapped a rich vein of local vocal talent for this collaboration with Opera Queensland and State Opera South Australia. Director Sarah Giles’s 2022 production features a split-screen portrayal of public affluence in the salons of 19th century Paris set against the private squalor of the courtesan’s workspace, her boudoir. Blunt, busily seeing off her overwilling client Baron Douphol (Andrew Foote), is a picture of patient distain until showtime. Then she calls fellow courtesan Flora (mezzo Ashlyn Tymms) cast and chorus together for the show-stopper “Brindisi” (Toast); an explosion of ribald energy that seems to belie Violetta’s sad secret, tuberculosis. When Violetta and Alfredo meet, what could possibly go wrong? Blunt’s lush soprano and O’Neill’s lyric tenor echo across the stage for “Un di felice, eterea” (One day happy, ethereal) a tender musical embrace itself worth the ticket. “Ah, fors’e lui?” (Is he the one?) she ponders; a bel canto jewel deftly enshrined by conductor Lochlan Brown — another Perth prodigy — within the delicate strains of WA Symphony Orchestra. Yet gritty soap-opera “verismo” dawns with self-realisation in the hedonist anthem “Sempre libera” (Always free) — a robust recall of the drinking theme — while Alfredo chunters on about love. Act II opens in their all-but-impossible rural idyll — one of many slick scene changes smoothed by Charles Davis’ design and Paul Jackson’s lighting. Vistas open on verdant greenery even as autumn leaves do fall. Blunt and O’Neill again hold the stage effortlessly, but guilt and indulgence gnaw away at their personal paradise. Enter Giorgio to deliver the coup de grace in the form of shame; Clayton’s masterful presence and voice decisive as Verdi’s “verismo” again cuts through. Angelic images of a family free of scandal play out in silhouette upstage as Giorgio dissects Violetta’s cloying romantic vision. Pastel shades in her gown highlight the anguish in Blunt’s voice as Clayton’s black-and-white judgment crushes her tearful entreaties, with pin-drop moments all through. “Just don’t allow him to curse my memory!” she begs, to no avail. Giorgio’s consolation of Alfredo evokes lost innocence — “Di Provenza il mar, il suol” (The sun and soil of Provence). Clayton channels Verdi’s folkloric muse, his partnership with O’Neill by turns tuneful and dramatic as bitter reaction sows the seeds of destruction. Comic flourishes after the interval restore the focus on Paris, as Spanish dancers (Tristan Tucker and Luci Young) entertain the timely crowd, with matching fireworks from Tymms’ Flora and her favourite Marquis (Benjamin del Borrello). All serve as an amuse-bouche for Alfredo’s rage and Violetta’s mortification; arriving as she does decorated like a baby doll on the arm of the Baron, a godfather figure of power and menace. Celebration gives way to sullen fallout when Alfredo spills his ill-gotten gambling gains at Violetta’s feet to trigger a late, hypocritical rebuke from Giorgio. She sings her heart out in response; Blunt’s poignant pleas complemented by cast and chorus, tolling away with pathos and precision. Act III brings Violetta back to her Parisian pied-a-terre, now a claustrophobic crucible for her consumptive decline. A ghostly green twilight reflects ethereal orchestration as Doctor Grenvil (Robert Hofmann) solemnly numbers her last moments. A letter from Giorgio evinces a graceful yet visceral vignette from Blunt, exquisite in the cadence. Haunted by an offstage chorus, Violetta revives on Alfredo’s inevitable return, Blunt and O’Neill blending blissfully to muse on past and present — and she to face death “si giovine” (so young). Finally, Violetta’s tremulous dying breath ripples through the orchestra like a tearful shudder; a last afterglow of hope only delaying her heartrending demise. La Traviata is at His Majesty’s Theatre until March 28.