La Traviata - Opera House - 05/03/08 by Jo Beggs

Ellen Kent' s visits to the Opera House always create a strange air of nostalgia. We're now so used to the slick, the modern, and the paired down that her opulent sets and showy costumes are a bit of a surprise - and not always a good one. So this Traviata opens with an image which feels more chocolate box than romantic tragedy. It's big and initially impressive - but closer investigation of the synthetic fabrics, plastic flowers and tacky table decorations proves it all to be just too 'footballers' wives'.

So…not a good start.

Lucky then, that once the action starts the bargain basement class can be overlooked, because there is genuine class in the company, and they treat this great opera with tenderness and respect. La Traviata is a simple tale, an uncomplicated love story which can be told in a few lines. While the design cries out for attention like a spoilt child, Maria Tsonina and Andriy Perfilov in the lead roles manage to rise above it and drill to the heart of what this opera is really about.

Violetta is a courtesan who has done very well for herself in Paris. She has a fancy lifestyle, gets to a lot of parties and is widely admired for her beauty, but she's living a lonely life and trying hard to conceal her failing health. Then along comes Alfredo, whose fallen deeply in love with her from afar and offers her the chance to go and live a healthier and happier life with him in the country.

Enter Alfredo's father. He's not happy about his son being shacked up with a fallen woman. He seeks out Violetta and persuades her to leave Alfredo in order to save the reputation of the family.

But of course, true love wins through and the two lovers can't bear to be apart. They're drawn back together but it's too late. Violetta is dying.

Anyone who doesn't shed a tear at the end of this opera has a hard heart. Despite some fairly melodramatic hair flinging and staggering about in the final act, Tsonina manages to evoke a pitiful, wronged woman whose misdeeds seem trivial in comparison to her suffering. As she lies in her bed or crouches on the floor in the final act she seems to be shrunken and broken, tiny against the vastness of the stage, having come so far from the radiant smiling hostess in Act One.

La Traviata's message is universal. People are fragile and the world can deal a difficult hand. Love tries to prevail, but things get in the way. It's a message that could get lost in this over-complicated production, but in the end, Verdi wins through.