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RECORDINGS
Video
PUCCINI: LA BOHÈME
 Netrebko, Cabell; Villazón, von Bergen/ Daniel, Erod/Degout, Kowaljow; Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks, de Billy. Direction: Dornhelm. Theatrical release: Sept. 23. DVD release: Dec. 15, Kultur K4601, 109 mins., subtitled
Opera's A-B-C trio of cash cows — Aida, Bohème and Carmen — has repeatedly proved its durability on the big screen. La Bohème was filmed in 1965 and 1988; this latest version, by Austrian director Robert Dornhelm (The Children of Theatre Street, Anne Frank: The Whole Story), capitalizes on the incandescence of its stars, Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazón. Under Dornhelm's sensitive direction, both make a successful leap to this vastly different medium. All singers should adapt themselves so well to the camera, which has its own very strict and separate set of demands.
Dornhelm's vision of La Bohème is essentially a faithful one, though Florian Reichmann's sets and Uli Fessler's costume designs seem to reflect the entire nineteenth century, rather than fixing the action at one point in time. Beginning each act in black-and-white, then gradually saturating the color back in, Dornhelm evokes the Paris we see in the photographs of Eugène Atget. Although the entire production was filmed within the confines of studio sound-stages, it is very much a movie, rather than an embalmed theater presentation. Walter Kindler's camera sweeps the viewer right into the center of the action with decisive tracking shots and intimate close-ups; languid dissolves, superimpositions and subtle split-screen effects emphasize the sensuality of the plot, and of Puccini's score. Conducting the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks on the soundtrack, Bertrand de Billy fully captures Puccini's soaring lyricism.
Netrebko's voluptuous physical beauty would be an uncomfortable fit with the traditionally winsome version of Mimì. Wisely, she and Dornhelm take a more sexual approach to the character. She is introduced purposefully waiting for Marcello, Schaunard and Colline to leave so she can get Rodolfo alone, and she intentionally blows out her candle just before knocking on his door. At the end of the Act I duet, she leads him downstairs into her apartment. By Act II, she and Rodolfo are in full post-coital glow. Netrebko's "new" voice — richer and fuller now that she is in her late thirties — is well suited both to her characterization and to Puccini's ripe vocal lines. It's no surprise that the camera loves her, but she doesn't merely rely on her looks. She digs deeply into the performance and is particularly wrenching during the tortured course of Acts III and IV.
Close-ups show Villazón's resemblance to Rowan Atkinson's Mr. Bean to be more than passing, but he overcomes this by sheer force of charisma, not to mention his visceral acting. Recording sessions clearly took place before his vocal problems set in; there is only a bit of strain occasionally evident. Bigger drawbacks are his intermittent, fluttery tremolo and his tendency to scoop up to high notes from below, but these do little to mar the overall potency of his performance.
Nicole Cabell makes a big-boned, hoydenish Musetta, rather than a glamorous one; her close-ups emphasize the comic cast of her features. Her voice is not particularly striking in timbre, but she throws herself into the proceedings with gusto. Vitalij Kowaljow growls his way through Colline with a fixed sneer.
As is the case with just about every filmed opera, the recording was done separately, with the performers lip-synching before the camera. The effect is always distancing — especially when one hears opera-house room tone in what is supposed to be a drafty garret — and Villazón, in particular, seems to have trouble with the synchronization. Whether by choice or by necessity, the roles of Marcello and Schaunard are mimed by singers who did not record them. British baritone George von Bergen acts Marcello to the voice of Boaz Daniel; Adrian Erod is the visual interpreter of Stéphane Degout's Schaunard. Von Bergen is suitably gruff and peevish, Erod elegant and subtle in his pantomime. Neither Daniel nor Degout makes a strong vocal impression; their work is serviceable without being memorable. And the camera reveals what we usually fail to notice in the opera house — that these four Bohemians are simply too old to be carrying on this way. Bohème is an ode to youth, not middle age.
For the most part, Dornhelm handles Bohème so sensitively throughout that it's a disappointment when his direction becomes gimmicky in the opera's final moments. The big emotional release is dampened, because Dornhelm has neglected to perceive that Bohème's one-two punch derives not only from Mimì's death but from Rodolfo's grief as well.
Ultimately, these are minor reservations. It's probably fair to say that this Bohème is one of the best filmic realizations of an opera since Francesco Rosi's 1984 Carmen. Like that film, it stands a good chance of being embraced by the public, and of being a fine operatic ambassador for the uninitiated.
The film, which was scheduled for viewing in select theaters in September and October, is being released on DVD from Kultur (Dec. 15) and airs on PBS as part of its "Great Performances" series (Dec. 23) this holiday season.
ERIC MYERS
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