A cornucopia of ideas

Il trovatore - or The Troubadour as the opera was long known in this country - was a success right from the start. In contrast to many other Verdi opuses, this centrepiece of the often-invoked trilogia popolare had no difficulties getting off the ground: the premiere was a triumph and the work's triumphal march reached even the most distant stages - Sydney and Melbourne, for example - within a very short span of time.

And to this day, the announcement of Il trovatore in international opera houses is almost automatically followed by the words "Sold out." No wonder, since Verdi poured out an immense wealth of melodic ideas over this opera as if from a cornucopia and at the same time demonstrated his mastery as a creator of haunting atmospheric moods, with which he attunes the audience to the respective situation within fractions of a second. One of the most popular admirers of this score was none other than Hugo von Hofmannsthal, who summed up his euphoria after a performance as follows: »What a masterly work, what a precise and sublime knowledge of the theatre. A marvellous libretto, full of adventure, glory, mortal danger and love. And above all this stream of perfect musical inspiration. People show taste when they love this opera.«

Verdi had originally envisaged a completely through-composed opera without »cavatinas, duets, terzettas, choruses and finales.« However, his incomparable theatrical instinct soon made him realise that the plot and the libretto required a completely different musical approach. So he changed the focus and created this gripping, ear-catching musical-theatrical kaleidoscope that is the Troubadour. Or, to put it in the words of Daniele Abbado, the director of the current production: »Verdi's interest lay in always developing the score anew directly from the respective moment, from the respective situation.«

If you look at the Viennese music theatre stages in the first decades after the Trovatore premiere, it is almost easier to list where the Troubadour was not performed than vice versa: just one year after the world premiere in Rome, Viennese audiences were able to get to know the work as part of an Italian stagione at the Kärntnertortheater. And from then on it went from one stage to the next: Theater in der Josefstadt, Theater an der Wien, Stampfertheater, Carltheater, Residenztheater, Ringtheater, Hofoperntheater, Volksoper - »the flames blazed to heaven« everywhere, at first mostly in German.

From its opening in 1869, the Troubadour was an obligatory part of the programme at today's Vienna State Opera for many years. There was only a long gap between 2001 and 2017, which was closed with the production that can now be experienced again. Daniele Abbado set this production in the 20th century, more precisely during the Spanish Civil War, albeit deliberately without too many historical references, in order to show one of the opera's basic motifs - two brothers fighting each other - on the larger scale of an entire nation, so to speak. The Manrico-Azucena side embodies an armed partisan group, while the world of Count Luna represents the opposing militaristic side, from which the angelic Leonora emancipates herself through the course of the plot.

Another key element of this production is the inclusion of a tradition that still exists in Andalusia today: the robbery of the Madonna. According to this tradition, every seven years the miraculous statue of the Virgin Mary is officially stolen from the altar of a small village church by a huge crowd of people for a short time and taken in a 24-hour, extremely festive procession to the larger town ten kilometres away. What fascinates Abbado about this procession is the almost trance-like love of the people clamouring to be allowed to carry the Madonna or at least touch her. The entire process is quoted several times in the current Trovatore production, almost as an artifice, in order to show the decisive religious background against which the characters in the plot move.

Once upon a time, the old Count Luna had a woman who was thought to be a witch burnt to death, whereupon her daughter Azucena kidnapped the count's younger child. A short time later, the charred remains of a burnt child were found. At the time the story begins - the old count had died in the meantime - a civil war is raging in Spain in which the now grown-up son, now Count Luna, is taking part militarily.

The troubadour Manrico, who believes himself to be the son of Azucena, fights on the opposite side. Manrico and Luna also face each other on the field of love: both love Leonora, who in turn is in love with Manrico. When Leonora receives the false report that Manrico has fallen, she decides to go into the convent. Luna then tries to kidnap her, but is stopped by Manrico, who flees with Leonora. A short time later, Azucena is picked up by Luna's people. Manrico is also captured while trying to free her.

Leonora offers herself to Luna if he pardons Manrico - but at the same time takes poison. When Leonora dies in Manrico's arms, Luna orders Manrico's execution. As soon as this is carried out, Azucena hurls the words "He was your brother" at him.