German director David Hermann is a protégé of the enfant terrible of the opera world Hans Neuenfels - an unpropitious patrimony. While there were one or two interesting ideas in his staging, an obsession with Schopenhaurian Schadenfreude, Scheinwelt and social hypocrisy completely missed the essence of what Piave and Verdi had in mind when adapting Dumas’ La dame aux camélias to opera.

Verdi writes music of the deepest emotion for his fallen heroine, but Hermann seems much more interested in the psychology of the peripheral party-goers. In the programme notes he speaks of the milieu of high society, but clearly knows nothing about it. Setting the opera in a vaguely contemporary time period (eine High Society von heute aber ohne Jahreszahl as stage and costume designer Christof Hetzer confusingly describes it) suggests the behavior of salon society is immutable. However the idea of Flora’s guests beating up Alfredo after his humiliation of Violetta in Act II is highly implausible. In no matter what time setting, this is a Parisian beau monde of marquises and barons, not a pack of violent, vulgar sans-culottes. The physical assault also contradicts the crowd’s later contempt when they throw scraps of food over Violetta’s prostrate form. Overt Schadenfreude may be how Hermann presumes society would react to Violetta’s public disgrace, but that is definitely not what Dumas or Piave wrote.

In a further distortion of the libretto, instead of gambling with the Baron at cards, Alfredo is strapped to a chair, blindfolded and undergoes some kind of Sicilian ritual of having one of his hands sliced. Has a chic salon in Napoleon III Paris been transported to a Cosa Nostra cottage in Catania? At the opera’s sad conclusion Alfredo and his father casually stroll off leaving the dead Violetta to Baron Douphol. So much for il mio dolor.

Christof Hetzer’s stage settings for Acts I and II looked like the lobby of the Tribeca Grand in New York complete with ramps for the disabled. Act III was echt Neuenfels with eight tawdry beds and ancient heaters in a room which was hospice-cum-morgue – complete with a cadaver on one of the beds.

The costuming throughout was a mishmash of every kind of couture from Coco Chanel to a gaggle of Lady Gaga clones. Annina looked like a bossy accountant from KPMG.  Père Germont enters carrying a black motor-bike helmet – presumably he rode his Vespa from Verdon. A variety of trainer footwear abounds and in Act II Alfredo’s hunting attire is tight jeans and a pectoralis-hugging white T-shirt.  

Musically things were much more satisfactory. Marco Armiliato led the Zürich Philharmonia with sensitivity and precision, albeit limited passion, with excellent cohesion between stage and pit. The orchestral accompaniment to many piano passages was of great delicacy, for example the supporting strings in Violettas’ Dite alla giovine. There were slight intonation problems with the first violins in the exposed Preludio and opening to Act III and some tempo synchronization glitches between woodwinds and heavily oomphy syncopated horns from measure 6 in the allegro brillantissimo section of the Introduzione but on the whole, maestro Armiliato and the Zürich orchestra deserved the enthusiastic applause they received.

Of the singers, none of the comprimario roles were particularly notable.

In the part of père Germont, Hawaiian-born baritone Quinn Kelsey gave an outstanding vocal performance. Possessing a voice of enormous Manuguerra-like projection, a superb top register (eg. the high Gb’s in di Provenza il mar), a refined mezzavoce technique and appealing Bruson-esque lyrical phrasing, this was in all musical respects an extremely impressive interpretation. It was also pleasing to hear the usually omitted cabaletta No, non udrai rimproveri.

As Alfredo, young Slovakian tenor Pavol Breslik certainly looked like someone an experienced judge of masculine virility such as Violetta would fall for.  His bashful provincial shyness in Act I was utterly convincing. Un di felice, innante was beautifully phrased with a Wunderlich-like lyricism.  Unfortunately Hermann’s direction in Act II made him seem more like a smug boy-toy than a young man deeply in love. De’ miei bollenti spiriti was sung with an elegant cantilena reminiscent of Alfredo Kraus. The ppp dynamic markings at measure 12 on dell’amore were correctly observed and top Ab’s consistently impressive. The following O mio rimorso cabaletta displayed Breslik’s impressive belcanto technique although he wisely eschewed the interpolated top C at its conclusion.

Making her title role debut in Zürich, thirty-three year old Bulgarian soprano Sonya Yoncheva came with impressive reviews from the Metropolitan Opera. Director Hermann sees the character more as an impulsive, unstable, tantrum inclined diva rather than a woman of fierce self-analysis with a street-wise sense of reality. She hurls objects in each Act – a large platter of fruit in Act I, several cushions in Act II and in Act III, a crucifix. She attempts self-harm by stabbing her hand after Père Germont demands she leave Alfredo. The only amusing bit of business was at diletti sempre nouvi in Sempre libera when her search for new pleasures leads her to stuff grapes into a comely young waiter’s mouth.

Obviously a voice that can fill the Met will have no problems in a relatively small house such as Zürich, and the more intimate space afforded even greater opportunities for a subtly nuanced performance – eg. the phrase era felice troppo in Act II was extremely moving. Yoncheva has the multiple vocal skills demanded of the role – a Cotrubaş-like lyricism in Ah, fors’è lui; a Sutherland-esque precision in the coloratura show-stopper Sempre libera (the top C on ritrovi was immaculately executed as were the trills on Ora son forte in Act III); a Freni-like soaring cantilena in the concertante conclusion to Act II; a Tebaldi-toned purity of vocal colour in Addio, del passato (the final A natural was without a trace of vibrato) – not to mention a Callas-like intensity on the endless G natural fermata on Ah which proceeded an impassioned Gran Dio! Morir si giovine.

Yoncheva is an outstanding soprano with an attractive stage presence who has the vocal skills to sing coloratura, dramatic and lyric music with equal expertise. In the hands of a director less obsessed with passé social prejudice, she could well become a definitive Violetta.