TV Review : ‘Simon Boccanegra’ on PBS: Verdian Grandeur, Close-Up

Verdi’s “Simon Boccanegra,” which will be telecast tonight on PBS, may be musically uneven and dramatically opaque. In its best moments, however, it remains a work of unique passion and romantic grandeur.

And the best moments are plentiful.

The Metropolitan Opera came up with a lavish new production this season, heroically conducted by James Levine and controversially directed by Giancarlo del Monaco. Like many a recent Met endeavor, it proved that conservatism need not be a virtue.

The problems lay, for the most part, in the staging. Del Monaco--son of the beloved tenor Mario del Monaco--is a rather paradoxical figure in the irrational world of opera. In Bonn, Germany, where he does most of his work, he is celebrated--and reviled--for wildly imaginative, wildly unconventional interpretations that dare contradict the letter if not the spirit of the libretto. In New York, where he has become a favorite among Lincoln Center impresarios, he opts for the stagy realism dictated by a long and lazy American tradition.

His “Simon Boccanegra,” extravagantly decorated by Michael Scott, invokes 14th-Century Genoa with minute, picturesque fidelity. It accommodates the tangled tale of political, social and amorous intrigue with innocent flair.

At the same time, it often tramples on details of credibility and, perhaps worse, succumbs to theatrical evasion in quest of empty spectacle. A huge statue, apparently erected only so it can be toppled at climax time, obscures much of the action in the prologue. Characters exchange vital secrets while positioned miles apart on the stage. Definitions of night and day give way to obfuscation.

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Most disturbing, Del Monaco and Scott play the final scene within the closed walls of the great Council Chamber. Verdi, unfortunately, had specified a palatial locale “facing large openings through which can be seen Genoa illuminated for a celebration, with the sea in the background.”

Without those crucial openings, the dying Boccanegra’s ecstatic apostrophe to the sea becomes nonsense. So does Fiesco’s climactic verbal exchange with the choral masses, stationed outside.

The TV cameras, intelligently focused by Brian Large, can’t add exterior vistas to an interior design. They can, however, minimize other contradictions by concentrating on telling close-ups. The dramatic convolutions of this “Simon Boccanegra,” taped at performances in January, are better unraveled on the small screen than in the big house.

The microphones offer certain advantages too. Vladimir Chernov, cast in the title role, does not command the opulent, pliant tone of such definitive predecessors as Lawrence Tibbett, Leonard Warren and Piero Cappuccilli. Hardly anyone does, these days.

With a little broadcast-boosting, however, the Russian baritone dominates the great ensembles with imposing force. He enacts the Doge’s heroic agony and rage, moreover, with pathos that never precludes dignity.

His most imposing contribution comes, however, in a moment of intimacy. At the close of the recognition scene, Chernov floats the infamous F-to-F octave drop on the word figlia --daughter--with a dreamy, perfectly controlled, breathtaking pianissimo. Too bad the effect is all but ruined by the premature interruption conductor and director allow the Doge’s entering nemesis, Paolo.

The rest of the cast is strong, for the most part. Placido Domingo, trapped in ridiculously bulky armor, manages to prove that the secondary duties of Gabriele Adorno demand the services of a first-rate dramatic tenor. Kiri Te Kanawa, who replaced the chronically canceling Cheryl Studer, brings much of the same limpid grace to the music of Amelia--trills and all--that marked her memorable performance in San Francisco 20 years ago.

Robert Lloyd performs with fine, craggy authority as Fiesco, even though he lacks the deep, dark, rolling tones of a bona-fide Italianate basso (Roberto Scandiuzzi, inexplicably ignored by the New York press, came much closer to the mark at later performances). Bruno Pola is weak and wobbly as the scheming Paolo.

Levine enforces, and sustains, broad tempos in the pit. He savors the arching climaxes, but never slights lyrical indulgence in the process. The Met orchestra plays for its boss with uncommon suavity and brilliance, as always.

* “Simon Boccanegra,” sponsored by Texaco , airs tonight at 8 on KCET-TV Channel 28 and at 7 p.m. on KVCR-TV Channel 24.