We are translators: from notes to emotion

The Gran Teatre del Liceu culminates the opera season with a title much appreciated by lovers of the genre. Adriana Lecouvreur, the most successful creation of Francesco Ciléa (1866-1950), stands out for the web of emotional relationships or liaisons dangereuses that unfold in the midst of the 18th century. The success of the actress Adriana Lecouvreur, a prominent figure of the Comédie-Française, is recreated in the opera through the use of self-referentiality ---the artifice of theater within theater---, with a visual language and codes of the era that push the spectator to the center of the stage, inviting them to participate in the most inscrutable dialectics of the heart.

All of this in a century, that of the Enlightenment, which enthrones l'esprit, the ingenuity of reason, as well as libertinism: the free-submission to the passions of the soul. The Italian Daniela Barcellona, a lyric mezzosoprano with an internationally consolidated career and multiple accolades, embodies the Princesse de Bouillon, a secondary but high-voltage role, fundamental in her function as a counter-figure to the protagonist.

--- In addition to being a reference singer, it can be said that you are a regular at the Liceu, with participations in recent productions such as Puccini's Il Trittico or Verdi's Un ballo in maschera. How does it feel to return to Barcelona?

--- Well, the truth is that in Barcelona I feel phenomenally well, how could I not... if it's my city! (Laughs). The truth is that my father was originally from Sicily, and in the area where he lived it is a very popular cognome, possibly derived from the time when the island was under Spanish domination. And speaking specifically of this city, I love it because it is very sunny, vivace. Life is good, and that is reflected in the work dynamic at the theater itself. It is always a pleasure to meet again with professionals who are like friends, and very easy to collaborate with them.

--- Apropos of the opera that brings you back to Barcelona, I don't know how pleasant ---or challenging--- it is for you to assume that role of the ultimate villain. You who seem so luminous and spontaneous, how do you do it?

--- Yes, it's a terrible role, that of the Princesse de Bouillon, and also difficult for me to get into that part. She is cattiva in a very profound way, almost without motivation, unlike other anti-heroines I have played, such as the Verdian Amneris, in Aïda. She, who is not faithful to her husband, will feel jealous of Adriana when she learns of her relationship with Maurizio.

"La Bouillon goes from zero to a hundred in an instant, without the libretto stopping to explain her reasons, as if she herself couldn't explain it"

--- Absolutely, she is very aggressive, negative. And her introductory aria ---Acerba voluttà--- already shows the sweet torture she lives, the complexity of a vehement and passionate emotional life. She goes from zero to a hundred in an instant, without the libretto stopping to explain her reasons, as if she herself could not control or explain it.

--- Perhaps a reminiscence of those reasons of the heart that "la raison ne connaît point", as Blaise Pascal said. What is clear is that, unlike other secondary characters who occasionally act as a counter-figure, like Micaela in Carmen, your character is very present throughout the opera.

--- It can be said that she weaves the fabric of Adriana Lecouvreur's story. She is a character with a very important dramaturgical weight. The second act is practically hers, and in the third she discovers Adriana's relationship with Maurizio, which will ignite her jealousy, and cause her ---already in the fourth--- to intervene with the fateful bouquet of flowers. In a way, it is the common thread, the element that had led her to discover that Adriana was Maurizio's lover (since he had given it to her in the first act, and Bouillon sees it). The princess will decide to take revenge by poisoning that same bouquet of flowers, now dry.

--- David McVicar's staging, which seems to almost archaeologically recover the visual language of the era, portrays this element realistically, not allusively or metaphorically: the symbol of beauty and fertility is transmuted into an emissary of horror and death. All of this reinforces the veristic reputation of the opera and the timelessness of the invoked feelings.

--- Undoubtedly, this staging allows us to explore and make visible human feelings that exist, existed, and will always exist. It is very traditional, faithful to the sensibility of the era in which the opera was created. The authentic recomposition is appreciated, on the other hand, in the ballet, as well as in the costumes and scenery. The atmosphere transports us to that era, with lighting that imitates candlelight. A theater has been built within a theater, something that is not usual, and which also has the merit of making the development of the plot ---let's remember that Adriana is an actress--- perfectly understandable.

"When a staging, traditional or modern, is well done, it seems to have a life of its own"

--- In some modern stagings, the message of the libretto is conveyed without problem, but in others, the very modernizing zeal causes the thread to be lost, and the audience doesn't quite connect. The truth is that, for us too, it is more complicated to represent the idea of the character if we do not have the fundamental scenic elements ---I even think of the costumes--- that reflect what is being narrated. In this staging, what we say and sing is what we do on stage. And this helps us to delve into the character and offer psychological nuances more intuitively and quickly, also in the interaction with the rest. It's like being part of a living being. When a staging, whether traditional or modern, is well done, it seems to have a life of its own.

--- This organic characterization of opera is very interesting… like a living representation, in continuous change or feedback.

--- Everything others do has consequences on oneself; that type of interaction brings naturalness to the story. Really, when this degree of understanding is achieved, it shows, the public appreciates it. It's something we also achieved with Gianni Schicchi last year, also at the Liceu. We had rehearsed so much that it was like a family. Inside that staging, anything one of us did or improvised provoked a natural reaction in the others, as in real life.

--- Hearing you speak, I inevitably return to the ancient idea of mimesis. Understood as a plausible recreation ---not literal imitation---, which awakens the affections of the participants and provokes a similar vibration in the spectators. Aristotle seems to have identified certain structural elements in the human psyche that make a representation work or not, both internally and for the audience. In the case of Adriana Lecouvreur, moreover, by making explicit the artifice of theater within theater, the spectator's immersion in the veristic reality of the plot is encouraged.

--- Absolutely, and we cannot forget the musical question. This is a very appealing opera for any singer. With music from another era ---early 20th century--- that looks even further back, it still resonates and feels familiar to us, a bit like a soundtrack. It possesses what I call in Italian fascino decadente (decadent charm), related to a bohemian and somewhat nostalgic way of writing and living, a bit on the edge of society, but without completely breaking away.

--- That fin-de-siècle malaise that can no longer hide the crisis, the split within the creator himself. The example that comes to mind is Visconti's Death in Venice…

--- Exactly, that's what I mean. Here what we have is a representation of a drama that takes place 150 years before the moment the opera is created, from the mentality of the early 20th century. It's as if from that closer era, which is not ours either, a window opens to another reality, taking a leap backward. Opera allows you to live that other era and put yourself in the place of the characters, to experience situations never seen before.

--- The magic of scenic narration makes it so that, thanks to the power of imagination, an inhibited or ignored world emerges during everyday experience; that we establish an intense connection with ourselves at the moment we live other realities.

---This is something I experienced since childhood, when I went to the theater. What I wanted was to discover a fantastic world. That's why I am against some current stagings ---the too modern ones--- that reflect what is supposedly real, everyday life. I like to think of the theater as a time machine, that lets me dream, escape, relax… and also reflect.

"I remind my students that, when they perform an aria, they must do it in such a way that, even if the listener does not know the language, they can understand what is being said through emotion"

--- More than teaching, I am motivated by sharing what I have lived, the experiences of my career not only vocal or technical, but also other types of issues ---beautiful or not so much, disappointments or victories--- that simply happen. I like to give advice on how to face practical issues ---for example, organizing trips--- or how to deal with an audition that doesn't go as one would like. I offer tools to try to understand what has happened, and how one can improve. It is, in essence, a kind of accompaniment in this work, which is what I propose with my communications or training sessions. In some, in fact, even music lovers who will not dedicate themselves to singing or acting participate, but who feel a genuine love for opera.

--- The role of art, in our times of rampant digitalization, is still relevant…

--- Of course, because art speaks directly to the soul. In a special way, music. If it has been considered a universal language, it is because it accesses the sensitive fibers, makes the most hidden parts of the soul vibrate. Regardless of the place of origin or culture, the experience of art moves. There are particular chords that create a vibration that is not processed through rational thought or logic, but that does impact the base of our being. I always tell my students that when they interpret an aria they must do it in such a way that, even if the listener does not know the language ---and, therefore, does not know what is being sung---, they can still understand. The message must arrive, we are like translators, from notes to emotion.