Giacomo Meyerbeer
Il Crociato in Egitto

Meyerbeer is not for everyone, definitely not, and even those who can't quite digest him often have arguments that are at least partially understandable; a "constructed" talent more than a natural one? Could be. Grandiose and verbose? Well, sometimes indeed. A bit ingratiating and occasionally coarse? He certainly didn't have Bellini's grandeur. And so on. Yet, think about this: we are talking about a composer whose legacy was a hair's breadth from total oblivion, yet today Giacomo Meyerbeer remains one of the most controversial and debated figures among aficionados of the genre; do you need any more proof to demonstrate that, however one might feel about his music, he is not at all a dusty relic and much less a footnote? Without Meyerbeer, opera would have taken a very different turn, and many masterpieces by other composers might never have existed.

But why did he, a German by origin, Italianize his name? First of all, for vocation; his idea of music and theater was quite divergent from the Teutonic taste, perfectly embodied in the early 1800s by his almost contemporary Carl Maria Von Weber. Thus, after a timid start to his career at home, he decided to move to Italy to "learn the trade," in contact with the great masters of bel canto, especially Rossini, his model par excellence (given the overwhelming success he later achieved in his French period, more than one person in Germany held it against him). He stayed here for just over a decade, building a decent reputation, until in 1824 at La Fenice, this opulent, lavish, and, above all, magnificent heroic melodrama in two acts was presented, with which he achieved the long-awaited international consecration and, consequently, also the end of the "formative" period. Why then did he decide to move the show to France? I think to distance himself from his cumbersome "masters" and to best exploit the potential of an emerging scene, much more "virgin" than the Italian one, where he could develop artistically with more freedom and establish himself as a leader, which indeed happened.

In comparison to Robert le Diable, which came six years later, Il Crociato in Egitto shows a still very "Rossinian" Meyerbeer, especially in the setup of the vocal parts and not yet innovative at a structural level; although there are already ideas from Grand Opera, fundamentally Il Crociato is a continuous sequence of arias, cabalettas, duets, and choral scenes, nothing outrageously revolutionary, but on deeper listening, the composer's stylistic personality is already clearly perceptible, in the particularly rich and elaborate orchestration, in the brilliant theatrical intuitions, much imitated subsequently, and also in the very imposing duration, about three and a half hours in an uncut performance, divided into two very long acts. Speaking of brilliant theatrical intuitions, the first scene of the opera is a beautiful, majestic chorus of slaves remembering their homeland and lost freedom; does it perhaps remind you of something? More generally, it also reminds us that Meyerbeer and Verdi were the two opera composers who more than anyone else assigned the choir a role of absolute protagonism, thus giving their works additional scenic impact and grandeur. But, besides anticipating future trends, Il Crociato also casts a glance at the past, considering that the role of the protagonist, Armando d'Orville, is the last expressly written for a male soprano, aka a castrato, something that was already considered outdated at the time and caused some controversy. However, one of the last stars of this "species," Giovan Battista Velluti, was still active, and Meyerbeer decided to write this part for his voice. Moreover, Armando is probably the first example of the typical "weak" Meyerbeerian protagonist, in the sense of being indecisive, torn between two opposite passions and therefore untypical, complex, and interesting: others would follow, from Robert le Diable to Vasco da Gama in L'Africaine.

From a dramaturgical point of view, the story is interesting because it proposes an impossible love set in the overall context of a clash between civilizations, with Saracens and Crusaders represented respectively by the figures of Sultan Aladino and Grand Master Adriano di Montfort: the remarkable thing is that they are perfectly specular characters, both alternating great nobility and generosity with moments of relentless sectarian intransigence, and neither is attributed any moral superiority over the other; Meyerbeer, who knew a thing or two about intolerance and bigotry even on a personal level, never assigned religion the salvific role it often plays in operas, instead proposing a much more prosaic and realistic vision. I mentioned Carl Maria Von Weber before, also a great and influential figure, but what is modern and current, in terms of content, in his Freischütz? I would dare say nothing, whereas Meyerbeer's production abounds with points for reflection, hidden in a triumph of grand scenes, ballets, flourishes, and special effects.

By the way, Meyerbeer is really "a lot," in many senses, and one is not always in the right mood to appreciate him, at least not in a whole opera, and in Il Crociato that creative richness and fully personal and developed compositional language typical of his French Grand Operas is still missing; as they say in jargon, here the structure is still quite formulaic, and yet this work certainly does not lack stylistic variety: first of all, it is extremely melodious and catchy, and like all of Meyerbeer's music, it possesses a Dionysian charm, immediately intoxicating. It contains moments of great sweetness (the serenade of the first act which gradually evolves into a trio, a delightful baroque reminiscence), many dramatic duets, and majestic choral scenes; absolutely masterful is the finale of the first act, with the choruses of the Crusaders and Saracens starting separately to then resonate in unison, both at the beginning of the scene, in the auspices of peace and friendship, and in the dramatic and warlike finale.

Il Crociato is an opera that demands a lot vocally: virtuosities, a slew of cabalettas; just think of Adriano, who to be credible requires a tenor with considerable vocal weight, with a "heroic" timbre and at the same time agility and coloratura skill; it's very difficult to find such a voice nowadays, and the scarcity of interpreters up to the task is a problem that also applies to much more "renowned" works of that period; Norma, Lucia di Lammermoor, Semiramide, and many others. And, of course, there's the conundrum of Armando, a role too "high" for modern countertenors, which therefore must be entrusted to a soprano en travesti, thus losing the original peculiarity of the character. To remain true to the composer's original intentions, the only option is to find a "freak of nature" like Michael Maniaci, a "natural" male soprano, a very rare case. He was entrusted with this role at La Fenice, the same theater that hosted its world premiere, in this revival dated 2007, released on DVD. As for this performance, I readily forgive the vocal limitations of the cast and the scenery, decidedly too sparse and stylized for a sumptuous opera like Il Crociato, the effort deserves applause regardless for the courage demonstrated in reviving and promoting a work of notable merit and historical value, a crucial turning point in the artistic path of this forgotten titan.