Umberto Giordano
Siberia

So, going by feeling, one might imagine that after Andrea Chenier and Fedora (the latter, I admit, still falls under my "misses"), Umberto Giordano had already given his best, especially considering that with Siberia, the opera that immediately follows these two great successes, he continues on the "safe" path of sentimental drama instead of renewing himself with a completely different subject. Well, Giordano was neither as eclectic as Pietro Mascagni nor as visionary as Antonio Smareglia, but he knew his "craft" perfectly well and with Siberia he proved to be capable of experimenting, introducing new elements in his context, the most sentimental aspect of verismo. And he did it with a vibrant opera, full of color, certainly one of the most remarkable and characteristic works of that artistic scene and historical period, now forgotten without an apparent reason.

There are many interesting things to say about Siberia, not only regarding the use of melodies and vocal harmonies typical of the Slavic tradition; for example, the libretto is an original subject by Luigi Illica, not directly based on a previous literary source; the librettist's original idea was to incorporate political elements of the drama; Giordano, who evidently did not want a Chenier “in Russian sauce” however imposed his own idea, namely that of a story based solely on two elements: passion and an unprecedented setting. From a dramaturgical point of view, while not inventing anything new, Siberia offers, through its characters, original interpretations of old clichés: Gleby, yet another exemplar of the numerous lineage of "villainous baritones," in reality does not possess the ruthless malevolence of Barnaba in La Gioconda or Scarpia in Tosca, he is a character more comical than dramatic, his motive is pure and simple greed and his revenge does not go beyond slander. On the other hand, Stephana, the heroine, who starts from a situation similar to that of Violetta Valery in La Traviata, has no inner conflict, immediately leaves the gilded cage of her life as a courtesan to pursue love, not in a villa in the French countryside but amidst the hardships and deprivations of a labor camp in Siberia; she is a strong, vital character, and precisely for this, her ending cannot be the same as Gioconda, Cio-Cio San, Tosca, Elsa and many others.

The three acts of this opera are almost three independent musical discourses, titled respectively the Woman, the Lover, and the Heroine but, in addition to representing the various shades of Stephana's character, in each of them there is a piece of Russia immediately recognizable and still present today: the glamour of Petersburg in the first, the cold, hostile and ruthless environment in the second, the popular simplicity, devotion, and ephemeral spring beauty in the third. An opera in which the setting plays a decisive role, therefore, very melodious and full of very successful and captivating dramatic and musical insights. For example, instead of an instrumental prelude to open, there is a short chorus, mournful and distant, which would almost appear to be a false start given that the first act soon takes a much more lively direction, in an atmosphere of apparent lightness similar to that of the incipit of Madame Butterfly (presented in 1904, a year after Siberia); and this first act can also be considered as a real prologue, whose primary function is to introduce the characters and lay the foundation for the subsequent development of the drama. Gleby, for example, is presented with "O bella mia", a morning serenade (or, more simply, matinée) with choral accompaniment, which offers some classic Italian melody, delightful and somewhat old-fashioned, while very effectively highlighting the oiliness of the character; this, of course, can only be understood by listening to it in its specific context, never forget that extrapolating operatic pieces can create horrible monstrosities, "Nessun dorma" teaches us. Far more sincere and full of lyrical momentum is "Nel suo amore rianimata" the "cavatina" of Stephana, a short aria, as often happens in verismo, supported by a radiant string accompaniment; it is the song of a woman who discovers her true nature and surrenders to it body and soul, unconditionally.

However, the story quickly takes a tragic turn, and it is with the austere and imposing orchestral prelude that opens the second act that the real Siberia begins: the elegant sitting room in Petersburg is now a distant memory, replaced by open spaces (to which the music adapts by assuming a character not only more dramatic but also more majestic, with brass in the foreground) harsh and inhospitable, and the sufferings of those condemned to forced labor, expressed in a chorus that, at least as an idea, somewhat recalls "O welche lust" in Fidelio by Beethoven, but in a more synthetic form, without the hopeful openings of the latter and in a lower pitch; quiet start and a slow crescendo, of very strong emotional charge. And in the midst of this desolation bursts Stephana; love that blossoms in the midst of adversity, which in Andrea Chenier is summarized and told in a single aria (what an aria, though...) here, roles reversed, is celebrated in a long, sublime duet, in which "Orride steppe", a romanza full of dark and deeply evocative epic, the splendid lyrical pinnacle of Vassili's role, the male protagonist of the opera, is inserted. I would say, with almost absolute certainty, that the second act of Siberia, so intense, brief, emotionally overwhelming, represents the absolute pinnacle of all of Umberto Giordano's production.

The spring and bucolic idyll that opens the third act is interrupted by the reappearance on stage of Gleby, which reconfirms the original and contradictory aspect of his part; it is he who, in fact, triggers the tragic finale, but indirectly, without a premeditated plan of revenge. Simply, the prospect of a return to the old life is brusquely rejected by Stephana, and his reaction is limited to a comical, highly catchy aria, "La conobbi quand'era fanciulla", which has no effect other than to provoke a momentary friction between the two protagonists, immediately resolved. The last scene is opened by a suggestive dance played by a small orchestra of balalaikas; Stephana and Vassili try to exploit the festivities to escape from the kazerm, following the path indicated by the ex-pimp; Stephana is however mortally wounded by a guard and her last words are: "Siberia, holy land of tears and love, and now, on your heart, with you! Here! Always!"; in the meantime, the chorus of prisoners resounds in the distance: the cycle continues relentlessly.

When, in 1905, two years after its premiere, Siberia was presented in Paris, it achieved enormous success with both critics and the public, so much so that a French-language version was even produced, but even this did not save this beautiful opera, one of the most creative and original of the verista repertoire, from undeserved oblivion; the only available recording, fortunately complete and excellently interpreted, dates back to 1973; it is something, but the ideal for Siberia and many other Italian operas of that period would be a renaissance similar to that which in the 1950s led to the rediscovery of many masterpieces by Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, and early Verdi; "small" detail, however, at the time there was a certain level of cultural scene and interpreters.