At -10C, I was pleased that I had only five minutes crunching over the ice and snow from my hotel to (deep breath now) The National Opera and Ballet Theatre of the Republic of Moldova for an inexplicably early 6.00pm curtain. The theatre was built in the 1950s during the recovery from the Second World War and retains its Soviet Union feel, looking a bit like a faculty of a provincial British polytechnic from the outside and trying rather too hard with the polished wood on the inside. But Moldova, then and now, has more on its mind than theatre architecture, having been caught between Russian and Ottoman Empires in the past and still wondering what to do about its separatist (Russian backed) region to the East and its relationship with big sister (and EU member state) Romania to the West.
Fortified with a glass of the superb wine in which the country specialises, I joined an audience comprising men and women of all ages (and quite a few kids) that half-filled a large auditorium for Verdi's masterpiece, Nabucco. I often struggle to fathom the economics of theatrical productions work, but with a large orchestra and a cast of eight of so principals backed by a chorus of fifty or more fabulous singers, how my seat came in at the equivalent of £6.50 wasn't easy to work out. That said, prices are low here in Chisinau, though the food is good, people are well dressed and I see plenty of BMWs, Toyotas and Mercedes on the (admittedly very poorly maintained) roads.
Nabucco sets a love triangle against the backdrop of the Jews' struggle for freedom under King Nebuchadnezzar, a story with which I was helped by a wikipedia-ripped information sheet available in English for 30 pence. Though sung in Italian with Romanian surtitles, the story was easy to follow and it doesn't really matter - because you're there for the singing.
And what singing. With a perfect balance between the voices and the instruments (something more London productions get wrong than get right), the clear, unamplified vocals wrung the emotion from the music. Tatiana Busuioc's Fenena was all high-minded loyalty and Vitali Cires invested Zaccaria with a sad dignity, providing the stabilty for the more emotional father and (not) daughter conflict. As Nabucco, Petru Racovita was terrifying, then broken, then terrifying again, filling a huge stage with a huge voice. Soprano Galina Bernaz is beautiful and evil as Abigaille, then, as she faced death, merely pitiful, the standout performance in a very impressive cast.
Highlight, inevitably for someone as new to opera as I am, was The Hebrew Slaves Chorus' (Va pensiero, sull'ali dorate), a spine-tingling combination of lamentation and defiance sung with a delicate, understated sorrow to cheers on its conclusion.
At 8.30pm, I was back in the cold with 170 years old tunes fresh in my mind.
