Guiseppe Verdi, Italy, born 1813, died 1901

Some Operas he wrote during his lifetime:

Nabucco, La Traviata, El Trobadore, Rigoletto, Aida, Fuerzo del Destino, Falstaff (his last)

Here is part of his life story...covering 1847-1871)


Following Nabucco’s wild success, Verdi spent the next decade writing prolifically and battling the artistic censorship of the Austrian rule. The fight against censorship was not the only rebellion Verdi became known for during this period. Around 1851, when he was 38, Verdi became romantically involved with Giuseppina Strepponi, a soprano who had been the jewel of many of his operas, from Nabucco onward. He and Giuseppina lived together (a highly scandalous practice in the eyes of many) for nearly nine years before finally marrying in 1857. It was around the time of his blossoming romance with Giuseppina that Verdi wrote and premiered Rigoletto—one of his greatest masterpieces. Rigoletto ushered in a new era for Verdi’s music as he created one masterwork after another: Il Trovatore, La Traviata, and La forza del destino, to name a few. By this time, Verdi had become so famous, it was said that a letter addressed simply to “G. Verdi, Italy” would make it into the composer’s postbox. Verdi’s glorious music alone would have been enough to turn him into a veritable rock star of the era, but it was his unyielding nationalistic pride that made him a true icon to the Italian people, not only musically, but politically. At the close of each performance of a Verdi opera, the house shook with shouts of “Viva Verdi!” The shouting would continue until the crowd was forced from the building at which point, they would take to the streets, still shouting again and again into the night “Viva Verdi!” They weren’t merely wishing long life on their national hero. “Viva Verdi” had become a secret code for the anti-Austrian current that was surging through the Italian people. What they were actually shouting was “Viva V.E.R.D.I.”, or “Long live Vittorio Emanuele, King of Italy.”





This painting of Verdi dates to 1886, when he was 73 years old. A certain panache, one could say, in his whole appearance.



La Traviata, as produced by Victoria Opera, was rather - different.

Set in 1950 (the famous opening party showed a Near Year's bash for the dawn of 1950) it featured fashions of the early sixties...flaring mid calf skirts, very high heels, real fur stoles, business suits and ties.

I found it somewhat distracting, as I was almost expecting the ladies to be pushing vacuum cleaners; telephones and televisions to make their appearance in the decorations to stay within the spirit of the revised times. I wore those clothes in my distant youth!

The social conventions of the late fifties and sixties, being the dawn of Love and Peace, especially 'Free Love', would make the opera plot almost implausible.

The 18th century, the era of the original version, entertained somewhat hypocritical ideas about social acceptability of unconventional amorous relations, but it rendered the tragic plot revolving around courtesans and family honour understandable. The same goes for Violetta's cause of unhappy death - she succumbs to tuberculosis. I think medical science of the sixties would have been able to rescue her, which would have changed the tragic operatic ending to a rather 'made for TV' happy one.

Set in the fifties (as per program notes) and looking like the sixties (as per costumes) it seems a bit odd to me.

By the sixties, the somehwat piquante idea of a woman as an adored and revered courtesan had morphed into either that of a prostitute or sex worker, both with a lot less glamour associated with it.

The notion of an 'illegitimate' significant other 'dating' one family member, ruining wedding plans of another, may not have even raised a single eyebrow.

Talking about raised eyebrows...I wonder what good old Guiseppi, may he rest in peace and not turn in his grave, would have thought of having an elegant 18th Century Soiree given by the rich and infamous, re-invented as a politically correct party replete with glam and glitter transvestites, men in undershorts and socks with supporters, and ladies in black bras and undies, all touting coloured balloons and definitely acting rather inelegantly? And why any of these 1950ish party goers ever would bother challenging the hero to a duel, just because he wasn't particularly nice to the heroine, escapes me. Someone would be calling 911 for sure, before they all go out and assist in the outdated ritual.

The music, however, is glorious. A diminuitive soprano sang the lead of Violetta. Her performance brought the audience to it's feet, shouting bravos until hoarse...siempre vivre!!