Le Trouvère rediscovered?

Each year between October and November, the charming coastal town of Wexford in southeastern Ireland transforms into one of the country’s most important cultural centres, thanks to the Wexford Festival Opera. The entire town comes alive with artistic energy during this time. The festival offers three major opera productions at the O'Reilly Theatre—unexpectedly hidden behind the calm façades of a residential street—alongside four smaller-scale shows featuring young singers, a wealth of musical events scattered across the city, and even a funfair by the harbour. It's a striking burst of vitality in a town of just 20,000 inhabitants.

What makes the festival’s success even more remarkable is its longstanding mission to stage rare and lesser-known operas. However, the opening opera of this 74th edition is something of an exception: a very well-known title—but presented in a rarely performed version. While Il trovatore by Verdi is familiar to all, few know that the composer adapted the opera in 1857 for the Paris Opéra under the French title Le Trouvère.

The most obvious change from the original is the French libretto, adapted by Émilien Pacini, for which Verdi reworked the prosody. Unlike Jérusalem—Verdi’s first French adaptation, which differed greatly from its Italian origin I Lombardi alla prima crociata—Le Trouvère remains very close to Il trovatore in musical structure.

There are only minimal changes in rhythm and phrasing to accommodate the French language. The most notable additions are a ballet—featuring obligatory castanets to reflect a Spanish local colour—and a new, more expansive final scene. Instead of the Italian version’s famously brutal concision, the finale includes a reprise of the Miserere, sung offstage by the chorus, while Manrique and Azucena bid farewell to each other in a gentle, solemn atmosphere. This addition creates spatial depth and strengthens the emotional link between mother and son, making the final revelation—“he was your brother”—even more bitter and desperate than in the original.

A question of language

There are already two recent recordings of Le Trouvère: one from Martina Franca (1999) and one from Parma (2018), but both suffer from generally poor French diction—an exception being Sylvie Brunet’s Azucena in 1999. For a version with clearer, more idiomatic French, one must go back to the 1954 ORTF recording conducted by Jules Gressier. Once again at Wexford, it is disappointing to hear this French version performed in a muddled, expressionless language. The issue here is not nationality but vocal technique: many soloists sing with an overly covered tone and indistinct vowels, prioritising homogeneity of sound over clarity of language and textual expression.

Paradoxically, the most idiomatic and expressive French of the evening came from the Wexford Festival Chorus, excellently prepared by Andrew Synnott. Their voices are direct, focused, and animated by a strong connection to the text, adding substance and meaning to the French version. Their unity and energy are particularly striking in Verdi’s grand choral scenes, which demand both flexibility and rhythmic precision. Their nuanced delivery—especially in the final Miserere—showcases an impressive musical sensitivity.

Vocal and dramatic highlights

Setting aside the diction concerns (French is indeed unforgiving in such a virtuosic vocal context), the cast offers a solid vocal performance. Though reportedly unwell, Lydia Grindatto gives a moving portrayal of Léonore, her voice both luminous and supple, with a noble, emotionally charged timbre that blossoms particularly in Act IV.

Eduardo Niave, as Manrique, delivers a well-shaped and refined performance. His burnished tone lends warmth to the cantabile passages, while his dramatic power is fully on display in “Supplice infâme” (the French version of “Di quella pira”).

As Azucena, Kseniia Nikolaieva is both fascinating and divisive. Her French is heavily obscured, but her technique is bold, with dramatic leaps between registers—sometimes descending into chest voice so deep it borders on baritone. Her intense and highly individual interpretation earns the audience’s loudest applause, especially in her Act III monologue, echoing the emotional power of Meyerbeer’s Fidès.

Giorgi Lomiseli plays a somewhat stiff Luna, often disengaged from his scene partners, but when he relaxes into Verdi’s phrasing—especially in “Son regard, son doux sourire” (“Il balen del suo sorriso”)—he delivers moments of real elegance and lyricism. Luca Gallo, as Fernand, struggles with unclear diction and limited projection, exacerbated by stage blocking that places him far upstage during his main scene.

In contrast, the comprimari (secondary roles)—all drawn from the chorus—are excellent: clear diction, expressive delivery, and vibrant stage presence, with Conor Pendiville’s Ruiz standing out in particular.

Francoist Spain and Goya-esque shadows

Ben Barnes’ staging transposes the action to Francoist Spain, portraying Luna and his allies as fascists and Manrique’s group as anarchist revolutionaries. While the concept is not especially novel, the execution is high quality, though it could have benefitted from more detailed character direction.

Liam Doona’s set design is clever and adaptable, facilitating smooth scene changes, with lighting by Daniele Naldi and Paolo Bonaface playing a vital role in shaping the atmosphere: a blood-red backdrop, flickering firelight, ominous shadows, and striking chiaroscuro moments lend a Goya-inspired, resolutely Spanish visual tone to the production.

Marcus Bosch at the helm

What ultimately stood out most in this production was the surprisingly dynamic and incisive conducting of Marcus Bosch. While the Wexford Festival Orchestra may not be the most polished ensemble technically, the commitment of the musicians is beyond doubt. The string section, with minimal vibrato, plays with sharp energy; the winds are characterful, and the percussion section is uncompromising.

Bosch’s brisk tempos never allow the drama to drag—everything breathes, moves, and builds with a keen sense of dramatic urgency. His interpretation finds the perfect balance between French sonic clarity and Italian emotional intensity.

Under his baton, Le Trouvère regains its boldness—nervy, luminous, and wild. Fully alive once again.