Diva, unbridled
(Page 5 of 5)
From another person, perhaps, it might sound petulant to refuse to ever again play Zerlina, the small role in "Don Giovanni" that enabled her to sample New York's nightlife, because the character is "boring." From another woman, it might sound snobby to declare that she cannot enter a Victoria's Secret without spending $200.
But then Netrebko extols the virtues of shopping at Marshalls, the bargain emporium. Later, she reprises the cross-eyed, tongue-wagging face she made during rehearsals of the Lucia mad scene.
Indeed, the contradictions are what make Netrebko so fascinating. Surely, no diva would go shopping for linens at a discount store. And yet, sitting in the verdant courtyard of an apartment complex with her high-heeled sandals; calf-length, ruffled green skirt; and dark hair pulled flawlessly into a knot; she exudes presence.
It's hardly the icy air of superiority. Nor is it the hauteur of a highbrow bad girl, as if Paris Hilton had suddenly mastered the canon of Mozart librettos. It's more the unadorned projection of the fact that Anna Netrebko simply likes to have fun. And for the moment, at least, she's having fun singing opera.
"It's another life, and I like to pretend - to lead different lives. Some of my friends told me many years ago that I am more real on the stage than I am in real life," she grins. "That's funny. I don't think so, but it's nice because you know it's fake. You can play, you can suffer, you can die. You're feeling this. All these feelings are real, but you know that it will be over in one hour. And you can share this with the audience."
Already, her career has taken her to a broader world than many of her Russian predecessors ever saw. For them, the freedom with which Netrebko flits about the globe, stopping one month in Germany, the next in England, would have been only a dream during Soviet times. As with other legendary Russian artists, itinerant opera singers were kept on a short leash - occasionally emerging from the behind the veil of Soviet censorship, only to disappear from the West again. Their style was distinctive, their repertory limited to the great Russian composers - Mikhail Glinka, Modest Mussorgsky, Dmitry Shostakovich.
Netrebko, by contrast, represents the increasing globalization of that once separate artistic strain. As the Kirov has increasingly incorporated more international opera - from Mozart to Massenet - into its repertory, Netrebko has made a name for herself, not through Russian opera, but in Italian. "She represents the emergence of an international star from an ambiance that used to be nationalistic," says Mr. Bernheimer. "The roles she wants to star in are not Russian roles."
Part of that is her natural curiosity. Yet a significant aspect is simple self- preservation. "There are not that many Russian operas for my voice," says Netrebko. It is an instinct that she is only now beginning to hone - and one that could be crucial to her future.
When choosing roles, quality has always been the first consideration: whether she thinks it suits her light, lyrical voice. In other words, she was never going to don a Viking helmet, no matter how sorely she was tempted. "I love Wagner, but I can never do it," she says.
For now, she simply must be on the stage, and her success seems bounded only by her own desire. Says opera writer Kellow: "I don't think we've seen her at her peak by any means."
