The opera has its faults. Its story is somewhat confusing and contains contradictions. Verdi's librettists, Salvatore Cammarano and Leone Emanuele Bardare, took a few liberties with the original story, based on the play El Trovador, and set in early 15^th Century Spain by Spaniard Antonio Garcia Gutierrez. His characters had no actual historic existence. Cammarano's changes came in part to please Verdi, who wanted a libretto that offered him " . . . originality and freedom of form, the better I shall be able to do." Cammarano died during the opera early stages of composition. Bardare, a friend, took over and made changes to the libretto as Verdi's music required.

The opera's storyline roughly consists of Leonora, a lady-in-waiting of the princess of Aragon, who is being wooed by the Count di Luna and by Manrico, the supposed son of the Gypsy Azucena. The latter is driven by two conflicting emotions, her love for her son, and the need to assuage her mother's cry for vengeance while being burned to death. She had been accused of putting the "evil eye" on di Luna's younger brother and condemned to die by di Luna's late father. All this we learn as the story progresses. Di Luna, meanwhile, is looking for his abducted brother on the deathbed orders of his father. What we very soon realize is that Manrico is actually the abducted di Luna child, raised by his abductress, Azucena.

One of the liberties taken in the opera is the change of name of Manrico's rival for Leonora. Instead of the imaginary Don Nuno of the play, we are faced with a historic Spanish aristocratic family by name of de Luna (di Luna in Italian). In history the de Lunas supported Prince Urgel (later King of Aragon), who in the opera is the leader of di Luna's enemies. Consequently, Manrico and the count di Luna should have fought on the same side. History notwithstanding, the changes resulted in a highly charged drama full of passion. So we forgive the improbable Cammarano/Verdi changes. Of course, Verdi's music matches the passion and dark emotions of the libretto to leave us with eminently memorable music, which leaves no doubt that most of the main characters will not survive.

The composer and his librettists compressed the tale into four fast-paced operatic acts. In the current production these have been combined into two acts, separated by an intermission, by director Stephen Lawless. Breaks between scenes were avoided with the aid of an acutely stark and dark set by Belgian designer Benoî Dugardyn. This was achieved without reducing the opera's action or music.

Unfortunately, Dugardyn's set is also the one element that gives the opera an undesirable farcical image aside from an oppressive glumness. It consists of what appears to be darkish brown, textured panels. They are moved constantly up and down to the point of irritation. I found myself frequently closing my eyes to enjoy the music, pretending to be listening to CBC's Saturday Afternoon at the Opera. Off stage, movement and bodies were visible through gaps where none should have been. In addition, these panels absorbed light to an extent that figures were literally sucked into the background. And everywhere on the set, but especially in the foreground, numerous swords stood upright on the stage like crosses or even tombstones. They hampered smooth action, were incongruous in many scenes, and destroyed the famous Anvil Chorus sung by the Gypsy followers of Manrico. Not that I suggest, by any means, that they needed to have anvils in front of them, but the swords offered no substitute. And, do we really need a sword hanging over Manrico as if to prophecy his doom, or flames springing from the ground when the Gypsy, Azucena, told her tale of how her mother was burned for allegedly putting the "evil eye" on di Luna's young brother? One had the feeling that the designer had seen a few too many Lord of the Ring-like movies.

A puzzle in this production was the huge, fallen cross in what would be the courtyard of Manrico's stronghold, following the battle between the two opposing parties. What did it symbolize? One almost got the feeling that the set put Christianity on trial. Why? Northern Spain (in particular the regions of Aragon and Biscay, the locale of the action) had been freed from its Muslim conquers by the mid-1200s, and the Inquisition did not start until the end of the 15^th century. This was a civil, not a religious, war.

The set was not aided by the lighting. Good lighting could have mitigated the light-absorption of the panels. Was it opening night jitters that made shadows visible where none should have been? What about the spotlights that flailed across the stage in search of the intended performer? In the dungeon scene in which Manrico attempts to sooth the restless, fearful Azucena, the lighting was a bilious green that irritated the eyes. The question one has is why did the designers find it necessary to underline the tragedy of the story ad nauseam when the music and the libretto already did that extremely well? Surely, that is overkill.

It has to be said here that this production, sets and all, came to us from its co-owners, the Los Angeles Opera and the Washington National Opera. Somehow, despite the rave reviews it received in these two cities, the set and lighting did not transfer well to the Hummingbird Centre. The costumes, however, matched the period and the characters well. Their dramatic impact would have been far greater with the right set, or better lighting.

But let me get back to the musical conception of Il Trovatore, which surely can be credited to Maestro Bradshaw. His choice of singers for the various roles proved to be the right one. Tenor Mikhail Agafonov, who has previously sung for the COC, made a virile and also sensitive Manrico. Whether he sang "Deserta sulla terra" (Lonely and unbefriended) as he comes to woo Leonora in the second scene of Act I, or the rousing stretta, "Di quella pira l'orendo foco" (That foul flame yonder raging so cruel) as he rushes away from her to save Azucena from the clutches of di Luna in what is normally Act III's final scene, there is no doubt that here is a heroic tenor of stature. Last minute stand-in, baritone Daniel Sutin, captured the Count di Luna with an energetic tone one could not help but admire. Soprano Ester Sümegi, also on a return visit to the COC, showed why she had been asked to sing the role of Leonora. Hers is a warm, confident voice that is well suited to the part. Mezzo-soprano Irina Mishura repeated the role of Azucena, which she sang previously for the COC in 1999. Hers is a fiery voice that captures the nature of the vengeful, yet emotionally torn Gypsy. Her and Agafonov's duet in the dungeon scene "Ai nostri monti" (Home to our mountains) was deeply touching.

So, while one gripes about the set and lighting, the music and the voices made this Il Trovatore a very satisfying operatic experience.