Tosca (2001)
Directed by Benoît Jacquot

Film Review

A film version of a major operatic work would appear to be a significant departure for French film director, Benoît Jacquot, who is perhaps best known for his minimalist social-realist dramas, such as La Fille seule (1995).  Such a move would appear even more unlikely so soon after the commercial failure of his daring adaptation of Marivaux's stage comedy La Fausse suivante, which was filmed as a theatre production (albeit with some outstanding performances).  Add to that the fact that Jacquot had only a passing interest in opera and had harboured no aspirations of filming an opera and the move would appear very unlikely.  Yet that is what happened when Jacquot took up the challenge offered by producer Daniel Toscan du Plantier to make a film version of Puccini's opera Tosca.

Jacquot's lack of familiarity with the operatic form proves to be both a blessing and a curse, as the film amply demonstrates.  On the plus side, his lack of preconceptions enabled him to bring a fresh approach to filming an opera, whilst respecting the material and his performers.  On the down side, his inexperience prevents him from being as bold as he might and his attempts to impose his own creative vision on the film are at best half-hearted, at worst an annoying distraction.

The film certainly boasts some splendid operatic performances which brilliantly capture the dramatic intensity and high tragedy in Puccini's work.  Ruggero Raimondi is magnificent as the villainous Scarpia, chillingly ruthless yet rigorously restrained, a haunting personification of calculating evil.   Roberto Alagna is no less impressive as the doomed painter Cavaradossi, but it is Angela Gheorghiu who is most spectacular in the central role of Tosca.   Gheorghiu brings a raw passion and tortured poignancy to her role which makes it harrowingly easy for the spectator to sympathise with her character's plight.

As a straight theatrical opera production, this would have been a fine work.  As a film, however, its impact is diminished by a number of gimmicks which take away more than they add.  One such gimmick is cutting between the staged opera (which is beautifully staged and photographed on spacious minimalist sets) and a sound recording session (which is filmed rather blandly in black and white).  The latter shows the opera performers (in everyday dress) synching with the film - an interesting idea but one which just does not seem to fit comfortably along side the staged opera sequences.

An even greater distraction is provided by a number of grainy colour inserts, filmed with a shaky hand-held digital camera, depicting images of locations in Italy (where the opera is presumably set).  Just why this inserts were added is a mystery - they merely break up the visual flow of the opera and leave the spectator constantly wondering what other awkward device the director is going to throw in next.  Fortunately, the calibre of the opera performances makes up for such ill-judged artistic devices and it is still possible to enjoy one of Puccini's best operas in all its passionate, heart-wrenching glory.

Film Synopsis

A painter Mario Cavaradossi conceals a political fugitive from the ruthless investigator Baron Scarpia.  His lover, the beautiful Tosca, falls into Scarpia's trap and betrays him, revealing the fugitive's hiding place.  Scarpia promises to spare Cavaradossi's life if Tosca will sleep with him.  Outraged, Tosca kills Scarpia as soon as he has authorised a fake execution and signed an order allowing her and Cavaradossi to leave the city.  Tosca hastens to her lover to let him know that they will flee once the fake execution has taken place, unaware that the evil Scarpia has double-crossed her...