A violent and crass triple stab of brass killed the gaiety. A man in black marched through the pews. As light licked his jowls, the police chief Scarpia, played by Bryn Terfel, revealed himself to the choristers and audience.
Terfel, joined by Sondra Radvanovsky as Tosca and Brian Jagde as Cavaradossi for the opera’s third and final cast of the opera “Tosca” (Jan. 9, Jan. 12, Jan. 17, Jan. 23), stole the show in what might be one of the best modern performances of Scarpia. The evil police chief Scarpia — so utterly irredeemable in his actions — can be played with camp. Cornell MacNeil, with well-coiffed hair, a powdered face and a streaming dark cloak, did this to great success in his time in the ’70s and ’80s. Camp allows for easily understood signifiers of an antagonist and is likely in line with composer Giacomo Puccini’s original intention for the opera by maintaining a divide between fiction and reality in service of the plot and audience enjoyment. Camp does not, however, engender true fear and hopelessness in the audience.
Terfel, unlike MacNeil, brought reality to Scarpia. Terfel’s brilliance is not in his moments of antagonism but rather in his absolutely irresistible attraction. His Scarpia is greasy, vacuous and egotistical, and in spite of all of this, I still found myself shamefully enraptured by his charm. Nowhere does Terfel display true kindness or charity. Yet as Terfel’s Scarpia paraded from one act to another, I found myself asking why I could not take my eyes off of him.
In his first appearance at the Metropolitan Opera in 13 years, Terfel lived up to his reputation as the greatest living performer of Scarpia. His vocal virtuosity and sheer power commanded the hall. Most impressive was his silence, with the slight snarls commandeering his face, being bewitching and repugnant. To make such an unlikable character fundamentally irresistible requires a brave and exceptional performance.
The attraction of Terfel’s Scarpia was aided by Jagde’s weak-willed Cavaradossi. Many productions of Tosca find their emotional core in the love of the opera diva Floria Tosca and the painter Mario Cavaradossi. The emotional capacity of the “Mia gelosa!” in Act 1, which renders one of the greatest love themes ever written, makes the rest of the opera only more heartbreaking as the lovers are separated.
With Jagde as Cavaradossi, however, this was not the case. The love between Cavaradossi and Tosca was simply not felt, and Jagde’s performance of the “Mia gelosa!” lacked the cathartic passion of a man madly in love. Far from the courageous and romantic Cavaradossis that have been played by such divas as Pavarotti in 1978 and Plácido Domingo in 1985, Jagde’s Cavaradossi reads as weak-willed and soft. This is not necessarily a critique, as the result was a fascinating new interpretation of Tosca. Rather than the heart of the opera focusing on Tosca and Cavaradossi as expected, Jagde’s performance caused the dynamic between Tosca and Scarpia to be the core. As weak-willed and soft, Jagde’s Cavaradossi became easily trampled by Terfel’s Scarpia.
While it’s possible to suggest that Jagde was outclassed by the pairing of Terfel and Sondra Radvanovsky, this would be an unfair assessment. Jagde musically realized his role well, save a very few moments when his voice became slightly out of time. Jagde additionally proves himself more than capable of belting, but, importantly, he chooses never to do so when singing about his love for Tosca. Almost comically, Jagde’s Cavaradossi is at his most passionate when pursuing his republican values and learning of the political advances of the French against the monarchy of Italy. Meanwhile, he remains reserved in the presence of his supposed love.
Intentional or not, Jagde’s performance raises new questions and themes by creating the complete isolation of Tosca and the indomitability of Scarpia. The vacuum of passion left by Cavaradossi, both in his love for Tosca and individual stage presence, becomes filled by Terfel’s Scarpia. Tosca, as a result, finds herself completely isolated. If Cavaradossi never truly seems in love with Tosca, it is hard to believe he will come to her rescue when Tosca is trapped by Scarpia in Act 2. This isolation affords Tosca greater agency and increases the catharsis of her “kiss” that ends Act 2.
No review of Tosca would be complete without commending Radvanovsky’s standout performance as the titular character. Much like Terfel, Radvanovsky is widely considered among the greatest living performers of Floria Tosca. Any performance of Radvanovsky as Tosca would be a treat, but her electric moments with Terfel made this production a highlight of the season. The hatred and disgust that Terfel builds up allow a rage-filled catharsis in the voice of Radvanovsky in Act 2. Much as Terfel’s Scarpia is dripping with lust, the despair of Radvanovsky’s Tosca is palpable as she realizes the reality of her situation: No one is coming to save her from the lascivious grasp of this ugly, horrible man.
In an opera of powerhouse and canonical arias, Radvanovsky’s rendition of the “Vissi d’arte” in Act 2 was the best. Leading up to the “Vissi d’arte,” Tosca is met at a crossroads of decisions that will forever change her. The only way to save her lover Cavaradossi is to either accept Scarpia’s sexual demands in what would amount to rape or attempt to murder Scarpia. Either option would irrevocably change and traumatize Tosca. Before enacting her decision, Tosca sings the “Vissi d’arte,” a last appeal to a life lived for “art” and “love” before she is permanently forced to leave this life behind. Radvanovsky tapped both into this pain and agency, building up phrases of a final dynamic catharsis before suddenly pulling back.
A production of Puccini’s “Tosca” in 2025, one of the most performed and well-known operas, has to be considered within the context of today. “Tosca” is loved by many, but why does “Tosca” matter now? With the rising popularity of right-wing authoritarianism and the fall in the faith of a republic, “Tosca” takes on added significance. The plot centers on an authoritarian police chief hunting down republican sympathizers. The despicable attractiveness of Terfel’s Scarpia brings to mind the many strong-arm populist men leading countries in the modern world. The set of “Tosca” is adorned with marvels of classical and neoclassical art that have been corrupted to service the ego of the powerful. The first act revolves around a famous Renaissance church, the second is set inside a famous Renaissance palace (Palazzo Farnese) and the third takes place atop a Roman castle (Castel Sant’Angelo). In every setting, masterworks of art attesting to the values of reason and the republic look on in shame at the abuses of power that happen before them. The clever forced-perspective set of David McVicar’s otherwise traditional production only reinforces this perversion of spaces. The stage is on a tilt, causing the world to be both figuratively and literally askew.
“Tosca” does not offer escapism or optimism in these tumultuous times. The opera is a tragedy with no happy endings. The living, breathing orchestra led by Xian Zhang reacts to the characters on stage and, more broadly, the thousands sitting in the audience each night. This communal experience of catharsis, unknowable even to a listener of Maria Callas from home, is the point of another live production of “Tosca.” We’re lucky that this particular production just so happens to be exquisite.