It is difficult for us to imagine today how revolutionary La traviata must have seemed to contemporary audiences. Today it is a standard repertory item, and most of us are familiar with its tunes and more famous dramatic moments. But considering the traditions of Italian opera as exemplified in the operas of the bel canto period which preceded the appearance of Verdi's masterpiece, La traviata could not be more different. Perhaps the greatest difference is the tinta or color of the piece: whereas most Italian operas of the period were given to grandiosity, Verdi's 1853 opera has an almost chamber-like texture favoring intimacy over bombast. Listen to the prelude, for instance, which is meant to be played by the strings of the orchestra as softly as possible. This is a terribly difficult moment to bring off because it is so exposed and so obviously calculated to produce a special effect. But it perfectly introduces a story about flawed, fragile human beings and sets the audience up for a tragedy that will unfold in the enclosed Parisian settings of salon, country house and bedroom.
Of course, the opera has a large enough number of 'hit' tunes to rival even Bizet's Carmen. Verdi knew how to use a tune, especially to carry the action of the drama. The carefree, swaggering nature of the drinking song in Act I perfectly characterizes the nature of the party at hand. Through the use of sheer melody, the duet Un dì felice establishes the two very different characters of Alfredo and Violetta: Alfredo ardent and lyrical, Violetta (at least at this point in the drama) flighty and restless. And the glorious Amami, Alfredo, used as the basis for the orchestral prelude, returns in Violetta's vocal line as she leaves the country house in Act II, a particularly telling instance of Verdi's use of thematic reminiscence.
Verdi's sensitivity to text (and sub-text!) is apparent throughout the drama. The perfect example is the elder Germont's duet with Violetta, an extraordinary seven-movement piece which charts the heroine's psychological arc from indignant rage to selfless acceptance of her fate. Simultaneously, the duet follows Germont's movement from stern, protective father to consoler and friend. Knowing how demanding Verdi was on his librettists, it is not far-fetched to believe that these humanly true depictions of the characters' emotional journeys were dictated by the composer himself in order to have something substantial to develop musically. The music supports the characters' development in every way, making this one of the most perfect scenas in all opera.
Add to these attributes the use of dance music as accompaniment to conversation in Act I, the concertato at the end of Act III, (initiated by Alfredo's tossing of the money in Violetta'sface, a shocking coup de theatre for the time), the reminiscence of love duet music during the final scene and the false recuperation of the heroine just before her death, and you have an opera whose music and text are perfectly intertwined, a model for all composers to follow. There is simply no end to the glories of La traviata, and its popularity is well deserved.