First time I've seen "La Traviata."  I've never been much 
attracted to whores with a heart of gold (Though I suppose
this could have been a better class of people in the 19th
century).  And that goes double for whores with hearts of gold
who are dying of tuberculosis.  I suppose if they were dying
of syphilis they would be somewhat more interesting.  And 
given the literary conventions of the day, their real-life 
models may have been - in literature the whores were dropping
like flies from tuberculosis, but only males were going mad,
cursing God, and dying of syphilis, which seems unlikely from
an epidemiological point of view.

Anyway, I found myself more interested in Germont, Alfredo's
father, than in the two lovers.  I can't quite put myself in
his place and make it work.  Oh sure, I could picture in 
myself the degree of parental certainty in the efficacy of a
more normal lifestyle in promoting happiness that leads him to
put his two cents in toward destroying the present happiness of
Alfredo and Violetta.  The thing I can't picture is that he 
tackles the problem by interviewing the live-in whore.  I can
only picture myself talking to the errant child himself.  But
perhaps Germont (or Verdi) has a more realistic picture of 
probable results.  He actually succeeds in convincing Violetta
that she is bad for Alfredo, and should get out of his life 
because she loves him.  Whereas the outcome of an interview 
between me and an erring child would be that said child would
become incensed at the interference, tell me to go to Hell, 
and both of us would go away feeling just awful, but there 
would be no change in actual behavior.  (Isn't that the way
families are supposed to work?)  Anyway, it is clear that 
Germont loves his son, cares greatly what happened to him, and 
is only attempting to destroy his life out of the purest motives.

As for Violetta and Alfredo themselves, they are a pair of jejune,
idiotic hotheads who aren't very good at communicating with each
other.  Borrrriiinng.  The only interest there was that Violetta
had such a strong and vivacious soprano, that I kept wondering if
she would be able to perish believably in the last act.  She 
managed to make it fairly convincing by dropping in the occasional
spoken line, as if too debilitated to sing.  The singing voice 
remained strong and vibrant to the end.  (And Germont was there to
bid her adieu.)