‘Who’s conducting?’
‘Harnoncourt.’
‘Aha. Long evening, then.’
This little exchange with a musician
friend on the previous evening should have alerted me, but I was still
unprepared for quite the kind of slowness which we experienced at this
performance: four hours and ten minutes is the norm for Wagner or Strauss,
but for Mozart’s ‘Dramma giocoso in due Atti?’ Oh well, what’s a bit
of muttering ‘This is supposed to be a minuet, not a dirge!’ through
gritted teeth, when so much else is the real thing? Whatever indignities
Salzburg may have inflicted upon ‘Die Entführung,’ this ‘Don Giovanni’
does Mozart proud with a production which looks fabulous (as well as
actually making sense) and some of the finest singers I have ever heard
in these roles.
As the Vienna philharmonic give
us the overture – beautifully if lugubriously – we feast our eyes upon
a huge representation of five lissom lovelies, carefully chosen to represent
a wide range of skin colours, reclining seductively in their gorgeously
lacy hosiery – I looked in vain for the name of ‘Wolford’ amongst the
sponsors. That languid, static feeling is replicated in the action,
since no one seems to exert themselves very much, certainly not Thomas
Hampson as the Don, who strolls through the role in his by now trademark
imperial purple, just being ‘der Hampson’ with his air of hauteur and
clear personal belief in his own irresistibility to the ladies. This
may come as a surprise to him, but just as women over the age of about
45 become invisible to most men, so most men over that age are really
a bit pathetic when they try on all that ‘ageless charm’ bit, simply
coming across as old roués. The ladies come to him, is the implication
– well, they might for some of the singing, but it’s fairly varied at
the moment. Of course, there are very few baritones around who can caress
a line like ‘Là ci darem la mano’ as seductively as he does,
and his singing of the Serenade (mostly given in total darkness – extremely
effective) was quite beautiful, but there’s more to the role than that:
‘Fin ch’ han dal Vino’ was lacklustre, and his exchanges with Leporello
needed much more of a sense of conflict. Above all, there’s nothing
risky about this Giovanni, either in his singing or his characterization.
Ildebrando d’Arcangelo’s Leporello
is well known to London audiences, and he sings with suppleness and
acts with as much vigour as the production allows: his ‘Catalogue’ aria
was neatly rather than excitingly sung, all the excitement being in
what was going on behind him - a series of stunning tableaux depicting
women in various guises of vulnerability, from a society belle through
a young woman shaving her legs to, shockingly, a white-clad little girl
with a skipping rope. The transition here from aria to following scene
was brilliantly done, with the final tableau of wedding-dressed brides
becoming Zerlina’s and Masetto’s party: the costumes here, as indeed
throughout, were inspired – I wanted to wear almost every dress, and
how often can one say that – I would tear up most of what I normally
see on stage and give it to my cleaner for dusters.
The veteran Kurt Moll’s Commendatore
was effectively staged, his blood shocking against the white walls in
Act 1, and at the end his sudden presence, black-tied, at Giovanni’s
dinner table provided the frisson it so rarely does. His voice may not
quite be what it was when I heard him as Osmin, but he still knows how
to phrase a line and give it meaning. Luca Pisaroni’s Masetto was a
fully rounded character, not too much of the blockhead and he sang his
music with gusto. The Ottavio of Christoph Strehl is very much a work
in progress: I was keen to hear him after his superb Walther von der
Vogelweide at a London concert ‘Tannhäuser,’ and his is a genuinely
lovely voice although rather small for this house and as yet missing
some subtlety. The director sees Ottavio as a petulant youth who finds
it hard to keep up with what’s required of him, which has some foundation
in the music although the best Ottavios bring out something else in
the part, namely the selfless nature of that true love which forms the
opposite to Giovanni’s soulless adventures. Strehl may have a little
way to go, but his voice is lovely and he is a very musical singer with
all the right instincts: ‘Il mio Tesoro’ was eloquently delivered with
only a trace of strain, and I look forward to hearing more of him.
And so to the women, who were
simply the best trio I have ever heard on stage in this opera. There
are plenty of great recordings, but one so rarely finds all three parts
being sung with such genuinely Mozartean style. Melanie Diener is a
wonderful Elvira: her voice is absolutely thrilling from top to bottom,
her shimmering high notes without a trace of sourness or strain, and
her mezza voce caressingly beautiful: her ‘Mì tradi’ was a tour
de force of passion, vulnerability and simply wonderful tone – for me,
this was the performance of the year. The Armenian-Canadian soprano
Isabel Bayrakdarian was in ideal Zerlina: making her Salzburg debut,
she has a creamy, mellifluous voice with bright, even projection, and
her acting is unaffectedly spirited.
Anna Netrebko is one of those
artists behind whom is a huge publicity machine, with DG displaying
her lovely countenance all over the city, but as is too rarely the case,
she actually does live up to the hype. Here is a young lady who sings
like Rita Hunter and looks like Rachel Weisz – truly, and what more
do you want? Both ‘Or sai’ chi l’onore’ and ‘Non Mì Dir’ were
sung with gleaming tone and eloquent phrasing, and the ‘Forse un giorno’
cabaletta was beautifully articulated, each note placed with stunning
accuracy. As yet, her acting is rudimentary, although she does more
than many Annas to convince you of her character’s sincerity, and she
looks eye-wateringly beautiful in her costumes, especially that fabulous
suit with the ruched hem: she has plenty of time to grow into a more
rounded stage character, however, but for now the voice has it all –
buoyantly floated high notes, warm, steady middle register, exquisitely
shaped phrasing: this choosy audience gave her a huge ovation after
‘Non mì dir,’ which would have been deserved for the cabaletta
alone. Brava.
The production has its detractors,
but unlike, say, the recent one at Covent Garden, it allows the narrative
to unfold without any daft extrapolations, and most of the scenes are
staged with an eye for colour and a feeling for detail: best of all,
the singers are allowed to sing without having to manage any idiotic
business, yet at the same time there is very little in the way of mere
‘stand and deliver.’ I could see the point of the groups of ladies in
varying kinds of underwear, now delectably svelte, now haggardly aged
– after all, ‘Don Giovanni’ is partly about what the vicious do to the
vulnerable, and this at least was made abundantly clear in those scenes.
The party was superbly done, as was the ‘graveyard’ scene, and my only
real objection was to the lack of any food in evidence as the Don and
his henchman awaited their guest.
Musically speaking, the slowness
detracted from many of the more sparkling moments: it is, after all,
supposed to be a comedy despite the dark nature of the protagonist.
However, Harnoncourt gave the singers the kind of loving support which
is so rare in the opera house, with the arias shaped so as to allow
them to breathe and to develop their character, and there was much beautiful
playing to savour, especially from the ‘cellos and Cor Anglais.
It’s easy to be swayed by the
Festival atmosphere in such a place as this, a fact well known and indeed
exploited by many artists who more or less confine their big appearances
to such places in the certain knowledge that they will have a much easier
ride – in critical terms – than in a more ruthlessly discriminating
environment – witness the absurd adulation given to certain singers
at the Edinburgh Festival and contrast it with their reception at, say,
the Wigmore Hall – but this performance of ‘Don Giovanni’ would please
the most discerning of Mozart lovers, especially in terms of the singing
of the ‘Three Ladies,’ and certainly made the current ROH production
look amateurish by comparison.
Melanie Eskenazi
Title: Don Giovanni
Copyright: Hansjörg Michel
1. Kurt Moll
2. Thomas Hampson, Melanie Diener
3. Anna Netrebko, Thomas Hampson