In
a warmly inviting new staging of this classic,
director Marthe Keller shows that she can
deliver a straightforwardly conceived Don
Giovanni that is probably as satisfying
as they come. In interviews prior to the premiere,
she said she was not aiming for anything radical,
since "Nothing can shock me more than
the evening news." Understood, and this
production, while hardly stodgy, won’t cause
too much argument, I predict. Of course, it
helps to have a cast that is mighty fine,
someone like James Levine in the cockpit,
and production colleagues equal to her vision.
Michael
Yeargin’s handsome set, evocatively lit by
Jean Kalman, has a series of massive, burnt
sienna brick walls from floor to ceiling,
each section capable of parting down the center
in quiet precision. (For some reason I kept
recalling Ken Russell’s towering sets for
his film, The Devils, although the
two productions couldn’t be more different.)
In the first scene, an enormous staircase
at left allows a woman to hurl Giovanni down
the steps, and later a strategically placed
window on the back wall gives him a vantage
point from which to eye potential conquests.
Finally, a balcony on the right wall comes
in handy when Giovanni and Leporello later
decide to confuse Donna Elvira a bit.
René
Pape arguably stole the evening as Leporello,
with some incisive singing, terrific in-your-face
theatrics, and comedic invention that must
have been just lying dormant in his recent
Schubert recital (fine though that was). When
he and Thomas Hampson exchange disguises,
it is not only hilarious watching Leporello
impersonate Giovanni, but equally funny watching
Pape try to mimic Hampson, in what
I imagine as friendly kidding around between
two singers who might be seen afterward enjoying
a few beers together. And in an imaginative
bit of musical business in Act II,
when Leporello first sees the Commendatore,
the frightened Pape stomps off with stiff,
percussive steps, his boots landing precisely
off the beats, and getting yet another
laugh in the process.
I really
didn’t see anything not to enjoy in the casting.
Hei-Kyung Hong made a delicious Zerlina, wearing
a sort of slightly dotty Snow White costume
in pale yellow chiffon and lipstick-red high
heels that seemed to be constantly waving
in the air, but there was nothing dotty about
her gorgeous singing. Ildar Abdrazakov made
an endearing Masetto, and in one scene topples
downstage with impressive physical nonchalance.
Anja Harteros received one of the loudest
ovations of the evening thanks to her nimble,
elegant work, as did Christine Goerke and
Gregory Turay, who seemed unfazed by some
of Levine’s faster speeds during some of their
more note-heavy passages.
In
one of the evening’s more vivid conceptions,
the Don’s confrontation with the ghost of
the Commendatore (Philip Ens) was separated
by a huge pane of glass as Hampson extended
his hand to match his victim’s on the other
side. With Ens sounding monolithically stern,
snow began to fall – some might see ashes
swirling – that soon escalated into a blizzard
as he and the window descended into hell,
perhaps imagined here as icy, bitter isolation.
I have
to add that I’m probably not the best person
to write about this piece, since until last
night I don’t recall ever seeing a production
of this work. More to the point, while I respect
the score tremendously, my ears will probably
never welcome it as they do Berg’s Lulu
or Wozzeck. But then I’m a bit strange.
Bruce
Hodges
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