|
Back
Don Giovanni’s Inferno Berlin
Deutsche Oper
09/05/2024 - & September 11, 14, 18, 2024
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Don Giovanni, K. 527
Flurina Stucki (Donna Anna), Maria Motolygina (Donna Elvira), Meechot Marrero (Zerlina), Mattia Olivieri (Don Giovanni), Tomaso Barrea (Leporello), Kieran Carrel (Don Ottavio), Manuel Fuentes (Masetto), Patrick Guetti (Il Commendatore)
Chor der Deutschen Oper Berlin, Orchester der Deutschen Oper Berlin, Thomas Richter (chorus master), Andrea Sanguinetti (conductor)
Roland Schwab (stage director), Piero Vinciguerra (sets), Renée Listerdal (costumes), Fabio Barettin (lighting), Silke Sense (choreography)
(© Bettina Stöss)
Don Giovanni is a theme that has aroused the great minds of western literature. From Tirso de Molina to Molière, and from Byron, Pushkin, Tolstoy, E.T.A. Hoffmann, Camus, Kierkegaard, Shaw and Michael Haneke to film director Joseph Losey, they and others have created lasting works based on the Don Juan myth. This myth, with that of Faust, has been one of the most popular in Western thought and literature. Perhaps it’s because they both approach such themes as life’s fleeting nature, the desire for immortality and the rebellion against God for making youth and beauty ephemeral. In contemporary popular culture, with God no longer sovereign, vampires and their eternal youth have replaced these iconic allegories.
In staging Don Giovanni, the key is in understanding the rake’s driving force. Why is he addicted to endless conquests? If the question isn’t asked, we can’t hope for a coherent production, despite a plethora of brilliant ideas. This may be the stumbling block in this otherwise stimulating conception directed by Roland Schwab.
Schwab and set designer Piero Vinciguerra recently caught my attention with their intelligent staging of Puccini’s Il trittico in Essen. Their Don Giovanni, despite the aforementioned proviso, did not disappoint.
This “opera of operas,” as described by Wagner, was among the most stimulating I’ve experienced in terms of staging. Schwab chose to present an overly “macho” Don Giovanni, one for whom seduction is akin to scoring in sports. The game of preference for this seducer is golf, a gentleman’s sport and an individualistic one at that. Schwab sees the Don as a mafia don, surrounded by acolytes who cheer and adulate him, deriving from him their own validation.
The overture opened with a well-choreographed ensemble of two dozen black‑suited men, each brandishing a golf club in a geometrically virile mise en place. An obvious notion is the golf club as an extension of the male sexual organ. When the first scene started with Leporello’s “Notte e giorno faticar,” and subsequently the exchange between Don Giovanni and his servant, one could not tell who in the assembly of black‑suited men was Leporello or Don Giovanni, alluding to the notion that predation of women is simply a manifestation of general masculinity.
In the first hour, Schwab and Vinciguerra chose mostly to dispense with sets, instead using the army of Don Giovanni acolytes to give a sense of place and to express motivation and mood. In his catalogue aria, Leporello had no book compiling his master’s conquests but rather a plastic garbage bag containing notes of each conquest. Obviously, this is Schwab’s way of indicating the low value placed on the conquests. Leporello narrates Don Giovanni’s adventures in the presence of the black‑suited men who constantly harass Elvira.
During Zerlina and Masetto’s wedding, the costumes were evocative of 1920s rural Spain (or present day retro conservative). The female guests were dressed in virginal white, as were the groom’s closest male companions. Don Giovanni and his men descended onto the wedding like a swarm of predators, using their golf clubs to harass the women. Prior to her duet, “Là ci darem la mano”, Zerlina is pushed to the floor and her legs suggestively splayed with golf clubs.
What was truly astounding was Schwab’s staging of the Zerlina-Don Giovanni duet: as the dreamy Zerlina sings her lines, Giovanni is singing his lines to Elvira and not Zerlina. The enterprising Giovanni is multi‑tasking his seductions, a highly provocative notion. A seducer usually concentrates on the potential victime du jour and does not waste energy on already conquered women. In fact, in Da Ponte’s libretto, he’s constantly trying to escape her. The motivation behind Schwab’s change, however, is never explained.
In the finale of Act I, Vinciguerra’s sets are alarming. In lieu of a posh palace, Giovanni’s dwelling is nightmarish, a modernized version of Hieronymus Bosch’s visions of Hell. This is Schwab’s explanation that Giovanni’s life, despite constant stimulation and abundant pleasure, is hellish. A sinister machine infernale is centrestage. It’s fed with bodies of women, Giovanni’s conquests, and it’s driven by emaciated men in perpetual motion, alluding to Sisyphus’s fate. Giovanni may indulge in perpetual lust, but eternity lasts a long time and is not an enviable fate.
In Act II, Giovanni has set his eyes on Elvira’s pubescent young maid and plans to seduce her by disguising himself as his servant and by having Leporello dress as himself, to occupy Elvira. The scene is done quite well, avoiding predictability, evoking a high degree of sang‑froid only possible with repeated practice. When Giovanni, dressed as Leporello, confronts Masetto and other peasants determined to kill the nobleman, he sweet‑talks them into submission. This is a clear allusion to how the nobility (updated to today’s government and media) render the masses obedient on social and political issues.
Meanwhile, Leporello, disguised as Giovanni, is trying to escape Elvira. Anna, Ottavio, Zerlina and Masetto enter through a door with the inscription by Dante “Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate” (abandon all hope, ye who enter). The same door was used to receive the guests in the finale of Act I. Are these protagonists already swallowed into Don Giovanni’s sordid hell? Given the opera’s ending, apparently not. So why invoke La divina commedia’s Inferno?
Donna Anna’s Act II “Non mi dir” is set in a depressing space full of debris from Don Giovanni’s universe: black plastic bags, rags and corpses. A repeating flashing inscription in the background reads: “Chi son io, tu non saprai” (who I am, you will not know) to indicate Anna’s distance from and lack of interest in Ottavio.
It is said that Mozart’s conception of the three women in Don Giovanni represent the three facets of womanhood: Donna Anna is a soprano drammatico; Donna Elvira, a soprano lirico; and Zerlina, a soprano leggero. The first is the haughty sheltered aristocrat; the second, an independent, intellectual noblewoman (she travels solo from Burgos, and her arias indicate a self awareness); and the third, a simple peasant. In some productions, Zerlina is sung by a mezzo to indicate an earthy woman.
The two noblewomen were sung by two amazing sopranos: Donna Anna by Switzerland’s Flurina Stucki, and Donna Elvira by Russia’s Maria Motolygina. Their performances would have been reason enough to attend the performance. Stucki’s rendition of the Act I “Or sai chi l’onore” was breathtaking. Flawless technique, intensity and authenticity marked her portrayal. There’s no ambiguity: Anna was haunted by the memory of her encounter with Don Giovanni, which was consensual, not rape. Her Act II aria, “Non mi dir”, was appropriately cold and melancholic. This woman has tasted the real deal, cannot settle for insipid Ottavio, and wonders how she will love again. This contradicts what seemed like Schwab’s view of Don Giovanni as a brutish “macho” man. Les mystères de l’amour!
Maria Motolygina was a spectacular Elvira. Though the role is usually performed by a lyric soprano, and Anna, a heavier spinto voice, Motolygina’s voice was even more powerful than Stucki’s. Despite her absolute ease with her higher register and her total control, she managed to convey vulnerability throughout the opera. Her “Mi tradì” was the evening’s high point.
Likewise, the two men portraying Don Giovanni and Leporello were glorious. Both are Italian, sing with exquisitely clear diction, are handsome and endowed with warm baritone voices. Mattia Olivieri and Tomaso Barrea are energetic enough to cope with Schwab’s demands on stage. That they are of similar stature made the Act II mutual travestimento convincing. Olivieri was utterly consumed with the role from beginning to end. His interpretation of the serenade “Deh vieni alla finestra” would have seduced anyone! Barrea’s innate comic verve saved this rather uncomical mise en scène – no minor feat.
Puerto Rican soprano Meechot Marrero was an earthy Zerlina, less nubile than the usual peasant girl. The role is usually sung by a soubrette soprano leggero with a bland voice that sounds like a child. Not so with Marrero, a sensual woman, not a child bride, almost at par with the two noblewomen, Anna and Elvira. Was this a casting coincidence or a deliberate choice?
Anglo-German tenor Kieran Carrel was a stylish Ottavio who sang his Act I aria with elegance. Deprived of his Act II aria, he left less of an impression than he normally would have. Perhaps he conveyed the nobleman’s bland personality too well. Too bad, as his voice is pleasant and his style elegant. One would have loved to hear him in “Il mio tesoro.” Spanish bass Manuel Fuentes and his American counterpart Patrick Guetti, as Masetto and Il Commendatore were also excellent in these lesser roles.
Andrea Sanguinetti’s conducting unfortunately did not impress. He adopted a fast pace in the overture but slowed down incomprehensibly in other passages. His support was sporadic: measured and sustained in Don Giovanni’s serenade and Anna’s “Non mi dir,” but sloppy in other places. He didn’t allow the singers to savour the recitatives, performed instead hurriedly. This was our loss, as Mozart’s recitatives can be more significant than his arias in depicting the characters.
Act II’s finale was visually overwhelming, evoking both Pasolini’s Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (1975) and the life of Christ. Twelve of Giovanni’s acolytes are reduced to dogs and are fed with breadcrumbs from his banquet. They then partake in the banquet with Don Giovanni as Christ did with his Apostles. The significance of this scene is unclear, and whether Leporello – the thirteenth man – is Judas.
Strangely enough, the final moralistic epilogue, the sextet “Ah, dov’è il perfido?,” is omitted, making for an overly dramatic vision of Da Ponte’s dramma giocoso. Part of the magnificence of Don Giovanni is its short comic interludes that both moderate and intensify the drama in chiaroscuro fashion. Sadly, humour was near absent in the present production. Strangely enough, the final moralistic epilogue, the sextet “Ah, dov’è il perfido?,” is omitted as it was in its Prague premiere, making for an overly dramatic vision of Da Ponte’s dramma giocoso. Judging from the omission of Don Ottavio’s Act II aria and the Zerlina-Leporello Act II duet, it would seem the Vienna version rather than the original Prague version was favoured, an unusual choice. Mercifully, Elvira’s sublime Act II aria, “Mi tradì,” was kept.
Schwab has perhaps too many ideas. I would have preferred he would have concentrated on a few and developed them. Nonetheless, this was a stimulating performance and a delight to the ears, thanks to its fabulous cast.
Ossama el Naggar
|
