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Interiors - Don Giovanni, the Hypnotist Venezia
Teatro La Fenice
05/16/2024 - & May 17, 18*, 19, 21*, 22, 23, 24, 25, 2024
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Don Giovanni, K. 527
Zuzana Marková*/Desirée Rancatore (Donna Anna), Francesca Dotto*/Carmela Remigio (Donna Elvira), Lucrezia Drei*/Laura Ulloa (Zerlina), Markus Werba*/Alessio Arduini (Don Giovanni), Alex Esposito*/Omar Monranari (Leporello), Francesco Demuro (Don Ottavio), William Corro*/Lodovico Filippo Ravizza (Masetto), Gianluca Buratto (Il Commendatore)
Coro del Teatro La Fenice, Alfonso Caiani (chorus master), Orchestra del Teatro La Fenice, Roberto Trevino (conductor)
Damiano Michieletto (stage director), Paolo Fantin (sets), Carla Teti (costumes), Fabio Barettin (lighting)
M. Werba, F. Dotto, A. Esposito (© Michele Crosera)
Last November, I was so utterly stunned by La Fenice’s superlative production of Les Contes d’Hoffmann by director Damiano Michieletto that I resolved to see more of his stagings. In January, I was lucky enough to see his innovative take on Cherubini’s Médée at La Scala. Rarely has a director deconstructed and reconstructed a work so brilliantly. That applied for both Les Contes d’Hoffmann and Médée. Consequently, I made it my mission to see his take on Don Giovanni, the “opera of operas,” as described by Wagner.
I am delighted to report the trip was definitely worthwhile. There are so many ideas in Michieletto’s staging that the present review cannot do it justice.
Da Ponte’s libretto is possibly the greatest in all opera. It’s the equal of Mozart’s score, a near impossible feat. Only a director capable of understanding the myriad meanings in this monumentally layered libretto can hope to create such a riveting staging.
Joseph Losey’s masterful film of Don Giovanni met with immediate approval with critics and public alike upon its release in 1979. It’s also deeply embedded in the collective consciousness of every opera lover. Intriguingly, Losey changed the setting from Seville to the ravishingly beautiful countryside of Veneto, in Northeastern Italy. Indoor scenes took place in the region’s majestic Palladian villas, the summer homes of Venice’s wealthy nobles and merchants, designed by Andrea Palladio (1508‑1580). The magnificent circularly shaped Villa Rotonda was featured prominently in Losey’s film. Opera lovers, myself included, still visualize scenes from Don Giovanni in these palaces. This may have been – consciously or not – the genesis behind the circularly shaped palace in which Michieletto’s production takes place.
It may seem unlikely that the disparate protagonists in Don Giovanni find themselves at the same residence. This may be possible if the action takes place in an inn. It would explain the presence of Donna Elvira from Burgos who comes to Seville in search of her seducer. The peasants Masetto and Zerlina hold their wedding in the town inn. Given the constant turnover of the clientele, Don Giovanni uses the inn as a hunting ground.
In this brilliant but unusual conception, the entire opera (including the wedding and cemetery scenes) takes place indoors. This is neither accidental nor is it a ploy to reduce expenses. The interiors allude to the fact that the opera’s crucial moments are reflective; they happen inside the protagonists’ minds rather than being conversations between them.
Another advantage of the “interiors” setting is the possibility of introducing walls and of isolating the protagonists in separate rooms, even when they are singing duets or ensembles. Starting with the Act I quartet, “Non ti fidar, o misera,” Michieletto resorts to this splendid device in the ensemble. This is a most ingenious deconstruction of ensembles in opera. Newcomers to the art form are often confused about who is singing what and to whom in operatic ensembles. Intriguingly, Michieletto has the characters move into adjacent rooms to sing duets in parallel. This is possible given the revolving nature of the circular sets.
It is said that Mozart’s conception of the three women in Don Giovanni are a reflection of three facets of womanhood: Donna Anna is a soprano drammatico, Donna Elvira is a soprano lirico, and Zerlina, a soprano leggero. The first is the haughty sheltered aristocrat, the second, an independent, intellectual noblewoman (she travels on her own from Burgos, and her arias indicate a certain self‑awareness) and the third is an innocent peasant. In some productions, Zerlina is sung by a mezzo to indicate an earthy woman.
Are the women that Don Giovanni seduces unique individuals or archetypes? The latter seems to be Michieletto’s view. Donna Anna and Donna Elvira, both noblewomen, are dressed nearly identically, enjoy the same hairstyle and are of similar height. Even their vocal registers aren’t distinct. Both are lyric sopranos with powerful voices that can easily extend into the higher sphere of the soprano drammatico. This may be intentional or coincidental, as singers contracted for a given production are never guaranteed. Rather than viewing women as unique individuals, it would seem Don Giovanni has categorized his victims into noblewoman, peasant, nun, spinster, and so on, not unlike the categorization in Leporello’s catalogue aria (la grassotta, la magrotta, la grande maestosa, la vecchietta, la giovin’ principiante...)
Francesca Dotto was an incandescent Donna Elvira, and from the moment she appeared onstage, she dominated the scene. Poised in her movements and highly charismatic, she delighted us with her interpretation of “Chi mi dice mai” in Act I, and moved us in the Act II aria, “Mi tradì”, possibly Mozart’s most beautiful aria for soprano. Small gestures throughout the performance revealed the complexity and pathos of the character. Initially incredulous and reluctant in her reaction to Leporello’s “Catalogue aria”, she dismisses the alleged exploits as hearsay. She completely breaks down once she realizes their veracity. Likewise, her quick acquiescence to Don Giovanni’s faux serenade in Act II reveals her vulnerability. Endowed with an impressive voice, a masterful technique and unending expressivity, she was the brightest star of the show, though the entire cast was truly stellar.
Francesco Demuro’s Don Ottavio was a revelation. He’s an elegant Mozartian singer of the kind not heard since Francisco Araiza (b. 1950). Demuro’s voice is a sweet, warm and lyric one, stylish and elegant, yet virile when required. This is in contrast with the majority of present‑day singers of this role, tenori di grazie with small voices more suitable for Rossini’s florid writing than expressive ones by Mozart. This Don Ottavio looks young, which is counterintuitive for the role. At the time of Tirso de Molina (1583‑1648), author of the play El burlador de Sevilla y convidado de piedra (1630), which is the source of Don Giovanni’s libretto, a Spanish noblewoman was much more likely to marry an older man. The age gap is often thought to be the reason for Don Ottavio’s tepid passion. Demuro’s interpretation of the role was that of a proper dignified hidalgo. This vision is much more appealing than the typical Don Ottavio: effete, mannered, a touch effeminate and sometimes geriatric. Both his arias, “Dalla sua pace” and “Il mio tesoro” were exquisitely sung.
In Donna Anna’s “Or sai che l’onor,” it became clear that she was haunted by the memory of her encounter with Don Giovanni. Was it rape or a consensual tryst? It’s never made clear. In Michieletto’s vision, Don Giovanni has immense magnetism. The opera was written in the epoch of Dr. Anton Mesmer (1724‑1815), the man behind Mesmerism, now known as hypnotism. This Don Giovanni has hypnotic powers. During duets and ensembles in which he’s not required, he nonetheless appears on stage, overpowering the characters. Interestingly, as Anna recounts the “dreaded encounter” to Don Ottavio, she simulates being in bed by lying on the dinner table. As she sings about being overpowered, Don Giovanni suddenly appears, and pulls the tablecloth to bring Donna Anna into his embrace. She continues the aria, supposedly a narration to Don Ottavio, but now to Don Giovanni. Cleverly, Michieletto makes it clear the woman is obsessed with her seducer.
Vocally impeccable, Czech soprano Zuzana Marková was astonishing in her vocal agility and keen sense of drama. In Act II, defied expectations during “Non mi dir,” which was emotionally authentic. Donna Anna is a woman who has a taste for passion and is therefore not willing to settle for the banal, represented by her betrothed, Don Ottavio.
Further astonishing deconstruction is pleasantly noted in the famous duet “Là ci darem la mano,” where Don Giovanni seduces Zerlina with visions of luxury and a privileged status. Despite the beautiful melody, there’s little love in this duet. Don Giovanni lusts after the nubile Zerlina. Deflowering her prior to her wedding would be a glorious achievement according to his decrepit standards. Zerlina may be attracted to an elegant nobleman, but she’s even more dazzled by his mendacious promises of marriage and a posh life as his spouse. Clearly, this is no duet but rather two distinct solos sung as a duet. Hence, Michielleto has Zerlina and Don Giovanni sing their duet in separate adjacent rooms of the revolving inn.
Lucrezia Drei’s Zerlina was yet another revelation; she possesses an amazingly beautiful lyric soprano radiating youth and femininity. In general, it’s my least favourite role, as it’s usually sung by a soubrette soprano leggero with a bland voice that sounds like a child. With Drei as Zerlina, we have a radiant sensual woman, not a child bride, at par with the two noblewomen, Anna and Elvira. Her Act II aria “Vedrai carino” is meant to console the freshly beat Masetto. However, according to Michietto’s vision, it’s clear she’s addressing Don Giovanni, who still haunts her mind, despite having attempted to rape her, and despite knowing he’s a lying scoundrel.
The entire cast was vocally first‑rate, though Markus Werba, as Don Giovanni, was somewhat lacking. While his timbre is appealing, it’s a small voice. Mozart’s choosing of Leporello to perform in the same (bass‑baritone) register as Don Giovanni was not coincidental. Indeed, a lower basso cantante register would augment Leporello’s comic element. Yet, the two need to have the same register so that Leporello may be Don Giovanni’s mirror image (either an alter ego or conscience). Indeed, many productions choose to emphasize this aspect, but this one does not.
Michieletto chose to make this Leporello stutter. Obviously this is limited to recitatives and not the sung music. The great seducer’s servant is expected to be “in gamba” but this Leporello is a reluctant and rather weak man. At times, he seems to judge his master’s depraved ways, and at others, he emulates him. Alex Esposito is an ideal Leporello, with a booming, beautiful bass‑baritone, endowed with a natural comic verve and the capacity to make the most of his text. In lesser company, Werba would have shone more, but the balance between the two is in the servant Leporello’s favour.
Though Werba’s diction is excellent, he doesn’t make the most out of his words, especially in the recitatives. Phrases like “E un’impostura della gente plebea”, “Chi a una sola è fedele, verso l’altre è crudele” and others were missed opportunities to portray Don Giovanni’s essence. They were well pronounced but without any particular inflection. What a waste! In Mozart more than any other composer, the recitatives are all‑important as they reveal much about the character, more so than the arias.
Markus Werba is however an excellent actor, which compensated for his shortcomings as a singer. A handsome man of small stature, he doesn’t necessarily look the role. He portrays a frenzied seducer as well as a man endowed with hypnotic powers. A slight change in the staging could have produced a supernatural, vampire‑like Don Giovanni, versed in the dark arts and not just Mesmerism. Even in the final sextet “Ah dov’è il perfido?,” after he’s been taken to Hades by Il Commendatore’s statue, he turns up – outre‑tombe – toward the end, passing his hand over each of the characters, draining them of energy, debilitating them. The last to be dealt with is Donna Elvira, which reflects Michieletto’s predilection for her character.
This winning enterprise couldn’t have been as glorious without Roberto Trevino’s brilliant conducting. He was attentive to the needs of his singers and avoided frenzied tempi during moments of great intensity such as the finale of Act I or the dinner scene “Già la mensa è preparata” in Act II.
The burning question remains. If Don Giovanni is all‑powerful, with his magnetism and capacity to control and seduce women with a sleight of hand, where’s the challenge? A seducer is like a hunter, and the joy is in the chase. A true hunter would have no interest in shooting immobile targets. If one can easily have whatever one wants, and if reaching goals is guaranteed and life is predictable, what’s the point of living?
Ossama el Naggar
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