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Retribution, the Haunting of Don Juan Montreal
Salle Wilfred-Pelletier, Place des Arts
09/27/2025 - & September 30, October 2, 5, 2025
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Don Giovanni, K. 527
John Brancy (Don Giovanni), Kirsten Leblanc (Donna Anna), Andrea Nunez (Donna Elvira), Anthony Gregory (Don Ottavio), Ruben Drole (Leporello), Sophie Naubert (Zerlina), Matthew Li (Masetto), William Meinert (Il Commendatore)
Choeur de l’Opéra de Montréal, Claude Webster (chorus master), I Musici de Montréal, Kensho Watanabe (conductor)
Stephen Lawless (Stage Director), L’Opéra de Montréal (Sets & Costumes), Thomas Hase (Lighting), Noëlle‑Emilie Desbiens (Choreography)
(© Opéra de Montréal/Vivien Gaumand)
Don Giovanni, described by German Romantic author E.T.A. Hoffmann (1776‑1822) as “the opera of operas,” is a splendid work, thanks to Mozart’s sublime music and Lorenzo da Ponte’s brilliant libretto. Indeed, rare is the opera whose libretto is at least as good as its score. Da Ponte’s work can be appreciated on several levels, thus offering a plethora of possibilities to a talented and inspired stage director.
Intriguingly, the fables of Don Juan and Faust have inspired Western minds no end over the past three centuries. Ever since Tirso de Molina’s El burlador de Sevilla y convidado de piedra appeared in 1630, no less than Molière, Goldoni, Lord Byron, E.T.A. Hoffmann, Pushkin, Tolstoy, Kierkegaard, Shaw, Camus and Michael Haneke have tackled the enduring theme of the dissolute serial seducer. In 1960, Ingmar Bergman wrote and directed Djävulens öga (“The Devil’s Eye”), brilliantly combining Faust and Don Juan.
Until the seventies, it was de rigueur that Don Giovanni was a wicked seducer, justly punished at the end. However, more recent productions have been more sympathetic to the protagonist. In part, this is thanks to a less puritanical outlook on the morality of love and sex. Another perspective is that of class. Don Giovanni, Donna Elvira, Donna Anna and Don Ottavio are aristocrats, while Leporello is a servant and Zerlina and Masetto are peasants.
In the present production, Scottish director Stephen Lawless, who directed l’Opéra de Montréal’s Le nozze di Figaro two seasons ago, sees Don Giovanni through a class lens, which is a valid choice. Though such a vision is absolutely valid in the former opera based on Beaumarchais’s “revolutionary” play, Le Mariage de Figaro (1784), it is anachronistic for Don Giovanni, based on a seventeenth century Spanish play. Nonetheless, the defiant peasants celebrating Zerlina’s wedding at Don Giovanni’s palace were amusing. They taunt the three masked guests, nobles Donna Elvira, Donna Anna and Don Ottavio, and mock them by imitating their stylized and affected dance moves that vastly contrast with their own ungraceful and spontaneous attempts. There are even two sets of musicians, the white‑wigged court musicians performing on a stage within the stage, and the improvised peasant musicians performing amongst the crowd. At the end of Act I, when Don Giovanni’s failed attempt at raping Zerlina is exposed, the peasant musicians draw the bows of their fiddles as weapons against the aristocratic seducer. This made for a striking and memorable image that concluded the first act.
As he had demonstrated in his staging of Le nozze di Figaro, Lawless is an intelligent and perceptive director who avoids unnecessary and gratuitous “innovations” that too often diminish opera stagings. His vision is a straightforward one, a narration with no surprises, which is how Montrealers like it. There were some strange ideas that were unconvincing, such as Il Commendatore, Donna Anna’s father, as a wheelchair-bound cripple. This likely meant to show Don Giovanni as an undignified monster who stabs a defenseless man. It’s a valid view, but incongruous with how he was portrayed throughout the opera. Moreover, it’s more effective to make this anti‑hero sympathetic rather than detestable.
A leitmotif in Lawless’s staging is retribution, not only by God through Il Commendatore, but also through the rake’s countless female victims. After all, the complete title of the opera is Don Giovanni, ossia il dissoluto punito. During the overture, there’s a procession of crying women parading on stage. Initially, one may have thought it was Don Giovanni’s wake and that they were lovers lamenting the debauched man’s death. The same women appear during Leporello’s Catalogue aria “Madamina, il catalogo è questo”, where Leporello uses them to point out “contadine, cameriere, cittadine... contesse, baronesse, marchesine, principesse”, “la bionda”, “la bruna”, “la grassotta”, “la magrotta”, “la grande maestosa”, “la vecchia”, “la piccina” and finally the Don’s favourite “la giovin principiante”. As Zerlina and Masetto’s wedding follows this scene, these same women remain on stage and transform into the female guests at the wedding. The one depicted as “la giovin principiante” brilliantly transforms into Zerlina, who thus makes her striking entrance on stage. Brilliant!
At the end of the opera, when Il Commendatore comes to dinner to take Don Giovanni to Hell, he does not come alone, but he is accompanied by the same women who had appeared during the overture and the Catalogue aria. However, here they are effectively made up to look like ghosts, with features distorted by heavy make‑up. These women are the ones who push Don Giovanni into a coffin that they drag to Hell. Again, Lawless manages to leave the public with a striking and terrifying image.
The cast was almost as excellent as Lawless’s staging. American baritone John Brancy was a striking Don Giovanni. Lawless chose to make him an effete and somewhat effeminate nobleman, which is a valid choice for the seventeenth century. His preciousness suited his honeyed ways of seduction, especially with Zerlina and Elvira. He is also shown as unnecessarily cruel in Act II’s dinner scene, where he playfully stabs Leporello’s hand with a fork. Vocally, Brancy’s baritone is appropriate for the role, though his voice does not project sufficiently in the acoustically dull Salle Wilfrid Pelletier. Indeed, his best moment was the Act II Serenade, “Deh vieni alla finestra”, sung with mandolin accompaniment without orchestra covering his voice. His delicate enunciation made his rendition one of the most seductive. It also highlighted the baritone’s thorough training in Lieder. His first aria, the Act I Champagne aria, “Fin ch’han del vino,” was less effective, in large part due to conductor Kensho Watanabe’s flawed tempi, a weakness noted throughout the performance. This aria ought to immediately evoke Don Giovanni’s frenzied appetite for the pleasures of life. Alas, it was a rather tame affair.
In Mozart, especially in the Da Ponte operas, the recitatives are crucial, as they convey the characters’ emotions more clearly than the sung arias. Alas, a considerable number of recitatives were cut, most likely to shorten the duration of the work. With a brilliant interpreter like Brancy, this was unfortunate. Some recitatives are quintessential, such as Don Giovanni’s response to Leporello’s suggestion of being content with just one woman: “Chi a una sola è fedele, verso l’altra è crudele” (“Faithful to one, cruel to all others”). More than anywhere else in the libretto, a first‑rate interpreter conveys Don Giovanni’s narcissism and overblown self‑image in that simple line. Alas, this line and several others were cut, thus reducing the clear delineation of the character. Some arias were also cut, including Don Giovanni’s Act II “Metà di voi qua vadano”.
Swiss bass-baritone Ruben Drole’s voice contrasted well with Brancy’s Don Giovanni. Though some prefer Don Giovanni and his servant to have similar voices as an allusion to Leporello being Don Giovanni’s alter ego, I much prefer clearly distinct voices. I also prefer Leporello to have the lower and darker voice, as it allows for more comedic colour. Through his masterful diction and his hue, Drole conveyed Leporello’s earthiness and lower station. What is truly astounding about this singer is his natural comic verve. Avoiding excess, he amused with mere facial expressions and vocal intonation, both seeming completely natural.
Canadian lyric soprano Kirsten Leblanc was a surprising choice in the role of Donna Anna. At this early stage in her career, one would more easily imagine her as Donna Elvira. However, Leblanc was up for the challenge. Blessed with an incredible range, total ease in the upper register and an easily recognizable and appealing timbre, she managed the technical difficulties of the role with brio. Her arias “Or sai chi l’onore” and “Non mi dir” were among the vocal pinnacles of the evening. Dramatically, she portrayed a depressive Donna Anna with no possibility of being the willing victim of Don Giovanni. Such a nuanced interpretation would have added intrigue and given depth to the character. Alas, Lawless preferred to direct Leblanc in a monochromatic portrayal.
Canadian soprano Andrea Nunez was an effective Musetta in Montréal’s La bohème last May. She was appealing thanks to histrionics rather than vocal interpretation. Here, she was miscast as Donna Elvira, a much more demanding role. Rarely have I heard such a shrill soprano in the role. Despite effective acting, she was inadequate in the role, and the cast’s weakest link. She also failed to convey Elvira’s noble station through proper posture, graceful movement and deportment. Nonetheless, she managed to be affecting in the Act II aria, “Mi tradì quell’alma ingrata,” possibly Mozart’s most beautiful soprano aria.
Astonishingly, Sophie Naubert’s Zerlina was the revelation of the evening, a highly unlikely event as the role is the least interesting among the trio of Don Giovanni’s conquests. Naubert 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 Naubert as Zerlina, we have a radiant sensual woman, not a child bride, at par with the two noblewomen, Anna and Elvira. Moreover, Naubert has such a luminous stage presence that she was the centre of attention whenever she was on stage. Her often irritating Act I aria “Batti, batti, o bel Masetto” was a delight. Her Act II aria “Vedrai carino” was pure charm. Despite its inherent sexual innuendo, it was devoid of vulgarity; no minor feat.
English tenor Anthony Gregory was a stylish Don Ottavio. Gregory’s voice is sweet, warm and lyric, stylish and elegant, yet virile when required. This is in contrast with the majority of present‑day singers of this role, tenori di grazia with small voices more suitable for Rossini’s florid writing than expressive ones by Mozart. Though a relatively young man, this Don Ottavio was made to look older, which is most appropriate for the role. At the time of Tirso de Molina (1583‑1648), author of the play El burlador de Sevilla y convidado de piedra, 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 and Donna Anna’s lack of interest. Gregory’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, and a touch effeminate. Alas, his Act I aria, “Dalla sua pace” was removed. One may say that such an omission follows the Prague original version, but other additions such as Elvira’s “Mi tradì” and the final sextet were not. His Act II aria “Il mio tesoro” was exquisitely sung, and his phrasing possibly the most elegant among the cast. Moreover, he truly portrayed an aristocrat, dignified and graceful.
Young Canadian bass Matthew Li was a sympathetic Masetto, effectively portraying the peasant’s jealousy and dignified sense of honour. His Act I aria and his exchanges with Zerlina were both convincing and sweet. Another young bass, American William Meinert, was an imposing Commendatore. Though one is more familiar with a cavernous basso profondo in this role, Meinert was effective. His towering stature and make‑up made him into a truly scary apparition in Act II when he drags Don Giovanni to Hell.
Though the production’s sets were uninspiring, three sides of a seventeenth building with Ionic columns, they were made effective through the intelligent introduction of an additional pair of staircases that allowed guests a place to sit at Zerlina’s wedding, while giving Don Giovanni a place to forcefully take Zerlina. In Act II, the staircases were joined to form a bridge, from which Don Giovanni sang his Serenade. Later, it served as the labyrinth in which Leporello tried to escape the needy Donna Elvira. This was an intelligent use of resources, protecting the production’s budget. Bravo!
Ossama el Naggar
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