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The Scottish Play, Dismally Staged München
Nationaltheater
06/28/2026 - & July 2*, 5, 2026
Giuseppe Verdi: Macbeth
Gerald Finley (Macbeth), Roberto Tagliavini (Banco), Asmik Grigorian (Lady Macbeth), Nontobeko Bhengu (Dama di Lady Macbeth), Andrei Danilov (Macduff), Granit Musliu (Malcolm), Martin Snell (Medico)
Bayerischer Staatsopernchor, Christoph Heil (chorus master), Bayerisches Staatsorchester, Andrea Battistoni (conductor)
Martin Cicvák (stage director), Martin Zehetgruber (sets), Werner Fritz (costumes), Reinhard Traub (lighting), Sebastian Huber, Olaf A. Schmitt (dramaturgy)
(© Geoffroy Schied)
Premiered in 1847, Macbeth is Verdi’s best opera from his early period, prior to his middle period’s Rigoletto (1851), Il trovatore (1853) and La traviata (1853) that established him as the leading opera composer of his time. Based on Shakespeare’s play, it’s one of the most powerful tragedies since those of Ancient Greece. It describes the ambition of a weak man pushed by his ruthless wife and their eventual downfall. The witches, whose soothsaying treacherously incites Macbeth’s ambitions, have the same effect as the intervention of the gods in Greek tragedies. Dramatically, the witches also serve the same function as the chorus in Greek theatre.
Composed two years after Verdi’s worst opera, Alzira, which Verdi himself described as “Questa è propio brutta,” and the same year as another dud, I masnadieri, a mediocre work that survives only as a vehicle for coloratura sopranos, it’s astonishing that the contemporaneous Macbeth is of such superior quality. Part of the reason for its excellence is that some of its best passages were composed by a more mature Verdi in 1865 for the far superior but rarely-performed French version of the opera.
Such an inspired work is fertile ground for imaginative directors, yet Slovak director Martin Cicvák’s staging was utterly disappointing. Premiered almost twenty years ago, this production’s intent, at least at the time, must have been to shock. With the public subjected to myriad sensationalist productions over the intervening decades, it may have lost its potency, but it certainly still offends and, at times, revolts. Martin Zehetgruber’s bleak sets may have accentuated the usurper’s tragedy, but neither did they present any revolutionary ideas.
Central to Cicvák’s concept is the ceiling of a cave that first appears at the opening of the opera during Macbeth’s initial encounter with the witches. This ceiling remains throughout the opera and gradually comes down as the drama progresses, reflecting Macbeth’s increasing paranoia. Intermittently, fumes emanate from the ground, evoking the netherworld, as the weak but ambitious Macbeth is in a living hell from beginning to end. Martin Cicvák’s staging makes this central idea exceedingly clear.
The witches emerge from a tent, which is a figurative expression of Macbeth’s obscure thoughts. This explains the tent’s presence throughout the opera. It is only undone once Macbeth is killed. Oddly, the witches are represented by six blond tidily dressed children, resembling the offspring of The Stepford Wives (2004). It never became clear why children rather than adult women were chosen. The chorus that sang the witches’ parts were not seen; the “perfect” children who mimed their roles were probably supposed to create cognitive dissonance.
The most disgusting scene was the opening of Act III, where the chorus disrobed to urinate and defecate while the witches/children collected the excrement in metallic bowls. In his following exchange with Lady Macbeth who urges him to persevere in his villainous endeavours, Macbeth imbibes the contents of one of the witches’s bowls. I never thought I would regret the suppression of censorship on the stage but thanks to Cicvák’s obscenity, I did.
Another disturbing scene was the chorus of the oppressed Scottish people singing “Patria oppressa” in Act IV; it felt like a scene from a snuff movie. Three naked men were suspended upside down from the ceiling as victims of torture. As they rotated, the public was gratuitously exposed to full frontal nudity. The rest of the chorus looked like detainees in a concentration camp. Even Macduff was in chains while he sang his aria, “O figli miei,” which goes counter to the libretto. Obviously, Cicvák’s only purpose here was to shock.
Amazingly, Lady Macbeth’s noctambulism was botched. Instead of having her sleepwalk in the dark with a lantern in hand (as written in the libretto), she walked over the omnipresent brightly lit field of skulls. More like a drug addict than a somnambulist, she nervously attempted to light a cigarette and failed. Midway through this pivotal scene, the lights were turned off and she was surrounded by a crowd who eventually took her away. This was amateur hour from high school, relived on the stage of one of the world’s major opera houses. Truly dismal!
Among the few rare lucid moments in the staging was the use of a huge crystal chandelier, a possible indication of opulence (and hence power) in Macbeth’s castle. Once the deed is done and Duncan is murdered, the chandelier is lowered to the floor, indicating the oppressive mood felt by Macbeth. During Lady Macbeth’s aria “La luce langue,” the chandelier kept on swirling in what could be read as her manipulation of Macbeth.
One other partially effective scene was the second act’s “Banquet scene,” in which Macbeth acts incoherently as he sees the ghost of the recently murdered Banco. Dressed in fetching medieval garb, the courtesans seemed to be in a masked ball, possibly an allegory of their understanding of the masquerade behind Macbeth’s reign. As Macbeth became more incoherent, the courtesans disrobed, thus expressing disapproval and the end of the masquerade. Strangely enough, Lady Macbeth drank champagne straight from the bottle while several courtesans did so from plastic cups.
Whether well or badly staged, a strong Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are essential to the success of the opera. A soprano of exceptional musical intelligence and unmistakable charisma, Asmik Grigorian nevertheless appeared fundamentally miscast as Lady Macbeth. Verdi famously desired “una voce brutta” for the role, seeking not vocal beauty but a timbre capable of embodying malevolence. Grigorian’s luminous lyric instrument resists such transformation. Her opening Letter Scene lacked the ruthless authority and psychological bite that would establish Lady Macbeth’s terrifying dominance, while crucial textual inflections passed almost unnoticed.
In her final scene before collapsing, Grigorian is convincingly mad, for “Una macchia è qui tutt’ora” (the Sleepwalking Scene) is indeed a mad segment, and a considerably darker one than the familiar bel canto mad scenes. Yet, at no time in the performance was there the needed metallic harsh edge which would accentuate Lady Macbeth’s ruthlessness.
As Macbeth, Canada’s Gerald Finley is one of today’s best Mozart baritones and Lieder interpreters. However, he is no velvety Verdi baritone. Luckily, the role at hand is not Conte di Luna, Giorgio Germont or Rigoletto. Though famously sung by great Verdians such as Leonard Warren, Piero Cappuccilli, Renato Bruson and more recently, Ludovic Tézier, Amartuvshin Enkhbat and Luca Salsi, Macbeth is a role where the luxuriant Verdi baritone sound is not essential. Interpretation is more pivotal in this role, and Finley is an intelligent singer who uses his intellect to portray the complex character brilliantly. Finley effectively conveyed the usurper’s reluctant ambition, then guilt and finally despair. His moving final aria “Pietà, rispetto, amore” was marvellously intense.
Italian bass Roberto Tagliavini was the best singer in this performance. His voice is exceptionally beautiful and his acting is first rate. Thanks to Tagliavini’s delectable diction and noble voice, his interpretation of Banco was luminous. This is the first Macbeth I know of where Banco was the most memorable singer. This is both an acknowledgement of Tagliavini’s great qualities and Bayerische Staatsoper’s ill‑advised casting.
Russian tenor Andrei Danilov’s Macduff was excellent, for his is a sweet lyric tenor with brilliant high notes and remarkably clear diction, both requisites for the role. He was also quite expressive, perfectly capable of conveying his grief as well as his fury and thirst for revenge.
Mention is deserved of South Africa’s Nontobeko Bhengu, who managed to make her minor role of Lady in Waiting seem major, thanks to her amazing stage presence. Her poise enhanced Lady Macbeth’s Sleepwalking Scene, which was on the whole ineffective.
Despite some lacklustre string passages, Andrea Battistoni conducted with unmistakable flair and dramatic conviction. He drew from the orchestra a dark, brooding sonority that illuminated the psychological landscape of the score, nowhere more tellingly than in Lady Macbeth’s scenes. His interpretation pointed towards the Verdi of the middle period, eschewing the square, formulaic um‑pa‑pa accompaniment that so often encumbers the composer’s earlier works in favour of a more fluid, symphonically conceived musical discourse.
Christoph Heil achieved remarkable results with the Bayerisches Staatsopernchor in a work that places exceptional demands upon the chorus, rendering it an almost omnipresent dramatic protagonist. The men’s chorus was especially impressive, combining incisive attack with tonal weight and unanimity. The women’s chorus sang with admirable power and commitment, although their diction was, regrettably, too often indistinct.
A seasoned Verdian, Battistoni proved throughout an exceptionally responsive collaborator in the pit, shaping tempi with sensitivity to the needs of his singers without sacrificing the overarching dramatic architecture. His handling of “Ora di morte” was particularly perceptive.
Despite high expectations, this was one production of Macbeth I am eager to forget. Pity!
Ossama el Naggar
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