Offender’s Register
WA Mozart: Don Giovanni, Welsh National Opera, New Theatre, Oxford, 22 November, 2011.
The week before the annual visit of Welsh National Opera to Oxford, bringing their new production of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, directed by John Caird, The Times newspaper devoted a whole page to a case study of a man suffering from sex addiction. This provokes the thought that in this day and age of prurience (and absence of death penalty) the Don would be more likely to end up on the sex offenders’ register rather than in hell, (given the punch-line: ‘but his favourite form of sinning is with one who’s just beginning’ as the Catalogue Aria has it in Edward Dent’s admirable translation). No doubt too that Donna Anna and Donna Elvira and the rest would be the victims of phone hacking.
The story is concerned with Don Giovanni’s final three escapades and his ultimate fate, aided and abetted, often reluctantly, by his servant Leporello. In a duel, Giovanni kills the Commendatore, Donna Anna’s father, after she cries for help after escaping Giovanni’s embrace having admitted him to her bedroom under the impression that he is her wimpish boy-friend Don Ottavio; Donna Elvira is a previous mistress/spouse, who has sought out Giovanni, torn between seeking vengeance and resuming their relationship and Zerlina is the peasant girl who is out of her depth in thinking she can flirt with the Don on her wedding day without arousing the jealousy of her husband Masetto. Eventually Giovanni is called to account by a speaking statue of the Commendatore and, unrepentant, is dragged down to Hell. The opera ends with a sextet in which each remaining character summarises their reaction to events and their plans for the future. (It is difficult now to believe that some sixty years ago it was a debating point whether or not this scene should be omitted!)
There are two types of production of Don Giovanni. Either, directors interpret it as conceived by Mozart and da Ponte as a dramma giocoso or they tie themselves in the most awful knots trying to add, for a modern audience, psychological or sociological significance, often with their own personal agenda. The dark side is implicit in the score and the libretto – to make it explicit is to miss the point of the opera. The worst example was Graham Vick’s inexcusably outrageous production for Glyndebourne in 2000 featuring a disembowelled horse on a dung-heap. Less extreme was the 2010 brutish verismo Glyndebourne version directed by Jonathan Kent. Fortunately, neither of these effaces the memories of Glyndebourne in Peter Hall’s production of 1977 (complete with umbrellas raised in a stage storm, which coincided with an almighty thunderstorm outside the theatre the night we saw it) nor the Chelsea Opera Group’s inaugural concert performance seen in Cambridge in 1959. Both of these fall into the first category, of dramma giocoso, as does also the version brilliantly adapted and directed by Anna Pelly for the local Sunningwell-based Opera Anywhere in 2007, set in the world of international corporate finance.
The good news is that Welsh National Opera’s new production, seen at the New Theatre on 22 November, is with the exception of a few rather silly and pointless embellishments, totally true to the original concept. Thus it has a refreshingly old- fashioned air to it. But, and this is a major fault, this air is compounded by the orchestral sound for which WNO deserves a rap on the knuckles. It was apparent from the first notes of the overture that there were far too many strings for the delicate balance between wind and strings to which we are now accustomed in Mozart’s music. The resulting lack of precision, giving a lack-lustre impression from the orchestral sound pervaded the whole evening – a rare lapse from the WNO orchestra’s usual superb standard; it sounded like just any other opera orchestra! The other bad news is the set – heavy unilluminated carved panels which moved around while singing continued - in front of which hovered silent hooded figures to no particular purpose. Other pointless embellishments were the presence already of the statue at the Commendatore’s assassination, the appearance of Don Giovanni in the final coda (not an original piece of silliness) and a bespectacled Don Ottavio.
In spite of these irritations, the evening was very enjoyable and did not deserve the critical panning it received in some quarters. The stage management was good, though, in the party scene, Zerlina’s separation and Giovanni’s escape at the end of Act I were symbolic rather than convincing. The spot-lighting of the singers was particularly effective. The singing, too, was good but not outstanding. Most effective were two late substitutes: Samantha Hay as a flighty Zerlina and Duncan Rock as the Don, with just the right mixture of charm and menace. Donna Anna was convincingly played by Camilla Roberts as the distraught and vengeful heroine. Nuccia Focile struggled with the role of Elvira, having neither the power nor the dramatic range required for this most complex character. (I may be being unfair but I cannot dismiss from my mind Joyce diDonato’s outstanding Elvira in Covent Garden’s 2008 production.) Gary Griffiths (who sang Winterreise at the recent Lieder Festival) made a likable bumpkin of Masetto. Robin Trischler, handicapped by the spectacles, made it more than usually implausible that Ottavio and Anna had a future together. Leporello was adequately played by David Soar but left little lasting impression. Carlo Malinverno’s Commendatore lacked sepulchral sonority. However, the credits far outweigh these reservations. This was a delightful ensemble production, leaving an enduring impression of the humanity of the characters. We felt we knew these people.
The week before the annual visit of Welsh National Opera to Oxford, bringing their new production of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, directed by John Caird, The Times newspaper devoted a whole page to a case study of a man suffering from sex addiction. This provokes the thought that in this day and age of prurience (and absence of death penalty) the Don would be more likely to end up on the sex offenders’ register rather than in hell, (given the punch-line: ‘but his favourite form of sinning is with one who’s just beginning’ as the Catalogue Aria has it in Edward Dent’s admirable translation). No doubt too that Donna Anna and Donna Elvira and the rest would be the victims of phone hacking.
The story is concerned with Don Giovanni’s final three escapades and his ultimate fate, aided and abetted, often reluctantly, by his servant Leporello. In a duel, Giovanni kills the Commendatore, Donna Anna’s father, after she cries for help after escaping Giovanni’s embrace having admitted him to her bedroom under the impression that he is her wimpish boy-friend Don Ottavio; Donna Elvira is a previous mistress/spouse, who has sought out Giovanni, torn between seeking vengeance and resuming their relationship and Zerlina is the peasant girl who is out of her depth in thinking she can flirt with the Don on her wedding day without arousing the jealousy of her husband Masetto. Eventually Giovanni is called to account by a speaking statue of the Commendatore and, unrepentant, is dragged down to Hell. The opera ends with a sextet in which each remaining character summarises their reaction to events and their plans for the future. (It is difficult now to believe that some sixty years ago it was a debating point whether or not this scene should be omitted!)
There are two types of production of Don Giovanni. Either, directors interpret it as conceived by Mozart and da Ponte as a dramma giocoso or they tie themselves in the most awful knots trying to add, for a modern audience, psychological or sociological significance, often with their own personal agenda. The dark side is implicit in the score and the libretto – to make it explicit is to miss the point of the opera. The worst example was Graham Vick’s inexcusably outrageous production for Glyndebourne in 2000 featuring a disembowelled horse on a dung-heap. Less extreme was the 2010 brutish verismo Glyndebourne version directed by Jonathan Kent. Fortunately, neither of these effaces the memories of Glyndebourne in Peter Hall’s production of 1977 (complete with umbrellas raised in a stage storm, which coincided with an almighty thunderstorm outside the theatre the night we saw it) nor the Chelsea Opera Group’s inaugural concert performance seen in Cambridge in 1959. Both of these fall into the first category, of dramma giocoso, as does also the version brilliantly adapted and directed by Anna Pelly for the local Sunningwell-based Opera Anywhere in 2007, set in the world of international corporate finance.
The good news is that Welsh National Opera’s new production, seen at the New Theatre on 22 November, is with the exception of a few rather silly and pointless embellishments, totally true to the original concept. Thus it has a refreshingly old- fashioned air to it. But, and this is a major fault, this air is compounded by the orchestral sound for which WNO deserves a rap on the knuckles. It was apparent from the first notes of the overture that there were far too many strings for the delicate balance between wind and strings to which we are now accustomed in Mozart’s music. The resulting lack of precision, giving a lack-lustre impression from the orchestral sound pervaded the whole evening – a rare lapse from the WNO orchestra’s usual superb standard; it sounded like just any other opera orchestra! The other bad news is the set – heavy unilluminated carved panels which moved around while singing continued - in front of which hovered silent hooded figures to no particular purpose. Other pointless embellishments were the presence already of the statue at the Commendatore’s assassination, the appearance of Don Giovanni in the final coda (not an original piece of silliness) and a bespectacled Don Ottavio.
In spite of these irritations, the evening was very enjoyable and did not deserve the critical panning it received in some quarters. The stage management was good, though, in the party scene, Zerlina’s separation and Giovanni’s escape at the end of Act I were symbolic rather than convincing. The spot-lighting of the singers was particularly effective. The singing, too, was good but not outstanding. Most effective were two late substitutes: Samantha Hay as a flighty Zerlina and Duncan Rock as the Don, with just the right mixture of charm and menace. Donna Anna was convincingly played by Camilla Roberts as the distraught and vengeful heroine. Nuccia Focile struggled with the role of Elvira, having neither the power nor the dramatic range required for this most complex character. (I may be being unfair but I cannot dismiss from my mind Joyce diDonato’s outstanding Elvira in Covent Garden’s 2008 production.) Gary Griffiths (who sang Winterreise at the recent Lieder Festival) made a likable bumpkin of Masetto. Robin Trischler, handicapped by the spectacles, made it more than usually implausible that Ottavio and Anna had a future together. Leporello was adequately played by David Soar but left little lasting impression. Carlo Malinverno’s Commendatore lacked sepulchral sonority. However, the credits far outweigh these reservations. This was a delightful ensemble production, leaving an enduring impression of the humanity of the characters. We felt we knew these people.