Don Giovanni

Photos: Mike Hoban/ROH
Finley is back, in good vocal (and physical) shape. He brings undeniable sensual allure … though it’s a charm that’s underpinned by an almost savage animal energy. Evening Standard

Gerald Finley (Don Giovanni) is simply magnificent vocally, musically and dramatically. Musicalcriticism

…able to melt the steeliest of chastity belts. Opera Britannia

Composer: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Librettist: Lorenzo da Ponte
Venue and Dates:

Royal Opera House
21, 24, 26, 28, 31 January, 3 February 2012

Conductor: Constantino Carydis
Director: Francesca Zambello
Production: Maria Björnson
Performers:

Don Giovanni: Gerald Finley
Leporello: Lorenzo Regazzo
Donna Anna: Hibla Gerzmava
Donna Elvira: Katarina Karnéus
Commendatore: Marco Spotti
Don Ottavio: Matthew Polenzani
Zerlina: Lucy Crowe
Masetto:  Adam Plachetka

Notes: Gerry last played Don Giovanni in this production at ROH in 2003

Click here for fantastic backstage photos by Sim Canetty-Clark/ROH

Photo Gallery (Mike Hoban/ROH)

What the critics say

Barry Millington, The Evening Standard, 23 January 2012

Previous revivals of Francesca Zambello’s 2002 production of Don Giovanni have offered a variety of incarnations of the legendary philanderer, from Bryn Terfel and Simon Keenlyside to Erwin Schrott and Gerald Finley, along with a host of supporting stars including Anna Netrebko and Joyce DiDonato.

The casting for this revival (by Duncan MacFarland) presented an opportunity for one or two less familiar names, though Finley is back, in good vocal (and physical) shape. He brings undeniable sensual allure (as heard, for example, in his serenading of Elvira), though it’s a charm that’s underpinned by an almost savage animal energy – there was even a bit of a growl in the Champagne Aria.

In Là ci darem, his attempted seduction of Zerlina, the leisurely tempo wonderfully brought out both Giovanni’s cajoling and Zerlina’s guiltily reluctant yielding to temptation. Indeed, Constantinos Carydis’s conducting, though idiosyncratic, nearly always produced gratifying results. His accompaniment of Don Ottavio’s Il mio tesoro, for example, was fluid and delectably light of touch, helping to make Ottavio a far more interesting character than usual. Matthew Polenzani’s singing, sensitive but robust at the same time, enhanced that impression.

But so did Zambello’s direction here, when Giovanni’s three female victims are seen momentarily huddled together on top of the all-purpose circular structure, studded with Madonnas, watering-cans and goodness knows what, that serves as backdrop for most of the action (sets by Maria Bjornson). There’s a similar moment of sisterly solidarity during Elvira’s Mi tradì, when Donna Anna and Zerlina console her and prevent her suicide. Hibla Gerzmava’s Anna may not be effortless but it’s often very expressive, while Lorenzo Regazzo is a dependable Leporello.

Zambello doesn’t baulk at highlighting Elvira’s hysterical tendencies but her production is in any case a far from unambiguous feminist critique. The flirtatiousness of Zerlina (winningly sung and played by Irini Kyriakidou) is transmuted into something both tender and credible – what lover wouldn’t forgive this innocent little pussycat?

And how are we to take the all-girl band Giovanni hires for the ball? Are they liberated professionals or eye-candy? Certainly the very subtitle of the opera, “The Libertine Punished”, is questioned by the final cameo of Giovanni in hell but still enjoying himself. Giovanni’s behaviour is not so easily contained, it seems.

Agnes Kory, Musicalcriticism, 23 January 2012

For this pair of ears, musicality at its best is the dominant feature of the Royal Opera House‘s current revival of Don Giovanni. Conductor Constantinos Carydis‘s knowledge of Mozart’s score is highly impressive from every point of view. Not only does Carydis conduct from memory during the entire performance but he brings together all voices – vocal as well as instrumental – into an integrated whole. Owing to the content of Mozart’s score, some parts (such as those of principal singers) are more exposed than others but every part (however small, whether on stage or in the orchestra pit) is treated as essential. In Carydis’ ensemble nobody is an accompanist, everybody is a significant contributor. Carydis carefully balances the hierarchy of voices at any given time, paying full attention to even the smallest details in the score. In his interpretation the alternation of major and minor scales is truly meaningful, like for instance in the beautifully judged brief modulation into minor mode during Leporello’s catalogue aria (‘Madamina, il catalogo è questo’).

Carydis’s approach is mirrored by his performers. To stay with the above mentioned Leporello aria example, fortepiano continuo player Mark Packwood‘s masterly upbeat run into the aria is beautiful and, at the same time, assures the seamless link between recitative and aria. Packwood’s continuo playing is nothing like the usual, somewhat dry and percussive accompaniment: his fortepiano ‘sings’ during Don Giovanni’s attempted seduction of Zerlina (recitative ‘Alfin siam liberati’). The solo cello part in Zerlina’s aria (‘Batti, batti, o bel Masetto’) is intelligently articulated and Don Giovanni’s canzonetta (‘Deh vieni alla finestra’) could serve as a masterclass for trio performances, this time for baritone voice, mandolin and conductor. Presumably one of the two principal cellists (George Ives, Christopher Vanderspar) played the solo cello part but there is no mention of the excellent mandolin player in the cast list and programme notes. Yet such an instrumental contribution surely merits recognition? Full praise is also due to the stage bands (in both finales) drawn from ROH’s orchestra; they play with style, with perfect ensemble and – of course − from memory.

All solo singers deliver highly musical, stylish and nuanced performances. Arguably Lorenzo Regazzo‘s voice is not ideally suited to the part of Leporello (which might be better served by a lower voice than that of Regazzo’s to contrast the baritone role of Don Giovanni) but he is a very experienced Leporello and does the role justice. On the opening night Hibla Gerzmava (Donna Anna) did not have energy – that is, full vocal control – right to the end but she was magnificent earlier (especially during Donna Anna’s dramatic recognition that her seducer, and therefore her father’s murderer, was Don Giovanni).

Gerald Finley (Don Giovanni) is simply magnificent vocally, musically and dramatically. Whether in his energetic delivery of ‘Fin ch’han dal vino’, in his highly seductive ‘Là ci darem la mano’, in his tenderly sung ‘Deh vieni alla finestra’ or in his devilish final scene, Finley is fascinating and fully convincing. However, judging by the first night audience’s reaction Matthew Polenzani (Don Ottavio) seems to have stolen the show. He does indeed sing exquisitely; his pianissimo in the recitative ‘Come mai creder deggio’ is particularly magical.

Katarina Karnéus makes the difficult role of Donna Elvira credible. For once I understand Elvira’s vulnerability coupled with desperate determination. Here she is not a mad woman which one often assumes. And Karnéus convinces vocally too. Irini Kyriakidou (Zerlina) is charming and sings well although she does not convince as a peasant girl. This may be the fault of the production: Zerlina’s dress (perhaps her modest bridal dress?) is different from the dresses which the other peasant girls wear and, more importantly, she seems to have servants who assist her when they find the injured Masetto. Adam Plachetka (Masetto) and Marco Spotti (The Commendatore) are strong vocally and impressive dramatically.

Francesca Zambello’s staging clearly states her views on sisterhood beyond class boundaries (Donna Anna, Donna Elvira and Zerlina are united in support for each other), on men beyond redemption (Don Giovanni continues his womanising even in hell) and on Elvira’s sexual excess (the weapon she keeps carrying during several scenes may be a phallic symbol). But Zambello and her designer Maria Björnson also take note of Mozart’s music when, for instance, they dress their ladies’ stage bands (playing aristocratic music) in elegant costumes while those players who play peasant music are dressed in rough clothes.

The actual stage design had bad criticism elsewhere in the press but, in full honesty, I hardly noticed. My attention was grabbed by the beautiful costumes of various colours and, above all, by the superb musicality of the whole performance. Long may music rule…

Carla Finesilver, Opera Britannia, 23 January 2012

First impressions are important. As the first few seconds – or so we are informed – of a job interview are vital, despite the main body of questioning occurring later, vital also are the first few minutes of an opera’s overture in setting the tone for the drama to come. Unfortunately the people sitting behind me considered their conversation more important than Mozart’s quietly brilliant shifting of harmonies and timbres around traditionally melancholic D minor, already prefiguring themes of death and social destabilisation. There being no time to point out what they were missing, a sharp instruction to desist had to suffice. I hope they then turned their attention to the music and were able to gain some enjoyment from the superb and perfectly controlled dynamic contrasts, almost dizzying in the passage of climbing scales, and the machine-level precision of ensemble playing in terms of timing, intonation and balancing of chords. Clarity and precision are an absolute must for Mozart, and throughout the performance the orchestra’s level was consistently very high indeed; however, conductor Constantinos Carydis carried machinelike precision to the extent of being somewhat robotic in his tempi, with little sense of long-line continuity, and unwilling to accommodate rubato from the singers. Still, perhaps this was a first-night effect and subsequent performances will have greater flow and flexibility.

Francesca Zambello’s 2002 production has been wheeled out regularly at Covent Garden over the last 10 years, and is for many now as familiar as a friend’s house: here is Donna Anna’s window with the attractive verdigris tiles and handy rungs for baritones to climb up and down; there is the window to the graveyard where people have constructed for the Commendatore a giant wicker man rather than the more traditional statue; and there is Don Giovanni’s villa, with its novel contracting ballroom and Turkish-Bath-cum-dining room. Maria Björnson’s rusting dark green colour scheme is attractive, and the large multi-tasking wall with exposed staircase serves its purpose well in dividing scenes and assisting the simple but effective Personenregie. The first time I saw this production I was amused by the Don having dinner in a steam room, in his underwear, and thought it a gimmick. However, on reflection, I think it a brilliant idea to have the character (almost) naked for his final scene, as all his layers of artifice and subterfuge are finally stripped away and he is left looking death in the face without the protective armour of social class that comes with a nobleman’s dress.

Gerald Finley inhabits the title role with complete ease and confidence, vocally and dramatically. A dab hand at charm and sleaze, his Giovanni is astutely observant of other people’s human weaknesses (and his own), fully enjoying playing them off against one another. This makes an interesting change from the characterisations of the famous sex addict provided by the two previous incumbents – Erwin Schrott’s feral, amoral libido-on-legs, and Simon Keenlyside’s superficially-civilised psychopath bubbling with barely-concealed violence. I have yet to hear a single unpleasant note escape Finley’s mouth, and this performance was no exception, with “Là ci darem la mano” and “Deh vieni alla finestra” able to melt the steeliest of chastity belts. As his accomplice Leporello, Lorenzo Regazzo possessed a fine and, may I say, seductive voice of his own, particularly rich in the lower register. The catalogue aria was rather on the ponderous side, but made up for by pleasing tone quality.

On which subject, the Ottavio issue: always an unappealing character, ineffectual and impotent, Matthew Polenzani’s Don Ottavio was as wet and hopeless as any I’ve seen; however, his “Dalla sua pace” was quite beautiful, with richness of tone colouring, delicacy of phrasing, and very impressively projected pianissimi. “Il mio tesoro” is very far from being a favourite aria of mine, but on this occasion I was very glad that it wasn’t cut (as in the Vienna version of the opera). The blend of Polenzani’s voice and Hibla Gerzmava’s (Donna Anna) worked particularly well, and her performance was also a fine one, notable particularly for clarity at the top and emotional shading, turning in the space of a second between tender vulnerability and vengeful anger.

I was intrigued by the unconvincing nature of Zerlina and Masetto’s relationship (Irini Kyriakidou and Adam Plachetka): she with the air of having settled for the best peasant available but very ready to upgrade; he giving the impression of seriously considering whether to take “Batti, batti” literally. With no intention of criticising Kyriakidou’s instrument itself, I found her voice wrong for the role, with the wide vibrato obscuring what should be the clean lines of Zerlina’s simple melodies. Katarina Karnéus, on the other hand, turned out to be a very sympathetic Donna Elvira, strugging against both herself and the societal expectations of women’s behaviour. A little stiff in her opening aria, she warmed up in Act 2 and sang with confidence and feeling. As a generalisation, all of the younger cast members were convincing in their arias, but tended towards a rather mugging style of acting in between them.

As mentioned above, I like the steamy setting of the final scene, and dramatically the Commendatore’s return really did come off very well. It appears that the Royal Opera are not allowed to fling on all their Bunsen burners together any more, having to carefully turn up a couple at a time, but they got some impressive flames going, as the dead Commendatore did his impersonation of the God of Hellfire. Perhaps they might consider giving him a flaming hat too – although that might have diminished the gravitas so ably conveyed by Marco Spotti’s dark and ringing pronouncements. Given that the giant wicker hand was also set alight, I wonder if at any point the production team considered making a whole Wicker Man, and sticking a dummy Don Giovanni in the middle of it to burn? Anyway, if one wants to end an opera in spectacular fashion, make up for any earlier patchiness, and leave the audience with big smiles on their faces, filling the stage with huge flames and smoke is a jolly fine way to do it. Bravi, technical crew.

Tim Ashley, The Guardian, 24 January 2012

The Royal Opera’s schedule for the next couple of months is dominated by the three Mozart-Da Ponte operas, tacitly celebrating arguably the greatest composer-librettist collaboration in history. None of the productions is new, and proceedings opened with a revival by Duncan MacFarland of Francesca Zambello’s 2002 staging of Don Giovanni, a problematic piece of theatre, hampered on occasion by Zambello’s perennial equation of opera with grandeur.

MacFarland has injected considerable subtlety into some of it, most notably in his delineation of the growing froideur between Anna and Ottavio, and of the venality that lurks behind Leporello’s obsequious attachment to Giovanni. But many irritations remain, not least the flaming hand of God that sends Giovanni to his doom, and the graveyard scene, prosaically cluttered with funeral mourners rather than eerily metaphysical and spacious.

The musico-dramatic emphasis, meanwhile, falls on the confrontation between Gerald Finley’s Giovanni and Matthew Polenzani’s tremendous Ottavio. Finley’s performance isn’t so much about raw sex as coolly calculated seduction. Polenzani, in contrast, is fiery in his morality, his self-control eroded by his frustrated, if monogamous passion for Hibla Gerzmava’s Anna.

Elsewhere, you have to take the rough with the smooth. There’s a shrill Zerlina from Irini Kyriakidou, while Katarina Karnéus makes heavy weather of Elivira’s Mi Tradì. On the plus side, we have Gerzmava, who sings with laser-like accuracy, Lorenzo Regazzo’s funny, embittered Leporello, and a forceful, strikingly handsome Masetto from Adam Plachetka. Conductor Constantinos Carydis hectors the opening a bit. But when he reaches the Anna-Ottavio duet, haste turns into excitement, and the rest of it is terrific.