After Giuseppe Verdi’s
three great middle period operas, Rigoletto
(1852), Il Trovatore (1853) and
La Traviata (1853), his pre-eminence
as the foremost opera composer of the
day was assured. Now a rich man, his
pace of composition slackened; he was
happy working and expanding his farm
at Sant’ Agata, or following the unification
of Italy, serving in the first Italian
Parliament to which he was elected in
1861. However, if the price was right,
also the conditions of production and
his required singers were available,
then Verdi answered the call. He went
to St Petersburg where La Forza del
Destino was premiered in November
1862. He later wrote that the subsequent
honours from the state were no compensation
for the cold! His preferred foreign
clime was Paris and 1867 saw his longest
opera, Don Carlos for that city.
In the summer of 1870
Verdi wrote to his publisher Ricordi
‘Towards the end of last year I was
invited to write an opera for a distant
country. I refused’. His friend,
Camille Du Locle raised the matter again
and Verdi continued ‘I was offered
a large sum of money. Again I refused.
A month later he sent me a sketch. I
found it first rate and agreed to write
the music’. The distant country
was Egypt, where the Khedive was anxious
to have an opera on an Egyptian subject
for the new Opera House built in Cairo
to celebrate the opening in the Suez
Canal in November 1869. Aida was ready
for premiere in January 1871, but the
designs and costumes were held up in
Paris by the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian
war and it didn’t reach the stage until
24 December 1871. A production at La
Scala soon followed on 8 February 1872.
The first UK performance was at Covent
Garden on 22 June 1876.
Aida is one of Verdi’s
most popular of operas with its blend
of musical invention and dramatic expression.
The libretto is by Antonio Ghislanzoni
on a subject by Auguste Mariette developed
by Verdi and Camille Du Locle. This
opera is a work of pageant with its
Grand March (Gloria all’Egitto
Ch. 15) and ballet interludes. It is
also a work involving various personal
relationships. Of these relationships,
the rivalry between Aida, daughter of
the King of Ethiopia working incognito
as a captured slave of Amneris daughter
of the King of Egypt, is intense. Both
love Radames, victorious leader of the
Egyptian army. He loves Aida but is
given the hand of Amneris in reward
for his exploits as commander. Even
more complex is the relationship of
Aida with her father who arrives as
an unrecognised prisoner. The many and
various complex possibilities of the
father-daughter relationship occur throughout
Verdi’s operas, but nowhere more starkly
than in this opera where the father
puts tremendous emotional pressure on
his daughter to cajole her lover into
betraying a state secret. This betrayal
will cost the lives of the two lovers.
In some productions
the grandeur of the setting and pageantry
overwhelms the dramatic interactions
and relationships of the individuals.
This minimalist production by cult producer
Robert Wilson would seem to set out
to achieve the contrary effect. There
are no sets and no great pageantry for
the Grand March. At the back of the
stage moving verticals give blank picture
frame spaces that are lit, predominantly
in blue. Across the back silhouetted
figures pass very slowly from time to
time, as does a woman in a scarlet dress
who is clearly visible. The soloists
enter and leave at a snail’s pace, sometimes
walking backward, but never, never looking
at each other. All expression is by
slow hand and arm movements. There is
a brief indication on the box that this
manner is influenced by Robert Wilson’s
view of Noh Theatre. I have seen, and
heard, hand-ballet performances where
the movements were clearly aesthetically
and emotionally related. This form has
common usage in Asia. In this performance
there was no relationship that I could
discern between Verdi’s melody, the
nature of the dramatic situation and
the speed or nature of the hand, arm
and body movements of the singers. Not
that they are required to move around
the stage very much and certainly never
at speed. Even after a second viewing
I am none the wiser as to why one singer
moves slowly around another from time
to time and on occasions backwards,
slowly moving their arms and hands as
they do so. Regrettably, Wilson’s approach
not only loses the grandeur of the opera
but also fails to illuminate anything
of the relationships of its characters.
This is particularly evident in the
duet when Amneris taunts Aida and tricks
her into confession of love by announcing
Radames’ death (Ch. 14) and the coercion
by Amonasro (Chs. 23-24).
As far as the visual
element of this production, I could
only find two positives. The first is
the evocative backdrop setting and lighting
of the Nile and desert in act 3 (Chs.
20-25). The second is the lighting and
split screen use for the last scene
as the lovers die in the tomb and Amneris
laments above ground (Ch. 30). But even
here there was incongruity. Surely the
music, words and dramaturgy demand the
lovers’ die in each other’s arms, not
apart. During the Gerard Mortier regime
as Intendant at the Théâtre
Royal de la Monnaie the house audiences
got used to avant-garde productions
and they greet this Aida with polite
rather than enthusiastic applause. When
this production was played at London’s
Covent Garden, in the November prior
to this filming, it was reported that
the reception in some quarters of the
house bordered on revolution.
Of the singing and
orchestral playing there are more positives.
The conductor plays the music very straight
and does his best to bring out the contrasting
moods of the work. The singers are variable.
Both the Aida of Norma Fantini and Amneris
of Ildiko Komlosiat at least have the
right weight of voice. In Ritorna
vincitor (Ch. 8) and Oh patria
mia (Ch. 21) Norma Fantini phrased
well although she could have used more
sotto voce and her climactic note in
the latter aria was not good. Ildiko
Komlosi sings with full dramatic tone
in the trial scene (Chs. 26-29) although
her voice is not ideally steady under
pressure. As Radames Marco Berti managed
to look even more wooden than the rest;
some achievement. Now a firm favourite
at Verona his voice is best at forte.
He didn’t attempt the written diminuendo
art the end of Celeste Aida (Ch.
3) but does manage to soften his tone
and volume for the final scene (Ch.
30) to the benefit of his phrasing and
the pathos of the action. The fact that
the Amonasro of Mark Doss looks Ethiopian
owes more to genetics than make-up and
in contrast with his daughter who is
pure white-skinned to match her dress.
Doss’s voice is rather low for a Verdi
baritone, but it is a dramatic instrument.
He does manage to inflect some passion
into his vocal characterisation. His
vocal coercion of Aida by the Nile and
the revelation of himself to Radames
have conviction (Ch. 25). Orlin Anastassov
as the High Priest has the strongest
and steadiest voice on stage. Neither
his costume or make-up reflected his
status in the plot; he looks far too
young.
If the Tate Modern
Gallery in London, where unmade beds
and dissected animals count as art,
are your cup of tea then this Robert
Wilson approach may appeal. To me Verdi’s
great masterpiece is much, much more
than this staging portrays. Nor is the
singing of the top rank. More traditional
productions are available on DVD. If
you want Pavarotti as Radames, not his
best role, then there is the choice
of a 1982 La Scala performance with
Maria Chiara as Aida on Arthaus (review)
or with Margaret Price on Warner.(review).
My own favourite, for a grand setting
and magnificent singing, is the 1991
recording from the Metropolitan Opera,
New York, with Domingo and Aprille Millo
in good voice and Dolores Zajick a magnificent
Amneris (DG).
Robert J. Farr
see also review
by Goran Forsling
Chorus and Orchestra of the La Monnaie-De
Mont/Kazushi Ono 
OPUS ARTE DVD VIDEO OA 0954 D [2 DVDs:
159:00] 
