This set gathers together as a cycle the three operas composed
by Mozart with Da Ponte’s libretti, in performances from the
Salzburg Haus Für Mozart. There are some good things here, especially
in the singing, but too often Guth’s stagings are so bizarre
as to be distracting.
On paper this Figaro should have been a knockout, but
to me it represented little more than a missed opportunity.
Guth’s staging takes place in a large room of a decaying country
house, each act (except the second) dominated by a large staircase.
Apart from that, and a couple of doors, the stage is entirely
empty. Without some essential props, such as a chair for Act
1, this makes a nonsense out of much of the action of the plot,
and there is no garden for Act 4, merely a suggestion of some
leaves outside the window. For me, then, the setting lacked
atmosphere. Guth’s main idea for his staging was to add the
extra figure of a cherub, presumably a kind of Cupid, who is
invisible to the characters on stage but who seems to be directing
the action and orchestrating the lovelorn chaos. It’s an inoffensive
idea, but it doesn’t add anything either. To his credit, Guth
is very much in touch with the serious side of the work, something
directors neglect at their peril, and he is very good at drawing
out the erotic tension between the characters, most notably
between the Count and Susanna, and between Cherubino and just
about anybody. However, he does so in an utterly unsmiling way
so that most of the action turns into a heavy plod through the
human soul rather than a light-hearted portrayal of foibles
we all share. Such an approach is mirrored in the pit. I’ve
always been a little sceptical of Harnoncourt’s approach to
Mozart and I find his Teldec Mozart recordings unbearably mannered,
especially in their choice of tempi. Regrettably, the same is
true here. He tries to approach the work in a new way and sometimes
it works: his slow tempo for Venite, inginocchiatevi
makes the aria sound refreshingly erotic, not inappropriately
for its context. Elsewhere, however, his tempi struck me as
just plain wrong, and he seems to want to draw attention to
himself rather than to serve the drama. Nowhere is this more
serious than in the finale of Act 2 where the quickfire comic
moments go at a terrible plod while the more reflective aspect
are dispatched at a gallop. On the whole he tends to take his
time over speeds so that he tries to elicit a more sensual sound
out of the orchestra, but too often this is misjudged and inappropriate
to my ears, and I just don’t think I could stick repeated hearings
of it.
The vocal performances are all OK but few are classic Mozart
performances. D’Arcangelo is a good bass singer but he isn’t
a natural buffo and he takes himself far too seriously
to convince as Figaro. Netrebko’s voice is, bluntly, much too
big for Susanna and here she sounds woefully miscast. Her sultry,
smoky soprano is beautiful in its own way but it’s entirely
inappropriate for this role and too often it feels as though
Tosca has wandered into the wrong opera. Bo Skovhus has lost
the sensuality that used to make his voice such a winner and
his Count sounds raw and desiccated. Only from Röschmann and
Schäfer do we get truly Mozartian class, both excellent
in their own way, managing to combine grace and beauty in excellent
character portrayals. Marie McLaughlin brings a touch of luxury
casting to Marcellina, though Selig is rather underwhelming
as Bartolo. All told, then, this is a Figaro that just
doesn’t add up and, paradoxically, is far less than the sum
of its parts.
Guth’s vision of Don Giovanni is even more unconventional
than Figaro but, for me, it works much better. He sets
the opera in the woods at night, tapping into our most basic
childhood fairytale fears of the darkness and danger that lurks
in the forest. The world he evokes is one utterly devoid of
love: instead human emotions are to be bought and sold, just
like human life. Elvira and Ottavio’s relationship is completely
cold (she locks herself in the car and smokes a cigarette indifferently
while he sings Dalla sua pace) and Masetto and Zerlina’s
love is fatally compromised by her early capitulation to the
Don, something they never get over. Elvira seems desperate for
any human contact, throwing herself at the Don, or at Leporello,
or at anyone who will take some notice of her. The closest relationship
is between the Don and Leporello, and that one is characterised
by violence and anger. This is a seedy world where the characters
are out for themselves, indulging in sex, alcoholism and drug
abuse with complete disregard for anyone else. At times, in
fact, the staging was reminiscent of a Mafioso revenge drama:
in the opening scene the Commendatore is wounded, not killed,
and as that happens he shoots the Don in the stomach. Leporello
tends the wound in the next scene, but the Don spends the rest
of the opera trying to cope with the agony of the injury and
at the end of the opera when the Commendatore returns, the Don
succumbs to death and falls into the grave which the Commendatore
has dug for him. Some might argue that the removal of the supernatural
demeans the opera’s greater power, but for me it revealed a
new, more earthy power that I had never seen tapped in this
way before. It’s a dark, gritty view of the piece, but not an
invalid one, and it made me re-evaluate the opera in its light,
something any good production should do.
Musically, also, this production is superior to that of Figaro.
Christopher Maltman’s Don is rich, vigorous and virile, and
his singing is always good. I couldn’t shake off a feeling that
he wasn’t quite ready for the role, though. This role is surely
the most chameleonic in opera, but Maltman’s interpretation
seemed fairly monochrome throughout, always beautiful and effecting,
but the voice for the serenade was the same as that for the
damnation scene, and there should be more distinctive colour
in any great Don. Perhaps the staging plays its role in this
as, after the gunshot wound, he spend the rest of the opera
wincing and quivering as a consequence of his injury. Erwin
Schrott, already a distinguished Don Giovanni, is a fantastic
Leporello, singing with richness and all the colour that his
master lacked. He is also a fantastic actor, playing Leporello
as a seedy underworld figure with a stammer and a nervous tic.
In fact, he put me in mind of Dustin Hoffmann’s character in
Midnight Cowboy, slippery and unpleasant but ultimately
quite likeable, and brilliantly sung. Here again, Dorothea Röschmann
gives a masterclass not just in singing but in Mozartian style.
Her pure, luxurious tone is a beauty to listen to and she acts
Elvira as a wounded, vulnerable victim who seeks release in
whatever small comforts life throws her way. Annete Dasch sings
Anna like a fire-eater with hair-raising tone and power, but
with a vulnerability and haunted quality that really works:
it’s clear from the outset that she is all too willing to give
in to the Don’s advances, and when she sings Non mi dir
it isn’t immediately clear whether she is singing to Ottavio
or to the Don. Matthew Polenzani is an outstanding Ottavio:
colourful, clear and even a touch heroic. Dalla sua pace
is magnificent, making it a terrible shame that Il mio tesoro
is cut. Ekaterina Siurina sings Zerlina with pinpoint brightness
and more than a touch of the vamp, while Alex Esposito’s Masetto
successfully treads a line between buffo and serioso.
I’ve heard better Commendatores than Anatoli Kotscherga, but
he still has just about enough power to carry the role. Bertrand
de Billy conducts with a keen ear for drama. His tempi are a
touch on the fast side, but he uses them to increase the dramatic
effect, nowhere more convincingly than in the Act 1 quartet,
Non ti fidar, o misera. Of course, the Vienna Philharmonic
play brilliantly for him. His edition of the score is an unusual
and not entirely successful one, however: he includes the duet
for Leporello and Zerlina but cuts Il mio tesoro and
Leporello’s exit aria immediately preceding it. Most
seriously, though not entirely without justification, he cuts
the final sextet entirely so that the opera ends as the Don
falls into his grave. It’s rather abrupt and I’d rather he hadn’t
chosen the cuts he did, but it hasn’t put me off returning to
this DVD for an altogether darker reading of Don Giovanni
than you’ll find elsewhere.
Così has some of the finest singing out of any of the
three operas, but unfortunately it is also the opera most blighted
by the staging. Here Guth’s production displays some of the
worst excesses of regietheater with none of the revelatory
benefits. There’s nothing wrong with the setting – a modern
luxury apartment in the aftermath of a boozy party – but Guth
display little, if any, skill in directing the singers. Its
main problem is its lack of clarity: by the time I got to the
end I was entirely at a loss as to whether the girls knew about
the deception and were going along with it, or whether they
were unwitting victims, or whether they went back to their original
lovers at the end. The only scene with even a modicum of comic
sparkle was the end of Act 1, and even there the conventions
and convulsions became tiresome. It’s such a shame because the
singing in this opera is fantastic. Miah Persson’s Fiordiligi
is even more noble and beautiful than she was for Hytner’s Glyndebourne
production, and the same is true for Topi Lehtipu, whose Ferrando
has mellowed and softened still further. His arias are superb,
and he is staking a strong claim to be the finest Mozart tenor
around at the moment. Isabel Leonard is well contrasted with
Persson, darker of texture and richer of palette, and Boesch
sings with more darkness and less burnish than I would normally
expect of him. Patricia Petibon steals the acting honours as
Despina, though her vocal contortions try the patience. Only
Skovhus lets the side down, displaying the same breathy discomfort
that marred his performance in Figaro. Adam Fischer conducts
an uncut score and the Vienna Philharmonic enjoy responding
to the fizz of his baton. However, this remains a performance
to listen to with the TV turned off: the Glyndebourne
DVD is a much better marriage of audio to visuals.
There are lots of things to enjoy in this set: it’s just a pity
that you have to look so hard for them. I wouldn’t want to be
without it entirely, mainly for the contributions of so many
of the singers; but the productions are so problematic that
they detract from enjoyment of the experience and for all three
of the operas there are better DVD alternatives elsewhere. What’s
more, the set isn’t exactly economically priced at the moment,
and many collectors will find that their money is better spent
on other, more satisfying stagings. Röschmann, Schrott and Lehtipu
will live in my memory for a long time, but Guth’s productions
contain too many things that I would rather forget.
Simon Thompson
Cast details
Le Nozze di Figaro
Figaro – Ildebrando d’Arcangelo (bar)
Susanna – Anna Netrebko (sop)
Count – Bo Skovhus (bar)
Countess – Dorothea Röschmann (sop)
Cherubino – Christine Schäfer (mezzo)
Marcellina – Marie McLaughlin (mezzo)
Bartolo – Franz-Josef Selig (bass)
Basilio – Patrick Henckens (tenor)
Antonio – Florian Boesch (bar)
Nikolaus Harnoncourt (conductor)
Recorded 2006 [202:00 + 26:00 documentary]
Don Giovanni
Don Giovanni – Christopher Maltman (bar)
Commendatore – Anatoli Kotscherga (bass)
Donna Anna – Annete Dasch (sop)
Don Ottavio – Matthew Polenzani (tenor)
Donna Elvira – Dorothea Röschmann (sop)
Leporello – Erwin Schrott (bar)
Zerlina – Ekaterina Siurina (sop)
Masetto – Alex Esposito (bar)
Bertrand de Billy (conductor)
Recorded 2008 [177:00]
Così fan Tutte
Fiordiligi – Miah Persson (sop)
Dorabella – Isabel Leonard (sop)
Despina – Patricia Petibon (sop)
Guglielmo – Florian Boesch (bar)
Ferrando – Topi Lehtipu (tenor)
Don Alfonso – Bo Skovhus (bar)
Adam Fischer (conductor)
Recorded 2009 [191:00]
EUROARTS 
2058818 [6 DVDs: 9:30:00] 
