This year, the Teatro alla Scala opted for a rather conservative choice for its opening night. The work selected was Verdi's Don Carlo, presented in the 1884 “Milan” version, in Italian without ballets – a standard in any Italian opera house. Lluís Pasqual's production is a blend of tradition and a reluctance to take risks, an approach which failed to satisfy both the traditionalists and the proponents of innovation.
Franca Squarciapino's exquisite costumes are rich in historical detail, with black fabric symbolising wealth rather than gloom. Daniel Bianco's sets feature a prominent cylindrical tower structure at the centre, constructed with a metal grid and alabaster-like panels. This tower occasionally opens to reveal different environments or architectural elements. Beyond the tower, the stage is mostly left bare, except for foreboding iron gates in scenes set at Saint-Just, creating a dark ambiance. Singers are largely left to their own devices, delivering acting performances that varied in quality. The chorus remain almost entirely stationary, positioned on either side of the tower. While these visuals are not ugly, the entire concept proves to be uninteresting and somewhat boring.
Riccardo Chailly chose a similar dark hue for his reading of Verdi's score, approaching it with meticulous care and authority, unravelling every detail in a sombre, almost funereal tapestry. While this extreme precision and a tendency towards slower tempi somewhat subdued the passion found in other interpretations, the orchestra produced a beautiful and enchanting sound. Certain details, such as the introduction to the Veil Song, were particularly outstanding. Additionally, Chailly's unwavering support for his singers was evident, and any initial heaviness in the first act (likely due to overall nerves) swiftly dissipated in a tight, cohesive performance.
The cast comprised the opera world's finest talents, each excelling in their respective roles. Anna Netrebko, portraying Elisabetta di Valois, stood out with a timbre which has hardly ever sounded so supple, so full, so velvety. She strongly relied on her middle-lower register, without pushing, but rather contributing to the overall dark and atmospheric ambiance. In the first act she showed some problems, catching breath every few words, as if experiencing some support issues. This improved during the night, and her performance truly reached its pinnacle with a breathtaking rendition of “Tu che le vanità”. Her remarkable power and projection, evident in a commanding attack that shook the theatre, were striking. But then Netrebko underwent a complete affective shift, reining in her powerful voice to deliver the sweetest of pianissimi during the following passage as Elisabetta remembers her youth. Even the loggionisti were convinced.
Elīna Garanča, in the role of Princess Eboli, proved to be a perfect complement to Netrebko's Elisabetta. She commenced with grandeur, executing every delicate ornamentation in the Veil Song with precision, savouring the cadenzas inspired by the cante jondo typical of flamenco. Her performance continued to evolve, highlighted by a fantastic trio in the second act, alongside Francesco Meli (Don Carlo) and Luca Salsi (Posa). Particularly noteworthy was her rendition of the exposed phrase “Trema per te, falso figluolo” – notoriously challenging for mezzos – which was nothing short of spectacular. Garanča’s upper register was in excellent form, featuring splendid, effortless high notes, and she maintained remarkable uniformity throughout her entire range. While she occasionally appeared to lack a touch of sensuality, her overall performance was striking.
Salsi confirmed his genuine grasp of Verdian style; his velvety baritone showcased elegant phrasing and a commendable legato. While he may have missed a touch of courtly manners, especially noticeable in the first act during interactions with Eboli and Elisabetta, he convincingly portrayed the role of an earnest activist, conspirator and warrior.
Meli was a credible Don Carlo, his generous tenor very suited to the young prince. Meli managed to portray all Carlo's weakness, as well as his unfaltering love for Elisabetta. His high notes were generally very good, his legato remarkable, and he almost managed to navigate the high B natural of “Sarò tuo salvator” in the auto-da-fé scene. Here, the chorus was phenomenal, producing an electrifying wall of sound. Filippo II was Michele Pertusi. While he sounded fatigued in the first two acts and was reported as unwell before his grand scene in the third, Pertusi valiantly concluded the show. His voice became frail on the lower notes, but his experience came to the rescue for a satisfactory performance.
The Great Inquisitor was Jongmin Park, a last-minute substitution for Ain Anger, who fell ill. Park’s booming bass was very suited to the part. Among the “minor” characters, honourable mention to Rosalia Cid, who sang the Voice from Heaven with a high, silvery, elegant soprano.
