Luigi Cherubini wrote Médée in 1797 for the Théâtre Feydeau in Paris, drawing inspiration from the classical tragedy Μήδεια by Euripides – a foundational myth in our civilisation. Cherubini approached this chilling narrative with classical rigour, avoiding excessive coloratura or melodic softness and instead grounding the score in a symphonic framework. Each act features a symphonic introduction imbued with a nervous, agitated character. The orchestra, rather than merely accompanying the voices, propels them into the heart of the tragedy. The finale encapsulates the horror of Medea's unspeakable crime – the murder of her own children – with almost unbearable intensity. A contemporary critic dubbed Médée as “musical terrorism”.
Cherubini serves as a link between Gluck and Beethoven, the latter expressing profound respect for the composer. Conductor Michele Gamba's interpretation eschewed excessive romanticism, sculpting the musical phrases with a firm, authoritative touch. The Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala delivered an intense performance, with the horns and bassoon producing a dense, genuinely tragic sound.
La Scala has opted to present a version of Médée as faithful as possible to the original, avoiding cuts Franz Lachner's sung recitatives. The inaugural performance featured spoken dialogue, in opéra comique fashion. However, reciting François-Benoît Hoffman's pompous Alexandrine verses might be arduous for non-French singers, and off-putting for a modern audience. Director Damiano Michieletto, collaborating with Dramaturg Mattia Palma, has devised an innovative solution: replacing the spoken dialogue with the chattering, in modern French, of Médée’s children (recorded by Timothee Nessi and Sofia Barri). The children whisper to each other, attempting to comprehend the unfolding horror and providing their interpretation of the events, always with a moving, unfaltering trust in their mother. This choice, while interrupting the flow of the action, injects a profoundly human and timeless element into the gruesome tale.
Paolo Fantin's stage design showcases a singular room, an elegant lavender and white home. A door at the rear reveals the children's room. Carla Teti's costumes are modern and refined, portraying the people of Corinth in sophisticated pastel hues. Jason emanates a nouveau riche aura, while Médée, distinctively clad in almost tattered garments, appears as an outcast, shunned and feared by all. She performs several impressive sorceries, terrifying Jason during their spectacular duet, where she conjures smoke out of the golden fleece, or enchanting a gift for Jason’s new bride, which will murder her, with fire onstage for dramatic effect.
The visuals are beautiful, yet regrettably, the room lacks a ceiling, hindering the singers' projection. Their voices are distinctly audible when they approach the front of the stage, but wane in strength as they move upstage.
Marina Rebeka delivered a compelling portrayal of the titular character. Her tone exuded sweetness and mellowness when expressing love for her children, turned seductive and mellifluous when manipulating Créon to delay her exile, while her vindictive fury was steely, edgy, with high notes like dagger blades. Rebeka's commitment and passion in her acting, shared with her colleagues, were evident. Michieletto invested considerable effort in Personenregie, rendering the performance intense and engaging. Special mention goes to the acting of the two children, Thomas Nocerino and Elisa Dazio, who graced the stage with confidence and adorable professionalism throughout.
Stanislas de Barbeyrac, as Jason, Médée’s unfaithful husband who abandons her for a younger new wife, sang with an energetic tenor, exuding a somewhat heroic quality befitting a Greek hero. While facing slight challenges in the highest register, his performance was enjoyable, bolstered by commendable acting skills. Martina Russomanno, portraying Dircé, Jason's new bride, depicted a pure young girl, understandably apprehensive about her beau's ex. Russomanno sang her first aria with a high, silvery soprano, handling the coloratura effortlessly, despite some shrill high notes and projection issues.
Néris, Médée's confidante and the children's nanny, has perhaps the most beautiful aria of the entire opera. Ambrosine Bré infused the melody with moving sweetness, transforming the aria into a declaration of love. Nahuel Di Pierro, in the role of Créon, the king of Corinth and father of Dircé, wielded a precise, mellow bass that lent authority to the character, albeit suffering from a lack of projection, possibly influenced by the stage setup. Greta Doveri and Mara Gaudenzi, singers from the Scala Accademia, were notably appreciated in their roles as Dircé's two companions.
And what about Maria Callas? This role is arguably the one most closely associated with her name, and she was the last one to perform Medea at La Scala (1963), making this evening susceptible to inappropriate comparisons. However, the entirely different version of the score (Callas sang in Italian with sung recitatives), Maestro Gamba's meticulous and disciplined interpretation, along with the innovative production, all proved to be judicious choices. Through these, La Scala successfully dispelled any lingering ghosts.
