Giorgio Strehler stood as one of the most renowned and respected opera directors of the last century, with his productions defining an era. This season, the Teatro alla Scala brings back one of his most iconic works: Die Entführung aus dem Serail, originally created for the Salzburg Festival in 1965 and later presented at La Scala in 1972. It marked Strehler's inaugural encounter with Mozart, sparking his vision for a production destined for the annals of history.
The meta-theatrical concept, often mishandled in uninspired executions, is here realised in its purest and most sophisticated form, serving the essence of this German Singspiel. The narrative is fragile, its setting distant from modern sensibilities – a pure turquerie, employing exotic atmospheres to satirise foreign customs and behaviours.
Strehler interposes several layers between the narrative and the audience: a faux proscenium, veiled by an aged, worn curtain; singers theatrically acknowledging the audience following each aria with deep bows; sets adorned with painted backdrops, manipulating space to frame the action. However, the lighting takes precedence, delineating not only physical spaces but also psychological realms.
The stage is horizontally divided into distinct parts: the foremost, beyond the faux proscenium, remains shrouded in darkness. Here, singers emerge as black silhouettes against a backdrop of soft, ethereal light, evoking a dreamlike ambiance where music reigns supreme, divorcing itself from narrative constraints. Their gestures are exaggerated, reminiscent of 17th-century figurines, imbued with self-deprecating humour. In the middle section, singers bask in full illumination, embodying comedy, laughter, and trepidation. They seamlessly traverse between these disparate planes, creating a mesmerising, otherworldly experience where boundaries between reality and dreams blur.
On the conductor's podium, Thomas Guggeis led the Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala through a magnificent performance. He launched into the overture at a breathtaking pace, maintaining an exhilarating momentum throughout the pyrotechnic score. His precise rhythm propelled the action forward with unwavering determination, yet the sound retained a remarkable clarity, lightness and elegance – pure Mozart. Every detail was meticulously brought to the forefront, yet always in service of the overall performance, devoid of any indulgent lingering on the music's beauty. Guggeis' debut proved to be a resounding success.
Jessica Pratt portrayed Konstanze, the European lady abducted by Pasha Selim for his harem, with remarkable skill, embodying all the necessary qualities for this demanding role. She seamlessly integrated the pristine coloratura and effortless high notes typical of a coloratura with the commanding power and projection more commonly associated with a dramatic soprano. Her high notes soared like laser beams, resonant with harmonics, radiating brilliance and clarity. Her sustained filati were delicate and ethereal, yet she infused the recitatives with palpable drama and emotion.
Pratt's rendition of the opera's pièce de résistance, “Martern aller Arten”, stood out as a highlight. In a departure from the rest of the production, Strehler insisted on illuminating the stage fully for this aria, even turning on the lights in the theatre itself. The result was nothing short of magnificent.
Belmonte, Konstanze's beloved, was portrayed by Daniel Behle, whose light and elegant tenor proved perfectly suited for Mozart's music. His timbre exuded nobility and authority, yet softened into sweetness and passion during his love-stricken musings; his rendition of “Konstanze, Konstanze” was particularly poignant.
Jasmin Delfs took on the role of Blonde, Konstanze's English maid. Her voice embodied a more stereotypical coloratura soprano quality: light and silvery. Delfs portrayed the young woman with vivacity and sparkle, her voice resonating beautifully, especially in the upper register just above the passaggio, where her timbre became truly heart-melting. Additionally, she displayed remarkable chemistry with Michael Laurenz, as Pedrillo, Belmonte's servant, and her own beloved. As the ‘low-class couple’ typical of many operas of this era, they embraced the comedic aspects of their roles with elegance and lightness. Laurenz's tenor was light and graceful, but sat slightly lower than Behle's, resulting in well-balanced ensembles. The quartet that concludes the second act, where Belmonte and Pedrillo question the women about their faithfulness, stood out as particularly successful. The singing was beautifully intertwined, with the four black silhouettes striking lovely poses on stage, creating a captivating visual and auditory experience.
Peter Rose portrayed Osmin, the overseer of the Pasha's country house, who serves as the focal point of comedic action (often the target of jokes). Rose handled the comedic elements with a light touch, his deep bass maintaining an elegant and stylish presence throughout. He showcased beautiful high notes and managed the coloratura passages in “O wie will ich triumphieren” with reasonable proficiency. His low D may not have been booming, but it was there.
Kudos to La Scala for preserving such a seminal production and bringing it to life once again.
