Gioacchino Rossini concluded his illustrious career in a blaze of glory. At the pinnacle of his fame as Europe's most celebrated opera composer, he penned his final, monumental, masterpiece – Guillaume Tell – before embarking on a 40-year retirement. The Teatro alla Scala now presents this opera for the first time in the original French, nearly unaltered, embracing its Wagnerian length to the fullest.
Conductor Michele Mariotti, whose lifelong loving relationship with Rossini's music is evident, led the La Scala orchestra in a performance marked by profound understanding and a deep appreciation for the bel canto aesthetic. Mariotti's meticulous attention to the intricacies of the score, his emphasis on solo passages, and his ability to evoke both elegance and power while infusing a melancholic undertone underscored his reverence for the music. The thunderous ovation that greeted the overture rivalled that of a football match, with audiences from every section of the theatre erupting in cheers and applause, ultimately crowning Mariotti as the evening's standout performer.
The chorus, playing a pivotal role in the opera, delivered impeccable performances at every turn, showcasing precision, strength and remarkable expressiveness. Their sheer numbers onstage were awe-inspiring, earning them resounding praise as usual.
The plot revolves around the mythical figure of William Tell, hero of the Swiss liberation against Austrian domination in 1307. Chiara Muti's innovative production presents a dystopian society where the oppressed masses, clad in Soviet-style greys, are enslaved by their dependence on tablets – a commentary on contemporary society, one assumes. The oppressors are depicted almost as fantastical beings, include Governor Gesler, resembling a blend of Voldemort and Death, cloaked in vivid red, and his court portrayed by eccentric figures immersed in debauchery. The soldiers feature medieval accents in their uniforms (costumes by Ursula Patzak) and the old Melchtal, spiritual guide of the village, is depicted as a guru, his murder becoming a crucifixion.
Alessandro Camera's stark sets, reminiscent of ominous buildings or prisons, further accentuate the oppressive atmosphere, maintained during moments where the music and libretto call for bucolic tranquillity. Even the flags of the rebellious Swiss are sombre shades of dark grey, just like the children's toys: black and dusty, as though abandoned amidst years of mesmerising screen-induced stupor. The pervasive blackness knows no respite.
The ballet sequences, nearly uncut, are transformed into pantomimes illustrating Gesler's soldiers' brutalising the Swiss populace, employing magical puppetry to manipulate their victims without touching them. The first act scene with the sexual assault of the three newlywed brides creates a disturbing climate of violence on stage, and the portrayal of husbands engrossed in their tablets, oblivious to their surroundings, adds a chilling dimension. The interpretation of these ballets drew mixed reactions from the audience, many voicing loud disapproval. Overall, Muti's idea is understandable, but realised somewhat chaotically, without adding much to the story.
Michele Pertusi's bass lent gravitas to the baritone role of Guillaume Tell, without any strain in his upper register. He portrayed a natural man devoid of technological trappings, driven by an impassioned love for his homeland. Pertusi captured Tell's vulnerability and fervent dedication to the cause with poignant sincerity, earning him a rapturous reception following “Sois immobile”, a true manifestation of affection for a beloved singer who has given so much to this theatre.
Dmitry Korchak tackled the challenging role of Arnold Melchtal, created for Adolphe Nourrit, with a powerful, heroic tenor, effortlessly scaling the heights of his vocal range, always in full chest, at times pushed too loud. While his timbre leaned towards the acerbic side, particularly evident in the initial passages of “Asile héréditaire”, his electrifying rendition of the aria's final cabaletta showcased his undeniable vocal prowess.
Salome Jicia's bronzed soprano imbued Mathilde, Arnold's Austrian love interest, with warmth and allure, with only some of her high notes tending to be edgy. Her performance was highlighted by her exquisite coloratura in “Pour notre amour plus d’espérance”. Despite occasional breath control issues, her legato was seamless and the love duet with Korchak in Act 2 was very successful.
Catherine Trottmann's shimmering soprano as Jemmy, Tell's son, effortlessly soared above intricate ensemble passages, while Geraldine Chauvet's dark, velvety mezzo added depth and emotion to the character of Hedvige, Tell’s wife. The trio of Trottmann, Chauvet and Jicia in Act 4 was moving and expressive. The three basses, Nahuel di Pierro as a smooth, emotional Walter, Luca Tittoto as a stentorian Gesler and Evgeny Stavinsky as a booming, authoritative Melchtal (Arnold’s father), gave competent portrayals, contributing to this production's success.
