As the ever-constant pendulum of taste and trend fluctuates so follow the production styles at our grander opera houses and nothing, it seems, says it clearer than a new mounting of Aida. At La Scala the famous Franco Zeffirelli collaboration with Lila de Nobili of 1963, with all its painterly realism, gave way to Pier Luigi Pizzi’s bolder geometric stylization a decade later. No surprise that the most recent Egyptian voluptuary of 2006 by our friend Franco has now been replaced by the most singularly spartan production of Verdi’s masterpiece I think I’ve ever seen. 

The German theatre director Peter Stein could have probably rested on his laurels for eternity after his historic collaboration with Pierre Boulez and the Welsh National Opera on Claude Debbusy’s Pelleas et Melisande in 1992. It is surely one of the most sensitive and intense presentations of that delicate work and we are fortunate that it was filmed for posterity. Verdi’s Aida is, at its core, a far simpler story. It just happens to be writ large over a canvas saturated with French Grand Opera traditions. To Mr. Stein’s preference for modest designs and adaptive proscenium spaces add a cast of able but not inspired singers, with one dynamic exception, and the result is a wildly uneven traversal of Verdi’s Egyptian tragedy.

Maestro Zubin Mehta, looking trim and confident and veteran of many an Aida, strides into the pit, gives a simple two-beat to the orchestra and they play like angels. There’s even a great shot of the over excited kettle drum player at his first forte obviously getting the malocchio from our conductor and you see him promptly adjust and pull back. Mehta conducts from memory in the Toscanini tradition but there the similarity ends. He is excessive in his use of rubato throughout. Not as bad as some mind you but he does give the singers a lot of leeway. End result being after a while he’s not really driving the train, he’s just guiding it.

I can only imagine the thoughts running through the minds of the opening night audience at La Scala when the black main curtain rose to reveal a vast expanse of even blacker stage save for one large-ish Egyptian-style, doorway, gold edged,  illuminated from behind by a blinding white background with matching threshold. Very Josef Svoboda. I think to myself, “I’m game”,

The High Priest Ramfis enters stage right in the personage of veteran basso Matti Salminen. “Veteran” was the key word in that sentence: at his age he’s mostly just wandering from note to note without a firm line. He is followed by our Radames for the evening, Fabio Sartori. Mr. Salminen at 6 feet 5 inches is a very, very, tall man. Mr. Sartori may be all of 5’8” on a good day. Mr. Salminen is draped almost entirely in white and silver in a costume that’s reminiscent of Admiral Ackbar in Return of the Jedi. Mr. Sartori is bedecked in a flowing black robe with leather accents that does his ample frame no favors.

He proceeds to barrel his way through “Celeste Aida” in a husky spinto tenor of little distinction. He does sing with some authority which is no surprise since his gaze rarely strays from the pit. After a loudish B-flat finale he kneels to receive the applause from a grateful Scala audience that. Does. Not. Come. Not the first awkward moment of the evening and my guess is that the audience was asked only to applaud except at the curtains since that’s the only time it ever happens.

Meanwhile Mr. Stein and his lighting designer Joachim Barth conspire to keep things as dark as possible with the principles in shadow using no follow spotlights. Things do brighten considerably with the arrival of Anita Rachvelishvili as Amneris gowned in a pale gold satin with train. A graduate of the Accademia Teatro alla Scala, she is endowed with an uncommonly rich mezzo and can sing with force or nuance as required. She’s an attractive woman who carries herself with confidence and she knows how to throw the side eye when necessary.

Our love triangle completes itself with the arrival of Kristin Lewis as Aida. Costumier Nannà Cechi has swathed our Ethiopian princess in an purple gown of vaguely Grecian line with a electric green wrap and bright auburn dreadlocks. She remains the one spot of vibrant color throughout the scene since the priests and palace court are all done up in Star Wars white. Ms. Lewis displays a pleasant and sizeable soprano voice that’s missing just the last degree of legato line. Her only real deficit is any kind of spin on the top of the voice which isn’t absolutely a necessity for Aida but makes things prettier. Her “RItorna vincitor,” brimming with dramatic motivation, could be subtitled “Sings with a Fist.”

We move on to the consecration scene in the Temple Vulcan where we enter full 2001: a Space Odyssey mode. Once again we see an entirely black stage with the male chorus of priests and courtiers lined up on either side of an altar piece center stage. As the ballet begins we get some mildly dervish choreography and smoldering pots with dry ice. The male chorus has been positively ferocious throughout with absolutely glorious singing.  Then, just as we’re blessing the weapons, an enormous gold disc starts slowly descending through a skylight (from where?) to dock with the alter piece.

Mr. Stein likes to adjust the proscenium ratio and Amneris’ chamber cuts the stage space down by nearly half. Ferdinand Wögerbauer’s set design here is a massive Robert Wilson blue archway with a low rectangular entry and a glittering golden wall as backdrop behind. It’s a stunning color combination with Ms. Rachvelishvili still in her gold and the handmaidens in pale pinks and yellows with electric blue hair. The divertissement is performed by a tribe of green children with leaves for hair. Then Ms. Lewis enters and it is on. The dramatic highlight is Amneris dragging Aida across the stage by one arm to get her to the Triumphal Scene like it’s a WWF Death Match.

Here is where things start to go a bit wonky. If there’s a new and brilliant way to stage the Triumphal Scene I’m all for it. Here we have the usual grandstand stage left for priests and courtiers plus the horn section up top with their attachable music lyres blocking their faces. The masses huddle stage right in front of a black backdrop which, since they’re all in brown and black, certainly diminishes their intended impression. Against the gold glittering wall at the rear the King, the very strong voiced Carlo Colombara, and Amneris with Aida take their appropriate places. Up until now the production design has looked creative and spare and, yes, a bit odd. Now it’s just dime-store.

The procession starts and it’s tight quarters backstage because someone hits that golden wall backdrop and the whole thing ripples like a flag in the wind. Blessedly it’s over pretty fast. You see Mr. Stein cut the entire ballet because he ran out of ideas wanted to make other artistic choices. The Ethiopian prisoners are brought on and two things become immediately evident. 1).There aren’t any actual Africans to hire in Milan apparently and 2). Getting this bunch of Italians dressed up in the same color pallette and wig style to match our soprano makes them look like refugees from a Milli Vanilli cover band.

Musically things start to hot up with the arrival of George Gagnidze as Amonasro, in spite of how he looks in the costume. Then, as everyone launches into the finale ultimo, Ms. Lewis hits one of the grandest B-flat’s it’s been my privilege to hear, dominating the ensemble with it for a split second longer than musically necessary. Suddenly I remembered why I loved opera all over again.

I shall dispense with the Nile Scene fairly quickly. A large bi-level set, you guessed it all black, with that powder blue arch now serving as the temple on the upper level. Ms. Lewis‘ “O patria mia” is solid but, once again, there’s no float in her top and she breaks for breath right before the climactic C. The duet with Amonasro goes well even though Mr. Gagnidze is about as subtle a schemer as a hippopotamus. Vocally the man’s a sledge hammer. The tenor arrives for his assignation and it’s hard to work up any romantic feeling for a guy who looks like a wooly fire hydrant. He does manage a very nice, albeit short, piano B-flat on “nostri amori” but his vocal performance remains earthbound and his dramatic skills are remedial at best.

The Judgment Scene takes place in a subterranean stairway and chamber adorned withby a very modern handrail on the stairs leading down to the first level. Mr. Mehta is very architectural in how he allows this scene to build musically. Slowly and with surprisingly subtle detail, through the duet with Radames and then the final confrontation with the priests, Ms. Rachvelishvili builds a titanic portrait of a desperate woman while pouring forth an unstinting deluge of coruscating mezzo glory. This is a woman who is not afraid to throw herself to the ground and pound things if necessary. She is fire and she is my new Goddess and I bow low.

For the final scene you see two dudes slipping a comically large “fatal pietra” made of gold into place on the upper level. I won’t spoil the ending for the young ones or the silly bit of stage business they leave for Amneris before the curtain finally descends. The calls go as expected and it’s an interesting juxtaposition with Ms. Rachvelishvili humbled and then bouncy and ebullient and Ms. Lewis far more moved at her bow than I was by her entire performance.

This one’s a tough call. Certainly a unique approach and visually very individual. How many Aidas have we seen that really should have been called Amneris? For fans of Ms. Rachvelishvili it’s a wonderful souvenir. Picture and DTS 5.1 sound are superb and capture the event vividly.

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