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The Stained Mattress of Immorality München
Nationaltheater
07/06/2025 -
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Così fan tutte, K. 588
Olga Kulchynska (Fiordiligi), Avery Amereau (Dorabella), Sandrine Piau (Despina), Joshua Hopkins (Guglielmo), Daniel Behle (Ferrando), Thomas Hampson (Don Alfonso)
Chor der Bayerischen Staatsoper, Franz Obermair (chorus master), Bayerisches Staatsorchester, Vladimir Jurowski (conductor)
Benedict Andrews (stage director), Magda Willi (sets), Victoria Behr (costumes), Mark Van Denesse (light), Katja Leclerc (dramaturgy)
O. Kulchynska (© Geoffroy Schied)
On its 150th anniversary, the Münchner Opernfestspiele had the novel idea of producing all three Da Ponte/Mozart operas as a trilogy, using three different artistic directors. For Così fan tutte, Australia’s Benedict Andrews was chosen. A decade ago, I had the misfortune of attending one of his early forays into opera, Detlev Glanert’s Caligula (2006), in Buenos Aires. As it was not a particularly strong opera, I did not blame the trainwreck on the director. However, for the enduring masterpiece that is Così fan tutte, Andrews cannot be forgiven; the runaway train drove into an abyss.
Over a decade should have been enough for this director to understand opera is a medium distinct from theatre, and endowed with its own traditions. Given the relatively small number of works in the operatic repertoire, there is a unique aesthetic. Most importantly, an intelligent production, from the minds of today’s greatest directors, Damiano Michieletto, Robert Carsen and Christof Loy, involves familiarity with operatic tradition, knowledge of history and a keen command of literature in order to position a work in its proper context.
Like most directors, Andrews chose to ignore the actual location where Così fan tutte takes place, Naples. Rarely does a librettist choose a location fortuitously, especially the great Lorenzo Da Ponte (1749‑1838), the greatest opera librettist ever. Other than affording pretty Mediterranean scenery, Naples, with its sardonic, often cruel sense of humour, is a crucial element in the work. Also ignored was its subtle commedia dell’arte subtext: just six characters, two sets of lovers, an old cynical man and a shrewd maid. It could not be more obvious.
So what did Andrews discover instead to instill into one of the greatest operatic comedies? You guessed it. The perennial solution to those lacking imagination, sex, and at its most crude level. During the overture, Don Alfonso, wearing a head mask, fornicates with Despina, who’s sporting a blond wig to fulfill one of the old man’s fantasies. A gruesome start.
After the quick act, Alfonso takes a Polaroid and Despina is paid her fee. One wonders how Don Alfonso can afford to pay for sex, given the repulsive room in which he lives: decrepit yellowed white walls, an absence of furniture, and in lieu of a bed, a mattress stained with urine and other bodily liquids. The mattress, a supposed symbol of immorality and a guaranteed emetic, was Andrews’ unfortunate leitmotif throughout the opera.
One never gets to understand if Despina is Alfonso’s maid, the sisters Fiordiligi and Dorabella’s maid (as per the libretto) or a hotel chambermaid who offers other services in return for cash. Why would young women (or the young men for that matter) meet the old man in his dingy bedroom and not in a public place?
Fiordiligi and Dorabella play with Barbie dolls and a toy castle, Andrews’ way of conveying their immaturity. The centrepiece of their home is a BMW sports utility vehicle, poorly spent publicity money by the German car manufacturer, if they participated in this production. It’s used as an attempted method of suicide (through its exhaust) by the sisters, after learning from Alfonso their fiancés had gone to war.
Further muddling ensues thanks to the transposition of the epoch to the 1970s, a good choice for a hideous period, which seems to be Andrews’ preference. Chastity, conjugal fidelity and military service are anachronistic concepts in the updated epoch. A further unclarified detail is whether the sisters are visually impaired. In Da Ponte’s libretto, Guglielmo and Ferrando return disguised as Albanians! The “Albanian” masquerade affords duplicity. In the present production, they return as uncouth versions of themselves, in an unsuccessful disguise as Elvis impersonators or rock musicians. As flawed as the idea is, the required props (guitars, drums, microphones), were sadly absent. This is what arouses the suspicion that Andrews’ meant for the sisters to be blind, for no one in the audience was vaguely fooled. I’m sure someone unfamiliar with the opera would not understand that there was even an attempt at subterfuge.
Of course, no attention was paid to the text, as is often the case in productions with poorly conceived changes of epoch; the libretto cites several times the Albanians’ mustaches and how proud the disguised men are with them. Moreover, in addition to orientalist garb, huge moustaches help make the travestimento credible. Neither of the men sport mustaches in their incognito version. When they move into the sisters’ house, they bring Don Alfonso’s urine‑stained mattress. Charming.
In Act II, once Guglielmo has succeeded in seducing Dorabella, they enter a hideous inflatable copy of Disneyland’s iconic castle, the same one (only bigger) the sisters played with in Act I. The castle, a symbol of puerile fantasy, may symbolize an end of innocence or embarking on a major puerile mistake. In the libretto, Dorabella’s fickleness is demonstrated by accepting a heart‑shaped locket from Guglielmo and giving her medallion (containing Ferrando’s portrait) in return. However, that perfidy would have been too mild by 1970s standards.
Vocally, the production fared much better, thanks to the three female roles. Last heard in 2019 as Leïla in Les Pêcheurs de perles in Barcelona, Ukrainian lyric soprano Olga Kulchynska’s voice has since matured. Her timbre remains as beautiful, but it’s grown stronger, as attested by her spectacular rendition of the Act I aria “Come scoglio,” where she managed the high tessitura with brio and without any difficulty with the myriad gear shifts in this killer aria. She positively captivated us with her Act II aria, “Per pietà, ben mio, perdona.”
American mezzo Avery Amereau’s timbre was so seductive that she managed to render the usually trivial role of Zerlina as nearly equal to Donna Anna and Donna Elvira at the previous evening’s Don Giovanni. Her rendition of Dorabella’s Act I aria “Smanie implacabili” was truly delightful, and possibly the most memorable. Temperament-wise, she was a perfect choice for the naughtier of the two sisters, as she demonstrated in a delectable rendition of the Act II aria “E amore un ladroncello,” where she confessed to her sister her indiscretion with her new suitor. Moreover, Amereau’s rich and distinct mezzo contrasted beautifully with Kulchynska’s brighter soprano.
Canada’s Joshua Hopkins and Germany’s Daniel Behle, as Guglielmo and Ferrando respectively, are both excellent singers but the botched stagings made them more unsympathetic than naive. Seen in the same role in Chicago, Joshua Hopkins’ Guglielmo had more panache in the older production, in large part thanks to a superior staging. This Guglielmo was a detestable bully, hard to sympathise with or find charming. His shabby disguise made him the opposite of attractive. However, on a positive note, he was at his dramatic best in his Act II duet with Dorabella, “Il cor vi dono.”
Behle is a truly charismatic singer, as he demonstrated as Loge in Das Rheingold in Vienna three weeks earlier. His Act I “Un aura amorosa” and his Act II “Tradito, schernito” were both beautifully sung, though he was much more moving in the latter. The Fiordiligi-Ferrando Act II duet, “Fra gli amplessi,” was delightful thanks to both his expressivity and the harmonious blending of his and Kulchynska’s voices. As with Hopkins, the disguise, the attire and the role itself as conceived by the misguided director made one almost indifferent to his suffering. There is no reason for this idiocy when the libretto is one of finest ever.
Alas, veteran baritone Thomas Hampson was the sextet’s weakest link, despite great stage presence. His voice is much too diminished in a role he once excelled at. At several moments, his voice was hoarse and unattractive. Even in the glorious Act I “Soave sia il vento”, the opera’s most sublime moment, his voice disturbed the balance with the two female voices, leading to a forgettable trio.
Usually, Despina is the least remarkable role (at least vocally) in this opera. Not so for French soprano Sandrine Piau, who made this character the centre of the opera, a quasi‑impossible feat, though not in this jejune staging. In both her Act I aria “In uomini, in soldati, sperare fedeltà?” and Act II’s “Una donna a quindici anni,” she was humorous, though without excess or vulgarity. Of the entire cast, her Italian was the most delectable, an essential quality for a comic role. Her travestimenti as a doctor in Act I and a notary in Act II were well done and not too forced. From director Andrews, I expected much worse.
It was utterly unforgivable of the Australian director to add a horrific detail not in Da Ponte’s plot: when Guglielmo and Ferrando learn of their fiancées’ infidelity, they channel their rage into raping Despina simultaneously, one from the front and one from behind. In addition to utter vulgarity, this rendered these unsympathetic men monstrous. I was hoping for a fair ending (diverse from Da Ponte’s) i.e. that the two sisters would send them packing. Alas, this was not the case. In the reconciliatory finale, Andrews was (exceptionally) true to Da Ponte.
One consolation was Vladimir Jurowski’s conducting of the Bayerisches Staatsorchester. Though both he and the orchestra are most noted for Wagner and Strauss, they played with elegance and understatement, as if this were their everyday fare. Jurowski was a master of tempi, correct ones that is, unlike Susanna Mälkki’s race tracking two nights earlier, in Le nozze di Figaro. The orchestral playing here was the best aspect of a scenically and dramatically forgettable performance.
Così fan tutte is long, and if the production is botched – as was clearly the case here – it can feel extremely long. Other than a few glorious arias, especially those by the women, relief at the end of the performance was one of the biggest moments of joy. Ah! I forgot an even bigger joy: the stained mattress is burned as we hear the opera’s final notes. Hopefully, Bayerische Staatsoper will come to its senses and do the same for this sorry production.
Ossama el Naggar
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