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An Ambitious Venture Buenos Aires
Teatro Avenida
10/04/2025 - & October 10*, 2025
Giuseppe Verdi: Don Carlo
Pablo Truchljak/Raúl Iriarte* (Don Carlo), Enrique Gibert Mella (Rodrigo), Graciela de Glydenfeldt (Elisabeth de Valois), Cristian de Marco/Sebastián Barboza* (Philip II), Mairín Rodriguez (Princess Eboli), Carlos Esquivel (Grand Inquisitor), Michelle Fogel/Mercedes Barel* (Tebaldo), Mercedes Barel/Michelle Fogel* (Celestial Voice), Edwin Salinas (Marquis de Lerma, Herold), Federico Salcedo (A Monk), Jorge Balagna, Fabián Cangueiro, Félix Cordero, Luciano Allievi, Jorge Waddel, Carlos Lafalce (Flemish Delegates)
Coro del Opera Festival Buenos Aires & members of Choral Lyrique Buenos Aires, Silvia Aloy (Chorus Leader), Orquesta Opera Festival Buenos Aires, Susana Frangi* (Conductor)
Emilio Urdapilleta (Stage Director, Sets, Lighting), Mariela Daga (Costumes)
G. de Glydenfeldt (© Leonardo Pecar)
It’s always a delight to attend a performance of Don Carlo, certainly one of Verdi’s best works. It’s also his most Meyerbeerian, having been premiered in French, in five acts, at the Paris Opera in 1867, in the style of Meyerbeer’s spectacular “grand operas.” Meyerbeer’s grand operas had historic themes, such as the plight of the Protestants in France in Les Huguenots, or the blasphemous John of Leiden in the Netherlands during the early days of the Reformation in Le Prophète. They also involved dazzling grand spectacle and a quintet or sextet of superlative singers covering all registers: usually a tenor and a soprano for the amorous couple, a mezzo and a baritone rival, confidant or parent, a couple of basses as parents or evil conspirators. There lies the difficulty in reviving Meyerbeer, or operas in his style: they risk a ruinous budget in mounting such elaborate productions, in addition to the challenge in securing five or six lead singers.
It was therefore an ambitious venture by Buenos Aires’ independent company, Opera Festival Buenos Aires, now celebrating its tenth season, to take on Verdi’s grand opéra, even in its diminished four‑act Italian version. The mere desire to present Verdi’s “grandest” opera must be lauded, despite its several shortcomings.
Emilio Urdapilleta, director, set and lighting designer, dispensed with any “innovative” take on the story, though the play on which the opera is based, Friedrich von Schiller’s play, Don Karlos, Infant von Spanien (1787), offers many possibilities. After all, what is more enthralling than the clash of love, the obligations of power, and the dynamics of State versus Church (in our secular contemporary world, Government versus Deep State)? Urdapilleta’s choice may have been a wise one, as this is not the most frequently staged Verdi opera, and the plot is convoluted at best. Furthermore, in the shorter four‑act version, much is unclear. Without the Fontainebleau Act, the love between Carlo and Elisabetta is not obvious.
The simple sets displayed nothing regal, despite the opera taking place when Spain ruled half the universe. A somber stage with a cross in the background served as both the Monastery of Saint‑Just and the Escorial Royal Palace. Understandably, this compromise makes plenty of sense when resources are limited. More elaborate costumes were used, though they represented different eras and locales. The men were dressed in costumes that could have been from almost any period, from the sixteenth century and the three centuries that followed. Oddly, the women were dressed in style Empire, typical of early nineteenth century France. Elisabetta’s dress could have also been used in Puccini’s Tosca. Despite the anachronism, the bright dresses served to bring life to a gloomy stage.
The most unsuccessful scene was in the garden, where Act II’s tempestuous trio, “Ed io, che tremavo al suo aspetto,” between Princess Eboli, Don Carlo and Rodrigo takes place. This must be lush, floral and tantalizing to the senses; it wasn’t. I’m sure a projection of vegetation in the dark would have achieved good results at little cost.
The Auto da fé scene, where the Inquisition burns the heretics at the stake, can easily be ruinous to budgets of major opera companies. Alternatively, crowding the stage with appropriately placed members of the chorus was effective. Strangely enough, the Flemish noblemen visiting Madrid looked no different from local courtiers. The typical Flemish collar would have been an easy and inexpensive addition. Finally, the pyre where heretics were burnt at the stake was stylized: three‑dimensional intertwined crosses recreated the pyre, and projected red lights effectively conjured flames, avoiding gratuitous gore.
The mostly local cast were variously capable, either up to the challenge or in some cases past their prime, with what was allegedly used to describe the aging mezzo Pauline Viardot (1821‑1910) “des beaux restes”.
Luckily, tenor Raúl Iriarte had the right voice for Don Carlo, not quite a dramatic tenor, but a strong lirico spinto with squillo and ease in the upper register. Though I don’t believe he was given directions to act in any specific way, he performed the demanding role with passion. His first act aria, “Io la vidi,” was resonant, with the requisite booming timbre appropriate for the role.
German-Argentinian soprano Graciela de Glydenfeldt was Elisabetta. It was evident this was an experienced singer with imposing stage presence, who easily managed to convey her regal station. Her voice had the required lirico spinto or even soprano drammatico, but she is no longer at the height of her vocal powers. An intelligent singer, she often used her voice sparingly, as was noted in her Act I duet with Don Carlo, “Io vengo a domandar.” Her best moment was Act II’s highly moving aria “Non pianger, mia compagna”, where subtle interpretation superseded vocal bravura. Her final act aria, “Tu che le vanita,” was the vocal highpoint of the evening, despite a few phrases sung sotto voce. As it was her last demanding rendition of the evening, she was less cautious and gave it her best, which was quite impressive.
Enrique Gibert Mella’s Rodrigo was the production’s weakest link. Obviously, this was once a magnificent singer but he is now past his prime, especially for this role which requires a velvety Verdi baritone. Endowed with a bursting stage presence, poise and a beautiful sense of phrasing, he managed to convey the character’s nobility as well as his idealism. His Act I duet with Don Carlo, “Dio, che nell’alma infondere”, made a poor impression, but his Act III, “Per me giunto e il di supremo” followed by “Io morrò, ma lieto in core,” a farewell to his cherished friend Don Carlo (and to life itself) was a notable improvement. Here, he impressed with his elegant phrasing and convincingly strong emotions.
Venezuelan mezzo Mairín Rodriguez is a beautiful voice. Her Act I “Nel giardin del bello” was charming, and her Act III “O don fatale” was both well sung and emotionally powerful. She has facility in her upper register, as is required for this mezzo role. She was somewhat less effective in the Act I Garden trio, “Ed io, che tremavo al suo aspetto,” where her mocking irony was not sufficiently incisive. Mind you, one much prefers a slight lack of bite in Eboli than the much more common over‑the‑top virago with excessive use of chest voice. Rodriguez is quite young, and given her timbre and technique, she is bound to go far.
Bass Sebastián Barboza was a vocally magnificent King Philip II, with his warm bass, strong stage presence and attentive phrasing. His Act III aria “Ella giammai m’amo” was extremely moving. His phrasing of “No, amor per me non ha,” was supreme. The one reproach is his far from regal posture. He channeled more Rigoletto’s assassin Sparafucile than the Habsburg Emperor.
Carlos Esquivel’s Grand Inquisitor was not as imposing and terrifying as hoped, but was he still menacing. A deeper bass than King Philip is needed to have the proper effect in their blood‑curdling duet. Esquivel’s deep notes seemed somewhat forced, but they did the job. This is one scene where the director could have summoned more imagination to make the Inquisitor’s entry into the King’s chambers more awe-inspiring.
The minor role of a Celestial Voice, sung by Michelle Fogel, is a voice from Heaven lamenting the victims of the Inquisition, burning at the stake. It is usually sung offstage by a brilliant high coloratura soprano with very little vibrato to convey purity. The director chose to have it sung by Fogel as an angel above the three heretics at the stake, which made for an effective image. Fogel’s bright coloratura was ideal for this small but memorable appearance.
Orquesta Opera Festival Buenos Aires is a modest one. As they perform three operas per season, the musicians almost certainly perform as part‑timers in this capacity. Nonetheless, conductor Susana Frangi did her best with this rich score. She managed the solo arias much better than the ensembles and crowd scenes, especially the Auto da fé, which started out well but was a shambles toward the end. Nonetheless, this effort by an independent company must be lauded. Many larger companies the world over prefer to repeat Tosca, La bohème, Madama Butterfly, Rigoletto and La traviata ad nauseam rather than take such a huge risk. The fervent applause of the enthusiastic public confirmed this. How fitting that October 10th, the day of this performance, was Verdi’s birthday!
Ossama el Naggar
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