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A Siren’s Destiny Napoli
Teatro San Carlo
12/12/2025 - & December 14, 2025
Ennio Morricone: Partenope (World Premiere)
Jessica Pratt (Partenope 1), Maria Agresta (Partenope 2), Désirée Giove (Persefone), Francesco Demuro (Melanio), Mimmo Borrelli (Narrator)
Coro del Teatro San Carlo, Fabrizio Cassi (chorus master), Orchestra del Teatro San Carlo, Riccardo Frizza (conductor)
Vanessa Beecroft (stage director, costumes, choreography), Daniela Ciancio (costumes), Danilo Rebeca (choreography), Nunzio Perrella (lighting)
(© Luciano Romano)
As a frequent traveller voyaging specifically for the love of opera, I optimize my time to see as many favourites as possible, in places that appeal most; Venice, Rome, Paris, Vienna and Madrid are but five preferred locations. For favourites or rarities, I’ll happily make an effort to travel even further afield.
With this in mind, I was delighted to learn that Naples, with its immense beauty and rich history, had programmed two compelling works, Medea and Partenope. The former, by Cherubini, was once a rarity, but is now frequently performed. But the latter, by Handel, is seldom so, and I had yet to hear it live. While Jessica Pratt, Maria Agresta and Francesco Demuro were among the performers (a promising prospect!), I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why two sopranos were billed in an opera demanding just one (in addition to a tenor, a bass and three contraltos).
Three days prior to the performance, during a press conference, I became aware of my “fortunate deception” (to quote Rossini’s L’inganno felice). The Partenope in question was not that of Handel, but rather the world premiere of a homonymous opera by Ennio Morricone (1928‑2020).
While recognized internationally for his film work, Morricone also composed over a hundred classical pieces, including this, commissioned thirty years hence for a music festival that went bankrupt. Fortuitously, his publisher discovered the score, and, given the topic, suggested it to Naples’ Teatro San Carlo, to premiere it during the city’s 2,500th anniversary festivities.
Parthenope is one of three sisters who are friends and playmates of Persephone. When the latter is abducted to Hades by Pluto, the sisters pursue her. Parthenope transforms herself into a siren to search for her friend in the depths of the sea. Parthenope beseeches Dionysus to allow her to descend into the Underworld, a task possible only by means of flesh and wine. Parthenope renounces her vow of chastity in order to embark on her mission. However, she insists the one who’ll marry her defeat her in a singing contest. Thanks to Apollo’s lyre, Melanio wins, and does so. When he’s killed on their wedding day, the inconsolable Partenope hangs herself from a tree. Her protector Dionysus transforms her into the constellation Virgo, but she throws herself from the sky, becoming a siren once again, continuing her search for Persephone. Now dead, she’s swept up by the current into the Gulf of Naples, becoming the city’s founder.
This story is different from the one some may know from mythology: Parthenope is grief‑stricken when she fails to lure Ulysses with her irresistible chants, and commits suicide. The change of story is interesting, though the siren commits suicide in either case. However, Morricone’s story somewhat empowers her, as she chooses to descend from the heavens, returning to her siren‑state. Moreover, she kills herself for love, not from shame at her failure.
Italian-born American Vanessa Beecroft (b.1969) is an innovative multi‑media performance artist whose trademark tableaux vivants use mostly naked models. Famous worldwide for “VB” performances (her initials) in such museums as Kunsthalle Wien, Berlin’s Neue Nationalgalerie and New York’s Guggenheim, in addition to events performed in such public spaces as Terminal 5 of New York’s JFK Airport and Naples’s Mercato Ittico (fish market), Beecroft’s staging of Morricone’s sole opera promised to be stimulating.
Among Beecroft’s many haunting images were three sets of red‑haired twins, referring to Morricone’s choice to score two Partenopes, represented by a pair of distinct sopranos, and to Partenope being one of three sisters. Another image was that of a mostly still black woman who sometimes tilted backward, supported by four Caucasian women. A troubling figure in the form of an older person of indeterminate sex sat quietly in crumpled clothing. Though it’s unlikely concertgoers could fathom the meaning of this imagery, its impact was nonetheless felt, and the scenes are likely to remain etched in memory.
As Morricone’s narration of the myth of Partenope is far from linear, Beecroft’s tableaux vivants were an appropriate match to tell the story, employing evocatively minimalist tableaux of women – static, moving or in‑between – acting out whatever the two Partenopes were singing.
Jessica Pratt is one of today’s leading bel canto sopranos. Recently admired in Lucrezia Borgia in Florence, Bianca e Falliero in Pesaro and La sonnambula in Madrid, the Australian singer enjoys a huge following, admired for the beauty of her instrument, her facility in the upper register, and her exquisitely delivered pianissimi. Given her nationality, some say she’s “the new Joan Sutherland,” but make no mistake – Pratt is her own person and, unlike her predecessor, her Italian diction is impeccable.
Recently Margherita in Boito’s Mefistofele in Rome, Maria Agresta is a magnificent lyric soprano endowed with one of most ravishingly beautiful timbres, with precise enunciation and brilliant high notes. But demanding heavier roles in recent years have removed the brio from her highest notes. Fortunately, her recent and upcoming engagements show a wise return to her proper Fach. Juxtaposing Pratt and Agresta was smart, revealing two facets of the siren Partenope. Pratt’s stratospheric high notes and Agresta’s sensual femininity reflected the youthful, ethereal siren and the mature, melancholy one. Though the text (some in the Neapolitan dialect, others in Greek) is not intelligible without reading the surtitles, listening to the two simultaneously had a haunting effect.
Morricone’s music here is light years away from his familiar melodious soundtracks. It’s closer to the twentieth century Italian music of his contemporaries, such as his teacher Goffredo Petrassi (1904‑2003) and Franco Donatoni (1927‑2000).
As Partenope was a world premiere, it’s not possible to compare the performers or the orchestra’s proficiency to past points of reference. However, we can judge what we heard. The overall result was electrifying. Inspired by the modal music of Ancient Greece, Morricone chose to exclude violins from the score, opting instead for an abundance of winds and percussion (including tammorra and tamburello, variations of tambourine), and putipù, a friction drum. This unusual concoction, together with the stunning visuals, seemed to capture the audience – precisely the desired effect.
While I missed the opportunity to see Handel’s rarely performed Partenope, I was able to experience the premiere of a major twentieth century composer’s work. Beecroft’s tableaux vivants conferred upon the opera an intriguing visual setting that enhanced Morricone’s decidedly sacred work. Without her innovative imagery, we’d have had but stark austerity. Given Morricone’s “musica colta,” few would be humming tunes on the way to their cars, but most would be haunted by its striking imagery. The premiere of this fine work will likely revive interest in Morricone’s classical œuvre. It was also a fitting tribute to the city that once prompted Goethe’s advice to potential visitors: “Vedi Napoli e poi muori."
Ossama el Naggar
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