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To Naples With Love - A Reality Show Milano
Teatro alla Scala
11/05/2025 - & November 8, 12, 15, 18, 21, 23, 26, 2025
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Così fan tutte, ossia La scuola degli amanti, K. 588
Elsa Dreisig (Fiordiligi), Nina van Essen (Dorabella), Sandrine Piau (Despina), Luca Micheletti (Guglielmo), Giovanni Sala (Ferrando), Gerald Finley (Don Alfonso)
Coro del Teatro alla Scala, Giorgio Martano (chorus master), Orchestra del Teatro alla Scala, Alexander Soddy (conductor)
Robert Carsen (stage director), Luis F. Carvalho & Robert Carsen (sets), Luis Carvalho (costumes), Peter van Praet & Robert Carsen (lighting), Renaud Rubiano (video), Rebecca Howell (choreography)
(© Vito Lorusso/Teatro alla Scala)
Don Giovanni, Le nozze di Figaro and Così fan tutte are masterworks that exemplify the perfect marriage of text and music. Of the three, Così is the epitome. One needn’t ask the eternal question: “Prima la musica o le parole?” on whether music or the text ought to predominate. Da Ponte’s brilliant text, at least equal to Mozart’s sublime music, requires a sextet of singers that can luxuriate in the beauty of the Italian language and give life to the natural grace and irony of the text. Alas, this is rarely the case outside of Italy. North of the Alps, matters are aggravated by a Teutonic approach to humour. Things are not much better in North America, where slapstick reigns. I can recall a performance in the northern Italian city of Brescia, in its modest opera house, with average young performers that completely erased from memory more grandiose productions in leading opera houses of other nations. Even though today’s cast were multinational, and only two of the six soloists were Italian, this Così fan tutte was Italian through and through.
Most directors of this opera ignore Naples, the location where Così fan tutte takes place. 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 of the work. Also often ignored is 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.
Fortunately, this production’s director is Canadian Robert Carsen, a talented man of theatre as well as a Renaissance man. Almost every Carsten staging has been my favourite production of the work. Recent examples are his Orfeo ed Euridice in Toronto and Paris; Eugene Onegin in Toronto; Dialogue des carmélites in Valencia; Jenůfa in Seville; Die Walküre in Madrid, and Das Rheingold in Madrid.
Unlike others who routinely change an opera’s era, psychological profile and location for mere shock value, Carsen here changed only the epoch, to update the intrigue, while remaining faithful to the dynamics between the six characters, and astutely using the location (Naples) as a driving force.
During the overture, we are immersed into the new setting: a television show called “La scuola degli amanti”, the sobriquet given to the opera by Da Ponte himself. It’s a reality show where twelve young couples, all telegenically attractive, have been invited to play a game where partners are separated and each person is to meet other people. The winners are the couple that weather the storm and stay together.
The contestants are to remain in a posh Neapolitan hotel overlooking the Mediterranean, in large rooms, each hosting six females or six males. These communal living arrangements are meant to enhance the spirit of camaraderie as well as promiscuity. The women in a kind of pajama party and the men in a boys’ get together engage in gossip, brag about their partners’ attributes, and boast about their own bravura and adventures.
You guessed it: Fiordiligi, Dorabella, Ferrando and Guglielmo are among the contestants. Cynical old Don Alfonso is the host of the show. Despina is upgraded from the young women’s maid to the sexy co‑host, think Wheel of Fortune’s Vanna White, a pretty face to a male Deus ex machine. However, as times have changed and women in the media are no longer just pretty faces, this Despina is an equal participant in the intrigue.
Carsen dispensed with the Albanian disguises for Ferrando and Guglielmo, which are not entirely convincing in the twenty‑first century, where there are no longer exotic, specifically “national” costumes. However, the two men “in disguise” are utterly different creatures from their undisguised selves. Long haired, dressed in tight‑fitting denim or leather, with shirts showing their muscular chests, but most of all, the two young men seem to have followed a course in seduction. The “disguised” men were dynamite compared to their previous vapid selves; their deportment has been boosted, their walk has morphed into a swagger, and even their diction has changed. This is no mere travestimento, it is an incisive critique of bourgeois inhibitions versus the popular classes who are much more in touch with their senses. Even today’s Naples, unlike Northern Italian cities, has preserved much of its Mediterranean earthiness. It is more reminiscent of Alexandria, Egypt than Milan. Class difference is easily palpable, with an upper class inspired by the “North” and the four young lovers are obviously from well‑off families.
Thanks to the use of stunningly beautiful canvas panels in the background as well as video projections, we see beautiful scenery from Naples, almost an ode to the city, evocative of Paolo Sorrentino’s stirring film Parthenope (2024). The initial seduction and fake suicide is by the pool of the posh hotel located in manicured gardens with noble cypresses. The farewell is at Naples’s harbour, with the turquoise sea begging us to jump in for a swim. As the ship departs carrying Ferrando and Guglielmo to a military expedition, the excellent lighting – by Peter van Praet and Carsen himself – render the Mediterranean even more appealing and poetic. The wedding in Act II is on the grounds of the posh hotel, evocative of actual celebrations of the rich and famous in present‑day Italy. The studio audience substitutes for the young people’s families and friends. Early in Act II, when Ferrando and Guglielmo sing “Secondate, aurette amiche” with chorus, we see a glorious scene of young men drinking on a terrace with a stunning vista on the turquoise sea, with Capri on the horizon. Unlike recent productions of this opera, Carsen actually follows Da Ponte’s indications: “Giardino alla riva del mare (All’imbarcadero giunge una barca addobbata con fiori in cui siedono Ferrando e Guglielmo con una banda di musici).” This is the difference between a master director and those who fancy themselves as such. I often suspect those in the latter category do not even understand the language in which the opera is written, nor have they absorbed the libretto, in any language.
Only in such a setting as the one described above are one’s senses invited to dream, to indulge and to detach from mundane reality. It’s clear Carsen understands the essence of Da Ponte’s Neapolitan farce and its connection to Naples. Sometimes foreigners have out‑of‑character extra‑marital affairs in Mediterranean locations. Unable to justify their actions, they blame it on locale. Indeed, Così fan tutte can only take place on the Mediterranean; never in Dayton, Ohio or Bielefeld, Germany.
As we are in a reality show, all interactions are filmed for an enthusiastic studio audience. Occasionally, we see a “peeping Tom” cameraman spying on the occurrings. The revolving stage takes us occasionally to the studio where the audience – both at the studio and at La Scala – observe close‑ups of the contestants. Throughout the performance, pivotal scenes, especially major arias such as Fiordiligi’s “Come scoglio” or Ferrando’s “Un aura amorosa” are seen in doppio: the usual singer on stage singing his or her aria and a much larger image of the very same, which is what the studio audience is seeing, above. The close‑ups accentuate the strong emotions and to an extent distract from some of the vocal limitations.
What is the ideal voice for Fiordiligi? Most believe it’s a dramatic soprano with extreme ease in the high tessitura, i.e. the same voice as Donna Anna in Don Giovanni or Elettra in Idomeneo. Franco-Danish Elsa Dreisig is no dramatic soprano, though her recent roles include Donizetti’s three queens, roles often associated with that voice type. It would seem that this lyric soprano aspires to become a dramatic soprano. It often happens that a lyric soprano matures into a spinto, but rarely a drammatico, but the process cannot be willed. Her Act I aria “Come scoglio” was more impressive dramatically than vocally. She struggled with the high tessitura and the myriad gear shifts in this killer aria, but she was admirable in her expressiveness. She fared much better in her Act II aria, “Per pietà, ben mio, perdona.”
It’s alleged that Mozart had an extreme antipathy for the creator of the role of Fiordiligi, Adriana Ferrarese (1755‑1804), who was also Da Ponte’s mistress. Ferrarese had a tendency to drop her chin and throw her head back when singing either low or high notes. Thus, the frequent leaps from high to low in “Come scoglio” were meant to make Ferrarese look like a chicken. Fortunately, Dreisig doesn’t share Ferrarese’s fowl tendency. She looked like the gorgeous young woman she is, under substantial duress.
Dutch mezzo Nina van Essen ably acted the role of Dorabella. She is the more frivolous of the sisters, the one more easily seduced by the newcomer. Endowed with both the right timbre and temperament for the role, she was completely convincing as Dorabella. Van Essen is endowed with a creamy high mezzo that both contrasted and blended beautifully with Dreisig’s soprano. Her “Smanie implacabili” was vocally thrilling and dramatically bang on. Temperament-wise, she was a perfect choice for the naughtier of the two sisters, as she delectably demonstrated in her rendition of the Act II aria “E amore un ladroncello,” where she confessed to her sister her indiscretion with her new suitor.
Usually, Despina is the least remarkable role (at least vocally) in this opera. It is true that she has less to sing than the other two women, and her arias are not as technically challenging, but acting‑wise, Despina is crucial. Luckily, in Carsen’s staging, she is not a caricature, but a crafty accomplice in this enterprise. French soprano Sandrine Piau, who impressed in the same role in Munich this summer, repeated her triumph here, thanks to eschewing the usual antics associated with the role. 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. Mercifully, the clownish child‑like voice often adopted during her travestimenti was dropped. When the two suitors commit suicide by the pool, she is contacted on Zoom and aptly portrayed a serious and rather pedantic doctor. Likewise, her disguise as a notary for the fake wedding was bang on; a no‑nonsense busy professional, as one often encounters.
I first heard Italian tenor Giovanni Sala as Riccardo in Un ballo in maschera last year in Bussetto. He impressed in Verdi’s most elegant tenor role, where he showed his versatility, beautiful timbre and expressivity. More recently, as Don Ottavio in Don Giovanni in Munich, he was not as good as I had hoped, possibly due to more dubious conducting. Here, under the magnificent Alexander Soddy, possibly the best opera conductor working today, it was a different matter. The triumph of the evening was in large part thanks to this refined British maestro. Così fan tutte is a long opera, and it often feels even longer, especially Act II, where the dénouement is slower than the build‑up. Thanks to Soddy, time passed quickly, though he did not adopt overly fast tempi; he just played Mozart, as he should be heard.
Sala’s was the most glorious Ferrando I have heard in over a decade. His Act I “Un aura amorosa” was a masterclass in Mozart. Given Carsen’s staging, where both men reinvent themselves as flesh and blood “real men”, there was little room for mannered singing, which alas Mozartian singing, especially for tenors, can be. His Act II aria “Tradito, schernito” was truly moving and yet stylistically elegant. His Act II duet with Dreisig, “Fra gli amplessi,” was possibly the vocal and stylistic pinnacle of the evening.
Luca Micheletti is a rising Italian baritone of his generation, thanks to both an excellent voice and technique, but above all thanks to an amazing stage presence and immense acting skills. First heard as a young Iago in Otello in 2019 in Lucca, his magnetism was electrifying. More recently, he was a striking Ford in Falstaff at La Scala. This comes as no surprise, as this multi‑talented singer is also a director. In this production, he was an ideal Guglielmo, endowed with beautiful diction, a beautiful and virile voice, and with charisma and style. He showed great complicity with van Essen as Dorabella. Their duet “Il cor vi dono” was charm personified. Being a superb actor, he managed to portray a contrasting temperament to Ferrando’s, a necessary detail for the dramatic balance of the opera.
Canadian bass-baritone Gerald Finley was the perfect choice as the old cynic Don Alfonso. This role requires great acting more than superlative singing. He managed to impersonate the flashy television host in a manner that made him both rather vulgar and likeable. This Don Alfonso was distinctly and subtly “louche” thanks to a few gestures and innuendo. It takes great talent to achieve this feat, yet it is essential for a truly balanced sextet.
The grand prize of the contest, “cento zecchini” in Da Ponte’s text, has been generously increased to one million Euros. The winners were Fiordiligi and Dorabella, but not Ferrando and Guglielmo. Take that for what you want. Yet again, Carsen shows what Da Ponte truly wanted to convey. Bravissimo!
Ossama el Naggar
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