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The Victimised Queen of Cyprus Bergamo
Teatro Donizetti
11/14/2025 - & November 22, 30*, 2025
Gaetano Donizetti: Caterina Cornaro
Carmen Remigio (Caterina Cornaro), Enea Scala (Gerardo), Vito Priante, Wonjun Jo (Lusignano), Fulvio Valenti (Andrea Cornaro), Riccardo Fassi (Mocenigo), Francesco Lucii (Strozzi, A Knight of the King), Vittoria Vimercati (Matilde)
Coro dell’Accademia Teatro alla Scala, Salvo Sgrò (chorus master), Orchestra Donizetti Opera, Riccardo Frizza/Aram Khacheh* (conductor)
Francesco Micheli (stage directors), Matteo Paoletti Franzato (sets), Alessio Rosati (costumes), Alessandro Andreoli (lighting), Alberto Mattioli (dramaturgy), Matteo Castiglioni (visual design)
(© Studio U.V./Courtesy Donizetti Opera - Fondazione Teatro Donizetti)
Despite being in my estimation one of Donizetti’s finest operas, Caterina Cornaro (1844) is now rarely performed. In the second half of the twentieth century, it was a vehicle for two great sopranos, Spain’s Montserrat Caballé (1933‑2018) and Turkey’s Leyla Gencer (1928‑2008), both of whose 1970s live recordings are legendary. Given their excellence, Caterina Cornaro has acquired a reputation as one of Donizetti’s best works. As it’s so rarely performed, Bergamo’s production was eagerly awaited by bel canto lovers.
The work, one of Donizetti’s last operas, is based on the historical character of Caterina Cornaro (1454‑1510), a Venetian noblewoman who was used by la Serenissima in its political intrigue. On the day of her wedding to a young Frenchman, Gérard, the Venetian official Mocenigo orders her father to annul the wedding, as Venice has decided to marry her to the deposed French king of Cyprus, Lusignan, whom the Venetians help to regain his throne. Once married, the Venetians slowly poisoned him in order that the throne would pass to Caterina, and subsequently to Venice. Fate determined that Gérard/Gerardo would seek refuge in Cyprus and eventually to fight on behalf of the man who stole his betrothed.
Director Francesco Micheli, however, decided to render the intrigue more complex. Though the creation of two parallel Caterinas (historical versus operatic) is a reasonable premise, Micheli also opted to add a confusing third one, a present‑day Caterina. The opera opened to the latter, in a sterile hospital waiting room. The only problem, however, was that it was impossible to understand how our present‑day heroine could have a parallel life to her operatic or historic alter‑egos. How could a young woman in present‑day Venice be forced into a marriage, and on what grounds? It’s only in the last half hour that it becomes apparent that the modern‑day Gerardo is a surgeon rather than a knight. He operates on a cancer-ridden Lusignano. At the end of the work, where Gerardo defeats the Venetians shortly before Lusignano dies, the surgeon disappears and the sick man dies. Yet the chorus sings “Esulta, o regina” in jubilation. One wonders what they are celebrating here – the death of the patient, or the flight of the surgeon?
This absurd staging greatly diminished the opera’s power. Beyond the inanity of superimposed modern‑day intrigues, the incessant switching between centuries afforded no opportunity for the protagonists of either era to develop, let alone for the public to identify with them. Micheli’s flawed staging succeeded only in creating confusion.
Fortunately, Matteo Paoletti Franzato’s fifteenth century sets were visually pleasing, as were Alessio Rosati’s appealing costumes. Ambassador Mocenigo’s stylized angular garb accentuated his malevolent aspect, lending him the allure of a menacing extraterrestrial. Sadly, only the characters of Caterina, Lusignano and Gerardo were sufficiently developed to have wielded any dramatic weight. The exaggerated appearance of a two‑dimensional Mocenigo only rendered him comical, more papier mâché than real.
Lyric soprano Carmen Remigio is an affecting singer, and one hoped she’d shine as Caterina. Admired as Donna Elvira in Don Giovanni in Parma and in Turin, as Antonio in Les Contes d’Hoffmann in Venice and as Lucrezia Borgia in Trieste, Remigio was only partially successful in the title role. Hampered by an idiotic staging, she struggled to immerse herself in this very dramatic role. Due to these challenges, the only emotion conveyed was sadness. There was also very little chemistry with Enea Scala’s Gerardo. Nonetheless, her signature phrasing was intact, with every word clearly understood. She remains a highly expressive interpreter, despite a weakness in her upper register. But still, with Caballé and Gencer in mind, Remigio’s overall charisma and vocalità were rather wanting.
For years, tenor Enea Scala was an admirable rising singer endowed with good looks and a pleasing, powerful voice. Recently, he’s become a major star, as he showed in Zelmira at last year’s Pesaro Festival, as well as in Ermione in 2024, and in Eduardo e Cristina in 2023. His once malleable voice has become bigger and even more powerful, but unfortunately it’s also acquired an unpleasantly metallic edge. However, thanks to his good looks and stage presence, he was an effective Gerardo, even in this schizophrenic staging, in which he played both fifteenth century knight and present‑day surgeon.
Baritone Vito Priante was the best voice in the cast until, thirty minutes into the performance, he was clearly miming while another baritone sang his lines from backstage. In the second act, the indisposed Priante took his leave, and his understudy South Korean Wonjun Jo performed the role. While his baritone is quite attractive, being small in stature, it wasn’t easy for him to evoke a sense of majesty. His phrasing was also less elegant than Priante’s, but still, one was grateful to him for having saved the show.
Riccardo Fassi was a luxury in the two-dimensional role of Mocenigo. Given Fassi’s rich bass, one wished this was a bigger and more nuanced role.
In addition to the absurd staging, the production seemed jinxed from the start. In addition to the ailing Priante, it was announced that Riccardo Frizza was also indisposed. His assistant, Iranian conductor Aram Khacheh, directed admirably, especially under the circumstances. More than most of Donizetti’s work, Caterina Cornaro is romantic, not merely bel canto. In some respects, his style approaches Verdi’s. Happily, Khacheh was able to sail easily through the score, bringing out its lushly rich textures, ably performed by his attentive orchestra.
Initially expected to be the highlight of the festival, this production was sadly its lowest point, due to Micheli’s unnecessarily ridiculous staging. I hold fast that Caterina Cornaro remains one of Donizetti’s very best operas, and I hope for an eventual meeting of minds that will do it justice.
Ossama el Naggar
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