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Rossini’s Forgotten French Sémiramis Triumphs at Bad Wildbad Bad Wildbad
Kurhaus
07/26/2026 -
Gioachino Rossini: Sémiramis
Diana Haller (Sémiramis), Marina Viotti (Arsace), Patrick Kabongo (Idrène), Mark Kurmanbayev (Assur), Nathanaël Tavernier (Oroès), Ilaria Monteverdi (Azéma), Giovanni Accardi (L’Ombre)
The Orchestra and Chorus of the Filharmonia Szymanowskiego of Kraków, Andriy Yurkevych (Conductor)
Rossini’s Semiramide (1823) has long been recognised as the summit of his Italian opera seria. His final work for the Italian stage before embarking upon his Parisian career, it distilled the composer’s mature bel canto style while simultaneously looking backwards. Its monumental architecture, heroic protagonists and lavish vocal ornamentation consciously evoked the grandeur of eighteenth-century opera seria. Richard Osborne aptly dubbed it “Tancredi revisited”: both operas drew upon Voltaire and were fashioned by librettist Gaetano Rossi, yet Semiramide proved the grander and dramatically more compelling achievement.
Bad Wildbad’s decision to inaugurate its new series, “Rossini et le Belcanto en français,” with the modern concert premiere of the forgotten French adaptation therefore represented an event of genuine musicological significance. Created for the Paris Opéra in 1860 to showcase the celebrated Marchisio sisters, the adaptation was entrusted largely to Rossini’s close friend Michele Carafa (1787‑1872), who reshaped Joseph Méry’s translation by tightening the drama around the triangle of Sémiramis, Arsace and Assur while adding the obligatory grand opéra ballet. Rossini himself reportedly greeted the success of the enterprise by exclaiming, “You have brought a dead man back to life.” Musicologist Gianmarco Rossi’s excellent new critical edition once again justified that memorable remark. A chat with Rossi revealed that there were several other French versions of bel canto operas as potential projects, an exciting prospect for opera lovers.
The drama remains among the darkest in Rossini’s output. Queen Sémiramis and her accomplice Assur have murdered King Nino to seize the Babylonian throne. The Queen intends to marry the young hero Arsace, only to discover that he is in fact her long‑lost son. Haunted by the ghost of the murdered king, the tragedy culminates in Arsace accidentally killing his own mother while attempting to avenge his father.
Few operas have benefited more from distinguished modern champions. Joan Sutherland, Montserrat Caballé and especially Marilyn Horne restored Semiramide to the repertoire during the second half of the twentieth century, confirming Arsace as one of Rossini’s supreme mezzo roles. Rossini’s decision to abandon the obsolete castrato tradition in favour of heroic mezzo‑sopranos endowed the opera with an emotional immediacy that remains one of its defining strengths.
Bad Wildbad assembled what can only be described as a luxury cast. Heard last week as an effervescent Rosina in Stuttgart’s production of Il barbiere di Siviglia, Croatia’s Diana Haller confirmed herself as one of today’s most complete Rossinian interpreters. Like Rossini’s own muse Isabella Colbran and such nineteenth-century luminaries as Giuditta Pasta and Maria Malibran, she possesses the rare attributes of a soprano sfogato: a richly coloured lower register allied to a brilliant upper extension. Her Sémiramis combined regal authority with remarkable vocal freedom. “Rayon de mon amour” (“Bel raggio lusinghier”) became a model of bel canto singing, every run articulated with crystalline precision, the trills entirely natural, the ornamentation stylish rather than ostentatious, and the French exemplary. More importantly, every phrase served the drama; virtuosity never became an end in itself.
One of today’s most sought-after singers, Swiss mezzo Marina Viotti proved an equally compelling Arsace. Heard last season as Charlotte in Werther at Paris’s Théâtre des Champs‑Elysées and as Emma in Pesaro’s production of Zelmira, Viotti has already firmly established herself in both French and Italian repertoire. In the present production, she sang with elegance, warmth and impeccable stylistic refinement. Her voice was lighter in colour than Haller’s, producing an unusual balance, as one generally expects Semiramide to possess the brighter timbre. Yet this slight incongruity mattered little when confronted with such musicianship. Their Act I duet, “Garde-moi ce beau zèle” (“Serbami ognor sì fido”), and the great Act II confrontation, “Jour d’épouvante” (“Giorno d’orror”), ranked among the musical high points of the evening, their voices intertwining with remarkable unanimity of style.
Rossini’s unusual decision to entrust two principal roles to basses paid handsome dividends here. Serbian bass Mark Kurmanbayev’s Assur combined sonorous authority with genuine dramatic menace, while French bass Nathanaël Tavernier’s noble Oroès projected equal distinction. Crucially, their voices differed sufficiently in colour to preserve clarity in the ensembles, an advantage not always encountered. The day before, Tavernier sang an admirable but menacing Podestà in Wildbad’s production of La gazza ladra.
The French adaptation understandably reduced the roles of Idrène and Azéma in order to sharpen the central conflict. Patrick Kabongo and Ilaria Monteverdi nevertheless demonstrated once again why they have become such valued members of the festival. Kabongo, so memorable as Giannetto in the aforementioned La gazza ladra, sang with ringing tone and effortless elegance, while Monteverdi brought freshness and refinement to Azéma. One regretted only that this version afforded them comparatively little opportunity to shine.
The performance’s musical foundation lay in Andriy Yurkevych’s outstanding conducting. Few conductors today understand that Rossini’s brilliance arises not from relentless speed but from rhythmic vitality allied to classical poise. Yurkevych consistently favoured alert yet unhurried tempi, allowing Rossini’s magnificent architecture to breathe while preserving dramatic momentum. The Orchestra and Chorus of the Filharmonia Szymanowskiego of Kraków responded magnificently, combining precision, transparency and warmth in a reading that never sacrificed elegance for superficial excitement.
Even allowing for the inevitable caveat that this review is based upon the final dress rehearsal rather than the public performance, Bad Wildbad’s resurrection of the French Sémiramis emerged as one of the festival’s most important artistic achievements. More than an intriguing scholarly curiosity, it demonstrated that this neglected adaptation possesses genuine theatrical viability when entrusted to artists of such distinction. One left the Kurhaus convinced that Rossini’s famous verdict after the Paris premiere remains as true today as it was in 1860: a masterpiece had indeed been brought back to life.
Ossama el Naggar
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