Mozart, Don Giovanni

I could not pass up an opportunity to see Mozart’Don Giovanni in Prague’s Estates Theater, where the opera had its premiere in 1787. It’s a nice little theater, and the Czech National Opera has used it in recent decades as an alternative venue, as this afternoon.

The very small orchestra pit meant that the poor orchestra got packed in (the trombones having to sit in the corridor where the conductor entered). But under the baton of Jan Chalupecký, they made a full sound, always sufficiently grand but never overwhelming the singers. In fact, Chalupecký ensured this was the singers’ production.

Aleš Jenis played a svelte and seductive Don Giovanni to head the cast. Although she missed a few notes, Jana Šrejma Kačírková, as Donna Anna, also provided a spirited performance, growing in her passionate hatred of Giovanni throughout.  Jaroslav Březina, as Don Ottavio, had a nice tenor that I would have liked to hear more of, however I do have questions about his staying power if we had heard more of him (which may be why they seem to have deleted one of Don Ottavio’s signature arie, “Dalla sua pace…”).  Jan Martiník also deserved a mention as Don Giovanni’s comic sidekick Leporello.

Where this production failed completely, however, was in its staging. It was directed by two young men, the Slovak Martin Kukučka and the Czech Lukáš Trpišovský, who apparently always work in tandem, also apparently with not a single good idea between the two of them. The production started off minimalist, the characters wearing timeless outfits, and using roses painted black (sometimes the red was still visible underneath) as a stylistic link in different capacities from scene to scene (not sure what the meaning was, exactly, but they were not hurting anything). All of this would have been fine, but then they decided to start ignoring the plot, with a lot going on that did not match the words coming out of the libretto. That’s not fine. They made cuts (including, as noted, “Dalla sua pace”), which I thought may have been down to wanting to stage the production in the version in which it had its premiere (“Dalla sua pace” was added later in Vienna), but they were not consistent with this, so the cuts seem to have been made for other reasons, sometimes losing the dramatic flow (for example, Leporello getting discovered disguised as the Don and having to explain his own role to his accusers – cut).

Perhaps the strangest plot twist was the addition of theater-style seats on the stage (starting with two but more being added throughout the performance). This permitted characters to sit on stage and watch scenes they were not in. The Commendatore (particularly after his death) did this a lot, and while wandering around stage he also bumped into Don Giovanni several times throughout, causing the Don more frights. But most characters did this. I had assumed that the idea derived from the original Prague performance which had been done (according to 18th-century conventions) as a morality play – not just the (fictional) story of Don Juan Tenorio, but a lesson for the viewers of the consequences of this behavior. This began to make sense during the banquet scene (which, in this strange staging, was completely missing a banquet, incidentally), when most of the characters and chorus took their places on theater seats to watch how it would all turn out. They added a child, dressed like Don Giovanni including the distinctive hair style, to this scene (he got a bowl of snacks – so at least someone was eating). The Commendatore shook hands not with Giovanni but with the child, who then went upstairs to his bedroom (which appeared in the back of the stage). After condemning Giovanni to hell, the Commendatore joined the child in the bedroom (creepy).

Then they cut out the final scene completely. I do not like the final scene, and indeed find the opera comes to a better dramatic conclusion with the final scene omitted, but in this case they had removed all of the drama from the banquet scene and were treating the opera as a morality play, so the final scene – where six characters sing of the moral of the story – would have been completely appropriate with this staging. The one thing I thought I understood about this staging I clearly did not. Bad staging. Bad.

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