Il postino

Back to the magnificent Teatro Real, which I last wrote about here, for the final opera of the season.

Daniel Catán's Il Postino is based on the film of the same name, a tribute to Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, one of my favourites.  It tells the story of the poet’s spell living on a southern Italian island whilst in exile from Chile in the 1950s, and of his relationship with the villagers.  He befriends the young postman and teaches him about love and poetry, all against a backdrop of post-war political uncertainty.

Projections of Neruda's scribbles of poetry

The part of Pablo Neruda was written for Plácido Domingo, one of Madrid's most famous sons, who traditionally sings every year in the closing production of the Teatro Real's season.  This year Domingo withdrew during rehearsals due to health reasons.  The role is associated so strongly with him that the audience nearly revolted, but having never seen the opera before, or even the film, I went along with an open mind.

Vicente Ombuena steps in as Neruda (photo: Javier del Real)

The staging was absolutely beautiful; covered in blue and white Mediterranean tiles, the stage often became the sea, a focus of Neruda's poetry whilst on the island.  As the two main characters discuss or write poetry together, their words are projected onto the constantly changing backdrop, bringing it to life.  The libretto is sung in Spanish; it's curiously pleasing to hear snippets of Neruda's poetry faithfully reproduced in his own language.

It had mixed reviews from the Madrid audience, almost entirely due to the lack of their favourite star.  But the music was entrancing, it was sung beautifully and the performance was visually stunning: one of the best operas I've been to.  Domingo or no Domingo.

http://www.teatro-real.com/

Buongiorno Venezia

The next instalment of The Year of the City Break was a long late-May weekend in Venice.

We flew in from our separate directions without a cloud in the sky, with the city laid out like a painting below.

Knowing that the weather wasn't going to be on our side for much longer, we made the most of the evening sun and hopped in an open-top water taxi from the airport to the city.

We meandered our way through the little canals, past crumbling buildings, before bursting out into the mayhem of the grand canal, where we hopped out opposite Santa Maria della Salute.

Recommended to us by a friend, the Hotel Flora is tucked away down a tiny alley, hidden from passers-by.  It's a stunning 17th-century palazzo, with a courtyard garden draped in ivy and climbing roses, perfect for an afternoon Bellini.

That evening we explored the streets in search of Aperol spritzes and arancini, and stumbled across Piazza San Marco, rather beautifully and surreally submerged under a foot of water.

The next day the heavens broke, the rain came down and the water level rose, so we cancelled our lunch reservation in the garden of the famous Locanda Cipriani (it'll still be there next time), and curled up in the warmth of tiny La Cantina in Cannaregio, one of Venice's best bácari (cicheti bars).

It's famous for its fish, cooked and raw, with a tray of oysters ready on the bar to be shucked to order.  Looking at our hungry and indecisive faces, the barmaid brought us an obscene plateful of everything they had, a fishy feast.

Just as we felt we were able to move again, the sun came out.  We strolled along the backwaters of Cannaregio, away from the main tourist drag, and installed ourselves in a tiny wine bar on Fondamenta Ormesini for the afternoon, to watch the boats and people go past. 

The next day, the sun was back for good.

The terrace of the Hotel Monaco has one of the best views for lunch in the city, and the best seafood tagliolini to go with it.

On another tip from a friend, that evening we tiptoed through the floodwaters to see Rossini's Il barbiere di Siviglia at Musica a Palazzo, opera's equivalent of a secret supper club.

With around 80 people in the audience and just four singers accompanied by a piano and three strings, it's beautifully intimate.  The opera takes place in the rooms of a fading, once-opulent palazzo, with the audience following the performers from room to room with each act, champagne glasses in hand.

Grazie Venezia, we'll be back soon.

http://www.hotelflora.it/en/

http://www.hotelmonacovenice.com/grand-canal-restaurant-venice/

http://www.musicapalazzo.com/it/programma/

Don Giovanni

An indulgent trip to the opera on a balmy Sunday evening.

Don Giovanni is one of my favourite operas, and Madrid's opulent teatro real is a stunning place to see it.

The opera wasn't quite what I'd imagined it would be.  The orchestra and the singers were outstanding, but the staging was bizarrely static and contrived.  After every scene, the curtain fell with a sudden crash to the stage: the first time, there were gasps from the audience as we assumed it had come tumbling down by accident.

With the story rewritten so that it all takes place in the same room in one house, the singers had to go through some impressive miming to hold the story together.  In the famous scene where Giovanni invites the statute of the Commendatore to dinner, the singers mime the whole affair to an invisible statue, much to the audience's confusion.

Photo sourced here (Javier del Real)

Rather than a scandalous, unrepenting rogue, Don Giovanni is played as a drunkard going slowly mad.

My favourite scene, where hell opens and the statute drags Don Giovanni down into the depths, was something of an anticlimax.  In this production the scene seems to become a metaphor for Giovanni's final descent into madness, or the inevitable result of a life of excess: he clutches his chest and collapses, as if having a heart attack, but the literal hellfires and booming choirs of demons are nowhere to be seen.

Russell Braun as Don Giovanni
Photo sourced here (Javier del Real)

But the music is, of course, absolutely beautiful, and despite the bizarre direction the singers were superb.

A very Spanish glass of cava and slice of tortilla on the sun terrace during the interval, overlooking the Palacio Real, made for a dreamy Sunday evening.

http://www.teatro-real.com/es/eventos/don-giovanni