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/

Romeo y Julieta

Back to the gorgeous Teatro Real, this time off to the ballet (I wrote about last month's trip to the opera here).

The Compañia Nacional de Danza (the Spanish National Dance Company) were staging a modern version of Romeo y Julieta (Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet).

From the moment the curtain was raised, the action was fast-paced, cleverly thought-out and beautifully staged.

A narrator character, a huge ballet dancer clad in black robes, spoke the opening prologue aloud to a rapt audience, before the orchestra struck up the opening bars and he began to introduce the characters, positioning the bodies of the Capulets and Montagues as if directing every movement.

I later read that he was intended to be a development of the Queen Mab character from Mercutio's monologue, simultaneously playing the Queen of Dreams, fate and death.  It was a beautiful construction which really worked, holding the ballet together with a dark coherence and hurried fate.

The narrator supports and manipulates Juliet as she listens to the priest
Photo sourced here (Javier del Real)

With a stripped-back set and a muted colour palate of greys and blacks, only Juliet's dress and Mercutio's shirt providing splashes of red, the staging was stunning.

The ballroom scene
Photo sourced here (Javier del Real)

The choreography incorporated both classical and modern ballet with an occasional Spanish twist.  Mercutio, having crouched down into the orchestra pit and winked a cheeky "venga, música maestro" at the conductor, led the ensemble in a vibrant flamenco in Act Two, accompanied by a flowing Spanish guitar version of Prokofiev's score.

One of the best ballets I have seen, by far.

http://www.teatro-real.com/es/eventos/compania-nacional-de-danza

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