Deservedly, Don Carlos (1867) enjoys a reputation as one of Verdi’s finest operas, rivaled only by his two final works, Otello (1887) and Falstaff (1893). It’s a colossal piece, Verdi’s longest, and among the most demanding of his operas in terms of casting.
Initially premiered in Paris in French, the five-act opera was soon condensed to four acts in Italian. That edition became the standard, until the French version started to reappear in the 1990s. Though the Italian Don Carlo is still much more commonly performed than the original French, the original Don Carlos has gained popularity. It can be a revelation to hear Verdi’s late masterpiece sung in its original language where libretto and score come together as intended, compared to the forcibly-fused Italian version.
However, the challenge with the French version is the paucity of singers with sufficient proficiency with the language, and understanding of the French style. Though I’ve seen a few French versions with mostly non-native speakers that sang in a proper style, the present version — seen on Mar. 29 at Opéra national de Paris no less — was the least stylistically French I’ve encountered. It’s almost embarrassing that none of the singers of the five major roles (Carlos, Philippe II, Élisabeth, Rodrigue and Princesse Éboli) were French or even from la Francophonie.
Scene from Opéra national de Paris’s 24-25 Don Carlos. Photo: Franck Ferville/ONP
Instead, we had an American tenor and bass, a Latvian soprano, a Polish baritone and a Russian mezzo for this grand opéra. Only bass-baritone Christian van Horn (Philippe) and soprano Marina Rebeka (Élisabeth) delivered comprehensible French. As Éboli, Ekaterina Gubanova at least made an effort. Charles Castronovo (Carlos) and Andrzej Filończyk (Rodrigue) sang in an idiom that did not even slightly resemble French. Though I’m familiar with the French libretto, I couldn’t follow their singing without reading the surtitles.
In the case of the tenor, the problem was more serious than diction. I have heard Castronovo previously in different roles for which his competent lyric tenor is possibly more suited, but unquestionably, his voice has not matured into the larger, more dramatic one required to sing Don Carlos. It’s truly a mystery how a major opera house could miscast such an important role. His voice was unappealing and devoid of squillo. As Don Carlos is a dramatic role, Castronovo’s voice became even less appealing as he forced it in the story’s more heated moments.
Mercifully, there was one truly exceptional singer in the cast: Marina Rebeka. One of opera’s most sought-after lyric sopranos, Rebeka has it all: a lovely voice, a polished technique and ample stage presence. The moments she was onstage, even in less stellar company, there was magic, such was her charisma.
Her first aria, the brief “O ma chère compagne, ne pleurez pas, ma sœur,” was the first of the evening to elicit huge applause. From then on, one could sense she’d won over the public. In her duets with Carlos, the Prologue’s “Ne tremble pas, reviens à toi… Ah! Je tremble encore, mais non d’effroi,” and Act II’s “Je viens demander”, her excellence only amplified the weakness of the tenor. Needless to say, the grandest moment of the evening was her Act V aria “Toi qui sus le néant des grandeurs de ce monde.”
Russian mezzo Gubanova is endowed with a huge voice that would have been better suited to the Italian version. The French Éboli depends more on elegance than the volume that might be more suited to her Italian counterpart. An accomplished artist, Gubanova was able to mold her voice to fit the role’s requirements. Despite the flawed staging, she portrayed the role convincingly.
Scene from Opéra national de Paris’s 24-25 Don Carlos. Photo: Franck Ferville/ONP
Éboli’s Act II aria, “Dans le beau jardin du palais sarrasin” takes place in the gardens of the monastery of Saint‑Just, and the Act III Éboli-Carlos-Rodrigue trio, “Malheur sur toi, fils adultère!,” in the Queen’s garden in the Escorial Palace.
Normally these scenes receive a luxuriant garden setting suited to Éboli’s sensuousness. However, director Krzysztof Warlikowski had other ideas, so the action was transported from the 16th century to 1960s Spain under Franco. And in this imagining, Princess Éboli, the king’s mistress, whose eyes (in the libretto) are set on Carlos, is lesbian. Her Act IV signature aria “Oh! Je ne verrai plus la Reine! O Don fatal et détesté,” lamenting her fatal beauty, brought the house down, thanks to Gubanova’s excellent delivery and temperament.
Polish baritone Andrzej Filonczyk has had success with lighter roles. However, he was miscast here as Rodrigue, as his timbre is too dry for this typically Verdian baritone role. Though he’s been fine in several French roles, he was not strong in this performance. In addition to his unintelligible diction, Filonczyk lacked conviction in this, one of the repertoire’s most passionate baritone roles.
American bass-baritone Christian Van Horn has the right voice for Philippe II and his diction was satisfactory. His glorious Act IV aria, “Elle ne m’aime pas,” was nobly executed. Other than Rebeka’s contributions, it was one of the few memorable moments of the evening.
Scene from Opéra national de Paris’s 24-25 Don Carlos. Photo: Franck Ferville/ONP
Ukrainian bass Alexander Tsymbalyuk was not an ideal choice for the Grand Inquisitor. His diction was lacking and his bass was not much darker than Van Horn’s. Except for Russian opera, where basses are legion, the Philippe II/Grand Inquisitor duet is the only known duet for two basses in the repertoire. It’s therefore important that their voices be distinguishable. It’s usually more effective for the Grand Inquisitor to have the lower voice, to convey his imperiousness. Alas, this usually terrifying duet did not send even a hint of a shiver down one’s spine.
Surprisingly, conductor Simone Young, who impressed in recent months, notably in Die Walküre at La Scala and in the Berlin production of Elektra, disappointed in Don Carlos. The orchestra sounded bland and oddly lifeless, lacking brio, even in the auto da fè.
The main theme of Don Carlos is the burden of power: though Philippe II ruled the largest empire of the day, his authority was undermined by the Church. He is compelled to sacrifice Rodrigue, his favourite courtier, and even his own son, Carlos. The secondary political plot line has Rodrigue advocating for the freedom of the oppressed Flemish people and recruiting Carlos in his project.
The personal plot line involves Élisabeth, the French princess first promised to the Crown Prince Carlos of Spain, but eventually given to his elderly father Philippe II. She briefly meets the young Carlos and feels affection, but has to consent to marrying Philippe as part of a peace treaty between France and Spain. Finally, there is the rage of the king’s mistress, Éboli after being rejected by Carlos.
Polish director Krzysztof Warlikowski sadly lost these complicated threads in this revival of his 2017 staging that transports the action onto a 1960s family drama. Changing eras sometimes works, but Franco’s Spain was not an ideal choice. While the Catholic Church was a strong ally of the authoritarian caudillo, it was completely subservient to the regime, and not its rival, as in Don Carlos.
The only positive aspect of Warlikowski‘s updating was the amusing costumes. Best of all were Élisabeth’s dresses, inspired by Jacqueline Kennedy’s style. Likewise, the auto da fé was visually appealing, though dramatically underwhelming.
Set in what looked like Parliament, it had judges in the first row, followed by two rows of bourgeois citizens and the last two replete with nuns, priests, bishops and military men. The Flemish delegates who came to raise their grievances looked ridiculous in 1960s Spain, having lost control of the Lowlands three centuries earlier, and its few remaining colonies stolen by the Americans several decades earlier.
Warlikowski’s other “interesting” idea was a certain homosexual esprit in the Spanish court. In the opening scene, there’s sexual tension between Carlos and his valet. Eboli holds court in the palace’s gymnasium rather than in the palace’s luxuriant gardens.
Eboli and her female companions are lesbian, and the Princess amuses herself by having her favourite lovers engage in rounds of fencing. This at least gave for a fetching scene with women of different shapes and sizes in fencing attire. Three obese women who did not engage in fencing sat in tennis outfits that included hats to block the sun, though the scene was indoors. Without the usual trees and jasmine shrubs, Éboli’s sarcastic “Chanson du voile” (veil song) “Dans le beau jardin du palais sarrasin” was devoid of both humour and sensuality.
Scene from Opéra national de Paris’s 24-25 Don Carlos. Photo: Franck Ferville/ONP
In Warlikowski’s family drama, Philippe II is a drunkard and wife-beater. His valets are East Asian, an oddity in bad taste, as it cannot be a coincidence. We are in Paris, France and not Hanoi or Kuala Lumpur after all.
The Polish director’s other twist was to imply that Carlos (1545-1568), the weakling prince, was suicidal. The historic figure was physically deformed as well as mentally unstable. So, this characterization is plausible.
At the opening of the opera, Carlos has bandaged wrists, indicating multiple suicide attempts, possibly as a reaction to Élisabeth marrying his father rather than him. At the opera’s end, Carlos is usually either shot by the Inquisition’s henchmen or snatched away by the ghost of his grandfather Charles Quint. Here, he attempts to shoot himself with a revolver, but fails. Warlikowski has Élisabeth die from grief.
This is, without doubt, the most helter skelter staging of Don Carlos I’ve ever encountered. Dreadfully conceived, nonsensical stagings are now commonplace. However, an uninspired staging and a subpar cast are uniquely confounding. Luckily, there were a few moments of grace with Rebeka and Van Horn. However, I fear the most outrageous moments, such as Éboli’s fencing team, the drunken king and the Parliamentary Auto da fé may haunt my dreams for years to come.
Opéra national de Paris’ production of Verdi’s Don Carlos continues its run until April 25. www.operadeparis.fr
