La Cenerentola, one of Rossini’s most celebrated masterpieces, embodies a perfect balance between opera buffa and serious drama, between comédie larmoyante and farce. While Don Magnifico and his foolish daughters display the traits of pure farce, Alidoro, serving as a deus ex machina, provides a moral compass that firmly anchors him as a serious character. The duet in the first act, when Cenerentola and the Prince meet and instantly fall in love, is captivating – their emotional turmoil vividly conveyed with striking psychological depth.
At the heart of it all lies Rossini’s music: elegant and endlessly varied, it elevates even the most absurd situations, unifying laughter and poignant sentiment into a unique artistic vision. This luminous, Apollonian classicism would soon fade with the rise of Romanticism.
In the 1970s, at the dawn of the Rossini Renaissance, director Jean-Pierre Ponnelle and conductor Claudio Abbado brought new vitality to several of Rossini’s operas at La Scala. Among these productions, La Cenerentola, first staged in 1973, was perhaps the most successful, and it is this version that Federica Stefani has recently revived in Milan.
Ponnelle masterfully captures the opera’s contrasting moods of laughter and melancholy, framing them within sets that resemble cardboard cutouts, painted in black and white like ink drawings. His approach to comedy respects tradition and refinement, avoiding exaggeration or vulgarity. The result is a production of exquisite beauty and charm, well worth a revival.
The orchestra, chorus, and technical team were drawn from the Accademia Teatro alla Scala, in keeping with the tradition that each season features one production performed by the Academy’s pupils. The cast included two current students as the wicked stepsisters – María Martín Campos as Clorinda and Dilan Şaka as Tisbe – alongside former Accademia alumni, all led by a seasoned professional: baritone Marco Filippo Romano as Don Magnifico (the cruel stepfather, who replaces the fairy-tale’s cruel stepmother in the libretto).
Conductor Gianluca Capuano guided the young orchestra in a performance that was effervescent yet profound, both spirited and inspired. His rare grasp of Rossini’s idiom permeated the entire reading, which felt natural and spontaneous. While a few attacks were not perfectly precise (likely to improve as the run continues) the stylistic command was flawless, the crescendos organically shaped, and the overall transparency of sound enchanting. Capuano’s support for the singers and chorus was unwavering, his clear and decisive gestures instantly correcting even the slightest rhythmic fluctuation. The continuo included not only to the harpsichord (Daniele di Tommaso) but also to the fortepiano (Marco Gatti), who enlivened the recitatives with witty musical quotations.
The protagonist, Aya Wakizono, displayed superb command of coloratura. Her mezzo-soprano is focused high in the range, with a strong upper register and gleaming top notes. By contrast, her middle and lower registers lacked projection and sounded somewhat hollow, with fewer harmonics. This gave her timbre less individuality, at times a touch generic. Nonetheless, her rendition of the final “Non più mesta” rondo was electrifying, full of variety in the coloratura and genuine excitement.
As Prince Ramiro, Chuan Wang offered a light tenor with remarkable ease at the top and a polished command of coloratura. His high Cs in “Sì, ritrovarla io giuro” were brilliantly secure, and he even interpolated a high D, which drew enthusiastic cheers. His tone showed a touch of acidity around the upper passaggio, but in the extreme high register it became rounder and more beautiful.
Romano was a spectacular Don Magnifico, reaffirming his reputation as perhaps the finest buffo baritone of his generation. His coloratura and sillabato were crisp and exhilarating, and his deep understanding of Rossini informed an interpretation that was genuinely funny yet always finely measured.
As Dandini, Sung-Hwan Damien Park brought a smooth, handsome baritone that lacked sufficient depth, however, in the lower register, leaving some notes barely audible and compromising parts of his role. Even so, his technique was impressive, marked by excellent breath control, and his portrayal was lively, humorous and engaging. As Alidoro (the opera’s fairy godmother figure) Huanhong Li offered a velvety, authoritative bass. In the demanding aria “Là del ciel” his coloratura might have benefited from greater precision, but he displayed elegant top notes and a remarkably smooth legato. The stepsisters were portrayed with gusto by Martín Campos and Şaka, who fully embraced their roles as frivolous, cruel airheads. Şaka’s mezzo-soprano glowed with a golden timbre and secure high notes, while Martín Campos revealed a brilliant soprano, firmly anchored in the middle register and crowned with silvery top notes.
All of the singers were deeply committed to their acting, which lent the performance a vivid, theatrical energy. The fiendishly difficult concertati proved to be the evening’s highlights: meticulously rehearsed, they were delivered with flawless execution, superb dynamic shading, and astonishing rhythmic precision.
