Opera directors seem to like nothing more than probing the psychological depths and Kirkegaardian moral implications of Mozart’s Don Giovanni and Sven-Eric Bechtolf is no exception. His latest addition to the formidable list of Salzburg Festival productions of Mozart’s magnum opus was first seen in 2014. Bechtolf has some interesting ideas in a contemporary milieu, although there is basically only one dramaturgical leitmotiv: sex. The single stage setting by Rolf Glittenberg is a chic art-deco foyer/lobby bar of what is presumably the Giovanni Hilton. It is also a maison de passe with a number of rooms on a mezzanine level available for casual assignations.
Sex proliferates in this production and not just for the famous titular fornicator. An exceptionally sexy Zerlina and hunky Masetto strip off then scoot up to one of the rooms after “Vedrai, carino” for a bit of “che bel rimedio”. The usual chorus of peasants and forelock-tugging vassals are transformed into smart hotel staff, priapic waiters and sexually harassed chambermaids. As a kind of private porn collecting paparazzo, Leporello keeps photo albums with happy snaps of Giovanni’s conquests which he voyeuristically displays in the catalogue aria. “La piccina è ognor vezzosa” and “Sua passion predominante è la giovin principiante” take on a portentous new meaning when the photos suggest that Giovanni is not averse to a bit of paedophilia as well. This causes the already deeply shocked Donna Elvira to vomit in the corner.
Although most of the directional concepts were successful, the dénouement was problematic. Instead of disappearing into the usual flames of hell, Giovanni lies on the floor for a while, then gets up to scamper around like a Puckish poltergeist and pursue a comely chambermaid into one of the bedrooms. This hardly makes sense of the moral in the concluding sextet.
Making his Salzburg debut on the podium, Alain Altinoglu led the Vienna Philharmonic in an energetic and brisk reading which emphasized the rhythmic strengths of the work without sacrificing orchestral delicacy or tone colour. The strings were as wonderful as ever and there was some sensitive wind playing. The brass were suitably potent and ominous.
For the most part the singing was above average however the Commendatore of Alain Coulombe was disappointing. His dramatic commitment to the role was perfunctory and the voice lacked resonance and projection. Carmela Remigio’s Donna Anna was similarly dispiriting, her projection tentative. The fioratura in “Non mir dir” was accurate enough and certainly better than the rather tepid “Or sai chi l'onore”. There was also a slightly matronly aspect to her characterization which made Don Ottavio a bit of a boytoy.