La Scala brings back Davide Livermore's 2018 production of Don Pasquale, Gaetano Donizetti's opera buffa which he composed at the peak of his career. The plot is light-hearted and whimsical: elderly bachelor Don Pasquale refuses to consent to his nephew and sole heir, Ernesto, marrying a poor young widow named Norina, opting to disinherit him instead. In a bid to ensure Ernesto receives nothing, Don Pasquale decides to marry himself and enlists the help of his friend, Malatesta, to find him a suitable spouse. Malatesta, sympathetic to Ernesto's plight and seeing Don Pasquale's stubbornness, presents Norina herself in disguise as his sister, Sofronia, a demure young woman fresh out of the convent.
After a fake wedding, Norina begins recklessly spending Don Pasquale's money on extravagances and bullies him into submission, even resorting to physical force. The inevitable happy ending arrives as the two young lovers realise their romantic aspirations, while Norina sings, “He who marries in old age is a fool, only inviting trouble!”
Livermore transports the setting from 19th-century Rome to the 1950s Rome depicted in La Dolce Vita. Norina owns a fashion studio and works, possibly in the costume department, at Cinecittà – Italy's equivalent of Hollywood – which challenges the notion of her being “poor”. The production is rich with cinematic references, featuring Livermore's trademark dream-like sequences. Norina is seen soaring above the magnificent Roman landscape in a Lancia Aurelia B24, an iconic car from the 1950s. The colour scheme predominantly employs black and white, with moments where the stage zooms in using black vertical and horizontal panels to swiftly frame a detail. Livermore's direction, supported by videos from D-Wok, is poetic and enchanting, occasionally teetering on the edge of sentimentality but always maintaining elegance.
A notable addition is the introduction of a silent character: Don Pasquale's mother. The opera begins with her funeral during the overture, and as Don Pasquale drifts off to sleep in a chair, his dreams reveal his authoritarian mother thwarting all his attempts at romantic relationships throughout his life. Her portrait, constantly looming in Don Pasquale's living room, mocks his pursuit of marriage and derides his failures. This portrayal underscores Don Pasquale's loneliness: his endeavour to find companionship following his mother's passing becomes bittersweet, casting a melancholic tone that resonates throughout the score.
On the podium was Evelino Pidò, renowned for his expertise in the bel canto repertoire, but unfortunately, he seemed to have an off day. The orchestra often sounded too loud and heavy, lacking the delicate balance needed between the pit and the stage. Seldom did we experience the lightness and clarity required, and frequently the solo instruments fell short of expectations. It was disheartening to hear the first trumpet at La Scala struggle with high notes during the solo preceding Ernesto's Act 2 aria. This was particularly unfortunate as the scene was charming, featuring a clown mimicking trumpet playing onstage with balloons and other circus elements, reminiscent of Fellini.
While mistakes can happen to anyone, several other players also did not perform up to their usual standard. Perhaps there were insufficient rehearsals, or perhaps it was simply an off day, and the issues will be addressed as the run progresses. Fortunately, the La Scala chorus maintained its exceptional level of performance; their rendition of “Che interminabile andirivieni!” in Act 3 was one of the highlights, delivered with the requisite lightness and precision, also from the orchestra.
In the title role, Ambrogio Maestri brought his extensive experience to deliver an elegant and humorous interpretation. His refined baritone and bel canto style were consistently impressive; however, there were moments when his voice seemed to lack the necessary projection for the vast theatre, especially in the lower register. Nevertheless, his overall performance was very satisfying and well-received. Mattia Olivieri portrayed Malatesta with a strong and beautiful baritone. While he occasionally sacrificed elegance and style for continuous jokes and quips, almost resembling a clown at times, his delivery of the sillabato in the duet with Maestri was absolutely remarkable.