Mozart’s playful flirting with opera seria is a real treat for music lovers. Composed two years after his furious Mitridate, Lucio Silla shows a 16-year-old genius who was starting to realise just how much could be achieved in the twisted margins of classic operatic forms. Its score is an exciting succession of innovations: mosts of the recitatives are accompagnato, the old structure of arias is frequently broken, with long and complex A-parts and the orchestral thread gives sense and harmonic coherence to the whole work. Although sometimes unfairly treated as a juvenile and half-baked promise of greater things to come (and come they did), Lucio Silla is a delightful feat of mannerist opera seria and at the same time the start upon a bold new path of psychological exploration. In an odd choice for the grand opening of the season that marks the 200th anniversary of the house, the Teatro Real has hired exactly the same cast and production that performed the title at the Liceu four years ago. Judging by the excellent results, it was a happy déjà-vu nonetheless.
Claus Guth’s production is a perfect example of how to respect the rigid structure of an archaic operatic form while underlining its most innovative elements. The music always inspired the acting and the structure of the arias had its exact correspondence in the singers’ movements. The production is based on the duality separating the tragic dark world of the lovers Cecilio and Giunia and the whiteness of Silla’s zany rule. In a brilliant reference, Guth connected Cecilio’s unstoppable desire to see Giunia with Orpheus’ quest to bring Eurydice back from the Hades: blind in the dark, he fails to reach the veiled shadow of Giunia, always postponing the “tenero momento”. This reached its utmost realisation at the end of Act I, when the lovers, lying on the ground like gloomy spectres, recognise each other in fear and whispers. In stark contrast, Silla’s realm was aggressively bright, depicted almost with farcical traits, as a crushing caricature of a tormented dictator.
Christian Schmidt's revolving stage gives Guth the variety of spaces that he needs for displaying the drama, all disturbing non-places (alleys, brutalist corridors). The gruesome chamber where Silla rules and conspires resembles a civil war morgue. The recurrence of spaces helped to portray the characters but it all got a bit repetitive. In a subversion of the lieto fine, Silla invites all the characters to a dismal dinner in which he feigns his resignation only to appear again at the end on his crimson cloak.