Today's operatic life is the uninterrupted continuation of a tradition that, even with countless changes, can be traced back to 1589, when a performance of sung and danced stage actions was set up for the wedding of the Grand Duke of Tuscany Ferdinando I de' Medici with Cristina of Lorraine.
But almost ten years before a group of intellectuals – the Camerata de' Bardi, which had taken it's name from Giovanni Bardi's mansion where they met to discuss music, literature, arts and science – formalized this musical form that originates from two elements: one is musical, the victory of monodic singing over polyphony, and the other is literary, the intention of recreating the ancient theatre in the opinion that the ancient Greeks sang in their tragedies on stage. Jacopo Peri was the first to use the new style for a work in music, Dafne (1598), based on Ottavio Rinuccini's text from Ovid's Metamorphosis. The work has been almost completely lost, but the same Rinuccini had his Euridice set to music by Jacopo Peri in 1600 and by Giulio Caccini in 1602.
With his version of Dafne (1608), Marco da Gagliano concluded the season of the Florentine opera. The city that gave birth to opera had lost the exclusivity of the genre: in Rome Emilio de' Cavalieri staged his Rappresentatione di anima et di corpo; in Venice, Claudio Monteverdi raised it to the highest level and gave birth to the opera in the city's public theatres. Until then, performances had taken place in courts and princely palaces, as it was for this Dafne which was put on at the Ducal Palace of Mantua before being staged in Florence at Giovanni de' Medici's palace in 1611.
It is this version, including six dances by Lorenzo Allegri, which is being given its first modern staging by the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino in the Boboli Gardens of Palazzo Pitti, in front of the Buontalenti Grotto. While singing with an instrumental base, the performers must give the impression of acting (recitar cantando) and only rarely does the singing take on a greater degree of musicality. For most of the time, the singer is asked to express the words with harmony but clarity, "to sculpt the syllables, to make words understood". That was an undemanding task for the interpreters on stage here, all Italian singers for whom diction is not a problem and who are all experts in Baroque music with supporting performers who contributed to the persuasive musical performance committed to Federico Maria Sardelli's scholarship and gusto. He was at the head of his Baroque Modo Antiquo reinforced for the occasion with two violinists from the Musica Antiqua orchestra of Maggio Musicale Fiorentino. The conductor, faithful to the composer's guidelines, never covered the singing with an excess of ornamentation, though keeping alive the sustaining harmony. It is in the dances that Sardelli, also playing his recorder, yielded to a more free music-making.
In the case of Dafne, the comparison with Monteverdi's La favola di Orfeo, composed the previous year, is unavoidable. The shepherds' narration (“Sparse più non vedrem di quel fin oro”) echoes the messenger who tells of Eurydice's death, and the following chorus (“Piangete, Ninfe”) has a similarly sincere tone. Like Apollo's final intervention in L'Orfeo, it is full of ornaments, one of those the rare moments when music seems to take the upper hand over the word. But let's just say that, in comparison, this Daphne is quite another thing and does not achieve the theatrical and expressive intensity of Monteverdi's work.
As for Gianmaria Aliverta staging, we do not know if it is Marco da Gagliano's work that doesn't offer him a convincing dramaturgy, or if it is the director who is intimidated by the prestigious location. His approach shows a sort of shyness. The imaginative Baroque architecture of the cave is an inert background to the action and Alessandro Tutini's lighting does not give life to the spaces of this fantastic place where artificial concretions in imitation of stalactites and stalagmites stand side by side with the statues of Michelangelo's Prisons, colourful mosaics and water games, now unfortunately turned off.
The starting idea of Aliverta's direction is the freedom of the woman compared to that of the man and, in Silvia Giordano's choreography that mingles in the stage action, the theme of violence suffered by a woman in love with her own man is clearly illustrated. It is an up to date topic, but it would have been incomprehensible in 17th-century Florence and it little adds to the enjoyment of this Baroque work in which human feelings are sublimated by myth. Sara Marcuzzi's costumes deliver us timeless figures despite the current cut of men's and Amor's clothes, or the more refined female frocks – Venus in shining emerald green gown and Daphne in fluttering red.
Sponsored by a famous Florentine fashion house, the performance only partially convinced the elegant audience that came for this run al fresco, but at the end the clapping didn't fail.
La Dafne a Firenze 4 secoli dopo
La vita operistica di oggi è la continuazione senza interruzioni di una tradizione che, pur con mille cambiamenti, si può far risalire al 1589, quando uno spettacolo di azioni sceniche cantate e danzate fu allestito per le nozze del granduca di Toscana Ferdinando I de' Medici con Cristina di Lorena.