The Monteverdi Festival in Cremona presented this week Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice as an opening event ahead of the Festival’s official start on the Friday with Il ritorno di Ulisse in patria. Orfeo ed Euridice stands as the defining work of Gluck’s operatic reform, shifting away from the ornate, fantastical plots and rich ornamentations of Baroque opera toward a more direct and emotionally charged narrative. Conductor Gianluca Capuano based his interpretation on the 1769 Parma version, which adapts Orfeo’s role for soprano and restructures the opera into seven continuous scenes. He also opted for an altered finale, omitting the traditional happy ending.
The performance was presented in a semi-staged format, with the orchestra occupying the stage while the singers moved dynamically around them, utilising the entire, delightful Teatro Amilcare Ponchielli as their playing space. Orfeo’s descent into the underworld was cleverly represented by his movement into the Parterre, while his arrival in Elysium saw him entering from the back of the auditorium, slowly ascending to the stage as if in awe of the musicians – as if they were celestial beings – and pausing to acknowledge the harp, his symbolic instrument (“Che puro ciel”). This minimalist yet imaginative approach heightened the musical experience, allowing the drama to unfold with striking intimacy and creativity.
The musical execution was both captivating and profound. Capuano led Les Musiciens du Prince in a bold and imaginative performance, truly radical in its approach. Stripping away decades of outdated mannerisms as well as the cold precision of some historically informed ensembles, he uncovered the raw emotional power of Gluck’s score. The orchestra’s sound was richly textured and meticulously crafted, with striking dynamics and tempi, often unconventional in its approach. Yet every daring choice served the music and drama, never self-indulgence, making this performance both artistically sincere and culturally significant.
Cecilia Bartoli, as Orfeo, immersed herself fully in the role. Without the distraction of excessive coloratura, her dramatic intensity, magnetic presence and ability to infuse every word with meaning shone through. Through her expressive voice, Orfeo’s anguish, love and despair were vividly conveyed. Particularly poignant were the tender moments, such as “Chiamo il mio ben così,”. The underworld duet with Euridice was devastating; Bartoli and Mélissa Petit (Euridice) built the tension masterfully, making the tragedy feel painfully real. Thus, when Orfeo hesitantly looks at Euridice, only to lose her again, the famous “Che farò senza Euridice” felt not like a polished lament but a raw outburst of grief, in a much faster tempo than usual, its slower tempo arriving only in the final stanza as Orfeo surrenders to reality.
While Orfeo dominates the opera, Euridice and Amore play smaller yet crucial roles. Petit was a compelling Euridice, her bright, agile soprano full of character; she also brought playful charm to Amore. Her contribution was vital to the production’s success.
The chorus plays a key role and Il Canto di Orfeo, under Jacopo Facchini’s direction, delivered a stellar performance. They were menacing and terrifying as the Furies trying to forbid Orfeo from entering the underworld (“Chi mai nell’Erebo”), sweet and ethereal as the blessed spirits in Elysium (“Vieni a’ regni del riposo”). As mourners and commentators, they matched Bartoli’s intensity with remarkable cohesion and dynamic range, further elevating the evening’s impact.