Donizetti's Maria Padilla is a canvas for sumptuous costumes, regal staging and bel canto voices. The royal court, the wedding finery and the homes of Spanish nobility add up to a visual feast. Even without all this, the opera stands up musically. While some operas benefit (or are saved) by a grand production, Maria Padilla passes the “in the car” test. I sometimes ask myself if I would listen to a particular opera in the car, or if its charm stays on the stage at the end of the evening. This music is gorgeous and illustrative, evoking the story and images. One could listen to it over and over again.
The opera opens with a dream. Maria Padilla has a vision of a cherub leading her to an altar, where a crown is placed on her head. In short order the vision becomes reality when she discovers the man who claims to love her is Don Pedro, the Prince of Castile, in disguise. Unconvinced of his motives, Maria only agrees to go with the Prince when he promises to marry her. He does, but explains that he will be required to marry for political gain. This union must be kept a secret. After their marriage, the Prince puts off the inevitable arranged marriage to Bianca of Bourbon as long as possible but cannot keep the court at bay forever. While away caring for her father, who has descended into madness, Maria hears the wedding celebration and returns to claim what is legally hers. There are different versions of what happens next. In the version I saw, Don Pedro pronounces Maria as his Queen and leads her to the throne as shadows of battles begin on the fringes. In another version she receives the crown and dies of joy. In yet another, she accepts the crown and then kills herself. The historical Maria Padilla (1334 – 1361) remained a secret wife, bearing the king four children despite his marriage to Blanche of Bourbon.
Maria's father is one of the most engaging characters in the story. He is torn between familial honor and pure love for his daughter. Not knowing about the secret marriage, the Duke thinks Maria has dishonored the family by becoming a courtesan. By the time he is told about the secret marriage, he's gone mad – torn by conflicting forces – and cannot hear the truth. All pretense is gone. He no longer feels impelled to keep up appearances, and becomes the crazy relative with no filter. He is the guest at the wedding who says all the things aloud that everyone knows but has the good sense not to mention. His unravelling shows the story taking a turn for the worse.