This year’s Rossini Opera Festival opens with Zelmira, the last opera Rossini composed for Naples' Teatro San Carlo in 1822. The maestro employs a striking orchestration that heightens the drama, though avoiding some of his staple features: there is no overture, the opera opens in the middle of the dramatic action, some arias miss the customary cabaletta and the intricate ensembles, some of the best ever written by Rossini, use hardly any crescendo. Unfortunately, the work suffers from one of the most convoluted plots ever conceived – a factor that likely contributed to its obscurity.
The story, set on the island of Lesbos, is nearly impossible to follow, with its endless political coups and characters whose actions defy logic, seemingly designed only to further complicate the narrative. Nevertheless, the opera concludes with a conventional happy ending: King Polidoro is restored to his throne, his daughter Zelmira reunites with her husband Ilo, and the villains Antenore and Leucippo are imprisoned.
Director Calixto Bieito largely disregarded the plot – arguably for the better – and focused instead on a bold, impressive spatial concept. The Auditorium Scavolini was transformed with an illuminated platform covering the whole floor, punctured by several openings, the largest of which (centre stage) housed the orchestra (sets by Bieito and Barbora Horáková). The audience surrounded the stage in a circus-like arrangement.
The production was busy, with mimes shuffling minimal props (columns, urns, chairs) while singers wandered aimlessly, with the only discernible purpose of ensuring visibility from all angles on the enormous stage. Bieito crafted numerous cryptic tableaux, often feeling like deliberate provocations – scenes without clear intent cluttered the narrative. The dead prince Azor (performed by mime Roberto Adriani) inexplicably resurrected, lurking onstage to collect props and leer at women. Meanwhile, Ilo and Zelmira’s son played with the villain Antenore rather than hiding from him, and the Great Priest – sporting green hair, a purple cape, and a Gandhi-esque loincloth (costumes by Ingo Krügler) – loitered with a plexiglass urn. A true circus.
The music deserved a far better production. After a several year absence, the Orchestra del Teatro Comunale di Bologna returned to the festival, delivering a vibrant and nuanced performance that showcased its deep affinity for Rossini’s style. Under Giacomo Sagripanti’s baton, the tempi remained brisk yet expressive, imbuing the score with both vitality and emotional depth. Special praise goes to the brass section and the backstage band, whose contributions from the gallery added an extra layer of brilliance.
Anastasia Bartoli, in her third year at the ROF, proved herself a natural talent who continues to evolve with each performance. Her rich, powerful soprano effortlessly navigated flawless coloratura before erupting into thunderous, perfectly placed high notes. Her final rondo “Riedi al soglio” was nothing short of spectacular, a true tour de force, blending technical mastery with dramatic intensity.
Lawrence Brownlee as Ilo – a quintessential Rossini light tenor role – demonstrated his mastery of the Rossinian style with crystalline coloratura and soaring high notes, including several flawless high Ds that filled the auditorium. Yet his exceptional singing was undermined by Bieito’s direction, which reduced the character to a PTSD-stricken warrior, a tired trope in modern opera. Ilo’s portrayal bordered on caricature: cowering under chairs, lurking in platform holes, or shuffling across the stage like a broken zombie. Even the radiant duet with Bartoli was staged with them at opposite ends of the stage, while their "joyful reunion" featured a half-conscious Ilo slumped in a chair, ignored by his wife.
Enea Scala delivered a vocally commanding Antenore, his tenor ideal for the Rossini baritenor role, rich in baritonal depth, ringing top notes, and thrilling squillo, though at times veering perilously close to shouting. His coloratura was razor-sharp, yet occasional indulgent portamenti jarred against his otherwise impeccable Rossinian phrasing.
Bieito reduced the character to a petulant man-child, brilliantly enlivened by Scala: during his showpiece aria “Mentre qual fiera”, he writhed on the floor in a tantrum. Gianluca Margheri’s Leucippo served as both handler and seductive advisor, their dynamic the sole relationship the director bothered to develop: a power-play charged with erotic tension, like a scheming Macbeth duo. Margheri’s bass-baritone was very well projected and mellow, while his statuesque physique suited the role perfectly, though one might wish some director allowed him to keep his clothes on for once.
Marina Viotti brought warmth and bronze-hued richness to the role of Emma, Zelmira’s confidante. Her aria “Ciel pietoso” was a highlight—sung with tender lyricism and impeccable breath control—though the cabaletta was nearly derailed by an absurd childbirth pantomime, yet another of Bieito’s circus' intrusions. In contrast, her luminous duet with Bartoli, accompanied only by harp and cor anglais, offered one of the evening’s few genuinely magical moments.