Don Carlo, première alla Scala (II): algures entre a desgraça e a graça...

(Furlanetto na pele de Filipe II)

A avaliar pela critica precisa e meticulosa do El Pais, decididamente, este Don Carlo milanês não deixará saudades: Gatti sofrível, intérpretes pouco inspirados e uma encenação demasiado despojada:

«Las primeras protestas llegaron antes de comenzar el segundo acto y estuvieron dirigidas contra el director musical Daniele Gatti. Se reproducirían en el segundo intervalo y al final, aunque con menor intensidad. Venían de arriba, de los loggionisti. Los espectadores de platea no suelen silbar ni abuchear. Es poco fino, después de haber pagado 2.000 euros por la localidad. Gatti cerraba su año histórico después del éxito inaugurando el Festival de Bayreuth. Pero Wagner no es Verdi. El director milanés planteó un Verdi más sinfónico que lírico, más pesante que ligero. Abusó del volumen, en perjuicio de los cantantes y se movió arbitrariamente en los tempos. Obtuvo momentos de color, atmósfera y contrastes fabulosos, pero la representación adoleció de continuidad, fue desangelada por momentos, e incluso tediosa.

Los cantantes estuvieron agarrotados. El sustituto Neill quizás sea más contundente y musical que el sustituido Filianoti, pero en escena es la antiteatralidad. No lo digo por su gordura sino por su pésima capacidad como actor. Ferruccio Furlanetto aguantó el tipo como Felipe II, pero sin pasión. Fiorenza Cedolins hizo una delicada Elisabetta con filados extraordinarios y una gran intuición melódica, pero dejó que desear en la expresividad dramática. Dolora Zajick se mostró poderosa como Éboli, aunque también vulgar. Dalibor Jenis pasó sin pena ni gloria como Rodrigo y Kotscherga no tuvo su día. Para una inauguración de temporada milanesa no es como para tirar cohetes.

La dirección teatral del francés Stéphane Braunshweig es sensible y minimalista. Añade un elemento psicológico con el desdoblamiento en la infancia de algunos personajes. Si la parte musical hubiese tenido más inspiración, seguramente habría pasado la escénica como correcta. Pero no estaba el horno para bollos conceptuales. Y así resultó fría y distante, con carencias en la dirección de actores. Verdi exige otro fuego más directo y comprometido que Mozart o Janácek, autores con los que este director ha conseguido resultados encomiables.

(…)

Pero lo fundamental, no lo olvidemos, es la calidad de las representaciones. La de Don Carlo, instalada en la corrección, estuvo varios enteros emocionales por debajo de lo que en Verdi es deseable.»


(Furlanetto e Cedolins ossia Filipe II e Elisabete de Valois)


Noutro quadrante, o International Herald Tribune resume a coisa a uma récita convincente, com inúmeros pontos de interesse, a começar pelo brilho de Neill (Don Carlo), densidade de Furlanetto (Filipe II) e entrega de Cedolins (Elisabete):

«Last year the house scored an artistic success with "Tristan und Isolde," but a Verdi opening at La Scala always brings a special frisson and not infrequently a bit of scandal. The conductor Daniele Gatti's decision to restore a passage that Verdi cut before the premiere of the original five-act Paris version of the opera (and later reused in the Lacrymosa of his "Requiem") attracted some advance attention.

(…) the American tenor Stuart Neill, scored a decided success. Neill is a big man with a big voice, yet the voice, in addition to having a robust, ringing sound, is unusually flexible, and Neill managed some arresting soft singing in Carlo's final duet with Elisabetta di Valois, his one true love (and later stepmother after his father, Philip II of Spain, marries her). Neill had obviously been rehearsed and entered into Braunschweig's production without a hitch. Braunschweig's ongoing production of Wagner's "Ring" for the Aix-en-Provence and Salzburg Easter Festivals has gotten mixed reviews, but his production here has an interesting original dimension while preserving the benefits of a traditional staging.

In a program note, Braunschweig observes that the origins of Don Carlo's ardent friendship with the political reformer Rodrigo, the Marquis of Posa, are left unexplained by Verdi, whereas the opera's source - Schiller's play "Don Carlos" - traces their comradeship to childhood. This observation provides a kind of springboard for portraying the opera's harsh realities against a background of a "lost paradise," the latter, above all, standing for the moment when, in the forest of Fontainebleau, Don Carlo and Elisabetta declare their love only to be told that for political reasons Philip will marry her.

Braunschweig's approach makes special sense when the opera is performed, as here, in Verdi's revised four-act Milan version, in which the Fontainebleau scene is omitted but remains a potent memory. To invoke the past, Braunschweig arrestingly relies on children, doubling the characters, to appear in key scenes, sometimes against the colorful background of the forest itself, which provides welcome contrast to Braunschweig's stark, black and white sets, as do Thibault van Craenenbroeck's lavish ultra-traditional costumes.

Neill finds himself in estimable vocal company, not least with Dolora Zajick, as Princess Eboli, and Ferruccio Furlanetto, as Philip - probably the leading exponents of these roles currently. Furlanetto is especially strong in projecting a human dimension to Philip, not an easy task. In the scene, for instance, when Don Carlo challenges Philip with his sword, Furlanetto really suggests Philip's vulnerability. Another excellent portrayal comes from Fiorenza Cedolins as Elisabetta, who invests key phrases in the final act with lovely pianissimos and brings passion to her moments with Carlo. Dalibor Jenis sings Posa with ardor, sounding best in his upper range, and Anatoli Kotscherga is a solid Grand Inquisitor.

Gatti sets a number of slow tempos - which may account for the expressions of hostility he drew from the gallery - but for the most part he makes them work in a performance that is persuasive overall. The passage Gatti restored, essentially a lament for Posa by both Philip and Carlo, was a treat to hear, but you can understand why Verdi cut it - both characters already have had ample occasion to demonstrate their esteem for Posa, and Verdi may have thought he could put the compelling theme to better use, as in fact he did.»

Moral da história: terão os dois críticos assistido à mesma récita???