Year : 2021

Service : Music Theater, Set and lighting design

Opéra de Dijon

Direction, Sets, Lights, and Video: Luigi De Angelis | Dramaturgy and Costumes: Chiara Lagani | Musical Direction: Fayçal Karoui | Project by Fanny & Alexander | Orchestra composed of musicians from the Académie de l’Opéra national de Paris, higher education institutions from the École Supérieure de Musique Bourgogne-Franche-Comté, CNSMD Paris, CNSMD Lyon, and the Haute école de Musique de Genève | Soloists from the Académie de l’Opéra national de Paris | Costanza Ilanah Lobel-Torres | Gernando Tobias Westman | Silvia Andrea Cueva Molnar | Enrico Yiorgo Ioannou | Dramaturgy and Costumes: Chiara Lagani | Assistant Director: Andrea Argentieri | Stage Manager: Giuliana Rienzi | Costume Creation: Emanuela Dall’Aglio | Photography: Mirco Magliocca | Production: Opéra De Dijon in collaboration with the Académie de l’Opéra national de Paris and Teatro Alighieri Ravenna | Editions Bärenreiter – Verlag Kassel – Basel – London – New York – Prague

Teatro Alighieri, Ravenna

Direction, Sets, Lights, Video: Luigi De Angelis | Musical Direction: Nicola Valentini Dolce Concento Ensemble | Fortepiano: Jacopo Raffaele | Performers: Krystian Adam, Giuseppina Bridelli, Anna Maria Sarra, Christian Senn | Dramaturgy and Costumes: Chiara Lagani | Assistant Director and Video: Andrea Argentieri | Stage Manager: Giuliana Rienzi | Drone Footage: Klaudio Sota | Lighting Technician: Gianni Gamberini | Footwear: Emanuela Dall’Aglio
Production: Teatro Alighieri Ravenna | Co-production: Opéra de Dijon | In collaboration with Fanny & Alexander / E Production | Publisher: Bärenreiter-Verlag, Kassel, Italy representative Casa Musicale Sonzogno of Piero Ostali, Milan

“For the Romans, the insula was the house, the complex of internal and external spaces of a dwelling. In neurology, in brain anatomy, the insula is our part most connected to empathy and painful emotions: it plays a fundamental role in interpersonal experiences, self-awareness, and cognitive functions, as well as in trauma and its fixations. From the start, it seemed to me that in Haydn’s opera, the island was a metaphor for an inner condition, a state of mind that perhaps, in this very historical moment, concerns us closely.

The protagonist, Costanza, has a heart hardened like the stone she carves every day, to leave her message of anger against the violence she suffered: having been abandoned by her husband with a very young sister on a wild island, far from the ‘European beauties.’
But the real issue is perhaps her insula, which prevents her from developing a new strategy for processing the loss. Her state is one of fixation on pain and trauma, from which, lacking real contact with the world and reality, she can no longer rise. She cannot notice the natural beauty of the island, unlike her sister Silvia, because her gaze can only turn to her own wound. The stone she obsessively carves, with ‘constancy,’ is the outward image of her emotional block, a stone full of grooves, of wounds, as if there were no perspective for her other than the gaze of the stone. The gaze of the stone is her way of justifying a present of mourning and deprivation, unable to find other explanations.

When one spends a long time on an island or, as happened to us, confined within the walls of a house, one is always connected to a distant horizon. From the sea, from the outside, a visit, a threat, or salvation could arrive, the advent of a foreign force. The presence of the sea, its depth, its movements and moods of the surface, induced by the winds, affect our state of mind, serving as an emotional mirror. The mystery of an outside that is both attractive and repulsive, which is closed to us, alters our relationship with our desires, even with our own body. The relationship with the fantastic and with the realm of dreams changes because the perimeter constraint activates the potential tension of expectation, steeped in ghosts, and summons the advent of unconscious images.
Every island is a natural prison; it’s no coincidence that exile was often placed on small islands—think of Ventotene. Marettimo, in the Egadi Islands, which provides the imaginary backdrop in the videos projected in the staging of our Deserted Island, was itself a prison. Marettimo is a very wild island, battered by winds, without roads, traversed by rugged paths, with sharp, hard, streaked dolomitic rocks, recalling ancient wounds.

Perhaps we will all carry for a long time the feeling of confinement, of isolation, of having to come to terms with a limited vital perimeter, in which our dwelling, our insula, and its ‘edge’ had to correspond, out of necessity, to the inner image of our ‘world.’ Every broader exploration, in this time of suspended confinement, has necessarily been entrusted to imagination, creativity, the deviation of fantasy, the permeable and pulsating walls of dreams.

For this reason, together with Chiara Lagani, we imagined that Costanza, or rather the singer playing Costanza, slips into a deep sleep in her dressing room, just before the opera’s performance: she has just arrived at the theater, and while preparing, she falls asleep and dreams. In her dream, the planes of reality and the metaphorical planes of the Deserted Island constantly blur. There is a subtle correspondence between the inner insula, her dwelling, and the blurred and changing contours of the island in the narrative. Her mind is the island itself; we, the spectators, are witnesses to her most secret inner projections and the ongoing metamorphoses within her. It is an uninhabited island, no longer contemplating relational potential. The other singer, who in the dream and in the story is her sister Silvia, represents her link to the outside, the gaze that opens to the outdoors and can contemplate a distant, unknown horizon, one to be seduced by, that is, to be abducted, to be led to a new, foreign territory. Silvia represents her more animalistic and natural double, childish, still genuine and fluid, not rigid, not affected by the pain of abandonment and the inability to accept separation. She is her last and only link to life, to a future other than that of isolation. And it will be through Silvia’s perspective and the dream that she will manage to break free from her stone armor, reversing her gaze upon humankind, regaining the lost harmony and trust in others.
Thanks to the labyrinthine convolutions of the dream and the oniric imaginary perspective, it is possible to return to the reflective power of the theater, where all the seemingly distant lines and planes can converge and coexist thanks to their polymorphic and ambiguous nature, pointing to the intrinsic richness of a dialogical, empathetic, relational, and collective feeling. In the story, Costanza and Silvia, having clarified the misunderstanding of abandonment, can return to their life and love. But even for us, now, the theme of return takes on a new, exciting sense of responsibility. The Island thus represents the entire city, a deserted, suspended, emptied city, traversed by the many trajectories of inner, projective, individual, desiring gazes, united in the attempt to overcome the common sense of loss. Haydn gives us, in this, a reconciling finale, where everything, quickly, miraculously, harmonizes and brings a smile to our faces.” (Luigi De Angelis)

“Did I dream just now or am I dreaming now?” Thus Costanza in Metastasio’s libretto after recovering from the shock of seeing her husband again after thirteen years of separation and abandonment.

Debut:

Teatro Alighieri, Ravenna, Saturday, October 23, 2021 at 8:30 PM, Sunday, October 24, 2021 at 3:30 PM

Revival of the production:

AuditOrium of the Opéra de Dijon, Saturday, November 27, 2021 at 8:00 PM and Sunday, November 28, 2021 at 3:00 PM

PRESS REVIEWPATRIZIA LUPPI, The Deserted Island: Between Isolation and NatureDANIELA GOLDONI, The Deserted IslandALESSANDRO RIGOLLI, An Island Filled with Feelings

The Deserted Island: Between Isolation and Nature | Patrizia Luppi, Le Salon Musical | October 23, 2021

A fresh and brilliant inauguration for the lyric season at the Teatro Alighieri, with a rarely heard title. The Deserted Island is little known in Italy, as is the entire rich operatic output of Franz Joseph Haydn, and it is also one of his least performed works internationally. First performed in 1779 at Esterháza, not in the court theater destroyed by fire but in the smaller puppet theater, the production called for a reduced orchestra and the participation of only four singers due to the circumstances.

The plot, based on Metastasio’s libretto, which had already been set to music by composers like Jommelli and Traetta, is easy to summarize. Two sisters, Costanza and Silvia (the names are prophetic), live alone on a deserted island, where they had arrived thirteen years earlier with Gernando, the elder sister’s husband, who then disappeared. Costanza believes she has been abandoned and is perpetually immersed in grief; Silvia, much younger, remembers nothing of her former life and enjoys the simple life on the island, immersed in nature. Gernando, who had been kidnapped by pirates, returns to search for his wife, accompanied by his friend Enrico. After some misunderstandings, including some comedic situations, the couple is reunited, and in the meantime, Enrico and Silvia discover they are in love with each other.

The score of this “two-act theatrical piece,” of short duration, begins with a symphony that shares the character of those from the Sturm und Drang period. Inspired by Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice, Haydn radically eliminates dry recitatives and, with the small orchestra, creates a musical continuum through accompanied recitatives and arias, anticipating 19th-century practices. The finale, a large-scale quartet, brings the voices of the performers together and accompanies them with specific instrumental choices: violin and cello for Costanza and Gernando, flute and bassoon for Silvia and Enrico.

The theme of isolation and its relation to our current situation inspired director Luigi De Angelis, who oversaw the entire production with Fanny & Alexander, the theater company he founded with Chiara Lagani. De Angelis, also the designer of the sets, lighting, and videos (the latter with Andrea Argentieri), envisioned the entire story as a dream of Costanza’s, shifting the action from the Teatro Alighieri to the rocky island of Marettimo, in the Egadi Islands.

The projected images are displayed on a movable curtain, cut vertically like a huge fringe that forms the backdrop of the action but also becomes a forest where the characters search for and hide from one another. The costumes, sparkling with sequins and animal prints, are designed by Chiara Lagani, who also handled the dramaturgy. These costumes reference both the ethereal nature of the sisters on the island and the bourgeois elegance to which Costanza aspires to return, as well as a desire for femininity that is fully revealed in the evening gowns worn by the two actresses in the final quartet.

Despite the modern cuts of the costumes, De Angelis did not want to assign a historical perspective to the story. His interpretation focused on the psychological and symbolic aspects of the work. For example, the stone that Costanza carries with her symbolizes the heavy grief that accompanies her. De Angelis, who had worked in opera before (but for the first time at the major theater of his hometown), gave his direction a fluidity and smoothness that the excellent singer-actors (Giuseppina Bridelli, Anna Maria Sarra, Krystian Adam, Christian Senn) supported with natural acting and varied but overall commendable vocal qualities.

The constant exchange and collaboration between the director and the conductor, as was customary in past opera productions, greatly contributed to the success of the performance. The musical aspects were held together by another Ravenna native, Nicola Valentini, who was making his debut at the Alighieri. With his Ensemble Dolce Concento of historical instruments, the conductor established a strong rapport with the stage, enriching his stylistically appropriate and well-characterized interpretation with precious nuances and vivid interventions by the instruments, with the occasionally sharp tint of the solo violin.

A fanfare of two natural trumpets marked the moment when the singers positioned themselves in front of the audience for the final quartet. At the end, Valentini, still conducting, moved from the pit to join the audience. The veil separating the theatrical dimension from reality was thus removed in an emotional sense of shared experience. The final effect was powerful, and the entire production was a success. The audience, finally at full capacity, applauded vigorously.

••••••

The Deserted Island | Daniela Goldoni, Operaclick | October 26, 2021

A theater as an island. An island that generates endless worlds and, for this occasion, contains another island, the deserted one invented by Pietro Metastasio and set to music by Franz Joseph Haydn for his patron, Prince Nicolaus Esterházy, who had built a palace of wonders in a remote countryside, so far removed that it still lies lost between Austria and Hungary. A delightful and elegant island where he gathered his court and always wanted it full of music and refined entertainments. It is here that Haydn lived for many years and composed many of his operas, which were performed in the court theater along with works by his contemporaries. The Deserted Island was born here, in a privileged captivity but restricted for the horizons of a lively personality like Haydn’s.

The island as a closed space with all its metaphors, highly relevant in a time still affected by the restrictions of the epidemic, is at the heart of the theatrical narrative created by Luigi de Angelis, director, set designer, video artist, and lighting designer. The building of the Teatro Alighieri and its walls become part of the action, projected during the symphony onto delicate drops formed by narrow, elongated panels that move lightly like summer curtains allowing the passage of air. Here, in the deserted theater, the young singers, dressed in bulky, barbaric coats with fur shoes and animal print tights, enter the stage. On a velvet sofa, Giuseppina Bridelli, as Costanza, the elder sister, sleeps. Soon, Anna Maria Sarra, as Silvia, the younger one, joins her. Silvia was born on the island and lives there peacefully, having never seen other worlds. Costanza arrived after a shipwreck in which she lost her husband, Gernando. Since then, she has engraved her misfortunes on stone and cannot stop remembering other places and better times. Soon, a ship will appear on the horizon, bringing Gernando (Krystian Adam) and Enrico (Christian Senn), who will land and soon reunite the separated spouses. A new love will also arise between Silvia and Enrico.

The story is straightforward, and the production emphasizes its more intimate sides, focusing on the care of the recitatives, which express emotions and form the core of the opera. These often flow naturally into arias that are simple and free from embellishments and virtuosity. Since Haydn chose not to use the usual dry recitatives, the orchestra becomes a protagonist, creating magnificent accompaniments that give the work a unique stylistic signature. The orchestra supports the emotions and often seems to be accompanied by the vocal lines, which act as an added instrument.

The four protagonists all have perfect diction and the ability to bring the words to life, essential qualities for a credible reading of a work that thrives on nuances. They are complete singers, actors of both stage and voice, far removed from the mannerisms and the haste with which recitatives were often dismissed as dead weight, confusing and almost incomprehensible.

Giuseppina Bridelli is the most tormented. She laments a lost world and cannot escape a pain that paralyzes her. She suffers with dryness and dignity, avoiding languor and always maintaining composure, even when singing while holding the stone symbolizing her suffering (“Ah, that in vain for me pitying”). Her lament is classical and austere, admirable for its dignity.

Anna Maria Sarra is Silvia, a girl discovering life, a gentle and graceful version of the noble savage. She is a child of nature, preserved by the island from the ugliness of the outside world. She discovers love and conveys the wonder of first encounters. Her soprano timbre is fresh and clear, perfect for the recitatives. In the arias, some doubts arise as not all registers are even, and sometimes the vocal line lacks fluidity. However, her high notes are bright and secure, especially joyful in the grand finale, where she shows off some very entertaining runs. She moves with grace and elegance on stage, always perfectly embodying her character, even when she awkwardly dances in a horse hoof.

The two men arrive in the scene dressed in black whale-hunter raincoats and boots, not at all threatening. Enrico, Silvia’s eventual lover, is the bass Christian Senn. He has an important voice that adapts well to the demands of a work living in shades, managing to avoid sounding oversized while staying true to the period style. His voice is accompanied by a striking and communicative stage presence. Gernando, lost and then found, is tenor Krystian Adam, who once again proves his excellent qualities. His voice is clear and sweet, the emission is perfect, and the vocal line, admirable and expressive, continues to impress. He never wastes a note or syllable, ideal for the role and this repertoire.

Nicola Valentini, conducting the Dolce Concento Ensemble, set the tone for the entire performance, with the orchestra perhaps being the primary protagonist of Haydn’s score. Strong but not overpowering, important but not overbearing, assertive in the approach but still attentive to the subtleties. From the very beginning, he carefully sculpted the sound, capturing the nuances of Haydn’s sometimes crystalline orchestration and other times dark and mysterious in the atmospheric interludes between scenes.

In conclusion, this performance of The Deserted Island demonstrated an excellent synergy between the direction, set design, lighting, and musicianship. It was a truly immersive experience that highlighted the beauty of Haydn’s opera and the thematic depth of isolation and reconnection.