Grand Opera doesn’t get grander than Aida, Verdi’s epic love story set in the ancient city of Memphis during the “time of the Pharaohs”. And there is no grander opera house in the world than New York’s Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center. Anyone who has taken one of the backstage tours knows that it is even bigger and more intricate than one can imagine, a veritable opera city with the finest craftspeople and technicians in the business and with stage machinery that is capable of doing just about anything.
The current production of Aida, staged by Canadian director Sonja Frisell much in the style of Met Opera veteran Franco Zefirelli, dates from 1988, long before impresario Peter Gelb began his effort to bring the famed company into the 21st century. This is a traditional, even classical presentation of Verdi’s opera; if anything it is reminiscent of a David Lean movie. The story concerns itself with successful warrior Radames and his love, the Ethiopian slave Aida. Radames is rewarded for his military success by the hand of princess Amneris, who is mad with unrequited love for him, and he is ordered to deliver a crushing defeat to the Ethiopians. In the melee Aida’s father is captured, and Radames is torn between duty and passion for the woman he loves.
The sets, by noted film production designer Giana Quaranta who is best known for A Room with a View (the art film of the time) are massive in scale and very realistic. They depict ancient Egypt much as it appears today; huge, crumbly sand-colored structures decorated with hieroglyphics in faded hues, so realistic and detailed as to be ready for the movie camera. The staging is epic as well; sometimes more than a hundred people (not to mention a few horses) are onstage at once. Dada Saligeri’s costumes are stunning and the lighting design by Gil Wechsler is achingly lovely, transforming the sets and the costumed cast into the image of a neo-classical painting. It is as visually striking as an opera can be.
The star of the current run is not onstage; rather he is in the pit. Plácido Domingo, who sang Radames himself when this production originally premiered, conducts. With an elegant white beard, Domingo greeted the audience with warmth and grace on Monday evening, and he led the orchestra in a dazzling performance. Verdi’s dramatic brass and unmistakable timpani were there, but just as remarkable were the gentle moments Domingo coaxed from the strings, harps and woodwinds, demanding that they take their time in bathing the auditorium with their soft, gorgeous tones. These quieter notes added powerful contrast to the epic scenes onstage.
As Radames, tenor Marco Berti had some powerful moments in which his voice really soared and his passion took flight. But he was uneven. There was little if any chemistry between the two lovers. Soprano Oksana Dyka sang well but without any of Aida’s passion or pain. Dramatically it is a very weak performance. The audience was dazzled by the spectacle and enthralled by the score, but no one was in tears during the opera’s tragic conclusion.
As usual at the Met, the supporting singers were marvelous, particularly the two basses, Stefan Kocan as the high priest Ramfris and Ievgen Orlav as the King of Egypt. Violeta Urmana was haunting and quite moving as Princess Amneris.
This Aida will be replaced by a new production in 2018 after a thirty-year run. It is the kind of huge, traditional operatic spectacle the Met was once known for, and some of the epic scenes, especially the Act II pageant, have to be seen to be believed. Later that evening I pondered the fact that this kind of staging will soon vanish altogether, partly due to its colossal expense, and partly because of changing tastes. They will be entirely replaced by more minimal and more postmodern interpretations, replete with lots of digital projections instead of gigantic sets and crowds of supernumeraries. Opera fans who like their operas big and traditional can hope for nothing grander than this epic Aida at The Met, and this season just might be its last.
