(Photo by : Herwig Prammer)

In 1857, when the Teatro San Carlo in Naples commissioned a new opera from Giuseppe Verdi, he selected a libretto by Antonio Somma, inspired by the real-life assassination of King Gustav III of Sweden. The king was shot in 1792 by political opponents during a masked ball at the Stockholm Opera. Somma added a romantic affair between the king and the wife of his best friend, who eventually joins the conspirators and becomes the king’s assassin. However, the libretto quickly ran into trouble with the censors in Naples, who objected to depicting the murder of a royal figure on stage. The ensuing legal battle between Verdi and the San Carlo Theatre eventually went before a judge, marking one of the most frustrating periods of Verdi’s life. Ultimately, the setting was moved to the English colonies in North America at the end of the 18th century. The king became Riccardo, the governor of Boston, and “Un ballo in maschera” premiered in 1859 in Rome.

An intelligent, enjoyable stage production

Today, it is common to see the “Swedish” version of the opera, which honors Verdi’s original concept. However, director Adele Thomas chose to set the story in America, moving the action to the second half of the 19th century. This shift in time period allowed Thomas to enrich the narrative with several Victorian elements that fit seamlessly into the plot: a fascination with esotericism and magic, a liberal use of drugs (Amelia, Riccardo’s love, repeatedly sniffs a suspicious powder from a small box), and the recent discovery of electricity — a recurring gag where the lights flicker whenever disaster is imminent.

The staging, designed by Hannah Clark, features a revolving round pavilion that serves multiple purposes: it becomes an operating theater for Riccardo’s autopsy during the overture, the Senate hall at the start of the first act, and the tent of the fortune-teller/medium Ulrica in the second scene of the first act. In the second act, Amelia is meant to visit the “gallows place,” the cemetery where executed criminals are buried, at midnight. Here, the director’s concept was less successful: the scene takes place outside the pavilion’s back wall, and the horror of the location is represented by scantily clad prostitutes, drunken clients, and ghostly apparitions. In the final act, the pavilion openes up to transform into a spinning carousel for a lively masked ball, complete with can-can dancers.

One of the key features of this opera is its blend of tragic and comic elements. Verdi skillfully gives equal weight to both, transitioning seamlessly between them without diminishing the emotional impact. This approach makes the tragedy even more poignant, as it sometimes unfolds within moments of comedy. Director Thomas embraced this dynamic, carefully shaping the comedic scenes with a sense of youthful enthusiasm that was both effective and free of vulgarity.

Some problems in the musical production

Gianandrea Noseda conducted the Philharmonia Zürich in a nuanced interpretation of the score. The lively sections were brilliantly executed, full of energy and drive, while the slower passages were often too indulgent, with tempi that felt overly slow. The singers appeared to be “champing at the bit,” eager for a faster tempo that would have better supported their performances. The balance was occasionally off, with the orchestra sometimes overpowering the singers on stage. However, the overall sound from the orchestra was rich and beautiful, with elegant solos from various instruments.

Riccardo was portrayed by Charles Castronovo, whose tenor, while perhaps a bit too dark for the role, sometimes lacked the flow and elegance, especially in the beginning. However, his performance improved as the evening went on, and he ultimately delivered a convincing Riccardo. His high notes were full of squillo, and his stage presence was well-suited to the character. The love duet in the second act, with Erika Grimaldi as Amelia, was particularly successful. Castronovo conveyed all the passion and intensity of a man in love, with beautiful phrasing and his voice always supported by the breath.

An excellent debut and other great performances

Soprano Erika Grimaldi made her debut as Amelia, and she passed with flying colors. Her voice was warm and powerful, with round, beautiful high notes—though there were a few moments where they became slightly shrill, possibly due to opening night nerves. The demanding recitative and aria at the end of Act One, “Ecco l’orrido campo/Ma dall’arido stelo divulsa,” would challenge any soprano, but Grimaldi approached it with confidence and strength. She demonstrated excellent breath control, beautiful legato, and strong, commanding high notes. In her second aria, “Morrò, ma prima in grazia,” she navigated Maestro Noseda’s extremely slow tempo with ease, her breath supporting her beautifully. While her voice may not have been entirely “Verdian” and her pronunciation occasionally lacked clarity, her interpretation of Amelia was undeniably successful.

Renato, Amelia’s husband and Riccardo’s friend and confidant, was portrayed by George Petean, a quintessential Verdian baritone renowned for his expertise in this role. As expected, his performance was thoroughly enjoyable. Petean’s velvety baritone showcased a beautiful legato, underpinned by exceptional breath control and thrilling high notes. However, his intonation occasionally turned slightly sharp, perhaps due to the excitement of the premiere. The aria “Eri tu” in the second act, where Renato conveys his anger over his friend’s betrayal and reminisces about his early love for Amelia, is arguably Verdi’s most exquisite baritone aria. Petean delivered it with great skill, capturing the passion, jealousy, deep sorrow, and thirst for revenge that define the piece. His performance earned the evening’s most thunderous and well-deserved applause.

The character of Oscar, a lively young page boy sung by a coloratura soprano, is a rarity in Verdi’s repertoire, as he didn’t like cross-sex roles. Oscar embodies Riccardo’s playful, mischievous side as both his “partner in crime” and loyal supporter. Katharina Konradi brought the character to life with zest, her brilliant soprano effortlessly handling the high notes. Her coloratura singing was swift and precise, and her interpretation radiated vivacity and charm.

In the second part of the first act, the entire court, in disguise, visits the tent of Ulrica, the fortune teller whom a prejudiced judge seeks to ban from the colony. Ulrica was portrayed by Agnieszka Rehlis, whose rich, bronzed mezzo-soprano was a true delight. Her voice displayed remarkable uniformity across its entire range, with high notes as well-placed as the deepest ones, complemented by excellent legato and phrasing. The scene, styled as a typical Victorian séance, featured upper-class ladies poised to faint at any hint of the supernatural. Despite her petite stature, Rehlis commanded the stage as a charismatic medium with a striking presence.

Among the other cast members, Brent Michael Smith and Stanislav Vorobyov deserve special mention for their portrayal of Riccardo’s main conspirators, Samuel and Tom. Smith’s voice was deep and resonant, while Vorobyov’s was elegant and precise, yet capable of delivering all the thunderous low notes the role demands. Both performers were equally effective in the tragic moments, such as the plotting of the murder, and the comedic scenes, including the “laughing” ensemble in the cemetery.