(Credit: Daniel Dittus)

Leonardo García Alarcón has already established an impressive track record in early North Italian opera, with his acclaimed “Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria” at the 2024 Aix-en-Provence Festival and his masterful Cavalli’s “Pompeo Magno” at Bayreuth in 2025. His interpretation with Cappella Mediterranea and the Chœur de Chambre de Namur was imbued with the freshness and vitality of a sunrise; under his baton, this first great masterpiece of western opera history felt like an early flowering, bursting with inexhaustible life.

A Master of the Stile Rappresentativo

The Elbphilharmonie proved once again to be a competitive venue for concert-version opera, offering immense spatial potential. During the “Intrada” and the choreographed movements of the Chœur de Chambre de Namur, the hall’s verticality was fully realized, creating an immersive theater. The lighting design was equally masterful, subtly mirroring the dramatic arc: while the Thracian fields were bathed in a celebratory warmth, the transition to the Underworld was marked by drenching the entire stage in a somber, blood-red hue to reflect the stark reality of Hades.

This performance was showcasing Alarcón’s command over the music of Monteverdi: a seamless musical fluidity, an internal dependence on the text rooted in the madrigal tradition, and high-dynamic emotional shifts. The integration of dance rhythms, performed with a free-spirited rubato, fused deeply into the operatic fabric. Under his charismatic and tension-filled baton, every merit and technical challenge of Monteverdi’s writing was rendered with supreme clarity, refined taste and absolute confidence.

The Muses and the Body

The opening was nothing short of miraculous, as Mariana Flores—performing the triple roles of La Musica, Proserpina, and Euridice—appeared like a vision in a halo of golden light. Her portrayal of La Musica possessed a mythic storytelling power, as if she were summoning the narrative from an ocean of ancient memories. Later, her Proserpina was imbued with a persuasive, regal power of the Underworld. Finally, as Euridice, she was utterly enchanting; her duets with Orpheus possessed a heart-wrenching sincerity. Her long monologue before their second, painful parting—underpinned by the orchestra and Alarcón’s magical harpsichord accompaniment—was hauntingly beautiful, a performance that lingered in the mind long after.

Opposite her, Valerio Contaldo as Orpheus was a triumph of vocal presence, possessing a warmth and solidity imbued with genuine masculine charm. He navigated a vast spectrum of human emotion with profound depth: from the radiant joy of love and the paralyzing shock of loss, to the wit, caution, and persuasive power required to face the Underworld, culminating in the agonizing regret of losing Euridice a second time. All these facets were delivered in a deeply sympathetic manner, executed through chiseled stage movements that made the ancient grief of the demigod feel immediate. His portrayal of the hero’s legendary, history-making monologues before Charon and Pluto was nothing short of exhaustive, rendered with a startling freshness.

Salvo Vitale as Charon was a formidable presence, his deep, resonant voice embodying the grim authority of the Styx. In contrast, Edward Grint as Plutone carried an imposing regal weight, his authoritative delivery anchoring the infernal court with gravitas. Together, they provided the perfect supernatural resistance to Orpheus’s plea, their vocal strength highlighting the high stakes of the Underworld’s judgment.

The transition from the sun-drenched pastoral joy of Act one to the sudden darkness of Act two demonstrated a high-dynamic emotional shift that left the audience breathless. When Giuseppina Bridelli’s “La Messaggiera” shattered the wedding festivities with the piercing cry of “Ahi caso acerbo,” Alarcón guided the ensemble into a sudden collapse of tonality. The bright, madrigal-like textures were instantly replaced by the jagged dissonances and heavy silences that define Monteverdi’s human tragedy.

The “body” of the performers was equally striking; in Act one, surrounding Orpheus, his pastoral companions were vibrant and deeply compassionate; the group choreography here showcased a masterful command of high-density rhythmic switches and the seamless integration of physical movement with virtuosic singing. Another standout moment was the concertmaster’s extraordinary solo dance while playing—a stunning display that, the expression of this music at the physical level has become a profound part of their musical intuition.

Conclusion

The dance, the music, and the visual effects achieved a level of supreme unity. This performance was exemplary, renewing standard for contemporary Monteverdi interpretation. While the chosen 1609 version finale was rendered with dignity—Apollo transforming despair into celestial immortality through vocal radiance—one lingering regret remains. Given Alarcón’s dramatic capability, he might have considered the original 1607 ending; the bloody climax of Orpheus being dismembered by Bacchantes would have offered a visceral new perspective on this established masterpiece.