(Photo: Matthias Baus)

One of the highlights, if not the highlight, of La Monnaie’s 2024–25 season must be its world premiere of Monteverdi’s new opera “I Grotteschi,” a mammoth work, lasting almost seven hours, not including intervals, performed over two evenings.

Rafael R. Villalobos as Scenario, Director & Costume Designer conceived and created the production, using extracts from the Monteverdi’s three extant operas, “L’Orfeo,” “Il Ritorno d’Ulisse in Patria” and “L’Incoronazione di Poppea,” along with “Or che’l ciel e la terra” from his eighth book of madrigals to construct a completely new drama set in the 21st century. Blocks of text were extracted and then welded together to form a coherent narrative populated by a completely new set of characters, which had personality traits deriving from the operas’ original characters. Sometimes they bore a close relationship, as in the case of Melancholia, who was essentially Orfeo in another guise, while others were complex composites consisting of numerous characters: Esperienza, for example, was made up of at least Speranza, Arnalta, Messagiera and Erclea. Of course, they were not meant to be identified in this way; they were new, distinct characters in their own right, and any attempts to draw such connections only acted as a barrier in engaging with the drama, even if the music inevitably drew one in this direction. It is possible that members of the audience without any knowledge of Monteverdi’s works may well have been at an advantage in this respect.

The names of the characters all had allegorical connotations, which acted as descriptors, although sometimes they were deliberately only superficial or even contradictory, such as with Coraggio’s nurse, Carità, who was also trying to poison him. The actual title for the work itself was named in a similar fashion, being taken from the frescoes, called I Grotteschi, found in Nero’s villa, that inspired decorative figures that were fused with vines and parts of animals to create a new figure. The word is also used as an adjective to describe the ugly, unpleasant and strange, which neatly summed up the characters on display.

The opera is set in a Roman villa, occupied by a rich dysfunctional family, during lockdown. Along with their equally unbalanced servants and a resident philosopher, they are forced to engage with each other to an extent that is completely unnatural and unhealthy, with disastrous consequences. It is presented as a contemporary drama, in which the characters behave in a modern, albeit extreme, manner. In many ways, it was like watching a television soap opera, in which all the characters vie with each other as they act upon their desires and emotions. It has all the usual elements of love, hate and jealousy, betrayal, dark secrets and even murder, underpinned by their lust for power, sex and drugs; nothing one would not expect from a typical 21st century soap opera.

The work was divided into two parts; each was performed on a different evening. The first was entitled “Miro,” which has connotations with looking and desire, while the second, “Godo,” refers to actual enjoyment, often in a physical sense, and it was their fundamental meanings that determined the way each part unfolded. In the first part, the characters and their relationships to each other are introduced, and their dark desires and motivations are revealed, although they remain largely in check, even if the signs of the forthcoming mayhem were starting to manifest themselves. As the end of the evening draws to a close, Sapienza, the philosopher, takes the decision to end his own life and thus opens the door for the characters to fulfill their desires unrestrained by ethical and philosophical teachings. All the books have been removed; the library was now empty.

Part two is thus far darker; desires once contained are now given free rein. Privilegio is at the centre of many of the chaotic scenes, in which he stabs his brother, Capriccio, to death and indulges in a drug-fueled orgy with Carità and Giudizio, then assaults his grandfather, Melancholia, and decides to divorce his pregnant wife, Virtù. Impazienza is also keen on murdering her sister, Fortuna, while Esperienza, their mother, reveals her dark secret about their parentage. Some characters suffer; Giudizio, for example, wants to end his own life. Other characters positively bloom; Privilegio seems to relish the opportunities of exercising power without the need to take responsibility. Yet others reveal a sensitivity and depth that is not initially obvious, most notably Esperienza, who, for all her brash hysterical outbursts, shows herself to be a deeply sensitive and, at times, responsible person.

Following an exhausting and traumatic evening, the opera finishes with a chorus in which the characters conclude that “a thousand times a day they are born and die without any hope of salvation.”

Villalobos’ selection and organization of the texts were brilliantly executed, and it was achieved without hardly any alterations; only the character’s names were changed on the few occasions that they were mentioned. It was also fascinating to note the ease with which the original texts, from the 17th century, could be used to create a modern-day drama, notwithstanding their poetic form. Likewise, the only alterations made to Monteverdi’s score were to accommodate the name changes, which may, for example, have more or less syllables. There was, however, one short additional sinfonia, written by the musical director, Leonardo Garciá-Alarcón, which appeared close to the start of Act one in “Godo.”

Garcia-Alarcón Oversees Brilliant Performance from Cappella Mediterranea

It was Garciá-Alarcón’s interpretative decisions in response to the different dramatic context that gave the music a different quality from what one may be used to. To draw attention to the fact that all the characters are modern-day human beings – there are no deities, nymphs, allegorical figures or heroes – florid ornamentations, coloraturas and other effects were often dampened, although certainly not eradicated, to reflect the fact, and the singers were encouraged to be attentive to the clear articulation of the text.

Similarly, the rhythmic voracity, pace, textural clarity and dynamics that Garciá-Alarcón elicited from Cappella Mediterranea were moulded to support and create the new dramatic contexts, which on occasions meant that a certain degree of elegance had to be sacrificed: many of the selected musical blocks and arias were taken at a rapid pace; dynamic contrasts were sometimes accentuated; and the textural quality of the sound was occasionally heavier and richer than one is used to. It was also a varied soundscape, in which the orchestra reacted with great sensitivity to the changing emotions, able to create a lighter, delicate and more refined sound when necessary. Throughout the performance, their playing was always beautifully balanced and controlled, with all the interpretative decisions focused on promoting the drama of “I Grotteschi,” without falling into the trap of reproducing the musical pieces as if they were in their original contexts. Overall, it was a compelling and thoroughly enjoyable orchestral performance.

The production brought together a quality cast, in which all the singers created clearly defined, compelling characterizations. In fact, it would be impossible to identify standout performances, given the high level of consistency realized by all involved.

A Star-Studded Cast Successfully Brings the Grotteschi to Life

The aging Melancholia, once head of the family, who is now suffering from dementia, wandered around the stage in a state of confusion in search of his dead wife, Euridice. Tenor Mark Milhofer, cast in the role, produced a very moving, sympathetic portrayal of his suffering, convincingly enveloping his voice with his longing, pain and helplessness. It was also an elegant performance in which he crafted beautiful ornamentations to capture his deluded state of mind. His rendition of the aria “Possente spirito” from “L’Orfeo” was particularly successful and showed off his sensitive phrasing and vocal versatility to good effect.

His son, Coraggio, the current head of the family, lies in a coma, looked after by Carità. For most of the opera, he lies asleep on his bed, waking occasionally in various states of consciousness. Tenor Jeremy Ovenden, essaying the role, produced a compelling performance of his delirium; even when awake, he was unsure of whether he was still asleep and did not know where he was, which he captured brilliantly in the monologue “Donna ancora, o son desto?,” carefully mixing his exhausted state and frustrations with a measured and controlled rendition. Even the anger he displayed toward Carità on realizing her deception was tinged by a tired restraint.

Coraggio’s wife, Costanza, may live in hope of her husband waking from his coma, but while she waits, she finds herself in some very strange situations; she has fallen in love with her son’s lover, Fortuna, and ends up plotting to murder her, urged on by Impazienza. There was much to admire about mezzo-soprano Stéphanie d’Oustrac’s performance, not least the expressivity and sheer beauty of her singing, which was immediately apparent from her first aria, “Di misera regina,” in which she laments the wasted years, waiting for her husband to recover. She possesses a secure, versatile voice with a colorful palette, which she used skillfully to furnish the vocal line with delicate, well-judged ornamentations and to successfully develop the complexities of her character.

Coraggio’s son, Privilegio, terrorized his family and servants alike with his vicious, aggressive and menacing behavior. Although there were periods in which he appeared as a pleasant and well-balanced, even heroic, young man, this was only a veneer; he was without moral foundation and verged on madness, which tenor Matthew Newlin brilliantly captured with an energetic and powerful portrayal. His impressive vocal versatility, which he used to furnish the line with fast-changing dynamic and emotional emphases, supported by clear articulation, was expertly moulded to define the strength and nuances of Privilegio’s changing mental and emotional states.

His long-suffering wife, Virtù, was played by mezzo-soprano Raffaella Lupinacci. Her life with Privilegio was one of unremitting misery, as he displayed absolutely no concern for her welfare whatsoever. It was, however, a role that enabled Lupinacci to display her fine acting qualities by presenting an array of differentiated and nuanced responses to the abuse, including despair, aggression and sadness. It was a role that naturally won the sympathy of the audience, which was helped in no small part by having a couple of fine numbers to sing, notably “Addio Roma” and “Pur ti miro, pur ti godo,” which she delivered with such beauty and with an intensity and sensitivity that laid bare the depth of her emotions.

Soprano Federico Fiori played the role of the adolescent Capriccio, who develops from a mischievous and lively youngster, under the influence of Sapienza, into a sex-obsessed young man after he turns away from his tutor. His costume, which included black leather shorts, alluded both to his youth and desire for sexual experimentation. Fiorio brilliantly captured these two fundamental aspects of his character, which he supported with a beautifully sung performance that showed off the versatility and homogeneity of his voice along with the detail with which he was able to furnish the line.

The housekeeper, Esperienza, is a multi-faceted character. Prone to overreaction and hysterical outbursts, she can be aggressive and defensive, yet comforting and sensitive; she can be trusted but also has her own dark secrets and hidden agenda, which she intrigues to bring about. The countertenor, Xavier Sabata, produced a larger-than-life interpretation, which had her whooping and screaming, mimicking and crying. There was plenty of comedy in his portrayal, but also sadness and quiet compassion. It was a fascinating and successful reading, a judgement that can also be applied to his vocal presentation. Recitatives were animated and grabbed the attention, while his arias were wonderfully crafted to bring out the full depth of their emotional content. In Act one of “Godo,” he sings the lullaby “Adagiati, fanciulla” to comfort his daughter: the love and compassion he was able to inject into his voice was a delight; moreover, it stood in such stark contrast to her normal hysterics that the effect was breathtaking.

Esperienza’s daughter, Fortuna, the family’s maid, is desperate to gain power; there is little she would not do to climb the hierarchy. It is no coincidence, therefore, that she is in a relationship with Privilegio, the successor to the ailing Coraggio. Soprano Giulia Semenzato proved to be the perfect choice for the role, presenting Fortuna as a layered, believable personality, despite her dominant trait as a power-hungry woman, and in which her pleasant stage presence concealed her devious nature. She had numerous attractive pieces to sing, which she delivered with an impressive degree of expressivity, proving herself adept at fashioning the vocal line to create the desired effect, and was as secure in delivering soft, delicate passages as she was in conveying emotionally taut sections as in her clash with Virtù, to whom she spat out her words, laced with venom.

The duet, “Pur to miro, pur ti godo,” which inspired Villalobos’ narrative, was given a surprising and inspired twist by having the characters compete with each other; rather than a duet between two lovers, it became a duet between rivals, with Fortuna and Virtù each attempting to better each other as they presented their love for Privilegio. It certainly added a new level of tension but, in doing so, lost a degree of beauty. As the duet moved towards its end, however, the two women became lost in their own passions, giving the impression of reconciliation, which allowed the full beauty of the piece to emerge, in which Semenzato’s brighter voice combined with Lupinacci’s darker tones to give the piece an attractive harmonic coloring.

Capriccio’s lover, Impazienza, is a nasty piece of work. Having lived her life in the shadow of her sister, Fortuna, she is consumed with jealousy to the extent that she wants to see her murdered. The role was convincingly essayed by soprano Jessica Niles, who took to her part with apparent ease, characterizing her as manipulative, immature and unprincipled. Vocally, she sounded secure and confident and articulated the text clearly. Recitatives were energetically delivered while the musical numbers were beautifully fashioned to promote their emotional significance. Her most delightful moment was her rendition of the aria “Felice cor mio,” which allowed her to show off her sensitively moulded embellishments, versatile coloratura and sensitive phrasing.

The nurse, Carità, performed by soprano Arianna Vendittelli, was everybody’s worst nightmare. Supposedly caring for Coraggio, she is secretly poisoning him, and when he does regain consciousness, she pretends to be the goddess Minerva, causing him to relapse into a state of delirium. Vendittelli created a nuanced portrayal that captured a mixture of the professional and genuinely caring with the irresponsible and plain evil. She possesses a flexible, secure voice with a beautiful timbre, which she used to infuse the line with subtle ornamentations to create an expressive reading, one that deliberately repelled and yet occasionally attracted the audience.

Giudizio, the gardener and lover of Carità, is an easygoing fellow but lacks a moral core, so he is easily led by his so-called friend Privilegio. Despite his, sometimes, poor behavior, such as when he joins his friend in mocking the dying Sapienza, tenor Anicio Zorzi Giustiniani, cast in the part, created a sympathetic interpretation that highlighted his more pleasing aspects. He possesses a lyrically strong, secure voice with an attractive timbre, which he employed expressively to capture the fast-changing emotions that ranged from light frolicking with Carità to deep anxiety that caused him to contemplate suicide.

Jérôme Varnier used his mature, well-supported bass to bring the necessary gravitas to the role of the philosopher Sapienza. As befitting a stoic, he was unswerving and self-possessed throughout and accepted his own suicide almost in his stride. His rendition of the aria “Solitudine amata” was an emotionally strong expression of his love of nature, solitude and contemplation, in which the precision of his phrasing emphasized his separation from the other characters.

A Contemporary Setting for a Contemporary Family

Villalobos took responsibility for the stage direction and costume designs, aided by scenographer Emanuelle Sinsi and lighting designer Felipe Ramos. Together they created a contemporary staging that deliberately rejected any connection to the baroque period, including the acting, with the singers encouraged to present their characters in a realistic manner, free from archaic gestures. The set design consisted of the inside of a modern house on two levels, with each level able to revolve independently or as a single unit to reveal other rooms. The upper level consisted of a bedroom and bathroom, with a big picture of Melancholia on the wall, and a library when rotated. The lower level included a lounge and a smaller anteroom, which, when rotated, revealed the servant’s kitchen. It proved to be a versatile set design that could easily be changed to present different combinations of rooms, including side-on angles that revealed a stairwell on one end and the outside of the house on the other.

The design, thus, ensured that the drama was not hampered at all by set changes; often, the set would rotate as the music for the scene was dying away, allowing the characters in the next scene to engage immediately without even a short pause. It was also possible to watch characters going about their business in one room while others, directly involved in the scene, were performing in another room.

The contemporary costume designs were as one would expect. The servants’ clothing was generally commonplace and not particularly colorful. Fortuna, for example, wore a simple, short, black dress. The family, although dressed casually, had more of a formal and fashionable quality about them.

It may not have been the most imaginative staging – plenty of productions these days use a revolving stage to present the various rooms within a building – but it worked exceptionally well in allowing the drama to develop unhindered and within an immediately recognizable context.

Final Thoughts

La Monnaie’s “I Grotteschi” has brought to life a work of real quality that deserves to be taken up and presented by other theaters. There exist only three complete operas by Monteverdi, and short of the increasingly unlikely event that his lost works will be discovered, there will only ever be three operas! Yet the appetite among opera-goers for Monteverdi’s works is strong; Cremona devotes an entire annual festival to the composer’s music, recycling the operas in new productions alongside his other compositions, and does a lot of excellent and imaginative work, such as last year’s excellent presentation of madrigals, fashioned into a somewhat forced narrative entitled “Polittico Monteverdiano.” “I Grotteschi,” however, goes a step further, and although it does not include new music by Monteverdi, Villalobos’ representation of extracts from his three operas has successfully given them a convincing, new dramatic context, which allows audiences to explore the music from a different perspective; his reimagining of “Pur to miro, pur ti godo” as a duet between rivals being a perfect example. It also encourages performers to engage with the music from a different perspective, allowing for fresh interpretations.

What a missed opportunity it would be if “I Grotteschi” were to be relegated to only the occasional revival by La Monnaie.