For all those tired of and/or irritated by modern, psychological stagings of Don Giovanni, this traditional yet highly intelligent Cologne production will come as a blessed relief. The staging, by Michael Hampe, derives from the Cologne Opera in 1991, at a time when he was intendant at the house. Hampe has always bucked the trend to update works or stage them in some kind of outlandish way, which has not endeared him to those cynical critics in Germany who are always looking for the dernier cri in the opera house, and this one was no exception to that rule.
In Hampe’s own dark-hued, spare and consistent sets, the drama moves swiftly to its appointed end, and the only disappointment is his failure to make Giovanni’s descent into Hell at all threatening. Hampe is adept at giving his characters just enough to do, in terms of Personenregie, without taking them beyond the bounds – as so often today – of the feasible in terms of acting while singing. In the title-role, Allen probably needed no coaching at all, as by 1991 he was acknowledged as the leading Giovanni of his day, perhaps any day. He confirms that reputation here in an interpretation that blends magnetism, single-minded purpose (seduction) and cruelty in about equal measures. His murderous intents towards the Commendatore and in Act 2 towards Masetto, and his beating and threatening of Leporello all exhibit the idea of the Don as near-psychopath, not a pleasant fellow in any sense.
Allen sings the role with total command of every nuance in aria, ensemble and recitative. It is an absolutely riveting performance, finely seconded by Furlanetto’s Leporello, also alive to every aspect of his part’s text and movement. As a Giovanni himself elsewhere, he knows exactly how to be his master’s alter ego, and his command of his native language is, of course, exemplary.
Nobody else in the cast achieves quite that level of distinction, although Carol Vaness, hitherto an Anna, sings Elvira with spirit and acts convincingly within a given convention. Her warm, firm soprano is equal to all the demands Mozart places on it. Carolyn James is a properly distraught Anna and sings with some flair, but her largish voice hardens uncomfortably under pressure. The Ottavio is adequate, no more, as is true of the Masetto and Commendatore, but Rost’s youthful, appealing Zerlina is worth watching and hearing, especially in her encounter with Giovanni, where she exactly evinces the girl’s uncertain, vulnerable reactions.
Conlon conducts a direct, unfussy reading at sensible speeds, very much in agreement with the action taking place above him, and his orchestra plays with grace and drive as required. The picture and sound are exemplary.
The Glyndebourne 1994 staging by Deborah Warner, committed to video in 1995, is just the kind of interventionist production referred to above, setting out to shock the punters – which it duly did – only to be outdone by Graham Vick’s production this summer, which apparently went even further beyond the bounds of the credible and the tolerable. Already available on conventional video (7/96), this anti-male, deconstructionist staging is only for those sated with productions that observe Mozart’s and Da Ponte’s intentions. It is well enough conducted and sung, particularly by Page, Martinpelto and Banse, but few will want to encounter more than once the dreary sets and directorial gimmicks, which are all the clearer in the new medium. This one is only for those delighted by the wilfully eccentric.'