Coney Island atmospherics and a fine cast distract from the story’s anti-romantic message.
Così fan tutte was Mozart’s third and last collaboration with librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte, and it’s traditionally the least popular: It was performed just ten times during Mozart’s life. The Metropolitan Opera put on Don Giovanni in its first season in 1883 and The Marriage of Figaro shortly after, but Così wasn’t staged at the Met (or anywhere else in America) until 1922.
This has nothing to do with the quality of the music — it contains some of Mozart’s most beautiful and sophisticated work. The Act I trio “Soave il vento” may be the loveliest that Mozart ever wrote. But the story is a problem: Don Giovanni ends in the triumph of good over evil, and Figaro with love conquering jealousy and everything else. In Così, the moral is that it’s pointless to get mad when women are unfaithful because “all women are like that” — così fan tutte.
In the opening scene, two young soldiers brag to an older friend (a “philosopher”) about their fiancées’ fidelity. The philosopher asserts that the young ladies are no better than any others, and he bets that he can prove it in 24 hours. In keeping with the bet, the two soldiers pretend to be called to war and then return in disguise, each trying to woo the other’s fiancée. They succeed, which puts us all in a bind: On the one hand, the story has some of the funniest scenes in opera. But it still ends with two disillusioned lovers and two ashamed ladies, and the philosopher’s counsel to just forget about it and be happy is a jarring final thought. Until the last moment of the play, we don’t know who will end up marrying whom, and even afterward the audience wonders whether the happiness of both couples has been smashed permanently. It feels as though Mozart and Da Ponte have experienced betrayal firsthand and are conveying a sarcastic warning to the audience. Very enlightened, perhaps, but hardly romantic.
So the only approach is to render the story as lightly as possible while using timely sleight of hand to distract from its troubling aspects. The Met’s new production, which premiered on March 15, does this by setting the story in 1950s Coney Island. Which on the surface seems like a terrible idea. But the production turned out to be almost ridiculously entertaining.
The set design by Tom Pye is the most imaginative and engaging — and clever — of any modern setting at the Met.
The set design by Tom Pye is the most imaginative and engaging — and clever — of any modern setting at the Met. Three adjacent motel rooms have revolving walls that allow us to follow characters through doors. The backdrop includes a roller coaster and a slowly revolving Ferris wheel that lights up like a Christmas tree. And while lighting rarely deserves special praise, Paule Constable’s work is evocative and just as important to the feel of the piece as the sets themselves. The direction by Phelim McDermott is fluid and funny, though Amanda Majeski’s beautiful aria “Per pietà, ben mio, perdona,” performed from a floating gondola, may be the most dangerous thing we’ve seen at the Met, surpassing the 20-foot ladder in last season’s Fidelio.
The only problem is that the carnival atmosphere and the splashy lights overshadow the music — at times completely. The overture is drowned out by an unnecessary set-piece. This seems to be the fad nowadays, but there is a reason that the Overture isn’t designated “Scene One.” Later, the sweet and lilting duet “Ah, che tutta in un momento” is impossible to hear. The singing and the orchestra are just what they ought to be, but, thanks to a snake charmer and a contortionist and a couple of sword-swallowers, we almost forget there’s an opera going on. This is one of the many moments when the direction seems to be trying to overcome, rather than compliment, the music.
Which is an especial shame because this is one of the most finely balanced casts we will ever see: Amanda Majeski and Serena Malfi (the uniquely superior Cherubino in this season’s Figaro) are wonderful together — appearance, voice, and movement are perfectly complementary.
Amanda Majeski and Serena Malfi are wonderful together — appearance, voice, and movement are perfectly complementary.
The two soldiers are played by Adam Plachetka, vastly more dynamic than he was in the title role of this season’s Figaro, and Ben Bliss, from Prairie Village, Kan., who is a truly exceptional tenor. They have a great rapport onstage. Kelli O’Hara plays the scheming maid Despina with a Broadway personality and a fine character soprano. Christopher Maltman brings his experience to the mysterious philosopher Don Alfonso and rounds out the sextet.
If you come to the opera for Mozart’s sake alone — as many of us do — you might well have preferred an empty stage with the singers standing in the middle. But this is an opera and not a concert. Bearing in mind that the Met will always be halfway between opera and Broadway, we can expect the full range of effects from both. This production isn’t a harmonious whole: The competition between music and staging often forces you to enjoy them separately. But it is great entertainment.