This production has real problems, even given the fact that La clemenza di Tito is an opera seria filled with stilted situations. The only characters whose plights or feelings we care about are the torn, smitten Sesto and the vengeful, spurned Vitellia; Tito is so benevolent that he’s a bore and the others are cookie-cutter noble or in-love opera seria types. Mozart gives his best music to Vitellia and Sesto as well, and the rest of the opera has utterly beautiful moments–the sweet duets, Tito’s gracious arias (although each is like the other)–and everything is scored interestingly (the large wind section is particularly colorful); but there is little to hold the dramatic interest. What to do?
Well, the Salzburg Festival’s performance recorded here, under the direction of Martin Kusej, places the action in modern times and in modern dress. The characters are distraught: in collaboration with conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt, we suspect, Kusej has slowed down the action so that almost every encounter between the characters is traumatic. Tito seems close to autistic, or possibly insane, and even as he pardons everyone in the last scene he looks tortured, while elsewhere on the stage (the action takes place on several levels, in handsome sets by Jens Killian) it looks as if young boys are about to be sacrificed–laid out on a kitchen table–or eaten for dinner.
Vitellia is most often seen tearing her clothes off or changing outfits and invariably on the edge of screaming. Servilia and Annio are simply put upon. And Sesto is dreadfully unhappy. The many stage levels and locales allow the singers to run up and down and back and forth a great deal, like rats in a maze, trapped–and maybe that’s the point. Granted, there are moments when, even in the recits (the score’s weak points–not by Mozart) the intense one-on-one drama comes to life, but everything moves glacially and eventually the audience feels tormented. The chorus enters as tourists in Tito’s palace, where he sits motionless on his throne (which is more like a bed), his movement knocks them to the floor in awe. What are we to make of it all? Are Tito’s acts of clemency amazing because his rule is filled with human sacrifice and cannibalism? Not our problem.
The singing is stupendous. Vesselina Kasarova is the perfect Sesto, the many colors of her voice ideal for expressing this character’s inner turmoil, and her technique allows for Harnoncourt’s slow tempos as well as for Mozart’s coloratura demands. And she looks great. Dorothea Röschmann is the Vitellia of one’s dreams, her voice and attitude grand and noble, with just the crazy edge it needs. The role’s huge range does not bother her–she even has the high D-flat for the first-act trio–and she’s thoroughly involved. Elina Garanca’s Annio is first class, loyal and ardent, and her darkish tone is handsome. Barbara Bonney looks a bit long in the tooth for the perky Servilia, but she still sounds lovely in a role that requires little else. Luca Pisaroni, in the vaguely unnecessary role of Publio, adds a nice dark touch to the ensembles.
As Tito, tenor Michael Schade is asked to grimace weirdly almost constantly, and his arias are taken just as slowly as Sesto’s, but he handles all of the music and the odd interpretation of the role with aplomb. As suggested, Harnoncourt’s tempos are bizarrely slow (the opera takes almost a half-hour longer than any other performance), and he turns some of the arias into agonizing experiences–but not in the way they’re supposed to be. At times it just seems as if something has gone terribly wrong, but I’ll admit that you have plenty of time to revel in Mozart’s great scoring.
Picture (16:9) and sound (DD 5.1; DTS 5.1; LPCM Stereo) are superb, and Brian Large’s direction for TV is splendid–clear and intelligent. Subtitles are in English, French, Italian, and German. In short: great singing, an odd conception, eccentric conducting.
