It is a common thought to consider Aida merely a magniloquent, colossal, triumphal opera. And in some ways, it is. Predominant are the choruses, the ballets, the great massed scenes in act finales. But, for Verdi, this greatness was more a means than an end; the composer used to use it as an expedient to stage the contrast between individuals and power, between victims and executioners. The Teatro dell'Opera di Roma's new Aida, staged by Davide Livermore and new Musical Director Michele Mariotti, runs exactly on this line. From the sets (designed by Giò Forma) to the choreography, this Aida seems to overwhelm the protagonists of the drama, making them pawns of an oppressive power: the priests.
Aida, Radamès and Amneris are constantly on the move, trying to escape the beating heart of the scene: a dark monolith in the middle of the stage, symbol of the tragic destiny of the two lovers, and a reflection of the tomb in which they will end their existence. That parallelepiped is the only fixed element of the staging, together with Ramfis who always appears in the same static way because he and the monolith represents the same power.
But the parallelepiped is also a trick that, combined with the incessant movement of the protagonists and Antonio Castro's lighting, shifts the still setting of Aida to a more fluid one. In fact, the monolith is a screen for D-Wok's videos from the beginning of the prologue, constantly changing shape, from the waters of the Nile to the sand that will engulf Radamès’ body. The whole drama already seems to take place in an otherworldly setting, not only because of the massive tomb’s presence, but also because of the white make-up that covers everybody’s faces and bodies. Aida is thus transformed into a black-and-white film, a ghostly tale occasionally interrupted only by golden glimmers.
The coldness of these bodies was counterbalanced by the colours of Michele Mariotti's orchestra. His conducting was vibrant and passionate, incredibly detailed. The Roma Opera orchestra has rarely indulged over the years with certain harmonic subtleties, especially dynamic ones. Instead, Mariotti worked with pianissimo and fortissimo and also used many rubatos (scuh as Act 2's triumphal march), resulting in great musical sensitivity.
The conductor applied the same accuracy to his direction of the singers, who blended perfectly with the orchestra. Ekaterina Semenchuk was a richly nuanced Amneris; from the sweet and timid voice of her first conversations with her beloved Radamès, she waited for the choral moments to give space to the full drama of her character. After all, she is Verdi's third victim, condemned to live – or rather, survive – after Radamès’ death. Semenchuk especially displayed brighter accents when she had to show her perfidious side, namely in her attempts to extort from Aida the truth of her love for Radamès.
Krassimira Stoyanova is not new to the role of Aida but she gave a graceful, even ingenuous, portrayal of the character. She delighted the audience in her most intimate moments (such as “Numi pietà del mio soffrir”) with the precision of her vibrato and phrasing. Gregory Kunde sang Radamès, brilliantly calibrating his voice to explode in the grand finales. The excellence of the cast continued with Vladimir Stoyanov (Amonasro) and Riccardo Zanellato (Ramfis). Also worth mentioning are the chorus and the ballet, costumed in a priestly (and not royal) garb and whose movements are inspired by Egyptian figurative art and expressionist dances.
Livermore's Aida draws on the cinema of the 1920s, but does not merely make it a decorative element. Without doubt, a great start to 2023 for the Teatro dell’Opera di Roma.
