Ah, Don Giovanni! While it is possible to see thoroughly satisfying productions of, say, La bohéme, Aida, even Parsifal, Don Giovanni, or il dissoluto punito, Mozart’s great dramma giocoso, remains as elusive and multi-layered as ever. There have been plenty of productions in which the Don, though a murderer in Act 1, is seen as a charming seducer into whose arms women fall often and hard, or as a narcissist who only thinks he’s wanted by every woman he meets. Dramma giocoso is a tricky term, really, but il dissoluto punito is not: it refers to an amoral and licentious person who is punished.

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Peter Mattei (Don Giovanni) and Adam Plachetka (Leporello)
© Karen Almond | Met Opera

In Ivo van Hove’s new production for the Met, there is little mirth: little zaniness in the party scene, disguises fail – the Don and Leporello exchanging coats seems merely foolish here, only proving that women see what they wish to see; little merriment from Leporello. There is no sunny Seville (until the epilogue), just a series of angular, slate gray Brutalist buildings with staircases going who-knows-where, by Jan Versweyveld (whose lighting adds to the mystery and bleakness). No frills, no adornments; a nasty place from the start.

Modern dress by An D’Huys favors business suits for the men and black or white dresses for the women except for some garish party gowns. From the start, smoke rises from the floor – Hell is always near – and the Don does not work very hard to trick anyone. Face totally visible, Donna Anna sees who he is from the start, and she is pulling his arm rather than pushing him away. He is truly exasperated with Donna Elvira and his seduction of Zerlina is not a glorious win. He seems not to care. Being a rogue has ceased to interest him. Except for Masetto, no character seems to have healthy feelings.

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Peter Mattei (Don Giovanni) and Federica Lombardi (Donna Anna)
© Karen Almond | Met Opera

The Don is – or was –  a “dissoluto”, but when he realizes that the end is nigh in the banquet scene, with smoke and fire beginning to encircle him, rather than fight or give in, he throws a tantrum, tearing his spaghetti apart and throwing bread rolls. As the stage is engulfed, van Hove offers the evening’s only coup de théâtre: what starts as a blurry projection, stage rear, creeps forward until we see what it is: dozens of characters writhing in hell, beckoning. That done, the ugly buildings turn, the sun comes out, and there are lovely, blossoming flowers in the windows. No more smoke. The punishment has cleansed all for the epilogue; evil no longer lives among them. 

The cast was close to ideal. If there is a finer Don Giovanni than Peter Mattei, I haven’t heard him. There has been no wear on his voice over the decades – perfect legato, smooth-as-silk delivery (I never expect to hear the Serenade sung so beautifully), excellent in outbursts (although “Finch’an del vino” didn’t quite click). 

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Federica Lombardi (Donna Anna) and Ben Bliss (Don Ottavio)
© Karen Almond | Met Opera

Just as fine was Ben Bliss' Ottavio. A rich, lyric tenor with seemingly endless breath, text discernible, young and physically active, Ottavio was for once, a real individual, the proof in his embellishments to already punishing vocal lines. Leporello was Adam Plachetka, singing with big, sometimes gruff tone, who looked fidgety and vaguely desperate, which seems to go against Mozart’s grain but which was understandable given his dour Master. Bass-baritone Alexander Tsymbalyuk was authoritative and strong as the Commendatore, but Alfred Walker's Masetto looked and sounded a bit old to be courting Zerlina.

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Ana María Martínez (Donna Elvira) and Adam plachetka (Leporello)
© Karen Almond | Met Opera

Federica Lombardi's attractive Donna Anna seemed not to be a victim but a co-conspirator of the Don’s. Grabbing at him in the first scene, she changes her tune for “Or sai chi l’onore,” sung with verve and exciting top notes. Little by little she seemed to get over her attraction to him until, in “Non mi dir,” accurately sung, she becomes very much her own person. Ana María Martínez was Donna Elvira, the most confused and confusing of all the characters, appealing in this love-hate role. Very few sopranos get through “Mi tradi” without scars, but aside from some weary high notes, she did. Ying Fang’s gorgeously sung Zerlina appeared untroubled by the Don’s advances; hardly an ingénue, she moved through her relationship with Masetto, sometimes a lover asking to be punished for her bad behavior, sometimes comforting. 

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Ana María Martínez, Federica Lombardi, Peter Mattei, Ben Bliss, Alfred Walker and Ying Fang
© Karen Almond | Met Opera

In her Met debut, Nathalie Stutzmann led a performance without personal tics and the orchestra played stunningly for her. Tempi almost never dragged (save for “La cì darem la mano” which was seductively slow) and the action never flagged. The brass that announces the finale was potent enough to let us know that all hell was about to break loose. Drama took pride of place.

If van Hove’s reading has not solved all the opera’s intricacies, he has nonetheless given us a valid look at the opera. I’ve never accepted the giocoso appellation. A drama that starts with an attempted rape and a murder and ends with damnation, even with some wacky slapstick in between, is not to be scoffed at. A somber vision, to be sure.

****1