There is no need to argue about the staging. Suffice it to the director Franco Zeffirelli to refer to his very Italian penchant for size and opulence, and to the venue: the Arena di Verona, once a Roman amphitheater, today a magnet for tourists and the venue of Italy’s most famous opera festival. For Giuseppe Verdi’s opera “Aida”, which is set in ancient Egypt and whose military conflicts with Ethiopia boil down to a tragic love story, this means above all a show of lavishly costumed extras, a silly, clumsy ballet of dancers painted in black – this will certainly be politically processed – and, of course, a couple of top-notch singers. Like the conductor Marco Armilliato and the orchestra of the Arena di Verona, they are announced over loudspeakers.
The loudspeaker voice echoes through the open space like at the train station, people are waiting for the platform information. Instead of this: Anna Netrebko as Aida. That’s when passionate applause breaks out for the first time that evening. There will then be applause at each of their performances, interspersed with loud shouts of “brava”. But she is also great in this role, as she dresses in the reddish earth-colored slave garb of her mistress and rival Amneris (Clementine Margaine) throws at your feet. A little Callas mood comes up. Of course, like any good singer, Netrebko avoids the audible tilting when changing registers. For the Callas, on the other hand, this was almost a trademark, since you expected it to “click” when it went up. Once there, Callas could get tight and sharp at times, while Netrebko opens up the heavens and her soprano swings far.
What Callas radiates in terms of fragility and relentlessness and Netrebko in terms of empathetic embrace has a concrete vocal connection. The two great singers are, with some amazing similarities in the sound coloration of the lower register, then two very different characters. While Callas was the undisputed ruler, at least on stage, Netrebko’s friendly, vulnerable nature always shines through. However, this sometimes comforts the listener ahead of time, whereas with Callas he had to suffer hard to the bitter end. There is no mercy in her voice, and you could almost physically understand how fate strikes. That was the greatness of Callas, and perhaps forever unmatched in that.
In Verona it is the privilege of the water sellers to enrich the music with sound compositions
The Netrebko, on the other hand, offers ways out. Their consummate vocal art distracts from the horror that awaits Radamès and Aida: being walled up alive. You’re so fixated on her voice that for a moment you forget what she’s singing. The connection to reality is provided by people who toil in the catacombs after the break. In Verona it has always been the privilege of water sellers to enrich the music with their own sound compositions. In the past as a hawker in the stands, today as a sedentary bartender who, while Netrebko dies of pain on stage – “numi, pietà del mio soffrir!” – have to watch them stow away their goods. “Should that be in the back? No, leave that here.” – “Gods, have mercy!” – “How much did we sell?” – “There is no hope for my suffering.”
For the spectators in the arena, yes, because the drinks dealers concentrated entirely on Netrebko, her opponent, Clémentine Margaine, who also staged a magnificent vocal performance, was spared. And Yusif Eyvazov as Radamès, who stands at Netrebko’s side here as in real life? Had big moments towards the end when he got a grip on his crude technique that always leads to a kind of choking sound. Because he has great potential at altitude. It rarely comes across in a way that makes you want to hear it. Nevertheless, a great “Aida” evening with a rightly celebrated Netrebko.