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I have rarely seen a staging that suffers from such an obvious chasm between concept and execution.
Smoke rises from the stage like the sulfurous exhalations of hell.
Costume designer An DHuys dresses both the flamboyant aristocrat and his servile sidekick Leporello in funeral suits.
Swapping identities is just a matter of handing over a gray trench coat and a black tie.
On the surface, this Giovanni goes about his scheming like a man prepping for a weekly sales meeting.
For the Don, even sexual self-indulgence has grown stale, and cruelty has lost its magic.
But this is too long an opera for a tired man to carry, and Mattei knows it.
you’re free to feel him aching to let the characters charisma out for a gallop.
Adam Plachetka sings Leporello with traditional verve and plays him like a mob bosss bumbling enforcer.
Ana Maria Martinez sings her with dignity but a touch of vocal strain that seems to aggravate Giovannis impatience.
Mozart keeps these elements in equilibrium, weaving Leporellos inane patter through tolling minor chords and implacable trombones.
Van Hove has Mattei throw pasta and juggle rolls.
Unable to square the scores internal tensions, the director simply ignores them.
Don Giovanniis at the Metropolitan Opera through June 2.
