I’m not sure where Paul Curran’s inspiration for this production came from, but bland is an understatement.  The curtain opens on a scene of brown parched earth, slowly sloping upward toward a small screen at the back of the stage projecting a picture of a lake in Scotland.  None of it made sense.  A desert in Scotland?  I’ve never been there, but I’m fairly certain there’s no desert there.  The land around a lake is usually fertile, not barren and dusty.  I know this production was originally used in Santa Fe, maybe that explains the desert theme? 

But the blandness continued with the Kevin Knight’s earthen themed costumes and even the extras.  The supers and chorus seemed to just be wandering aimlessly around the stage; there was no specificity in or seemingly direction behind the acting.  Also sometimes the chorus was a beat behind the music.  Conductor Michele Mariotti kept the pace at a painful andante.  After a while I had trouble keeping the characters separate.  I think the overwhelming dullness lost me.  The singing, particularly Joyce DiDonato, as Elena, and Juan Diego Florez, as the King of Scotland, disguised as Uberto and in love with Elena, was wonderful, but it wasn’t enough to save the production for me. 

At intermission, however, I was given a piece of advice: close my eyes and simply listen to the music and singing.  I did that and the performance completely changed.  Without the dreary visuals DiDonato and Florez completely shone.  Ultimately I was able to enjoy their voices, but it was almost bittersweet.  La Donna del Lago seemed a waste of such beautiful talent. 

Shawn – A gentleman in my Facebook news feed last week after seeing La Donna del Lago at the Met posted something to the effect of, “Just close your eyes and listen and you will have a good time.”   

I assumed he was overstating it but sadly the new production of La Donna del Lago did not work for me at all.  In fact it may be the least effective new production I have seen at the Met in my adult life.  A strange spare set of an arid wasteland and clumps of people standing around seemingly without rhyme or reason that I could discern. 

Due to this my suspension of disbelief kept getting un-suspended and I kept thinking, “There are large groups of people standing on a stage singing.”  A realization that takes one out of the performance, I find.

Looking at director Paul Curran’s bio he seems to be an accomplished and experienced guy.  And as a co-production of the Met and Santa Fe Opera this staging first premiered in Santa Fe.  I have not yet been to Santa Fe, much to my dismay, so I cannot visualize what it looked like there, but I can only assume the outdoor space of the festival worked wonders with it as it was very well received there.  And someone had to be directing the chorus there.  At least a little.  In doors or out, clumps of people standing around onstage doesn’t work.   

The end of Act One was, to me, a particularly incoherent mess.  Crowds of people and strange men in purple turbans bumping into each other without seeming to know where they were supposed to be going or why.  

You sometimes find this kind of disorder in older revivals, where the staging is done by an Assistant Director based off a “Xerox of a Xerox”–as one singer described it to me–of the original director’s notes.  But this was a brand new production and presumably rehearsed to the gills.

Watching the clumps of people onstage standing around, I was reminded of the stories I’ve heard about Zeffirelli, speaking to each chorister and super individually and giving them a backstory so they move with purpose, character and cohesion with the rest of his stage action.  I’m not sure what happened here, but that kind of directorial specificity and elegance did not.

The outdoor setting in Santa Fe might have also made sense of Kevin Knight’s set design which appeared cramped and nonsensical on the Met stage but outdoors the action would most likely need a strong framing structure like the black columned entrances on either side of the stage.  At the Met however, this created only a feeling of constriction and made no sense whatsoever.  And the static projected muted backdrop of “sky” did little to alleviate the claustrophobia.  Again outdoors (with an actual sky behind it) it may have looked beautiful.

Everything sounded really great though.  The Met chorus, though woefully underdirected as I said, sang beautifully.  And conductor Michele Mariotti and the Met orchestra admirably kept the music moving along even if the clumps of people onstage weren’t.  Joyce DiDonato and Juan Diego Florez were both excellent.  Especially DiDonato, which is no surprise as she is at the top of her game and peak of her powers thus far.

I have only seen him live twice, but Juan Diego Florez, although great, has yet to absolutely wow me.  I mean wow me, give me goosebumps as the level of his fame might dictate he would.  He cuts a commanding figure onstage and is excellent but somehow I expected more.  Goosebumps, magic, something.  Perhaps that’s unfair.  But if not from someone of his fame level than from whom should I expect it?

But as I said I’ve only seen him twice.  He canceled on the Cenerentola I was ticketed for last year which allowed me to see the exceedingly goosebump inducing Javier Camarena in the role.  So all is well, really.

Daniela Barcellona in the pants, or in this case kilt, role of Malcolm kept up with them, as did John Osborn as Rodrigo.  In fact, the trio with DiDonato, Osborn and Florez with the men’s dueling high notes was the highlight of the show for me. 

I should have listened to Facebook and closed my eyes more.