Musical grossness

The latest revival of Mozart’s Don Giovanni at the Royal Opera, in Francesca Zambello’s 2002 production, now directed by Duncan Macfarland, is so bad as to be almost sensational. The production itself was never any good, and although I have now seen it with four largely different casts, in none of them was the title role taken with conviction, not even by such seasoned Dons as Simon Keenlyside. Nor has the conducting, which has included such eminent and long-lasting Mozartians as Colin Davis and Charles Mackerras, ever been better than somewhat disappointing. This time round though is a connoisseur’s item of musical grossness and dramatic nullity. The best thing about it is the opening chord, a fierce blaze of sound, arousing the highest expectations, and premonitory, especially for anyone who has seen the production before, of the blaze of fire in the finale, which virtually singes your hair if you’re in the stalls — though on this occasion I had departed in the interval, unable to bear seeing and hearing this sovereign masterwork subjected to such maltreatment.