‘Nothing succeeds like excess,’ quipped Oscar Wilde, and Franco Zeffirelli’s production of Aida at La Scala, Milan in 2006 bears him out: for sheer jaw-dropping, applause- garnering theatrical bling, I have never seen anything like it and I doubt I ever will.
‘Nothing succeeds like excess,’ quipped Oscar Wilde, and Franco Zeffirelli’s production of Aida at La Scala, Milan in 2006 bears him out: for sheer jaw-dropping, applause- garnering theatrical bling, I have never seen anything like it and I doubt I ever will. People talk of empty spectacle, but this was full, full to the brim, exploding with colour, glittering with gilt, and jam-packed with near-naked extras. Astonishingly, it didn’t collapse into a ghastly mess: each tableau was organised and marshalled with military precision, and the stage was left clear for the principals when the story needed to proceed. It was the work of a master.
This grand luxe volume, the weight of which will cause most coffee tables to buckle, certainly matches Zeffirelli’s preferred style.
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