FROM AROUND THE WORLD: STUTTGART.(Review)

With Don Carlo (in its five-act "third edition" for Modena), Stuttgart paid anniversary tribute to Verdi on January 20 -- and a thoroughly Teutonic tribute it was, in marked contrast to the production opening the same night in Zurich (see review, p. 81). The director/dramaturg duo of Jossi Wieler & Sergio Morabito (the ampersand appears in all their official billing) returned to Stuttgart to claim Don Carlo as an object lesson in contemporary music theater, and the audience was in for surprises.

Even before the music started, a teenaged girl, supposedly Elisabetta di Valois but looking more like Pippi Longstocking, strayed forlornly onto the pitch-dark stage. She was joined by a chubby hooligan in jeans, gym shoes and a black T-shirt with his own portrait, a la Che Guevara; according to the program, this was Don Carlo, Infante of Spain. Carlo and Elisabetta recognized each other only when Tebaldo, a fidgety lad, turned up and shone a flashlight on them. As the ensemble entered, costumed by Anja Rabes in clothing from Marks & Spencer, and a bemedaled delegation of diplomats in tails followed, there was no doubt we were witnessing a contemporary piece. However, Erich Wonder's scenic designs never corresponded to the locations, or even the functions, required by the libretto. Thus the monastery of San Juste wasn't a modern monastery but an underground fitness studio. In the following garden scene, the ladies-in-waiting practiced aerobics.

The biggest surprises occurred when the curtain rose on what should have been the auto-da-fe scene. The chorus lined up at the footlights, raised champagne glasses in a Fledermaus mood and drank our health, then entered what looked like a high-security desert fortress. Protected by electronic fences and bodyguards, the auto-da-fe was a kind of party to celebrate the execution of naked heretics. Beyond the fence, protestors (the deputies from Flanders) unrolled a banner to plead for mercy and solicited contributions from the onlookers.

The following scenes were played inside the fortress, constructed of piled-up steel cages. The Grand Inquisitor inhabited the upper level of the cages, where Rodrigo later shot himself, Elisabetta and Carlo bade farewell, and a white-haired gentleman, who'd been watching the proceedings all along, turned out to be Charles V. He carried off his grandson, Don Carlo, on piggyback, destination unnamed.

Some praised Stuttgart for another landmark production, the best of contemporary progressive music theater, nominated immediately as the company's best chance to be named for the fourth time running as Germany's "opera house of the year." A minority -- including this critic -- suffered to see a masterwork subjected to such rigorous treatment from dramaturgy fundamentalists who proclaim, "Opera is dead, long live Musiktheater."

Even when text and music clashed badly with stage action, one couldn't deny that the production had been meticulously rehearsed. Lothar Zagrosek honed the orchestra into great shape, emphasizing the architecture of the score without sacrificing its tremendous sweep and thrust.

Carlo and Elisabetta behaved and looked credibly like frustrated teenage lovers, maturing only after having participated in the public ordeal of the auto-da-fe. Vladimir Kuzmenko's stentorion tenor climbed the pinnacles of his part with the inexhaustible zest of an operatic Edmund Hillary. Catherine Naglestad beautifully molded her lacy cantilenas, although she was somewhat underpowered in passages requiring more incisive spinto vigor.