How to seduce without sleaze
Can Christopher Purves make Mozart’s Don Giovanni a palatable character? He talks to Ben Lawrence
Mozart’s Don Giovanni poses a major problem to modern audiences. This tale has, for its lead role, a predator who will stop at nothing in his search for sexual gratification, to the extent that it can overshadow one of Mozart’s most gorgeously rich scores. Modern productions have compounded this problem, most notably English National Opera’s 2010 version, directed by Rufus Norris, which was disturbingly flippant in tone as Giovanni and his servant Leporello hunted down girls in a gruesome double act. Now, ENO are staging a new production, directed by Richard Jones, with the great bass baritone Christopher Purves in the lead role.
The fact that Purves is no longer in the first flush of youth (he will turn 55 during the run) ought to create further anxiety. The idea of a middle-aged man making girl after girl submit to his sexual prowess is in danger of making the whole thing look a bit…
“Sleazy?” Purves suggests. “I am not trying to make him sleazy. I want the seductions to be as truthful as possible so that, when you get to the end of Act One, everyone knows what they’re dealing with – a successful predator who is terrifying to women and men. There is nothing flippant in this production about his seductions.”
Purves also believes that his age makes the role more interesting. “Here, it’s not just about the body beautiful, it’s about how people react to power, how people react to status.”
And yet there is still, unarguably, the issue that women are forced into sexual submission. Take, for example, Zerlina, a country girl stolen away from her hapless fiancé Masetto. “In our production, she’s a smartie, a willing participant who knows exactly what she wants,” he says.
Purves describes this production as “opera for grown-ups”, and that is likely to be a relief to those appalled by the gimmickry of such recent productions as the Royal Opera House’s Guillaume Tell and Christophe Honoré’s Così fan tutte, which came with a mollycoddling warning to ticket holders at this year’s Edinburgh Festival.
“It’s difficult not to sound contentious when talking about this,” says Purves, carefully. “But I think you can see when the director has run out of ideas, and that usually comes in the form of a bit of gratuitous violence or sex. It doesn’t have to be like that, and, thank God, this isn’t.”
It is clear that this Don Giovanni will take a cerebral approach as the antihero makes a wilful descent into debauchery and, thus, hell. Purves will not say how this ending, a contentious one debated by writers from Flaubert to Shaw, is handled by Richard Jones (a high-camp immolation is usually the way), but he has strong opinions about what it says about the serial seducer.
“I try not to think in moral or Christian terms, but there is something deeply pathetic in Don Giovanni’s refusal to toe the line and say he’s sorry. We see it now. As a society, we are desperate for people to say sorry, and it’s the one thing that people in authority [like Don Giovanni] won’t say because it shows that they are liable in some way.”
Purves dismisses the suggestion that Don Giovanni could help us understand Mozart’s troubled psyche. “We are always looking at ways to fix Mozart, trying to work out whether he was a pervert. I guess a lot of that comes from [Peter Shaffer’s play] Amadeus. But there is more to it than that. What Mozart and [librettist] Da Ponte are doing is holding a mirror up to their society, and they couldn’t show everything in Technicolor because it was too dangerous. It was the same with Shakespeare – they had to heavily disguise things.
“But there is a sense that social mores of the 18th century would have allowed sexual deviation in return for social advancement.”
Don Giovanni will, no doubt, prove to be another feather in the cap for Purves, whose fruitful few years have included the title role in Barrie Kosky’s ravishingly beautiful production of Handel’s Saul at Glyndebourne and the part of the Protector in George Benjamin’s Written on Skin, widely regarded as one of the greatest operas of recent times. These are roles that have taken him to dark places, but for Purves, whose brilliance lies in his chameleonic ability to change for every role, inspiration invariably comes from the lighter side of life.
“I always start with humour. Through humour you can find darkness, tragedy, all the things that give characters three dimensions.”
And if anyone can bring three dimensions to Don
Giovanni, it’s Purves.
Don Giovanni opens at ENO tonight. Tickets: 020 7845 9300; eno.org