A spectacular tale of Ancient Egypt which doesn’t waste one note
Aida (Giuseppe Verdi)
In this weekly series, I will be providing introductions to some of my favourite operas, aimed at those who may be nervous or ignorant of the genre. Many of them will be familiar classics, but I hope to spring a few surprises too!
There is, of course, no substitute for experiencing a live performance, but with all our theatres sadly closed, this is an ideal time to enjoy recordings, and with each article I’ll also be offering my recommendations of currently available CDS and DVDS.
Aida
Aida has always had a reputation for being the most expansive and expensive of grand operas – it’s a staple of the summer season at Verona Arena, where its spectacular central Triumphal Scene is customarily staged with a jaw-dropping parade of extras and a menagerie of exotic animals. But there’s another side to Aida too: an intimate, emotional drama, tautly structured round four characters, that contains some of Verdi’s most sophisticated and enchanting music.
Background
At a time when Egypt was experiencing a boom in European tourism following the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869, the ruling Khedive decided to build an opera house in Cairo. To inaugurate the building, he asked Verdi to write a new work – money no object – from a storyline provided by the celebrated archaeologist Auguste Mariette. Verdi was at that time contemplating an opera based on the Emperor Nero and he regarded Ancient Egypt disdainfully as “a civilisation… I could never bring myself to admire”, but the Khedive’s open chequebook finally changed his mind. Collaborating with the playwright Antonio Ghislanzoni, he thrashed out an efficient but twodimensional libretto that owes more to generic operatic convention than to any realities of the era in which it is nominally set. Nobody has ever found
characters warmly lovable, and the situations in which they find themselves are presented without ambiguity. But the result is an opera of rare concision, without weak patches or padding. Over its two-and-a-half-hour duration, there is not a wasted note.
Plot
When the borders of Ancient Egypt are threatened by Ethiopians, the warrior Radamès is sent to combat the marauders. The King of Egypt’s daughter Amneris is in love with him, but he is infatuated with one of her slaves – Aida, an Ethiopian captured in a previous campaign and the daughter to Ethiopian leader Amonasro.
Radamès returns in triumph, with Amonasro among his captives. Amonasro pleads for clemency and he is released. Reminding Aida of her duty to help her own people, he makes Aida use her influence over Radamès to leak military information helpful to the Ethiopian cause. Amneris overhears Radamès giving away a secret. Inflamed with jealousy of his passion for Aida, she denounces him as a traitor, and he is condemned to be buried alive. Aida volunteers to join him in his entombment, and they die together.
Commentary
Aida ranks as one of Verdi’s most formally perfect achievements, underpinned by gorgeously inventive orchestration, at its most subtle in its evocation in the scene depicting a starlit night on the banks of the Nile.
The drama is propelled through enthralling duets between the four principal characters, in which Verdi demonstrates his supreme dramatic instinct. The choral writing is superb too, both for the bellicose hymns marking Radamès’s triumph and the sinister lucubrations of the jury of priests who condemn him to death.
There are only two major lyrical arias, both of them very taxing: Radamès’ rapturous Celeste Aida is a tenor’s nightmare as it occurs right at the beginning of the opera, before he’s had a chance to warm up; and Aida’s ravishing lament for her homeland O
patria mia is crowned with very difficult high-lying final phrases directed to be sung pianissimo.
For directors, Aida presents many headaches, especially in an age that is so sensitive about the impersonation of people of colour, and there have been few decisively successful productions in recent years. Any attempt to present an Ancient Egypt setting runs the risk of ludicrous kitsch, while the idea of updating Pharaonic Egypt to a viciously aggressive fascist state oppressing
freedom-fighting Ethiopian guerrillas has been explored so often it no longer has any shock value or interest. It is also an opera that eats up money: seven changes of scenery, and a massive chorus for Radamès’s triumph.
Recommended recordings
Perhaps the two most widely admired studio recordings are those with Leontyne Price and Jon Vickers, conducted by Georg Solti, and with Montserrat Caballé and Placido Domingo, conducted by Riccardo Muti. Both are excellent. For vivid excitement, two live performances go to the top of my list: Maria Callas is caught in her stunning prime on a recording made in Mexico City in 1951; and a thrillingly committed, superbly sung performance from Munich in 1979 is magnificently conducted by Muti.
In DVDS, I’d plump for either Franco Zeffirelli’s visually ravishing La Scala production, or Sam Wanamaker’s more conventional San Francisco staging.
It is an opera of rare concision without weak patches or padding