Mitridate Re Di Ponto at the Teatro Real
When I was a lad of fourteen I had learned to do something kinda fun. At the same tender age, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart had learned how to compose an opera. Mitridate, Re di Ponto, the opera in question, is being presented at Madrid’s Teatro Real. The libretto is by Vittorio Amedeo Cigna-Santi, based on a much earlier play by Racine.
The story behind Mitridate, Re di Ponto (Mithridate, King of Pontus) is fascinating. Mozart banged it out in Bologna in 1740, while traveling with his father through Italy.
No sooner had Mozart finished composing than, hot off the harpsichord as it were, Mitridate was produced. Someone in Bologna obviously had a keen eye for up and coming talent! Despite incredulity that any opera could come from the pen of a kid barely into his teens, it ran for a respectable 21 performances.
Then Mitridate was promptly forgotten and not revived until the twentieth century. According the New York Times it wasn’t mounted in Gotham until 2011!
The plot is rather complex, which is one reason Mitridate clocks in at three hours and fifteen minutes. The eponymous king (Siyabonga Maqungo) is off fighting the nasty Romans and sends word back home that he has been killed so he can try the loyalty of his sons, Farnace (Tim Mead) and Sifare (Vanessa Goikoetxea). He suspects Sifare of hitting on his much younger fiancee, Aspasia (Ruth Iniesta).
Actually, it’s Farnace who has the hots for Aspasia, and when he hears that dad is dead he really puts the make on her. Trouble is, Aspasia is sweet on Sifare, who returns her affections but is hesitant to pursue a romance. Then Mitridate shows up alive, bringing with him Ismene (Sabina Puértolas), a Parthian princess who is in love with Farnace and his intended bride. Farnace wants no part of her.
It’s the kind of emotional mish-mosh that was pithily summed up centuries later by the J. Geils Band.
Further complicating matters is the fact that Farnace is a traitor, in league with the Romans, promised a kingship by Marzio (Jorge Franco), his Roman handler.
Mitridate contains the kind of heightened passions that would seem challenging for any composer let alone the young Mozart to capture in musical form. But, hey, the kid was a genius.
And while Mitridate is obviously juvenilia, to my admittedly uneducated musical ear Mozart did a remarkably good job of pulling it off. Some of the music is truly ravishing and a number of the arias offer opportunities for accomplished singers to shine.
Mitridate is opera seria, a rather stiff and static form, composed primarily of set pieces which follow a fairly strict three-part format: A theme is stated, then a variation thereon, and then the original theme is repeated, often at great length and with a great deal of melisma, musical ornamentation that allows soloists to really show off their singing chops. For many people, myself included, it’s an acquired taste.
One of the peculiarities of the form is that several male parts were written to be performed by castrati. Oh the sacrifices some artists are willing to make for their careers! Why they did I can’t say; people just liked it better that way. Especially puzzling to many modern ears was the fact that castrati usually played heroic male figures.
Thus the roles of both Farnace and Sifare, as well as Abate, a functionary in Mitridate’s empire, should be played by castrati. Of course, today even the most assiduous DEI program would be hard pressed to come up with even one castrato, let alone three.
More often than not, the modern solution to this problem is to cast women in castrati roles. The other alternative is to use countertenors, which I think is the preferable choice.
In this production, Farnace and Arbate are countertenors, while Sifare is a soprano. Given my druthers I would have liked to see two countertenors as the sons. On the other hand, Vanessa Goikoetxea is quite compelling as Sifare, which may explain the casting choice.
While opera seria can be performed “straight” as it were, the modern tendency is to find ways to make it, you know, less boring. If you’re so inclined, you can turn to YouTube to see a number of surprisingly different takes on Mitridate.
For this production, the Teatro Real has turned to German director Claus Guth, a leading practitioner of so-called regietheater, sometimes called the ruination of opera.
I have heard so many horror stories about truly ghastly travesties of favorite operas perpetrated by regietheater directors, that I have been dying to see one. The Lucia di Lammermoor that I saw in Munich last year came close, but it seemed that Mitridate might be my chance to see the real deal.
Somewhat to my disappointment, I rather liked it. Yes, some of Guth’s directorial conceits are baffling, a few are ludicrous, but more often than not they contain a certain dramatic and emotional truth. At the very least, he keeps his singers moving.
Guth’s is a modern dress Mitridate (costumes by Ursula Kudrna). The main action takes place in a handsome two-level space, nicely designed by Christian Schmidt and well lit by Olaf Winter, representing Mitridate’s palace. It struck me as a great design for the lobby of a posh midcentury modern hotel.
Periodically, the massive set rotates to reveal a large, curved, silver-colored wall studded with hundreds of small black holes. Against this cyclorama, using a dance corps of six men and six women, Guth has staged some rather striking dumb shows that, presumably, reflect the inner turmoil of the main characters.
Sometimes the dancers are clad all in black, their hands and faces covered, like Bunraku puppeteers. At other times some of them appear as doppelgängers of the main characters, often in multiples. Sometimes they interact with the main characters, at other times with their body doubles. The angular, quirky choreography by Sommer Ulrickson is sometimes puzzling, sometimes striking, but never less than interesting.
I found these interludes the most arresting part of the production.
Of course this is opera so there’s singing involved. Under the musical direction of the Teatro Real’s resident conductor, Ivor Bolton, there was some very fine singing by singers who, God bless ‘em, actually do some acting, which in my experience is not always an operatic given.
As mentioned earlier, the soprano Vanessa Goikoetxea does quite well by Sifare, although I felt she was sabotaged a bit by a few of Guth’s directorial choices. The Aspasia of Ruth Iniesta, Sifare’s true love, holds her own and their duet in the second act is a highlight. Sabina Puértolas’ rendition of Ismene’s aria In faccia all’oggetto won an extended round of applause
Tim Mead is very effective as Farnace, Siyabonga Mugongo is solid as Mitridate, and Jorge Franco makes a fine impression in the small role of Marzio. I must also give a nod to José Luis Mosquera in the silent role of The Majordomo. A servant in Mitridate’s palace, he spends his time serving drinks, cleaning up after the sons, and more than a few times drawing focus. He was well received at the curtain call.
Mitridate ends with a rousing call to arms sung by the entire cast. It roughly translates to “Let us resist the seat of power; let us struggle against overweening pride. Fight always and never grant peace to the tyrant who seeks to overthrow liberty through the world.”
That could become the theme song for – oh, I don’t know – some modern day political movement.
Footnotes: There are two casts for Mitridate; the dates on which each cast appears are listed on the Teatro Real website.
In Munich, the program set me back €9. At the Teatro Real it’s free. Socialism at work!
Mitridate is a co-production with Oper Frankfurt, Gran Teatre del Liceu (Barcelona), and Teatro di San Carlo (Naples). Presumably it has been or will be presented at those venues.
Mitridate, Re di Ponto continues at the Teatro Real through April 9, 2025. For more information and to purchase tickets visas the Teatro Real website.
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