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Don Pasquale, Metropolitan Opera, New York

By Martin Bernheimer

Published: April 3 2006 18:04 | Last updated: April 3 2006 18:04

It was one of those gosh-we’re-great nights at the opera. The mighty Met, ever true to yesterday, celebrated stylistic retrogression while mustering its first Don Pasquale in 26 years. Otto Schenk, grand old man of Austrian kitsch, was coaxed out of retirement for a final fling at let’s-pretend stage-direction. Rolf Langenfass provided dauntlessly picturesque decors. The cast looked stellar on paper, and the proud first-nighters registered push-button approval. Too bad the wonders ceased.

If all had gone as planned, James Levine would have presided in the pit for an unaccustomed exploration of Donizetti. Sidelined by injury, however, the supermaestro ceded the baton to Maurizio Benini, a competent, idiomatic routinier. Forget illumination.

Schenk concentrated on funny business as usual, with two innovations. He placed old Pasquale in period garb, but attired his young nemeses in something akin to modern dress. Generations in conflict, get it? He also allowed – encouraged? – Anna Netrebko, the glamour-diva-du-jour cast as Norina, to treat the scene as her personal camping ground. She preened, purred, twitched, gesticulated, cackled, grimaced, beamed, waved to the crowd, wiggled her toes, danced, pranced, twirled, somersaulted (yes, somersaulted), modelled a mock-Tosca costume for comic effect, flashed a lot of bare leg, sang brightly and loudly, forgot to trill, and mushed the Italian text. The fans adored her.

The talents surrounding the hyperactive prima donna did their best to keep up. Obviously indisposed, Juan Diego Flórez exerted agile charm as Ernesto but sounded nasal and tight, avoided the vocal stratosphere (usually his special domain), and ultimately gave up. After an extended interval, Barry Banks replaced him gallantly in the last scene. Providing a certain calm amid the storms, Simone Alaimo nearly managed to balance buffoonery and pathos in the title role, and Mariusz Kwiecien exerted dapper authority as Malatesta.

This production, not incidentally, served as the final premiere in Joseph Volpe’s 16-year regime as Met general manager. Call it a last semi-hurrah. ★★☆☆☆

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