He Is The Don: Don Carlos, Royal Opera House
Colossal even by opera standards, four hours of made up history, monumental royal romance, tragedy, betrayal and treachery with a gorgeous Verdi score and singing. Plus nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition…to sing — it’s the Grand Inquisitor!
Set in the Spanish court of King Philip II’s father Carlos V, Don Carlos (Prince, heir apparent, son of Philip II) skulks or romantically loiters around in the snow-clad forest grounds of Fontainebleau to meet his affianced Elizabeth of Valois. Unlikely in royal matches, they like each other, they love each other, they sing, he makes fire (literally and emotionally). Only negotiations alter abruptly and suddenly Elizabeth (Lise Davidsen) is having to marry his father rather than the man she actually wants — and being forced to choose ‘freely’ in public, as the people beg her to choose the Dad and peace. No pressure at all. It’s mortifying cringeworthy as she literally has no choice in being given this very public and politically impactful choice.
Agonisingly, she ‘chooses’ Philip II (John Relyea) and peace, is claimed, crowned with gold, enthroned and lifted up, leaving Don Carlos (Brian Jagde) and her heart behind. Having knicked his son’s future wife, Philip II is deeply suspicious of his new wife and his son and quickly descends into murderous paranoia, stirred up by the spiderous red blob of an ancient Grand Inquisitor (Taras Shtonda).
Unexpectedly, much of the beauty of this opera is in the celebration of genuine male friendship. Don Carlos’s friend Rodrigo, Marquis of Posa (Luca Micheletti) is also highly favoured as the mate of the King and they keep each other spirits up as Don Carlos now has to address his much loved Princess as mother. There are some truly beautiful male duets here. Furthermore, the Prince is opposed by his father at every step as he seeks to improve relations between the Crown and Flanders, due to concern that this future king might try and grab power for himself sooner rather than later…(Flemish Deputies will keep cropping up throughout the opera to plead fruitlessly with their King).
Worse still, in a tear inducing moment, the Church burns the heretics, forcing them to repent before blessing the fire they’re going to ignite them with. With so many parallels to political situations past and present, the Church leaders appear to cajole the people into a mob for their own power, as does Francis II. Although they’re in a church with a massive face of Jesus painted onto one alcove, is everyone worshipping God, themselves or Francis II at this point? Who is the heretic? Is the people being dragged infront of the king in humiliation or indeed Don Carlos and Rodrigo? This part made me feel sick because the heretics at this point were possibly Protestants, Jews or anyone who disagreed with the apparatus of the regime. And their innocence is implied by the beautiful song of the ‘Voice from Heaven’ as they head to their unnecessary deaths (sung by
Sarah Dufresne).
With the Queen, Don Carlos and Rodrigo conspire to bring revolution and change as Francis II has gone much too far, menacing the lives of both his wife and son. And it will begin in Flanders! Movingly Francis II sings sadly and self-pityingly about his new wife not loving him, (he can’t understand it). You bought her, old king! He feels his age, he feels unloved — and Henry VIII style everyone around him must pay. He even drags in the decrepit Grand Inquisitor to approve his plan — murder his son and deal with his Queen. Turns out, listening to the Inquisitor’s words that he is the heretic and utterly twisting faith for terrible ends. Just do it he croons — only give me the heretic Rodrigo in return. The King is horrified at the thought of using and losing his trusted friend in this way, but he does really want to get rid of all the problem family members in his life…And yet, I feel sorry for the King here, so movingly did John Relyea sing and portray his unhappiness.
Meanwhile there’s a sub-plot about one of the Queen’s ladies in waiting, Princess Eboli (Yulia Matochkina) being in love with Don Carlos and rejected by him, overhearing his true feelings for the Queen, then revenging herself on the Queen by stealing her jewel box to show to the King. Where, dum dum dah… is hidden therein a miniature of Don Carlos. The King horribly abuses the Queen and conscious of her disrespected position, status and isolation, the Queen turns to support Don Carlos in fermenting revolution against all the injustice of Francis II. Elizabeth has a fantastically angry aria to sing at the King, demanding justice from him and then her sorrowful singing mimics crying as she despairs at the horror of her situation under an absolute monarch, crazed with jealously and controlling tendencies.
With the plot wildly changing again, the lady in waiting flings herself at the foot of an altar in the Queen’s room and repents of her duplicity, having realised that she’s betrayed an innocent. The Queen has had enough and banishes her from the Court and her presence — get to a convent or out of the country. She gives a choice! Even so, the lady in waiting in determined to do good not evil and seeks to help the Queen as she can.
The King is wild now and in a shock moment, executes his friend Rodrigo, who drags himself pitiably and pathetically singing in his death throes and agony towards still seeking the best for him and to comfort him with his faith and faithful words. The so-called heretic expresses actual faith! There is almost a revolution, but the horrible King unleashes the Spanish Inquisition (for nobody expects them!) and the grandees of the Church who cow the people into worshipping the King, not killing him, by menacing everyone with crucifixes and gold. Even Don Carlos rushes in and is forced to bow in submission by the social . And so everyone lived unhappily and horribly ever after; until (Hamlet like) the ghost of the dead grandfather King Carlos turned up at the end, horrified.
High drama of another level, the Grand Inquisitor’s lyrics are so vial as to warrant boo-ing and hissing. Francis II is pitiable as he sings in jealousy and deceitful pain at realising his new wife doesn’t love him or appreciate him, beyond duty. Yet he is self-decieving for what did he expect? Seeing how his son seeks the people’s good, he shores up his power and opposes him whole-heartedly. His new Queen does her part and is abused for it, when she has done nothing but her duty. When she sings about her pain and innocence, it is truly heart-rending. Worse still is the misuse of Rodrigo, faithful friend and courtier in his wonderful Cavalier lace collar, who is killed for no reason at all, and the power-driven Church hierarchy who do as the King bids them. Before she turns evil Princess Eboli gets to sing a whole number about the song of the veil to entertain her sad lady. Unusually, all the main characters get their moment on the stage.
Whilst it is on one level very very silly — the real-life history was very different; Don Carlos was no romantic figurehead. On the other hand, Verdi delivers the punches which good art should do — wrapped in a beautiful score and singing, he makes us think, touching both heart and head. Riveting from beginning to end, Nicholas Hytner’s equally dramatic staging made use of deep colours such as black, red and gold to set the scene. (The only weak spot is when soldiers scuttle on to collect the body of Rodrigo — as in Aida, they just can’t march but ambled on and in one case ran! But what they lack in soldierliness, they make up for in shiny gleaming armour and pikes!)
The costumes were for the most part excellent — with the men rocking full Elizabethan Spanish garb — Pumpkin pants, beards, capes and all. (And even shoes, yes shoes, indoors!) Most of the ladies were in the 16th century with some embellishments, apart from the Princess Eboli who was in full crinoline mode! I think they were trying to suggest the Spanish farthingale, but it just went full Gone With The Wind mode. Although she did benefit by having headgear unlike most of the other ladies; which is a shame given how excellently the men were dressed to suggest the period. Elizabeth of Valois’s hair was shocking — being loose in public and then sort of up, but mostly not in any era at all! (You’d think being Queen she’d atleast be able to get good hairdressers). No wonder most of the ladies hid behind large red fans when they could!
