The ignavi—those who refuse to take sides in debates—are condemned to march eternally behind a white flag. The lustful, such as Paolo and Francesca from another prominent early 20th-century Dante opera, are buffeted in an endless windstorm, mirroring how their passions swept them away in life. This concept might also explain the random dustbowl scene in Luca Guadagnino’s challenging Challengers. Sitting at Bologna’s Comunale Nouveau, the provisional theatre in the city’s convention centre while the main venue undergoes repairs until 2026, for Pier Francesco Maestrini’s Dantesque Iltrittico, I found myself pondering why I had to witness such a lacklustre, meandering production—and what punishment I might incur for critiquing it!
Like some scholars, Maestrini interprets the three parts of Trittico as mirroring Dante’s three canticles—the unending infernal torment in Tabarro, Angelica’s Purgatory of perpetual anticipation in Suor Angelica, and Gianni Schicchi’s hard-earned laugh as Paradise (despite Gianni Schicchi being in Dante’s Inferno Canto XXX). Consequently, he fills the three operas with visual references to the Divina Commedia and Gustave Doré’s renowned illustrations, though without much coherence, often failing to address the distinct dramaturgies of the operas.
Tabarro emerges the least damaged of the three; although portraying the barge captain Michele as a Charon figure transporting dead souls across the Styx lacks logical grounding, and the video elements of hellish stevedores resembled something from Lord of the Rings (a cultural property with a unique connection to Italy), Maestrini does grasp the opera’s surface-level misery. However, how Luigi manages to die in hell remains unclear.
Suor Angelica, set on what appears to be the beach of Purgatorio I, was significantly less coherent. While the opera’s uneven doctrine of expiation could align with a Purgatory-themed interpretation, Angelica’s tragic end, as she poisons herself upon hearing of her son’s death, is relocated to Inferno XIII, where the souls of suicides are transformed into trees. The scene seemed less evocative of Dante’s vision, whose trees are not anthropomorphic, and more reminiscent of Otto Schenck’s Rusalka and the forest from The Wizard of Oz. As Angelica raised her limp arms towards an indistinct light source and passed away, I imagine few were moved.
Schicchi, which is ceaselessly comedic but lacks subtlety, proved the least effective. Librettist Giovacchino Forzano’s Tuscan literary flair, which can elicit laughter from the unsettling Inferno scene involving a falsified will, was overshadowed by Maestrini’s focus on visual gags, such as Buoso’s greedy relatives in ornate, leaden robes reminiscent of Inferno XXII, the jovial, Monty Python-like friars, and starlings swirling around Rinuccio and Lauretta (echoing Inferno V). The final image of the production features a playful demon farting.
Instead of a coherent narrative arc or progression, the staging was a disjointed assortment, held together by the exaggerated and grim sets, costumes, and lighting by Nicolas Boni, Stefania Scaraggi, and Daniele Naldi, respectively, and the intricate video backdrops. A friend often quotes a Dante scholar’s remark that mastering the sommo poeta requires “20 years sitting on your ass”—this production, while not offering similar intellectual rewards, provides a comparable physical experience.
The singers managed to make individual impressions despite the production’s shortcomings. Franco Vassallo delivered a high tragedy Michele, his incisive and acidic baritone expressing the role with intensity. His ability to shape his sound across phrases with both precision and breadth made him a standout, especially compared to the declamatory, decibel-rich Luigi of Roberto Aronica, whose performance felt rather dry.
Chiara Isotton, as Giorgetta, was a notable presence. Although she doesn’t exude the tartness or potential for a convincing harridan, she brings a bronze timbre to the role, infusing it with nostalgic longing and demonstrating thoughtful colouring with her throbbing, albeit somewhat disconnected, high notes. Her steadiness is a commendable trait; even in challenging, heavy music, she remained robust and unfazed, reliably finishing phrases with assurance.
However, despite her strengths, Suor Angelica, which suits her voice well, lacked a certain frenzy and desperation beyond its outward somberness. Her sincere but grounded “Senza mamma” highlighted her as a solid artist, though not one to evoke deep emotional impact. She was overshadowed by the formidable Zia Principessa of Chiara Mogini, whose mezzo possesses a Simionato-like edge without the same heft.
In Schicchi, Darija Augustan’s Lauretta was a highlight. Despite the character’s limited role, her performance of “O mio babbino caro,” rendered in long, flowing phrases with a flexible, shimmering soprano, was the evening’s standout moment, earning mid-performance applause. Giorgio Misseri, as Rinuccio, also impressed with his ardent delivery, presenting his aria with a sense of significance that contrasted with the otherwise squalid stage setting, although his B-flat proved more challenging than it sounded.
Roberto de Candia approached the role of Gianni Schicchi with enthusiasm, meeting one of the key criteria for the character and evidently enjoying himself. However, he could benefit from remembering that words can be delivered with legato as effectively as with a more percussive style. While there were some delightful legato moments, such as the Doctor’s visit to the deceased Buoso, it seemed they were often treated merely as comic devices.
In the smaller roles, Vittoriana De Amicis shone as Suor Genovieffa, and Marco Puggioni made a notable impact in his brief appearance as the song seller in Tabarro. Manuela Custer, De Amicis again, and Laura Cherici offered a pleasing trio in Schicchi, though the voices varied in calibre. Cristina Melis’s portrayal of Frugola lacked finesse.
Roberto Abbado, conducting the score for the first time, faced challenges in balancing the orchestra with the singers amidst the somewhat resonant acoustics of the Comunale’s temporary venue. His focus on highlighting the score’s dynamic mood shifts provided intriguing moments in Tabarro, though this approach became somewhat predictable by the time Schicchi came around.
Despite the production’s shortcomings, it was gratifying to experience a Trittico during Puccini’s centennial year. As for the production, which will next be staged in Trieste, I can only echo Churchill: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
Photos: Andrea Ranzi
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