Director's note: Mariame Clément

Don Pasquale is a blessing and a curse for a director. A light, entertaining bel canto piece, in the direct Commedia dell’arte tradition, it flies by in a flash and seems to pose no specific “conceptual” challenges; but when given the task of staging it, one cannot help but think: What makes this piece special? What makes it stand out among the dozens of similar pieces belonging to these traditions?

Unexpected subtlety, in the score as well as in the libretto, is probably the key to Don Pasquale. The characters all derive from Commedia stereotypes, yet they all have their weaknesses, their fragility, their dark or pathetic side, which, beyond the scheming and plotting, make them likeable, complex, moving — in other words, human. Pasquale is a buffo figure indeed, and in many ways an obnoxious man who deserves to be fooled; but if one looks closer, isn’t there something moving in the way this sickly old man rejoices at the prospect of having children — perhaps a lifelong desire which he was about to give up on? Doesn’t Ernesto’s despair at having been cast away by his uncle — his one and only relative, the father figure he grew up with — reveal a hidden tenderness in their relationship, in spite of all the fighting and arguing? Even Norina, the cunning widow, may sometimes find it difficult to make ends meet and to survive as an independent woman. The sole exception is Malatesta, the so-called doctor (or is he just an adventurer impersonating a doctor?), manipulating the other three, who constantly seem to be impatiently awaiting him. No hidden fragility there, it seems — just cold, almost devilish plotting, which clearly differentiates him from the rest of the cast.

Our goal was to underline these complex relationships and show actual characters — and not just stereotyped puppets — within the very simple dramatic frame. Don Pasquale is an opera that is irresistibly funny (the second act finale still makes me laugh out loud more than 20 years after the first time I staged it), but it also has the potential to make us cry. In my eyes, comedy and tragedy always go hand in hand: the wider the range of emotions we go through with the characters, the more we empathize with them.

Together with Julia Hansen, who designed the sets and costumes, we initially thought of transposing Don Pasquale into a modern setting, with dozens of props and contemporary costumes. It is indeed a very tempting idea, as it allows for countless comical opportunities and clearly recognizable situations: the rich and pompous old man in search of a young wife; the rebellious teenager sulking in his bedroom; a somewhat ambitious woman eager for money… and craving a young lover; and the typical cinematographic cliché of the conman. But something didn’t feel quite right in that approach: we soon realized that what bothered us was that it lacked elegance. We felt that in order to match the elegance of Donizetti’s music, a more challenging approach was to try and bring the characters to life and make those situations read without the obvious help of modernization. We aimed at avoiding cheap laughs and heavy-handed slapstick, and we ended up coming back to period costumes and using a limited number of props, yet with playful (and not always completely realistic) sets presenting each character in their “natural” environment, and allowing for comedy as well as emotion.

But there is period and period. Strangely enough, as much as so-called “modernization” (or rather, transposing pieces to a contemporary setting, which per se is hardly modern anymore) still attracts a lot of criticism, most people don’t really notice anachronism if the costumes look vaguely historical (and a good question would be: When does “historical” stop? Perhaps after World War I?). Donizetti’s opera was written in 1843 and — in an unusual and rather bold move for the 19th century — it is supposed to take place around the time of its premiere. But we felt that the tame, bourgeois fashion of the 1840s didn’t quite convey the atmosphere we wanted to create. In this production, the Malatesta-Norina relationship is quite ambiguous and erotically charged, and there is a dangerous, almost devilish color in their plotting, which we felt audiences would subconsciously associate with 18th-century costumes. Production design is not just about realism or historical accuracy. It is first and foremost a way of communicating intentions to an audience, a subliminal tool in the way we tell stories. In this case, anachronism by anticipation (rather than modernization) seemed to be the best way of establishing the general atmosphere we wanted to create.

Our Don Pasquale thus takes place in a beautiful jewel box full of surprises — from the somewhat uncanny beginning, showing an almost supernatural Malatesta, to the final outcome, perhaps slightly more open than what we are used to…