The Pains and Privileges of Staging Mozart’s ‘Don Giovanni’

There are operas that are challenging for their sheer technical demands — the density of Berg’s “Lulu” or the heroic immensity of Wagner epics. And then there are those that seem simple but are actually some of the most difficult.

In that second category fall Mozart’s three collaborations with the librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte — “Le Nozze di Figaro,” “Don Giovanni” and “Così Fan Tutte” — works of slippery psychology, frank humanity and, crucially, crystalline construction that punishes any mistake onstage or in the orchestra pit.

Particularly tough to stage is “Don Giovanni,” which returns to the Metropolitan Opera in a new production on May 5, with Peter Mattei in the title role. Its score runs nearly three hours with major events at the beginning and end — Giovanni murders the father of a woman he nearly rapes, then later is dragged to hell — but little in between other than characters repeating mistakes, as if in loops of unhealthy habits.

Without the hand of a confident director, the story rapidly sags. And, in true operatic fashion, its telling is equally dependent on a conductor’s momentum, and actorly, complex expression from the singers. When all the pieces fall into place, “Don Giovanni” unfurls with a sublime, graceful beauty that a casual listener might find straightforward, even light.

But, the conductor Nathalie Stutzmann said, “the simpler this opera sounds, the more difficult it is to create.” As she prepares to open the Met’s new “Don Giovanni,” she and two other members of its team — Ivo van Hove, the director, and Ying Fang, a leading Mozart soprano who stars as Zerlina — discussed the work’s challenges and gifts. Here are edited excerpts from those conversations.

Ivo van Hove

I’ve seen some famous productions. There was Peter Brook in 1984, with Peter Mattei; it was a minimalist staging but very powerful. I’ve seen Michael Haneke’s in Paris, and that was modern, with Don Giovanni as the C.E.O. of a big firm. And I’ve seen another one in Salzburg by my idol, Patrice Chéreau, whose work I used to see in Paris all the time when I was young, with my little car and no money, driving back after the show was over.

A challenge is that it’s very long. The first act is sharp as a knife, and the second is almost repeating the things we have seen, but developing them deeper. And that’s where it gets even more challenging — there are these buffa parts, that even those huge directors that I’ve seen fail at. They get lost in there. If you start to do comedy, it doesn’t work; then it’s about nothing. You have to deepen the emotions, not play it light or funny, which is not really what it is anyway.

My starting point was something that people often forget: The original title was “Il Dissoluto Punito, Ossia il Don Giovanni” [“The Rake Punished, or Don Giovanni”]. When I saw this title, a lot of doors opened. Mozart had a clear point of view on the character. I had always found it a bit difficult to accept that Donna Anna is a little bit in love with him while she’s raped in the first scene, and then a few minutes later he kills, without any reason, her father. This man has been idolized as a libertine — his mission is “Viva la libertà” — but his own freedom, not the freedom of other people. “Don Giovanni” became for me suddenly a very contemporary opera.

When I studied the score and the text, I discovered that it talks about power structures in our society: Don Giovanni, servants like Leporello, but also the farmers’ community in Masetto. Don Giovanni seduces Masetto’s fiancée, Zerlina, with the promise of a fabulous future of riches and a house, and all these things. Then there’s the sexual, emotional dominance of Donna Elvira; these power structures are about control at the detriment of others, and Don Giovanni is at the top while the others resist him.

And the libretto is so well written, the characters are all complex and ambivalent individuals. They are a bit like Ingmar Bergman characters: neither good nor bad, just human. So, all of this becomes almost like a description of the times we live in.

The ending can be very difficult, but I wanted Don Giovanni to go to hell, and burn in hell forever. What we show is something you don’t expect. But he, as a person, is a problem that has to be dealt with. And with this ending, now that he is dealt with, everybody can move on with their lives. They have closure. It is actually a conventional, happy ending. But I think that is necessary: You see them taking up daily life, as if they were starting again.

Nathalie Stutzmann

Mozart is a kind of doctor for any singer or musician’s playing: Every note that is not right, every dynamic, every articulation, every balance is hearable immediately. Everything that you can cover in later Romantic music — you can hide much more in Wagner — you can’t with Mozart.

This orchestration in “Don Giovanni” is so precise. I’ve never seen in Mozart so many fortepiano dynamics; it’s abrupt and a permanent change of color. Which is interesting, but also tiring and very hard to play for three hours. You can never relax. It is a nonstop race — a race that goes to the abyss at the end.

The arc of it is already in the first measure of the overture. Those notes are the abyss; you have them again at the end. So you have to build the overture so that people understand. Then there is everything in between.

There is the party, which is a virtuoso moment for the orchestra and singers. A lot is connected to the words, the phrasing, but you cannot do that if you are singing every note égal. You don’t have time. So, you have to respect the appoggio [breath support] of the language, and you have to be super strict with the rhythm. When it’s not precise, it’s like a sugar crash. But when it is, it works like a Swiss clock.

I’ll never forget a phrase that I read in a book: Mozart said, one of the most difficult, important and crucial things to realize in playing my music is simply the right tempo. In this opera, it’s one key for me. The phrasing seems simple, but the realization is incredibly difficult. The pulse needs to be organic, and one thing needs to be related to the next.

There are many places where we need to make a connection; for me that is the recitativo. My idea is to make it really alive, and very much about the story. I also include the pianoforte instrument in the arias, sometimes, for joyful moments — like the kisses of Zerlina, a little bit in the spirit of Mozart, what he would do.

What I try to achieve is less of a gap between the recitativo moments and the arias. Typically at this time, the story was told by the recitativo, and the aria described the feeling. But in this opera, the recitativo has so many stories, while the arias are also telling them. It’s a very modern opera in that respect.

Ying Fang

When you sing the music right, Mozart is like medicine, a balm for the voice. It’s indescribably beautiful, and just so genius. But it can be deceptive. It sounds very simple and effortless, but it takes a lot of hard work to achieve that.

You have to have perfect legato, and perfect breath control, to get through a lot of long phrases. Mozart also writes runs with crazy coloratura, as well as some dramatic moments. To do all that requires secure technique. It’s very different from verismo, or Verdi. Clarity and purity: When you’re singing Mozart’s music, you have to use particular muscles to be flexible yet keep the purity of the tone. This is all a testament of healthy, and good, technique.

Mostly in the recitatives, Zerlina gets more dramatic. In the scene right before “Batti, batti,” when she goes back to Masetto after almost being seduced by Don Giovanni, she displays her capability in dealing with Masetto, saying: “What, you don’t believe me? Then kill me. Please, let’s just make peace.” It’s completely human, and so relatable. That’s another thing about these roles; you can see yourself, and you know you could be that person.

But to interpret this, you have to be faithful to what Mozart has already written. He is a great vocal composer; a lot of things are already written into the score, stressed in how the language is expressed. If you follow that, the emotions speak for themselves. So, the interpretation has to be a little more strict, but it should seem effortless.

The hard work to do that is in the preparation. You’ve got to know other people’s lines, and be aware and listen to whatever is happening around you. Once you know all that, everything is clear, and you can stop thinking too much and just enjoy being in your character. Then, the beauty of it is just so satisfying. It really is one of the greatest joys.