In the summer of 2003, Operafestival di Roma presented as its major production Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Those familiar with this wonderful opera understand that one of the principal artistic and technical issues is how to present the Commendatore, a statue that comes alive to sing at the end of the opera.
Our situation was complicated by the limitations of our beautiful performing space: a courtyard inside a 15th century building with a Borromini-designed church serving as the backdrop. Government and church regulations prohibited building any scenery on stage.
Our technical designer decided to make the Commendatore a living statue. In the cemetery scene, he would be costumed and made-up to resemble a statue. He would be placed on a platform, standing rigid throughout the scene. In the final scene, the statue would enter Don Giovanni’s rooms in the same costume and makeup, but on stilts, so that his size would approximate his size as a monument in the previous scene.
Of course, this brilliant technical idea would demand a great deal of difficult work on the part of the singer who would play the Commendatore/Statua. We found the ideal singer/actor; Matthew James, who had sung and taught for us previously. Without argument, he accepted the challenge of making his final entrance on stilts, and began practicing walking on the precariously high devices.
During the three-week rehearsal period prior to our productions, Matthew was a familiar figure in our hotel and rehearsal space, cavorting on his stilts, often crying out: “Look, I can turn around!” “I can walk up stairs!” “I can almost run!”
On the night of the first technical rehearsal with full orchestra, Matthew insisted that he be fully costumed and that his entrance be timed to the music. He made it through the cemetery scene, standing completely still, everyone marveling at how much he looked like a statue and how well he was singing. The scene ended, the stage went to black, and Matthew climbed down from his pedestal and exited to put on his stilts and prepare for his entrance.
Matthews entrance involved climbing a set of stairs about five feet high, emerging at the light cue, and uttering his blood-curdling cry: “Don Giovanni!” Matthew made it the whole way, his giant shadow against the church facade creating the perfect artistic effect; but just as he was about to sing, he tripped ever so slightly. In his sonorous bass voice, in perfect time and pitch to the music, he sang: “Maestro! Can we do that again?”
Every singer, every member of the orchestra, even the conductor, broke into laughter. And, for the rest of the performing season (which went through five more dress and tech rehearsals and six performances in Rome and Verona), the line stuck with all of us: “Maestro! Can we do that again?”
