Arts & Events

Coming out of the opera Messalina on Satiurday night, November 20, all I could think to say were two words: Wow! And Whew! Messalina, a Venetian opera by Carlo Pallavicino, may be the wildest and craziest opera I’ve ever seen! Based on the flagrant sexual exploits of the Roman Empress Messalina, who as a teenager was forced to marry the 50 year old Emperor Claudius, this opera explores rampant sexuality, marital infidelity, cross dressing, and the nature of love itself. All this in a decadent Roman social milieu that Ars Minerva’s founder and Artistic Director, Céline Ricci, likens to that of Federico Fellini’s film La Dolce Vita.  

The libretto for Messalina is by Pallavicino’s longtime collaborator Francesco Maria Piccioli. One wonders how this opera, which premiered at Venice’s Teatro San Salvatore in 1679, managed to pass Venice’s watchful censors. As Messalina begins, the opening scene has Messalina indulging in what might be called heavy petting with her secret lover, Caius (Caio in Italian). In the course of this opening scene, Messalina is stripped of her elaborate dress by Caio, sung here by lyric tenor Patrick Hagen. Soprano Aura Veruni, who sings the role of Messalina, now appears in a skin-tight, skin-toned full-body leotard that reveals her curvaceous figure. Two ornaments are added to emphasise Messalina’s breasts. As the petting gets really heavy, Caio and Messalina zealously paw each other while laying on a soft circular couch at center stage. But before the lovers can go further in their love-making, Messalina’s husband, Emperor Claudius (Claudio in Italian), enters and indignantly berates his wife for dallying with Caio. However, the wily Messalina turns the tables on her husband and accuses him of two-timing her with other women. The sheepish Claudio, sung here by mezzo-soprano Deborah Rosengaus, is obliged to agree to a short lived reconciliation with his wife. 

A secondary plot involves the efforts of a Syrian woman, Erginda, disguised as a man named Alindo, to regain the love of the man, Tergisto, who in Syria betrayed her. The Alindo/Erginda role is sung here by mezzo-soprano Kindra Scharich, and the role of Tergisto is sung by baritone Zachary Gordin. Meanwhile, Erginda is reunited with her sister Floralba, elegantly sung here by soprano Shawnette Sulker. However, when Floralba’s husband Tullio enters and sees her hugging “Alindo,” he accuses his wife of being unfaithful. Left alone, Floralba implores the stars to not let her linger in pain, a mournful aria beautifully sung by Shawnette Sulker and accompanied on theorbo by Adam Cockerhorn. When Floralba exits, the indignant Tullio, robustly sung here by tenor Kevin Gino, despairingly asserts that, “In cor di femina fede non c’è “ (“In a woman’s heart there’s no fidelity”) A bit later, Tullio angrily declares, “Io voglio vendetta!” (“I want revenge!”). Rounding out the excellent cast is tenor Marcus Page as Lismeno, Messalina’s attendant who comments wittily on the antics of others. 

As this opera progresses, nearly every character tries to seduce every other character, with the exception of Floralba, who remains faithful to her husband Tullio despite the efforts of Emperor Claudio to seduce her. At one point in Act 3, Claudio attempts to use force to assault or rape Floralba, but he is stymied in these efforts by the intrusion of his wife Messalina. Once again, Messalina contrives to manipulate Claudio into yet another false reunion of husband and wife. 

Meanwhile, Messalina’s lover, Caio, is becoming desperate over all the impediments to his hoped for sex with Messalina. He laments getting titillation but no satisfaction to his lust for Messalina. In Act 3, Tergisto flees a mob of bandits and escapes by jumping or falling off a cliff, injuring himself. He is found by his supposed friend “Alindo,” who is actually his former fiancée Erginda. When the injured and exhausted Tergisto falls asleep, singing a sleepy aria accompanied by theorbo, Erginda uses twigs to write her name in the dirt beside the sleeping Tergisto. When he awakes he is moved by the reminder of his once beloved Erginda and vows to reconcile with her. 

Meanwhile, Messalina has become infatuated with “Alindo,” and the Empress now comes on strong to “Alindo.” When Emperor Claudio catches them, “Alindo” is forced to reveal that he is in fact a woman. In director Céline Ricci’s staging, this revelation is accomplished by having mezzo-soprano Kindra Scharich bare her breasts to prove she’s a woman, much to the astonishment of all the other characters. Tergisto now enters, and seeing that “Alindo” is actually his fiancée Erginda, falls on her breasts and asks forgiveness, which Erginda grants. Caio, fed up with his lack of sex with Messalina, now renounces love and sings an aria stating that “If we got rid of love, the world would be happy.” Our passions, he asserts, should be governed by reason. 

Improbably, Messalina sings that “Faithless men, take a lesson from women in how to love.” Does she mean that women know how to be faithful, or does she mean that both men and women should just treat sex and love as natural and go with the flow? It’s impossible to say. Nonetheless, all the protagonists now celebrate the reign of peace and forgiveness. 

Musically, Pallavicino’s score skilfully alternates between rectitatives and arias, and his coloratura writing includes long melismas on single syllables. Jory Vinikour conducted from the harpsichord and the small instrumental ensemble featured Cynthia Keiko and Laura Jeannin on violins, Aaron Westman on viola, Gretchen Claassen on cello, and Adam Cockerham on theorbo. The elaborate costumes were by Marina Poliakoff and the intriguing back projections were by the German-born artist Entropy. Kudos are due to Céline Ricci for discovering the score for Messalina in Venice’s Marciana Library and for her brilliant staging of this remarkable opera.