The grandest of grand operas, a brilliant balance of spectacular pageantry and emotional intimacy, returns to San Francisco Opera for the first time in nearly a decade. A bitter love triangle plays itself out against a backdrop of war and cultural oppression in this compelling tale of conflicting loyalties and forbidden passion.
Music Director Nicola Luisotti, the Company’s "ideal new maestro" (The New York Times), leads the first of two extraordinary casts in an "eye-popping production" (Houston Chronicle) created by legendary British fashion designer Zandra Rhodes.
The September cast features soprano Micaela Carosi, "a noble, full-hearted diva of considerable power" (The Times of London) in the title role, along with Marcello Giordani, "arguably the greatest leading tenor of his generation" (Opera News) and mezzo-soprano Dolora Zajick, who is "unequaled in major Verdi roles" (Washington Post). Baritone Marco Vratogna, whose “striking infusion of vocal power and theatrical electricity” as Iago (San Francisco Chronicle) thrilled San Francisco audiences in 2009’s Otello, sings Amonasro. Bass Hao Jiang Tian sings Ramfis, returning to San Francisco Opera after his triumphant debut as Chang the Coffin Maker in The Bonesetter’s Daughter (2008).
The November cast is led by Michele Capalbo, "a world-class Aida, passionate, subtle and vocally satisfying" (Opera News); tenor Carlo Ventre, a riveting performer who projects "unalloyed passion" (Washington Post); baritone Quinn Kelsey, who "boasts a rare and welcome gift, an enormous vocal sound that he deploys with the lightness of an acrobat" (San Francisco Chronicle); and bass Eric Owens who sang to sold-out crowds as Porgy in Porgy and Bess (2009).
Radames, a captain of the guard, is in love with Aida, a slave girl. Aida’s mistress, the King of Egypt’s daughter, Amneris, is also in love with the captain. Not known by anyone in Egypt, Aida is a princess of Ethiopia and the daughter of Egypt’s worst enemy, King Amonasro.
ACT I
Ramfis, the High Priest, is on his way to inform the Egyptian King of the name of the general whom to goddess Isis has chosen to lead the Egyptians against the Ethiopians. Radames hopes to be chosen and, envisioning a glorious victory, expresses his affection for Aida. Amneris joins him. As she is questioning him, Aida enters. Noting that Radames is strongly affected by the appearance of Aida, Amneris suspects the reason for his embarrassment and is overcome with jealousy. Accompanied by his ministers, the King enters. A messenger is brought forward and reports confirmation of the Ethiopian invasion. Radames is announced as the chosen commander to lead the Egyptians against the enemy. Everyone pays homage to the young warrior and wishes for his victorious return. Aida, too, is caught up in the battle cry, and after the court leaves, berates herself for having betrayed her own people. Divided between loyalty to her father and country and her love for Radames, she asks the gods for strength.
In the Temple, a solemn ceremony is held to prepare Radames for battle. He is presented with the sacred sword of Egypt.
ACT II
The Egyptian troops led by Radames have won the war. Amneris, still tormented by doubt and jealousy, resolves to question Aida and confirm her suspicions. Amneris manages to shake Aida’s composure and forces her to reveal her love for Radames. Amneris is furious and shaken by the truth.
The people celebrate the return of the victorious troops and their leader Radames, who asks that the Ethiopian prisoners be brought forth. Among them, Aida recognizes her father. Hiding his true identity, Amonasro pleads for the lives of his people. The Egyptian King accedes to Radames’s wish that the prisoners be set free. Ramfis, warning of the consequences, succeeds in having Aida and her father retained as hostages. In token of Egypt’s gratitude, the King awards Radames the hand of Amneris.
ACT III
To prepare for her wedding to Radames, Amneris retires to the Temple of Isis to worship with Ramfis. Outside the Temple, Aida waits for Radames. Having given up on her own happiness, she recalls her childhood in the valleys of Ethiopia. Amonasro joins her and raises her hopes for a happy life at the side of her beloved. The Ethiopian captives who were freed are banded together and once again ready themselves to attack Egypt. Hoping to exploit Aida’s love for Radames, Amonasro proposes that she ask Radames the route the Egyptian armies will take. At first Aida refuses, but Amonasro soon crushes her resistance. Amonasro hides as Radames appears, still affirming his love for Aida and hoping another victory will allow him to win her once and for all. Aida does not share his enthusiasm and instead persuades him to flee the country with her. As they start to leave, Aida asks which route the Egyptian troops will take. As Radames answers her, Amonasro reveals himself and Radames realizes he has been tricked into revealing an important military secret. As Amneris and Ramfis emerge from the Temple, Amonasro and Aida flee and Radames surrenders to the High Priest, ready to accept the consequences of his betrayal.
Amneris, torn between love and hatred for Radames, at last resolves to save him. She urges him to defend himself, but he refuses. The priests assemble and three times allow Radames a chance to present his defense. Three times he refuses and is sentenced to die. Amneris pleads with the priests to revoke the sentence.
In the darkness of a tomb, Radames is joined by Aida who had hidden there earlier. While the priests chant their hymns, the two lovers, at last united, spend their final moments dreaming of a happier life. Above the tomb, Amneris asks forgiveness for her rancor and prays to Isis for redemption.
By Greg Waxberg
It seems that all Verdi needed to write a new opera was a scenario that would inspire his imagination and creativity. Several times, especially toward the end of his career, he resisted, or was not interested in, composing an opera for a specific purpose, occasion or venue—until someone presented him with an irresistible idea.
Aida, an opus of pageantry, marches, ballet music, rousing choruses, and memorable arias, and an indispensable masterpiece, was one of those operas (for historical perspective, after Aida, Verdi’s two remaining operas would be Otello and Falstaff, and he also resisted composing each of them). Verdi had been asked more than once, on behalf of the Viceroy of Egypt, to write an opera for the Cairo Opera House, but he simply was not interested. It was only when Camille Du Locle, who had been one of Verdi’s librettists for Don Carlos, passed along to the composer a scenario relating to an Egyptian subject, supposedly adapted by the Egyptologist Auguste Mariette from one of his own stories (La fiancée du Nil), that Verdi became interested.
He felt that the story was well-constructed by someone who understood theater, calling it “a work of vast dimensions.” Now motivated to compose Aida, Verdi established certain terms: he would pay to have the libretto written; he would pay to send someone to Cairo to rehearse and conduct the opera; and he would send a copy of the score to Cairo—granting rights only in the Kingdom of Egypt and retaining the rights to the libretto and music for everywhere else in the world.
Even though Verdi said he would pay to have the libretto written, that part of the project became, for all intents and purposes, a thankless task for Antonio Ghislanzoni because of the composer’s demands. At first, Verdi and Du Locle used Mariette’s scenario to create a libretto with dialogue in prose, but Verdi needed someone to create verses from the prose, so he hired Ghislanzoni with the understanding that the librettist would not be creating an original work.
As Ghislanzoni submitted verses to Verdi, the composer became increasingly difficult to satisfy. The problem was that many of the verses, in his opinion, were great poetry, but not sufficiently theatrical for the stage—the recitative could be accomplished in fewer words and fewer lines. Verdi wrote to Ghislanzoni that he wanted the libretto to include “theatrical words,” words that clearly bring the stage action to life and sculpt a situation or character. Anticipating Ghislanzoni’s objections to discarding rhythm, rhyme, and stanzas, Verdi said it would be necessary to abandon those qualities of the text if the action dictated it. Essentially, free verse would allow the characters to say exactly what they needed to say at a particular moment.
Ghislanzoni’s efforts proved to be futile for the final duet between Radames and Aida. For their farewell to life, Verdi insisted on a short, sweet, otherworldly-sounding duet, devoid of the agonies associated with death that opera characters usually mention in their final moments. Then, at the end of this duet, Aida should fall calmly into Radames’s arms. Verdi penned some suggested text, which he asked Ghislanzoni to improve, but the librettist took too long and did not accomplish what Verdi wanted, so the composer used his own text.
The world premiere of Aida took place at the Cairo Opera House on December 24, 1871. Giovanni Bottesini conducted a cast that included Antonietta Anastasi- Pozzoni as Aida, Eleonora Grossi as Amneris, Pietro Mongini as Radames, and Francesco Steller as Amonasro.
About six weeks later, on February 8, 1872, Aida received its European premiere at Milan’s La Scala in a production staged by Verdi and conducted by Franco Faccio. In that cast, Teresa Stolz was Aida, Maria Waldmann was Amneris, Giuseppe Fancelli was Radames, and Francesco Pandolfini was Amonasro. It was especially difficult for Verdi to cast the role of Amneris because, just as he felt the libretto needed more than great poetry, he felt that this role required more than a great voice. “The role of Amneris,” he wrote, “requires an artist of great dramatic feeling who can really hold the stage. Voice alone, however beautiful, is not enough for this role.”
It is certainly true that Aida is recognized as “grand opera,” especially because of the Triumphal Scene in Act II. However, this is also an intimate opera, which becomes apparent during the Act I Prelude that begins and ends quietly. The simplest orchestral sounds—strings, high in their registers—play Aida’s theme (it will return with different instrumentation at various points during the opera). The orchestra expands this motif while alternating it with the darker theme of Egypt’s domineering priests.
A few moments later, the first aria, Radames’s “Celeste Aida,” combines with his exchange with Amneris, as well as Amneris’s exchange with Aida, to set up the opera’s fundamental conflicts and rivalries: the Egyptian princess Amneris loves the young captain of the guard, Radames, but he and Amneris’ Ethiopian slave Aida love each other. Verdi accentuates the characters’ anxiety with agitated orchestration, especially in the strings. This theme is first played when Amneris suspects that Radames might love someone else, and it is played again when Amneris doubts what Aida claims to be her true fears about the pending war.
The second scene demonstrates Verdi’s splendid and memorable orchestrations when the subject turns to war between Egypt and Ethiopia. Epitomizing this grandeur is the famous Grand March, which Verdi utilizes in two forms—powerfully for the priests and intimately for Radames and Aida—before unleashing the full orchestra to accompany all of the characters.
Following this patriotic display, Aida sings the first of her two arias, both of which convey her introspection and suffering at different points in the story and for different reasons. In “Ritorna vincitor!” (when she is filled with disbelief and disgust that she has just spoken those words along with the Egyptians), her dilemma makes clear that the opera’s principal conflict cannot be resolved: the man she loves will be leading the fight against her country and her father, Amonasro, the King of Ethiopia.
That conflict is also the driving force behind the first scene of Act II, when Amneris confronts Aida about Radames. Once again, Aida’s theme is heard, this time in the lower strings because the darker sound symbolizes that she is a threat to Amneris. When Aida expresses her conflicting emotions, her theme is played faster in a more agitated state, serving as further evidence that her struggle will not end well. Knowing about the tug-of-war being played out on stage and in her mind begs the questions: How will this end, and who will have to pay the ultimate sacrifice? Again, as she did after “Ritorna vincitor!” Aida prays for pity on her suffering.
Verdi reprises the Grand March as a chorus for the transition to the spectacular Triumphal Scene, when Radames is hailed for leading the Egyptian army to victory over the Ethiopians. This scene contains some of Verdi’s grandest and most famous music—in this opera or any of his other operas—especially the Triumphal March. Ironically, this rousing music accompanies a bitter, heartbreaking twist in the plot: to show his country’s gratitude for Radames’ victory, the King gives him Amneris as his bride, leaving Aida hopeless and Radames tormented. Yet, foreshadowing another tragic event in the next act, Aida’s father whispers to her that the Ethiopians will soon take vengeance.
Like the first two acts, Act III begins quietly, and Aida soon sings her second aria, “O patria mia,” lamenting that she will never again see her homeland. Two crucial, consecutive scenes dominate this act and, by extension, dictate the remainder of the opera’s action. First, Amonasro confronts Aida and urges her to help him and her country by tricking Radames into revealing his army’s secret location, thereby betraying his country and his King. When she resists, Amonasro disowns her, summons the spirit of her mother cursing her, and calls her a slave of the Pharaohs, leaving Aida no choice but to obey—another tug-of-war in addition to the conflicts she was already facing. Aida obtains the information only by convincing Radames to flee with her, and a severe drum roll announces that Amonasro has overheard him. The harsh, threatening music associated with Radames’s surrender adds to the opera’s inexorable feeling of doom.
Having already been repeated a few times since the first act, the agitated music from Amneris’s first confrontations with Radames and Aida returns at the beginning of Act IV when Radames is facing a trial and Amneris is confounded about what to do, a problem made more obvious by the repeat of the music from her first entrance in Act I that conveyed her love for him. Now, she confronts him again, saying she will save him if he renounces Aida. But, he will not, so she refuses to save him, and the instant he is out of her sight, she curses her jealousy that brought her to this point—her grief and her certainty that he is going to die.
At this point, the low strings play the theme representing the priests, this motif swells to sound more threatening, and it becomes an angry outburst after the priests sentence Radames to be buried alive as a traitor. Then, in one of Amneris’ greatest moments in the opera, she curses the priests as the orchestra explodes with anger, which serves as a perfect contrast to the solemnity that follows in the final scene— Radames in his tomb, where he discovers that Aida has secretly made her way inside to share his fate.
Although the opera’s conflict could not have produced a happy resolution for Aida, it is fitting that her and Radames’s love for each other should bring them together to share eternity. The beautiful and poignant duet “O terra, addio,” with its shimmering strings and Amneris’s prayer for Radames’s soul, is Verdi’s glorious finale. After an opera filled with the treacheries of war, and in which politics prevented the two main characters from uniting, death finds them where they wanted to be all along: in each other’s arms, at peace.
Greg Waxberg is a writer and magazine editor for The Pingry School, a freelance writer covering the arts, and a program annotator for opera companies.
High-definition video projection screens will be featured on the balcony level for this performance. 
