Celebrating the Bicentennial of Italian Opera in America with Teatro Nuovo: Il Don Giovanni and Il Turco in Italia

Every summer Teatro Nuovo presents operas from the 18th and early 19th century in New York City. Its productions are “music-driven”: repertoire is often original, performance practice well-researched, diction intelligible, and semi-stagings streamlined. Singers and instrumentalists tell the story. This month Teatro Nuovo became the only US opera company to program around the 200th anniversary of Italian opera in America. A visit of the legendary tenor and impresario Manuel Garcia and his talented family troupe in 1825-6 was organized by Mozart’s librettist Lorenzo da Ponte, who ended his life teaching at Columbia University. Historians have compared their introduction of Mozart and Rossini to the young nation with the impact the visit of the Beatles in 1964. This year Teatro Nuovo presented two works from the Garcias’ New York season: Mozart’s Il Don Giovanni and Rossini’s Il turco in Italia. * * * Mozart’s Il Don Giovanni was an obvious bicentennial choice. At a time when operas were performed once and forgotten, it was the first major work to remain in the canonical repertoire ever since—as da Ponte boasted in his 1826 program notes. Teatro Nuovo’s productionsought to recapture the spirit of the US premiere. They restored the definite article (Il Don Giovanni) thatda Ponte employed. English supertitles drew on excellent translations commissioned by da Ponte from his son Luigi. As da Ponte did, they cut final triumphal sextet, thereby ending the evening with the statue dragging Don Giovanni into hell to trombone-boosted D minor chords (plus an added unison D)—a dramatic conclusion that satisfyingly mirrors the overture. Other innovations were more problematic. Impresario Will Crutchfield harvested ornaments from Garcia’s renowned vocal textbook and encouraged the singers to use them, seemingly as they wished. Such extreme artistic license may accurately characterize vocal practice of past centuries, but it can confront listeners with a sea of uneven and seemingly arbitrary interpolation. Perhaps adopting restraints conventional before, during and after Mozart’s time—for example, singing material unornamented the first time through and ornamentedin da capo or repeats—might have allowed listeners to appreciate them more. Puerto Rican Baritone Ricardo José Rivera commanded the stage as Don Giovanni. He is a young talent on the way to a global career. To judge from his spectacular Macbeth at Teatro Nuovo last year and a Traviata Germont scheduled at Glyndebourne next year, Verdi baritone roles are in his immediate future. Don Giovanni, however, lies somewhat low for Rivera, posing obverse challenges from those faced by most singers. He brought breathtaking dash to the high-lying “Champagne aria” yet struggled to conjure up the seductive warmth of “La chi darem la mano.” In the serenade (“Deh, vieni alla finestra”), his variations in vocal timbre (even if a bit awkward) deservedly received one of the night’s largest ovations. With other singers one was constantly reminded that Mozart’s balanced and transparent scores place singers under a vocal magnifying glass. Some curious casting choices made it even tougher. These days one often hears light lyric voices “overparted” in heavy roles, but here was a cast of heavy voices often “underparted” in lighter roles. The result was a series of sharply etched characterizations, yet at the cost of stylistic integrity, timbral consistency, and, at times, technical security. While sopranos generally sing Donna Anna with aristocratic restraint, British-American soprano Elizabeth Novella convey the raw emotions of a wronged woman with dark vocal color, liberal portamenti, and heavy accents. Novella offered affecting insights into Donna Anna’s motivations—I will not think about the role quite the same again—yet the resulting unevenness of line and color meant one does not always want to hear the role sung this way. Similarly, Sedona Libero portrayed a passionate Donna Elvira but struggled, as mezzos often do, to avoid stridency in the high-lying acrobatics. Bass-baritone Kevin Spooner projected a lively Leporello, though not one whose earthy vocal weight or Italian diction called attention to his ironic commentary in ensembles. Rising baritone Noah B. Rogers added a solid and (appropriately) stolid Masetto. Veteran Daniel Mobbs sang the Commendatore precisely but without the optimally sepulchral timbre and weight. Until last week, I had never heard a performance of this opera in which those cast in the two lightest roles, Zerlina and Don Ottovio, possessed the most penetrating voices. I would welcome a chance to hear Canadian soprano Simona Genga sing Azucena, Carmen, Olga, or Magdalene—all in her repertoire—but to squeeze her huge voice into the part of Zerlina, though done creditably, seems inadvisable. Martin Luther Clark, who last year sang a Macduff of extraordinary style and resonance, seemed uncomfortable in the lyric-coloratura part of Don Ottavio. His fully heroic account was an undeniable thrill, but not one I wish to repeat. “Il mio tesoro” can destroy tenors; Clark toughed it out solidly but inelegantly. Time to retire this role and move on to light spinto parts, for which he shows real promise. The chorus sang well, but the conducting and piano accompaniment by Geoffrey Loff lacked the consistent sparkle and rhythmic intensity for which this company is known. * * * In contrast to Don Giovanni, Rossini’s Il turco in Italia, once a favorite, now receives just two or three short productions a year across the globe. I once saw a live performance as a child and have never encountered it since—though, in part inspired by Callas’s resurrection of it, Caballé, Bartoli, Oropesa and a few other notable sopranos have taken a crack over the years. Its neglect is a shame, not least because Felice Romani’s libretto expresses, as few operas do, the metatheatrical absurdism hinted at in commedia dell’arte and then fully embraced in the mid-20th century plays of Pirandello, Ionesco, and Beckett. Beyond the classic Italian trope of the proper older man married to a bored and faithless young wife, Il Turco is a farce comprised of seemingly random events. A band of gypsies tells fortunes. A prince arrives from Turkey. Three suitors scrabble over one woman and two over another. The characters seem confused about their identities, unexpectedly changing moods and even reassessing appropriate partners without obvious cause. Throughout it all, the boundary between art and reality remains fluid—an ambiguity embodied in the unique character of the Prosdocimo, at the same time a friend of another character in the plot and the outside poet who authored the libretto. He repeatedly wanders onto the stage, complains to the audience about the inadequacies of the drama, and rewrites it in real time. Some characters seek to improve their prospects by arguing their case with the poet and, if that fails, threatening to beat him up. Romani’s chaotic world perfectly matches Rossini’s own absurd sense of humor. (As Impresario Will Crutchfield observed in a pre-opera lecture, one always senses Rossini composing as a slightly ironical observer standing outside his characters.) Yet Il turco also hints at the deeper ambiguities of Mozart’s Così fan tutte, which the composer and librettist encountered while Il turco was being conceived. No one (except Stendahl, in one of his quirkier opinions) claims that the score of Il turco, written when Rossini was 22 years old, is among his very best—but the music is clever and engaging and sporadically memorable. The clear highlight of Teatro Nuovo’s performance was Brescia-born baritone Mattia Venni’s portrayal of the weak and timid husband Don Geronio. It is hard to believe that Venni, after 15 years as a camera operator in LA, changed careers and made his professional debut just three years ago (with Teatro Nuovo), immediately after graduating with BA in Music from UCLA. Today he seems a finished buffo baritone: the voice is strong and even from top to bottom, the phrasing elegant and seemingly effortless, the bel canto patter quick and crisp, and the native Italian diction impeccable. Unlike some others, Venni never overacts. Above all, Venni’s voice seems simply to flow naturally, like everyday speech—a rare element essential if one is to glimpse the humanity underlying the stylized and florid forms of bel canto opera. He is a singer to watch. Rossini has Don Geronio’s wayward wife Fiorilla sing up a storm. Puerto Rican soprano Kresley Figueroa grasped the challenge enthusiastically, though she seemed somewhat less comfortable among the high coloratura passages that open the opera than in the warmly penitent change of heart that ends it. For me—but evidently not for some enthusiasts around me—her account fell short of conjuring up a fully rounded vocal or dramatic persona, which would have demanded more restraint, nuance and vocal warmth. Yet it is perhaps unrealistic to expect so much of a young singer who had performed this technically difficult and emotionally baffling role for the first time just a week before. The rest of the cast contributed solidly. Bass Vincent Graña, a company veteran, sang warmly though without Prince Selim’s pompous grandeur. Bass-baritone Hans Tashjian made an impression, but the role of this earnest poet is destined to seem understated no matter what. In the mezzo role of Zaida, the Long Island-raised and Texas trained Sabatina Mauro, still early in her career, got the notes right but seemed yet another oddly “underparted” singer whose natural Fach lies somewhere well beyond Rossini. Two light tenors, Max Alexander Cook as Don Narciso and David Freides as Albazar, dispatched their slightly awkward parts brightly if at times unevenly. The orchestra, led by charismatic primo violino Elisa Citterio assisted on cembalo by Derrick Goff, was rhythmically crisp and created appropriate Rossinian momentum. That being said, the singers were sometimes covered and the music was rarely allowed to breathe naturally , sapping the natural elegance Stendahl describes as a hallmark of this work. * * * Overall, however, these performances cement Teatro Nuovo’s position as one of New York’s indispensable arts organizations. The company consistently takes risks and delivers exciting opera. Its large and multi-generational audiences include many musical professionals and opera lovers who—to judge from the conversations around me—attend other summer opera festivals across the US and Europe. They signaled their approval of both performances with enthusiastic standing ovations. Andrew Moravcsik Il Don Giovanni (Dramma Buffo in two acts) Composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756~1791) Libretto: Lorenzo da Ponte U.S. Premiere: 23 May 1826, Park Theatre, New York Ricardo José Rivera, Don Giovanni; Elizabeth Novella, Donna Anna; Martin Luther Clark, Don Ottavio; Daniel Mobbes, Il Commendatore; Sedona Libero, Donna Elvira; Kevin Spooner, Leporello; Simona Genga, Zerlina; Noah B. Rogers, Masetto. Teatro Nuovo Chorus and Orchestra; Geoffrey Loff, Maestro al Cembalo e Direttore. Sung in Italian with English supertitles by Luigi da Ponte. Rose Theater, Jazz at Lincoln Center, New York, 15 July 2026. Il Turco in Italia (Opera Buffa in two acts) Composed by Giacchino Rossini Libretto by Felice Romani U.S. Premiere: 14 March 1826, Park Theatre, New York Vincent Graña, Selim; Kresley Figueroa, Donna Fiorilla; Mattia Venni, Don Geronio; Max Alexander Cook, Don Narciso; Hans Tashjian, Prosdocimo; Sabatina Mauro, Zaida; David Freides, Albazar. Teatro Nuovo Chorus and Orchestra, Elisa Citterio, Primo Violino e Capo d’Orchestra; Derrick Goff, Maestro al Cembalo. Rose Theater, Jazz at Lincoln Center, New York, 16 July 2026. Top image: Ricardo José Rivera as Don Giovanni and Kevin Spooner as Leporello_ All photos by Steven Pisano