The Gazette, Le vendredi 17 juin 1988

Aida lives up to promise

Shunting aside for the moment the rather crucial question of whether last night's grand and stupendous production of Aida at Olympic Stadium could properly be identified with the genre we call opera, one can safely say that the Big O Aida delivered all the entertainment value it promised.

It also surprised those in the audience who expected the score of Verdi's great opera to bounce aimlessly around the bleachers while camels, firepots and body-suited ballerinas vied for the crowd's attention.

Trouble spots

To be sure, an echo remained, and proved more than a little distressing during the dramatic trio when Radames (tenor Nicola Martinucci), Amneris (mezzo Ruza Pospis-Baldani) and Aida (soprano Katia Ricciarelli) begin to get an idea of who fancies whom.

And there were clearly a few trouble spots on the spot-miked stage that soloists entered at their peril.

But from the beginning of the second scene, the sound clarified enough not to get in the way of a worry-free appreciation of the performance.

And surprisingly, singers, musicians and even extras remained in satisfyingly tense accord with the crisp beat of conductor Giusseppe Raffa.

However, "good sound" is not likely to be the remark on the lips of the thousands of apparently satisfied patrons who crammed the stadium to the rafters.

This Aida was a resplendent spectacle that relished the celebrated Triumphal March of Act 2 with gloriously hedonistic excess.

There were cavils worth expressing - concerning, for example, the circus-act treatment of the five elephants that merely detracted from the thrilling grandeur of the scene.

But director Mauro Bolognini can also take credit for some unexpected master-strockes.

Rarely has the entry of the Ethiopian prisoners evoked as much pathos. Almost everywhere the choreography was superb.

Real poignancy

The big-name cast did not disappoint. After a somewhat reserved start, Ricciarelli blossomed into a character of real poignancy.

Yet another surprise for the sceptics was the extent to which the intimate soliloquies seemed intimate, the personal dialogues genuinely personal.

In short, worth the high ticket prices, regardless of the extent to which it does or does not resemble opera as we know it.