Giuseppe Verdi
Don Carlo

One of the greatest turning points in the history of opera occurred when a certain Pietro Mascagni emerged from nowhere, triumphing with a one-hour something operetta, based on a story by Giovanni Verga and, consequently, making it clear to everyone that kings, queens, princes, and more generally, all that corollary of lavish grandeur had outlived its time; there had been numerous other signs before, but Cavalleria Rusticana clearly and unequivocally marked the change of course. But this was in 1890 and, for at least sixty years (Robert le Diable - 1831), Grand Opera was considered the highest expression of lyrical theater; Verdi, surely attracted by the challenge of the "kolossal," ventured into it twice: first with I Vespri Siciliani (1855), in my opinion not among his best works, and then with Don Carlos / Don Carlo, which I would define as the last, ultimate masterpiece of the genre, and even if it is certainly much less familiar to the general public as a name compared to his other works, it's among the greatest heights of the Verdian repertoire. Before the vastness and dramatic weight of Don Carlos, one is left breathless, quite simply.

The Spanish Habsburg court of the 1500s, with all its dark affairs; wars, revolts, intrigues, arranged marriages, inquisition, etc., is the perfect setting for a Grand Opera, but do not be fooled by the historical characters; the story (based on Schiller’s homonymous tragedy) is entirely fictionalized, the real Don Carlos was not at all the passionate and idealistic young man portrayed here, Rodrigo, Marquis of Posa, who in the vast Verdian baritone repertoire stands out for his lyricism and nobility, is an altogether fictional character, and so on, but after all, opera and historical accuracy are scarcely if at all compatible. Anyway, the Don Carlos as we know it today was born from a rather troubled process: originally presented in Paris in 1867, in French and in five acts, only in 1884 did the first Italian version arrive, with the (criminal) elimination of the first act, fortunately restored two years later, with the "definitive" version, albeit still trimmed in some places compared to the original; above all, that glorious quarter-hour that is the ballet "La Peregrina", and a Grand Opera without a ballet is like a cake without a cherry: it can be done without, and Don Carlos remains sublime, yet...

One thing that distinguishes Don Carlos from the rest of Verdi's productions are those solemn orchestral preludes that introduce the most significant arias, enormously enhancing them: "Carlo, il sommo imperatore", "Ella giammai m'amò", "O don fatale", "Tu che le vanità", and let us add the chilling leitmotif of the dialogue between Philip II and the great inquisitor: a Wagnerian solution, just think of the ride that precedes "Dich, teure halle" in Tannhauser, which Verdi, in his own way, uses masterfully. In the absence of the ballet, the role of "divertissement" and colorful intermezzo entirely belongs to the great scene of Princess Eboli, or rather the choral and concert introduction "Sotto i folti, immensi abeti" and the aria "Nel giardin del bello saracin ostello", also known as the Song of the Veil, a scenically sumptuous and genuinely inspired episode by Moorish elements in traditional Spanish music, in the melody and especially the vocalizations. The Song of the Veil also shows that in this phase of his career, Verdi uses the chorus in a different way compared to Nabucco or Macbeth, making it stand out with integration into soloists' episodes rather than as a standalone element; another monumental example in this sense is "Carlo, il sommo imperatore", a choral aria following the "La vergine degli angeli" from his previous opera, La Forza del Destino, but with a much more solemn and hieratic connotation.

Curiously, Carlos and Posa, together with Elisabeth, the tragic heroes of this opera, do not have grand arias like the other main characters; they have to "settle" for noble romances like "Io la vidi e al suo sorriso" (Carlos, first act) and "Io morrò ma lieto in core" (Posa, fourth act), but this Verdian behemoth is much more than a superb parade of "showpieces": the foundations are solid, both musically and dramatically: the complex dynamics of the Carlos-Elisabeth and Carlos-Posa relationships are impeccably conveyed in duets charged with pathos and emotional tension. And here Verdi is so inspired, profound, and effective that he even manages to evoke genuine empathy, at least in the fourth act, for the at the end despotic yet weak Philip II who, at the end of the monumental scene with the grand inquisitor, concludes with a frustrated, desperate "Dunque il trono piegar dovrà sempre all'altare!"; shortly after, in Aida, Amneris will reiterate the concept in a much more explicit way ("Ne di sangue son paghi giammai, e si chiaman ministri del ciel!")

Ultimately, the dramatic effectiveness of Don Carlos rests on the already lost battle of the "heroes" (Carlos, Posa, Elisabeth) against overwhelmingly negative forces, a traditionally romantic concept, not innovative but after all we are talking about a bastion of the nineteenth-century romantic opera; in the background, the political dynamics between constitutionalism/liberalism (Posa), absolutism (Philip II), and ecclesiastical power (grand inquisitor) and in this, the Schillerian/Verdian perspective is decidedly modern. In short, it's three and a half to four truly dense, dense, dense hours depending on the version, in which characters who today are little more than portraits and faded historical notions come to life authentically, shaped by a literally inflamed Verdi; what more could you ask for?