Showing posts with label Gran Teatre del Liceu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gran Teatre del Liceu. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Barcelona - The Sleeping Beauty - Tchaikovsky - Bolshoi Ballet - Nikolai Tsiskaridze - Jun /Jul 2000




























More than twenty-five years ago, in the summer of 2000, the visit of the Bolshoi Ballet to Barcelona’s Gran Teatre del Liceu became an extraordinary artistic event. The production of The Sleeping Beauty was received with overwhelming enthusiasm, and the theatre responded with full houses and electrifying applause. It was, without doubt, a triumphant success — but what made it truly unforgettable was the exceptional cast the company brought with them.

The Bolshoi arrived not with a reduced touring ensemble, but with a constellation of its finest dancers, covering all principal and character roles with remarkable depth. The level was consistently world-class across all seven performances (June 27–30, July 1–2, 2000).

Below is a clear overview of the principal cast, with dates for each performer:


Principal Roles

  • Princess Aurora
    • Anna Antonicheva — June 27, 30; July 2
    • Svetlana Lunkina — June 28; July 1
    • Anastasia Goriacheva — June 29; July 1
  • Prince Désiré
    • Nikolai Tsiskaridze — June 27, 29; July 1, 2
    • Konstantin Ivanov — June 28, 30; July 1

Royal Court

  • King Florestan XXIV
    • Rinat Arifulin — All performances
  • Queen
    • Irina Dmitrieva — All performances

Key Characters

  • Carabosse
    • Gennadi Yanin — All performances
  • Lilac Fairy
    • Nina Speranskaya — June 27, 29; July 1, 2
    • Ekaterina Shipulina — June 28, 30; July 1
  • Catalabutte
    • Sergei Bobrov — All performances

Fairies (Variations & Jewels)

  • Fairy of Tenderness
    • Oksana Tsvetnitskaya — All performances
  • Fairy of Joy
    • Olga Suvorova — June 27, 29; July 1, 2
    • Marianna Rizhkina — June 28, 30; July 1
  • Fairy of Generosity / Gold Fairy
    • Natalia Malandina — All performances
  • Fairy of Harmony
    • Olga Zhurba — All performances
  • Fairy of Temperament / Diamond Fairy
    • Elena Andrienko — June 27, 29; July 1, 2
    • Marianna Rizhkina — June 28, 30; July 1
  • Sapphire Fairy
    • Ekaterina Shipulina — June 27, 29; July 1, 2
    • Nina Speranskaya — June 28, 30; July 1
  • Silver Fairy
    • Iulia Efimova — All performances

Act III Divertissements

  • Princess Florine
    • Marianna Rizhkina — June 27, 29; July 1, 2
    • Elena Andrienko — June 28, 30; July 1
  • Blue Bird
    • Yuri Klevtsov — June 27, 29; July 1, 2
    • Vladimir Neporozhni — June 28, 30; July 1
  • Puss in Boots / Prince Fortuné
    • Ruslan Pronin — All performances
  • Other featured roles
    • Vladimir Neporozhni, Igor Zakhardin, Alexei Popovtchenko — Princes
    • Elena Barikina — Duchess
    • Vyacheslav Golubin — Gallifron / The Wolf
    • Anna Ivanova — Little Red Riding Hood
    • Olga Suvorova — Cinderella
    • Elina Palshina — White Cat

What stood out above all was the presence of Nikolai Tsiskaridze, already a towering figure of the ballet world. His performances as Prince Désiré were the highlight of the run — technically flawless, dramatically compelling, and received with overwhelming admiration. Alongside him, the rotating Auroras and the richness of the supporting cast created a rare sense of depth: every performance offered a slightly different constellation of stars, yet maintained the same exceptional standard.

Even today, this level of casting feels remarkable. The Bolshoi did not simply tour — it showcased its full artistic power. That is why, decades later, these performances at the Liceu are still remembered not just as a success, but as a benchmark of excellence in classical ballet.

 A finales de junio del año 2000, el Gran Teatre del Liceu de Barcelona vivió uno de esos momentos que quedan grabados para siempre en la memoria cultural de la ciudad. La mítica compañía del Ballet del Teatro Bolshoi de Moscú desembarcó en el escenario barcelonés con una producción fastuosa de La bella durmiente, coreografiada originalmente por Marius Petipa sobre la inmortal música de Piotr Ilich Chaikovski, en la versión escénica de Yuri Grigoróvich. Fueron siete funciones —los días 27, 28, 29 y 30 de junio, y 1 y 2 de julio— que se convirtieron en un auténtico acontecimiento.

Barcelona recibió al Bolshoi en pleno verano con una expectación enorme, y la respuesta del público no pudo ser más entusiasta. El Liceu vibró de emoción ante una compañía que llegaba con todas sus grandes estrellas, desplegando un nivel artístico extraordinario en cada función.

En el reparto destacaban figuras de primer nivel. El Rey Florestan XXIV fue interpretado por Rinat Arifulin, acompañado por Irina Dmitrieva como la Reina. El papel de la Princesa Aurora —corazón del ballet— se alternó entre tres grandes bailarinas: Anna Antonitxeva (27, 30 de junio y 2 de julio), Svetlana Lunkina (28 de junio y 1 de julio) y Anastasia Goriatxeva (29 de junio y 1 de julio).

Como Príncipe Desiré brilló con especial intensidad Nikolai Tsiskaridze, quien bailó los días 27 y 29 de junio, y 1 y 2 de julio, consolidándose como la gran estrella de aquellas veladas. Su presencia escénica, técnica impecable y carisma lo confirmaron ante el público barcelonés como uno de los mejores bailarines del mundo. Alternó el papel con Konstantin Ivanov (28 y 30 de junio, y 1 de julio).

El resto del reparto completaba un conjunto de enorme riqueza artística: Sergei Bobrov como Catalabutte; Vladimir Neporozhni, Igor Zakhardin, Ruslan Pronin y Alexei Popovtchenko como los distintos príncipes; Elena Barikina como la Duquesa; y Viatcheslav Golubin en los roles de Gallifron y el Lobo.

Especial mención merece la imponente Carabosse de Gennadi Ianin y la figura protectora de la Fada de los Lilas, interpretada por Nina Speranskaya (27 y 29 de junio, 1 y 2 de julio) y Ekaterina Shipulina (28 y 30 de junio, 1 de julio). Las variaciones de las hadas reunieron a bailarinas como Oksana Tsvetnitskaya, Olga Suvorova, Marianna Rizhkina, Natalia Malandina, Olga Zhurba y Elena Andrienko, que aportaron brillo, precisión y elegancia a cada aparición.

En el tercer acto, el desfile de personajes de cuento —desde el Gato con Botas hasta Caperucita Roja, Cenicienta o el Pájaro Azul (interpretado por Yuri Klevtsov y Vladimir Neporozhni según la función)— añadió un carácter festivo y espectacular a la producción.

La dirección musical estuvo a cargo de Alexander Kopilov, al frente de la Orquesta Sinfónica del Gran Teatre del Liceu, mientras que la escenografía y el vestuario, obra de Simon Virsaladze, envolvían la escena en un lujo visual digno de la tradición del Bolshoi.

Han pasado más de veinticinco años desde aquellas noches de verano, pero el recuerdo sigue vivo. Fue más que una serie de funciones: fue un acontecimiento histórico, un encuentro entre dos grandes tradiciones culturales, un momento en el que Barcelona se convirtió en capital mundial del ballet.

Hoy, esta misma producción puede volver a verse en Moscú, interpretada por una nueva generación de estrellas. Sin embargo, quienes estuvieron allí saben que aquellos días en el Liceu fueron irrepetibles. Porque no solo se vio un gran ballet: se vivió una emoción colectiva que aún resuena en la memoria de la ciudad.


Monday, March 23, 2026

Barcelona - Manon Lescaut - Gran Teatre del Liceu - Askim Grigorian - Mar / Apr 2026


Manon Lescaut: The Birth of Puccini’s Genius and the Voice That Brought It to Life

Giacomo Puccini’s Manon Lescaut stands as the first fully mature and unmistakably personal statement of a composer who would soon redefine Italian opera. Premiered at the Teatro Regio in Turin on 1 February 1893, it marked not only his third opera, but his first overwhelming triumph—one that transformed his fortunes and firmly established his name across Italy.

The subject was not new. It had already inspired operas by Daniel-François Esprit Auber and, more famously, Jules Massenet. When warned about inevitable comparisons with the elegant French treatment, Puccini responded with characteristic conviction: “He will feel it the French way, with powder and minuets; I will feel it the Italian way, with desperate passion.” And indeed, Manon Lescaut emerged not as a rival, but as a revelation—imbued with raw emotional intensity, sweeping lyricism, and a dramatic urgency that would become Puccini’s hallmark.

At the heart of this triumph was not only the score, but the extraordinary soprano who embodied its heroine: Cesira Ferrani. Born in Turin in 1863, Ferrani was not chosen for sheer vocal power, but for something far rarer—her profound expressive sensitivity and her instinctive dramatic truth. Puccini sought a new kind of operatic artist, one aligned with the emerging verismo aesthetic: a singer who could live the role, not merely perform it.

Ferrani possessed exactly what he envisioned. Her voice, lyrical and refined, carried a natural warmth and flexibility, but it was her artistry that captivated him. She brought to Manon a delicate balance of youthful charm, elegance, and tragic depth. Her physical presence—slender, graceful, almost aristocratic—perfectly matched the fragile allure of the character. In her, Puccini found not just a performer, but the living incarnation of his musical imagination.

From their first encounter in late 1892, during the casting process, Puccini was deeply impressed. As rehearsals progressed, his admiration only grew. Ferrani’s interpretation at the premiere was nothing short of revelatory, and her success was inseparable from that of the opera itself. The triumph in Turin was unanimous and electrifying, reshaping the landscape of Italian opera and securing Puccini’s place within it.

So profound was his trust in her artistry that, three years later, he chose Ferrani again for another historic moment: she became the first Mimì in La bohème in 1896. His admiration was deeply personal; after their collaboration, he dedicated to her a photograph inscribed with gratitude, calling her his “true and splendid Mimì.”

Ferrani’s career extended beyond Puccini. She was admired for her interpretations of both Italian and French repertoire, and even ventured into Wagner, demonstrating remarkable versatility. Yet it is her collaboration with Puccini that secured her place in history. Unlike many singers of her time, her legacy is not defined by vocal grandeur alone, but by a modern sensibility—an artistry rooted in emotion, nuance, and truth. Early recordings from around 1903 still allow us to glimpse the voice that so deeply moved the composer.

Manon Lescaut quickly spread beyond Italy, reaching international stages, including the Metropolitan Opera in New York in 1907, where Puccini himself was present. Over time, the role has been interpreted by many of the greatest sopranos in history, each bringing her own voice to the passionate and tragic heroine. Yet the origin of its success remains inseparable from that first interpretation—the one that revealed the soul of the work.

Today, the opera continues to live and evolve on the world’s stages.

Current production at the Gran Teatre del Liceu (Barcelona):

Asmik Grigorian (Manon Lescaut), Iurii Samoilov (Lescaut), Ivan Gyngazov / Joshua Guerrero (Des Grieux), Donato Di Stefano (Geronte), Filip Filipović (Edmondo), among others.
Stage direction: Àlex Ollé
Musical direction: Josep Pons
Dates: 17, 20, 23, 26, 29 March and 1 April


Il trionfo di Manon Lescaut a Torino: la nascita del vero Puccini

Quando Giacomo Puccini decise di affrontare il soggetto di Manon Lescaut, lo fece con piena consapevolezza del rischio. Aveva ascoltato la Manon di Jules Massenet, già celebre in tutta Europa, e sapeva di confrontarsi con un modello raffinato e amatissimo. Ma la sua risposta fu netta, quasi programmatica: «Massenet la sente come un francese, con cipria e minuetti; io la sentirò come un italiano, con passione disperata.» In queste parole è racchiusa tutta la poetica della sua opera.

La scelta di Torino per la prima rappresentazione non fu casuale, ma frutto di una strategia lucida. Nel febbraio del 1893, infatti, il mondo musicale italiano viveva un momento cruciale: Giuseppe Verdi stava preparando alla Scala di Milano il suo Falstaff, destinato a diventare il suo testamento artistico. Debuttare a Milano in quei giorni avrebbe significato essere inevitabilmente oscurati. Torino, con il suo prestigioso Teatro Regio, offriva invece un palcoscenico ideale: colto, esigente, ma meno schiacciato dal peso della tradizione milanese.

Il 1º febbraio 1893, Manon Lescaut andò in scena al Teatro Regio di Torino. Fu un trionfo immediato e travolgente. Il pubblico accolse l’opera con entusiasmo straordinario, chiamando più volte Puccini sul palco — si parla di oltre venti chiamate — in una serata che segnò una svolta decisiva nella sua vita. Dopo le incertezze e il relativo insuccesso della sua opera precedente, Edgar, Puccini trovava finalmente la sua voce, imponendosi come il nuovo protagonista del melodramma italiano.

Quel successo non fu soltanto artistico, ma anche personale e simbolico. A Torino, Puccini conquistò la sua indipendenza economica e, soprattutto, il riconoscimento della critica e del pubblico. La stampa lo salutò come l’erede naturale di Verdi, proprio nei giorni in cui il grande maestro si preparava a lasciare la scena. Si creò così un passaggio di testimone quasi ideale: da un lato il tramonto del patriarca, dall’altro l’ascesa di una nuova sensibilità musicale.

Determinante fu anche l’interpretazione della prima protagonista, Cesira Ferrani, la cui sensibilità artistica e intensità drammatica diedero vita a una Manon profondamente moderna, lontana da ogni eleganza superficiale e immersa invece in una verità emotiva intensa e dolorosa. La sua interpretazione contribuì in modo decisivo al successo della serata, incarnando perfettamente quella “passione disperata” che Puccini aveva immaginato.

Lo stesso compositore, travolto dall’emozione, scrisse ai suoi familiari parole piene di entusiasmo e sollievo: «È stato un successo clamoroso… sono felice, molto felice. Ora sento di aver trovato la mia strada.» Anni dopo, ricordando quella sera, avrebbe parlato di Torino come del suo “battesimo di gloria”.

Con Manon Lescaut, Puccini non solo vinse la sfida con Massenet, ma riuscì a trasformare un soggetto già noto in qualcosa di nuovo, ardente e profondamente italiano. Da quella notte torinese, la sua carriera cambiò per sempre: non era più una promessa, ma una certezza.

“Manon Lescaut”: il Big Bang di Puccini e la nascita di un nuovo linguaggio operistico

Manon Lescaut non è soltanto un’opera di successo: è il vero punto di origine dell’universo artistico di Giacomo Puccini, il momento in cui un giovane compositore, ancora incerto dopo prove non del tutto convincenti, trova finalmente la propria voce e inaugura uno stile destinato a dominare la scena operistica mondiale per decenni.

L’idea di affrontare il soggetto nacque dopo aver conosciuto la Manon di Jules Massenet, già celebre e profondamente radicata nel gusto europeo. Puccini non si tirò indietro davanti al confronto, ma anzi lo trasformò in una dichiarazione estetica: «Massenet la sente come un francese, con cipria e minuetti; io la sentirò come un italiano, con passione disperata.» In questa frase si concentra tutta la distanza tra due mondi: da un lato l’eleganza settecentesca, dall’altro un teatro vibrante, carnale, emotivamente travolgente.

Il debutto avvenne il 1º febbraio 1893 al Teatro Regio di Torino, in un momento storico di straordinaria tensione artistica. L’Italia musicale viveva ancora all’ombra del gigante Giuseppe Verdi, che proprio in quei giorni stava preparando alla Scala il suo ultimo capolavoro, Falstaff. La scelta di Torino fu dunque strategica: evitare il confronto diretto con il “patriarca” e trovare uno spazio dove emergere con forza propria. Il Regio, con il suo pubblico colto e ricettivo, si rivelò il luogo ideale.

La sera della prima fu un trionfo clamoroso. Il pubblico esplose in un entusiasmo raramente visto, costringendo Puccini a tornare in scena decine di volte. Quel successo segnò una svolta irreversibile: non solo consacrò il compositore come il naturale erede di Verdi, ma ridisegnò l’intera geografia dell’opera italiana. Per la prima volta, Puccini appariva come una certezza, capace di unire istinto teatrale, ricchezza melodica e una nuova sensibilità drammatica.

Con Manon Lescaut nasce infatti il vero stile pucciniano. Le melodie si distendono con una naturalezza che sembra inevitabile, si imprimono nella memoria e toccano direttamente l’emozione dello spettatore. L’orchestrazione si fa più densa, moderna, attraversata da echi wagneriani ma perfettamente integrata nella tradizione italiana. Soprattutto, emerge quella capacità unica di Puccini di far vivere e soffrire i suoi personaggi, trasformando il teatro in esperienza emotiva totale.

La “passione disperata” evocata dal compositore trova la sua espressione più radicale nel quarto atto, ambientato in un deserto senza tempo e senza speranza. Qui la struttura operistica tradizionale si dissolve in una visione quasi allucinata, dove la tragedia si consuma in una dimensione assoluta, lontana da ogni convenzione. È un momento di rottura, che segna il passaggio verso una modernità teatrale nuova.

Fondamentale fu anche la nascita di un metodo creativo destinato a produrre capolavori: la collaborazione con i librettisti Luigi Illica e Giuseppe Giacosa, sotto la supervisione di Giulio Ricordi. Questo “laboratorio” artistico, affinato nel tempo, darà vita alle opere più celebri di Puccini: La bohème, Tosca, Madama Butterfly.

Il successo torinese ebbe anche conseguenze decisive sul piano personale. Grazie ai proventi dell’opera, Puccini conquistò finalmente l’indipendenza economica e poté acquistare la sua villa a Torre del Lago, sulle rive del lago di Massaciuccoli. Lì, lontano dalle pressioni delle città, tra caccia, natura e silenzio, nacquero quasi tutte le sue opere successive. Torino rimase per lui la città del trionfo e del lavoro, mentre la Toscana divenne il rifugio dell’anima e della creazione.

È importante ricordare che Puccini non visse stabilmente a Torino: vi soggiornava durante le prove, spesso in albergo, seguendo ogni dettaglio con perfezionismo quasi ossessivo. Tuttavia, il legame con il Teatro Regio fu profondo e duraturo. Qui trovò anche l’appoggio di un giovane direttore destinato a diventare leggendario: Arturo Toscanini, che pochi anni dopo avrebbe diretto la prima assoluta de La bohème.

Nel corso del tempo, Manon Lescaut è stata affidata alle più grandi soprano della storia, ciascuna portatrice di una visione diversa del personaggio. Maria Callas, pur lasciando una registrazione di riferimento per intensità psicologica, non interpretò mai il ruolo in scena, probabilmente per ragioni legate alla natura estremamente esigente della parte e al momento vocale delicato in cui affrontò l’incisione.

Due interpretazioni emblematiche del Novecento restano quelle di Renata Tebaldi e Mirella Freni, quasi opposte e complementari. Tebaldi, con la sua voce ampia e vellutata, incarnava una Manon di straordinaria nobiltà sonora, luminosa e sontuosa. Freni, al contrario, offriva una lettura più intima e umana: fragile, autentica, capace di una commozione profonda soprattutto nel tragico finale. Accanto a loro, altre grandi interpreti come Montserrat Caballé e Magda Olivero hanno contribuito a mantenere vivo il mito di questo ruolo.

Eppure, al di là delle interpretazioni successive, tutto riconduce a quel momento originario: la sera del 1º febbraio 1893 a Torino. Lì, tra l’entusiasmo del pubblico e la nascita di una nuova sensibilità musicale, Puccini trovò se stesso. Manon Lescaut non fu soltanto un’opera di successo: fu l’inizio di una rivoluzione.

Le voyage de Manon Lescaut: de Turin au monde

Après le triomphe éclatant du 1er février 1893 au Teatro Regio de Turin, Manon Lescaut ne resta pas longtemps un succès local. Grâce à l’intuition et à l’énergie de l’éditeur Giulio Ricordi, l’œuvre se transforma presque immédiatement en un phénomène international. En quelques mois à peine, elle franchit les frontières italiennes et entama une véritable conquête des grandes capitales musicales du monde.

Dès 1893, l’opéra s’impose à Madrid, au Teatro Real, où le public accueille avec enthousiasme cette nouvelle voix italienne, ardente et passionnée. La même année, l’œuvre traverse l’Atlantique et atteint Buenos Aires, au Teatro Ópera, à peine quatre mois après la première de Turin — signe de l’extraordinaire lien culturel entre l’Italie et l’Amérique du Sud. Rio de Janeiro suit rapidement, confirmant l’adhésion immédiate du public latino-américain.

L’année 1894 marque la consécration européenne. Milan, au Teatro alla Scala, temple absolu de l’opéra, devient le lieu de la confirmation définitive : Puccini y triomphe dans la ville même de Verdi. À Londres, au Covent Garden, l’accueil est tout aussi significatif : même George Bernard Shaw, critique redouté, reconnaît en Puccini le véritable héritier du maître italien. L’opéra se répand alors à Lisbonne (Teatro de São Carlos), à Prague, à Budapest, et jusque dans le sud de l’Italie, à Naples, où le Teatro San Carlo l’adopte avec ferveur.

Très vite, Manon Lescaut dépasse les frontières de l’Europe occidentale. Hambourg découvre l’œuvre dans une version allemande dirigée par un jeune Gustav Mahler, profondément impressionné. Moscou, Varsovie et Vienne accueillent à leur tour cette musique nouvelle, où se mêlent lyrisme italien et modernité orchestrale. À Nice, l’opéra pénètre enfin le territoire français, avant d’atteindre plus tard Paris — paradoxalement l’une des dernières grandes capitales à l’adopter, en raison de la fidélité au modèle de Massenet.

L’expansion est véritablement mondiale. L’œuvre est donnée à Athènes, à Smyrne, au Caire, à Mexico, à Santiago du Chili, puis revient avec éclat en Amérique du Nord. À New York, au Metropolitan Opera, en 1907, l’événement prend une dimension historique : Puccini lui-même traverse l’Atlantique pour assister à la représentation, malgré une traversée difficile retardée par une tempête. Il arrive à temps pour entendre Enrico Caruso et Lina Cavalieri incarner ses personnages — moment d’aboutissement pour une œuvre née quatorze ans plus tôt à Turin.

Car Puccini ne fut pas un compositeur sédentaire face au succès. Il accompagna Manon Lescaut dans son voyage à travers le monde, devenant l’un des premiers compositeurs véritablement « internationaux ». À Londres, à Budapest, à Vienne, à Paris, il assiste aux répétitions, corrige les tempi, conseille les chanteurs, veille à l’équilibre de l’orchestre et à la vérité dramatique de la scène. À Budapest, le public enthousiaste exige même le bis de l’Intermezzo. À Paris, en 1910, il supervise personnellement une production dirigée par Arturo Toscanini, scellant enfin la reconnaissance française de son œuvre.

En moins d’une décennie, Manon Lescaut avait conquis presque tous les continents — un destin exceptionnel pour un compositeur encore jeune. Mais pour Puccini, ce succès mondial n’était pas seulement une victoire artistique : il portait une signification intime. Dans chaque théâtre, dans chaque ville, il retrouvait l’écho de cette première nuit à Turin, ce « baptême de gloire » qui avait changé sa vie.

Il dira plus tard, avec une émotion sincère, que cette œuvre restait la plus chère à son cœur : parce qu’elle fut la plus passionnée, la plus tourmentée, et celle qui lui donna à la fois la souffrance de la création et la joie éclatante du triomphe. Ainsi, de Turin à New York, de Madrid au Caire, Manon Lescaut ne fut pas seulement un succès international : elle fut le voyage même de Puccini vers la légende.





Sunday, February 1, 2026

Barcelona - Historic Teatre Principal












Teatre Principal,  Barcelona ,  April 16 , 1876 


The first performance of Aida in Barcelona was on April 16, 1876 at the Teatro Principal. The premiere at the rival theater, the Gran Teatre del Liceu, was months later, on February 25, 1877.

For decades, Barcelona lived a true operatic passion divided between two worlds.

Two theaters, two audiences, two ways of understanding society and prestige: the historic Teatro Principal and the young, modern, and dazzling Gran Teatre del Liceu.

The Principal was the ancient, venerable temple, steeped in centuries of music. Its gilded boxes, warm chandeliers, and intimate atmosphere had witnessed the birth of opera in Spain. There, Mozart, Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini had first reached Spanish audiences. For many Barcelona families, going to the Principal was not just attending a performance: it was continuing a tradition inherited from generations.

But when the Liceu opened its doors, everything changed.

Larger, more lavish, with spectacular halls and dazzling architecture, the Liceu quickly became the place to be. The upper industrial bourgeoisie, the nouveau riche, and the most ostentatious members of the aristocracy began to favor it. There, one could see and be seen.

In the cafés of La Rambla and in private salons, the conversation was:

— “Are you going to the Liceu tonight?”

— “Of course, the Principal is a thing of the past…”

And yet, the past lived on.

Because the Teatro Principal still possessed something the Liceu couldn't buy: history, musical prestige, and an incomparable operatic tradition.

For years, the two societies coexisted almost like two opposing camps. There were the Principal's loyal patrons—lovers of pure opera, of memory, of art—and the new devotees of the Liceu—seduced by the social glamour, the grand spaces, and the modernity.

And then came the night that no one would ever forget.

The night of Aida.

Verdi was already the most admired composer in Europe, and Aida was considered the grandest opera ever created: monumental, exotic, profoundly human, and musically sublime. Everything indicated that its Barcelona premiere should take place at the Liceu, the theater favored by the elegant society of those years.

But the unthinkable happened.

It was the Teatro Principal that secured the premiere.

That decision was almost a historical provocation.

Imagine the city buzzing with rumors. Carriages gliding along La Rambla. Ladies in silk and lace gowns, gentlemen in tailcoats, some proud to be at the Principal, others displeased at not being at the Liceu.

"How is it possible that Aida isn't premiering at the Liceu?"

"Because the Principal remains the true opera house," its defenders responded.

And when the lights of the grand gilded auditorium rose, when the enormous chandelier illuminated the red boxes filled with an elegant audience, the Teatro Principal reclaimed its crown for one night—and forever.

From the stage, the theater must have seemed like a living palace: tiered floors of gold and velvet, attentive faces, eyes shining with emotion. Not overcrowded, but brimming with refined life, allowing one to appreciate every box, every architectural detail.

And then the first notes of Aida rang out.

Barcelona understood that it was witnessing history.

The Liceu could be bigger.

It could be more modern.

But the Teatro Principal had just proven that it was still the operatic heart of the city.

Later would come Wagner, the great international singers, Adelina Patti, Tamberlick… but that night of Aida was etched in memory as a glorious victory of the old theater over its younger rival.

Over the years, the balance slowly tipped toward the Liceu. Elegant society eventually transformed it into Barcelona's grand operatic temple, while the Principal gradually lost its prominence until it became a theater of spoken dialogue.

But no one could erase its legacy.

Opera in Spain was born there.

There, Mozart's music was first heard. There, Verdi triumphantly entered with his most legendary work.

And although the theater no longer exists as it once did, its spirit lives on in photographs, memories, and these recreated images that allow us to relive those magical nights.

Nights of music, rivalry, elegance, and passion.

Nights in which Barcelona's operatic history was decided between two theaters…

and in which the old Teatro Principal, at least once, shone as the greatest of them all.

The Teatre Principal of Barcelona possesses a fascinating and extraordinarily long history. It is not only the oldest theatre in Barcelona, but the oldest in all of Spain, and one of the oldest in Europe and even in the world.

Let us focus especially on its operatic life — the aspect that fascinates me the most — and on its famous rivalry with its neighbour, the Gran Teatre del Liceu.

Briefly, let us recall its origins. Construction began in 1596, and shortly afterwards artistic life already flourished on La Rambla within this historic building. For centuries it stood as the great cultural heart of the city.

But let us move forward in time — to the era when the Teatro Principal was the true operatic centre of Barcelona.

From 1735 onward, the theatre regularly hosted opera and ballet performances. As the most important and largest theatre in the city at the time, all major operatic premieres in Barcelona — and often in Spain itself — took place here.

Mozart’s Così fan tutte was heard for the first time in Spain in this very theatre, long before reaching Valencia or Madrid. And so it was with countless new works arriving from France, Italy, and Germany.

Rossini was heard here shortly after his operas triumphed in Italy. His famous The Barber of Seville was performed for the first time in Barcelona at the Teatro Principal in 1819, along with many of his other operas.

Mercadante — sadly almost forgotten today — was extremely popular throughout Europe in those years. His opera Elisa e Claudio was premiered here with tremendous success, followed by many more of his works.




















Donizetti could not be absent from this glorious story. His first opera heard here was L’ajo nell’imbarazzo in 1828.

Bellini followed shortly after, in 1830, with Bianca e Fernando.

One must especially highlight Anna Bolena, Donizetti’s masterpiece, which was performed here in 1835 with enormous success. This very opera would later be chosen, twelve years afterward, to inaugurate the new rival theatre — the Gran Teatre del Liceu.

On April 17, the Liceu opened its doors with Anna Bolena, conducted by Marià Obiols and featuring a distinguished cast led by Giovanna Rossi-Caccia — a Catalan singer of Italian mother who was greatly admired at the time — alongside Carlotta Maironi, Manuel Renou, and Andrea Castellan.

It was a magnificent social event — and the beginning of a delicate rivalry.

Barcelona now had two great opera houses: the Teatro Principal and the Liceu.

The Liceu was larger, more dazzling, more spectacular — with greater capacity, more boxes, grand salons, and an architecture that dazzled the eye. Gradually, Barcelona’s high society, the aristocracy, and many opera lovers began to frequent the Liceu more often, leaving the Teatro Principal behind.

Yet for many years both theatres flourished beautifully. Each had its own subscribers, orchestras, productions, and even world premieres.

Amazingly, the Teatro Principal premiered Aida by Verdi in Barcelona — despite the Liceu already being the fashionable opera house of the elite. Logically, one might have expected such a monumental work to open at the Liceu, but history chose otherwise, and the Teatro Principal forever holds the honour of having presented Aida first in the city.

Wagner, too, was first heard here in Barcelona, with Lohengrin.

Great voices graced its stage: Enrico Tamberlick — the legendary Don Alvaro of La forza del destino in Saint Petersburg — sang here, and the incomparable Adelina Patti, Verdi’s favourite soprano, performed at the Teatro Principal rather than at the Liceu.

The auditorium itself, though not as vast as the Liceu, was exquisite — adorned with elegant tiers of boxes, glowing with warm light, filled with refined audiences in silk gowns and formal attire. For centuries, before the Liceu existed, it was without question the finest opera house in Spain — a jewel of beauty, acoustics, and prestige.

As more theatres opened across Barcelona, competition increased. Slowly, the Liceu became the city’s primary operatic temple, while the Teatro Principal gradually slipped into second place. Eventually, it transformed into a spoken theatre, while opera and ballet became exclusive to the Liceu.

The list of operas first heard here is astonishing.

Gluck’s masterpiece Orfeo ed Euridice was performed here for the first time in Spain in 1780.

The first Mozart opera ever heard in Spain was performed here in 1790 — while Mozart himself was still alive — once again Così fan tutte.

Anna Bolena, though first performed in Barcelona at the Teatro Principal, had already been heard in Madrid, and therefore was not an absolute Spanish premiere.

However, Verdi’s very first opera, Oberto, was performed in Spain for the first time in this theatre, only three years after its premiere at La Scala in Milan.

















With the passing of time, the theatre eventually closed. At the end of the 20th century it reopened briefly and even hosted opera performances once more — I personally attended one of them — but sadly it closed again.

Today it remains shut.

Let us hope that one day it will reopen, return to life, and recover the splendour it once knew — the stage where centuries of music, voices, passion, and history once illuminated Barcelona.

Barcelona's Teatro Principal wasn't just a building: it was a universe of music, light, and life.

For centuries, it was the beating heart of opera in Spain, a place where the city breathed art and where European music found one of its first great Iberian voices.

Built in 1596 at the end of the 16th century on the Rambla, already vibrant with movement and humanity, the theater grew along with Barcelona. Long before the Liceu existed, the Teatro Principal was already a cathedral of opera. From 1735 onward, its opera and ballet seasons transformed the city into a musical capital.

The interior, while not as vast as that of the future Liceu, was dazzlingly beautiful: stacked tiers of gilded boxes, deep red velvet, warm lights shimmering on the decorations, and a grand chandelier that resembled a crystal waterfall suspended in the theater's ceiling.

From their seats and boxes, ladies in silk gowns and gentlemen in tailcoats gazed at the stage in a silence filled with emotion, aware that they were witnessing something unique.

It was here that Spain first heard Mozart, when Così fan tutte resounded in 1790 during the composer's lifetime.

It was here that Rossini conquered Barcelona with The Barber of Seville in 1819.

It was here that Mercadante achieved triumphs now almost forgotten with Elisa and Claudio.

Donizetti arrived in 1828, Bellini in 1830, and in 1835, Anna Bolena exploded into extraordinary success.

That same Anna Bolena would later inaugurate the new rival, the Gran Teatre del Liceu, twelve years later. From then on, the city had two great temples of opera.

The Liceu was larger, more modern, more sumptuous—and slowly attracted Barcelona's high society. But the Teatro Principal never ceased to be glorious.

Here, Barcelona saw Verdi's Aida for the first time.

Here, it heard Wagner perform Lohengrin.

Here, giants like Enrico Tamberlick and the legendary Adelina Patti, Verdi's favorite soprano, sang.

Imagining a premiere at the Teatro Principal—perhaps even for Aida—is like entering a living painting.

From the stage, the gaze takes in a sea of ​​faces illuminated by the chandelier. The gilded boxes shine like molten gold, the red velvets envelop the room in a warm embrace, and the air vibrates with anticipation.

Not a chaotic crowd, but an elegant, composed, present audience—every box filled, every order alive, every gaze directed toward the music.

For decades, this theater was the soul of opera in Spain.

Then, slowly, time changed everything. New theaters, new habits, new fashions. The Liceu became the operatic hub, while the Principal faded into the background, eventually becoming a theater for plays.

Eventually, it closed.

At the end of the 20th century, it reopened briefly—and even opera returned for a moment. I myself attended one of those evenings, like a final farewell to a sleeping giant. Then, silence again.

Today, the Teatro Principal no longer exists as a temple of opera.

But thanks to photographs, memories, and now even recreated images, we can bring it back to life.

We can see it again from the stage:











the illuminated boxes, the ladies dressed in 19th-century fashion, the great chandelier lit, the audience waiting for the orchestra to strike the first notes.

A tribute not only to a building, but to centuries of music, emotion, and beauty.

And who knows—perhaps one day, Barcelona will once again fully honor this theater that, before anyone else, taught the city to love opera.

Il Teatro Principal di Barcellona non era semplicemente un edificio: era un universo di musica, luce e vita.
Per secoli fu il cuore pulsante dell’opera in Spagna, un luogo dove la città respirava arte e dove l’Europa musicale trovava una delle sue prime grandi voci iberiche.

Costruito alla fine del XVI secolo, nel 1596, sulla Rambla già vibrante di movimento e umanità, il teatro crebbe insieme a Barcellona. Molto prima che il Liceu esistesse, il Principal era già una cattedrale della lirica. Dal 1735 in poi, le sue stagioni d’opera e balletto trasformarono la città in una capitale musicale.

L’interno, pur non vasto come quello del futuro Liceu, era di una bellezza abbagliante: ordini sovrapposti di palchi dorati, velluti rossi profondi, luci calde che scintillavano sulle decorazioni, e un grande lampadario che sembrava una cascata di cristallo sospesa nel cielo del teatro.

Dalle poltrone e dai palchi, dame in abiti di seta e signori in frac osservavano il palcoscenico con un silenzio carico di emozione, consapevoli di assistere a qualcosa di unico.

Fu qui che la Spagna ascoltò per la prima volta Mozart, quando Così fan tutte risuonò nel 1790 mentre il compositore era ancora in vita.
Fu qui che Rossini conquistò Barcellona con Il barbiere di Siviglia nel 1819.
Fu qui che Mercadante con Elisa e Claudio ottenne trionfi oggi quasi dimenticati.
Donizetti arrivò nel 1828, Bellini nel 1830, e nel 1835 Anna Bolena esplose in un successo straordinario.

Quella stessa Anna Bolena avrebbe poi inaugurato il nuovo rivale, il Gran Teatre del Liceu, dodici anni più tardi. Da quel momento, la città ebbe due grandi templi dell’opera.

Il Liceu era più grande, più moderno, più sontuoso — e lentamente attirò l’alta società barcellonese. Ma il Principal non smise mai di essere glorioso.

Qui Barcellona vide per la prima volta Aida di Verdi.
Qui ascoltò Wagner con Lohengrin.
Qui cantarono giganti come Enrico Tamberlick e la leggendaria Adelina Patti, la soprano prediletta da Verdi.

Immaginare una sera di prima al Teatro Principal — magari proprio per Aida — è come entrare in un dipinto vivente.
Dal palcoscenico, lo sguardo abbraccia un mare di volti illuminati dal lampadario. I palchi dorati brillano come oro fuso, i velluti rossi avvolgono la sala in un caldo abbraccio, e l’aria vibra di attesa.

Non una folla caotica, ma un pubblico elegante, composto, presente — ogni palco abitato, ogni ordine vivo, ogni sguardo rivolto verso la musica.

Per decenni, questo teatro fu l’anima dell’opera in Spagna.

Poi, lentamente, il tempo cambiò tutto. Nuovi teatri, nuove abitudini, nuove mode. Il Liceu divenne il riferimento lirico, mentre il Principal scivolò in secondo piano, fino a trasformarsi in teatro di prosa.

Alla fine chiuse.

Alla fine del XX secolo riaprì brevemente — e persino l’opera tornò per un istante. Io stesso ho assistito a una di quelle serate, come un ultimo saluto a un gigante addormentato. Poi di nuovo il silenzio.

Oggi il Teatro Principal non esiste più come tempio della lirica.
Ma grazie alle fotografie, ai ricordi, e ora anche alle immagini ricreate, possiamo restituirgli vita.

Possiamo tornare a vederlo dal palcoscenico:
i palchi illuminati, le dame vestite alla moda ottocentesca, il grande lampadario acceso, il pubblico in attesa che l’orchestra attacchi le prime note.

Un omaggio non solo a un edificio, ma a secoli di musica, emozione e bellezza.

E chissà — forse un giorno Barcellona saprà ancora onorare pienamente questo teatro che, prima di tutti, insegnò alla città ad amare l’opera.

Le Teatro Principal de Barcelone n'était pas qu'un simple bâtiment : c'était un univers de musique, de lumière et de vie.

Pendant des siècles, il fut le cœur battant de l'opéra en Espagne, un lieu où la ville respirait l'art et où la musique européenne trouva l'une de ses premières grandes voix ibériques.

Construit en 1596, à la fin du XVIe siècle, sur les Ramblas, déjà vibrantes de mouvement et d'humanité, le théâtre grandit au rythme de Barcelone. Bien avant l'existence du Liceu, le Teatro Principal était déjà une cathédrale de l'opéra. À partir de 1735, ses saisons d'opéra et de ballet transformèrent la ville en capitale musicale.

L'intérieur, bien que moins vaste que celui du futur Liceu, était d'une beauté éblouissante : des loges dorées superposées, du velours rouge profond, des lumières chaudes qui scintillaient sur les décorations et un grand lustre qui ressemblait à une cascade de cristal suspendue au plafond du théâtre.

Depuis leurs sièges et leurs loges, dames en robes de soie et messieurs en queue-de-pie contemplaient la scène dans un silence empli d'émotion, conscients d'assister à un moment unique.

C'est ici que l'Espagne entendit Mozart pour la première fois, lorsque Così fan tutte résonna en 1790, du vivant du compositeur.

C'est ici que Rossini conquit Barcelone avec Le Barbier de Séville en 1819.

C'est ici que Mercadante connut des triomphes aujourd'hui presque oubliés avec Elisa et Claudio.

Donizetti arriva en 1828, Bellini en 1830, et en 1835, Anna Bolena connut un succès fulgurant.

Cette même Anna Bolena inaugurera douze ans plus tard le nouveau rival, le Gran Teatre del Liceu. Dès lors, la ville possédait deux grands temples de l'opéra.

Le Liceu était plus grand, plus moderne, plus somptueux – et attira peu à peu la haute société barcelonaise. Mais le Teatro Principal n'a jamais cessé de briller.

C'est ici que Barcelone a vu pour la première fois Aida de Verdi.

C'est ici qu'elle a entendu Wagner interpréter Lohengrin.

C'est ici que des géants comme Enrico Tamberlick et la légendaire Adelina Patti, la soprano préférée de Verdi, ont chanté.

Imaginer une première au Teatro Principal – peut-être même pour Aida – c'est comme entrer dans un tableau vivant.

Depuis la scène, le regard embrasse une mer de visages illuminés par le lustre. Les loges dorées brillent comme de l'or en fusion, les velours rouges enveloppent la salle d'une douce étreinte et l'air vibre d'impatience.

Non pas une foule chaotique, mais un public élégant, serein et attentif – chaque loge est occupée, chaque salle est animée, chaque regard est tourné vers la musique.

Pendant des décennies, ce théâtre a été l'âme de l'opéra en Espagne.

Puis, lentement, le temps a tout changé. De nouveaux théâtres, de nouvelles habitudes, de nouvelles modes. Le Liceu devint le centre névralgique de l'opéra, tandis que le Principal tomba dans l'oubli, se transformant peu à peu en théâtre.

Finalement, il ferma ses portes.

À la fin du XXe siècle, il rouvrit brièvement – ​​et même l'opéra y fit son retour, l'espace d'un instant. J'ai moi-même assisté à une représentation d'opéra, comme un dernier adieu à un géant endormi. Puis, le silence retomba.

Aujourd'hui, le Teatro Principal n'est plus un temple de l'opéra.

Mais grâce aux photographies, aux souvenirs, et même aux reconstitutions, nous pouvons lui redonner vie.

Nous pouvons le revoir depuis la scène :

les loges illuminées, les dames vêtues à la mode du XIXe siècle, le grand lustre étincelant, le public attendant les premières notes de l'orchestre.

Un hommage non seulement à un bâtiment, mais à des siècles de musique, d'émotion et de beauté.

Et qui sait – peut-être qu'un jour, Barcelone rendra pleinement hommage à ce théâtre qui, avant tout autre, a appris à la ville à aimer l'opéra.

El Teatro Principal de Barcelona no era solo un edificio: era un universo de música, luz y vida.

Durante siglos, fue el corazón palpitante de la ópera en España, un lugar donde la ciudad respiraba arte y donde la música europea encontró una de sus primeras grandes voces ibéricas.

Construido en 1596 a finales del siglo XVI en la Rambla, ya vibrante de movimiento y humanidad, el teatro creció junto con Barcelona. Mucho antes de la existencia del Liceu, el Teatro Principal ya era una catedral de la ópera. A partir de 1735, sus temporadas de ópera y ballet transformaron la ciudad en una capital musical.

El interior, aunque no tan vasto como el del futuro Liceu, era de una belleza deslumbrante: hileras de palcos dorados, terciopelo rojo intenso, luces cálidas que brillaban sobre la decoración y una gran lámpara de araña que parecía una cascada de cristal suspendida en el techo del teatro.

Desde sus asientos y palcos, damas con vestidos de seda y caballeros con frac contemplaban el escenario en un silencio cargado de emoción, conscientes de estar presenciando algo único.

Fue aquí donde España escuchó por primera vez a Mozart, cuando Così fan tutte resonó en 1790, durante la vida del compositor.

Fue aquí donde Rossini conquistó Barcelona con El barbero de Sevilla en 1819.

Fue aquí donde Mercadante alcanzó triunfos ahora casi olvidados con Elisa y Claudio.

Donizetti llegó en 1828, Bellini en 1830, y en 1835, Anna Bolena arrasó con un éxito extraordinario.

Esa misma Anna Bolena inauguraría el nuevo rival, el Gran Teatre del Liceu, doce años después. A partir de entonces, la ciudad contó con dos grandes templos de la ópera.

El Liceu era más grande, más moderno, más suntuoso, y poco a poco atrajo a la alta sociedad barcelonesa. Pero el Teatro Principal nunca dejó de ser glorioso. Aquí, Barcelona vio por primera vez Aida de Verdi. Aquí, escuchó a Wagner interpretar Lohengrin. Aquí, cantaron gigantes como Enrico Tamberlick y la legendaria Adelina Patti, la soprano favorita de Verdi.

Imaginar un estreno en el Teatro Principal —quizás incluso para Aida— es como entrar en un cuadro viviente.

Desde el escenario, la mirada se posa en un mar de rostros iluminados por la lámpara de araña. Los palcos dorados brillan como oro fundido, los terciopelos rojos envuelven la sala en un cálido abrazo y el aire vibra de expectación.

No una multitud caótica, sino un público elegante, sereno y presente: cada palco lleno, cada orden vivo, cada mirada dirigida hacia la música.

Durante décadas, este teatro fue el alma de la ópera en España.

Luego, poco a poco, el tiempo lo cambió todo. Nuevos teatros, nuevas costumbres, nuevas modas. El Liceu se convirtió en el centro neurálgico de la ópera, mientras que el Principal quedó relegado a un segundo plano, convirtiéndose finalmente en un teatro de obras. Finalmente, cerró.

A finales del siglo XX, reabrió brevemente, e incluso la ópera regresó por un momento. Yo mismo asistí a una de esas veladas, como una despedida final a un gigante dormido. Luego, de nuevo, silencio.

Hoy, el Teatro Principal ya no existe como templo de la ópera.

Pero gracias a fotografías, recuerdos e incluso imágenes recreadas, podemos revivirlo.

Podemos verlo de nuevo desde el escenario: los palcos iluminados, las damas vestidas a la moda del siglo XIX, la gran lámpara encendida, el público esperando a que la orquesta diera las primeras notas.

Un homenaje no solo a un edificio, sino a siglos de música, emoción y belleza.

Y quién sabe, quizás algún día Barcelona vuelva a honrar plenamente a este teatro que, antes que nadie, enseñó a la ciudad a amar la ópera.


Monday, October 27, 2025

Barcelona - Roberto Alagna - 30th October 2025

 

🎶 A Night of Puccini: Roberto Alagna in Barcelona

30 October – A Celebration of Passion, Melody, and the Eternal Voice of Puccini

There are certain artists whose very presence transforms the air around them — who carry within their voice the light and shadow of the human heart. Roberto Alagna is one of those rare stars. Charismatic, deeply expressive, and endowed with a voice that blends golden warmth and Mediterranean fire, he has conquered every great stage of the world — from the Metropolitan Opera to La Scala.

I first saw him many years ago, singing Massenet’s Werther at the Capitole Theatre in Toulouse. His performance was unforgettable — tender, vulnerable, incandescent. Later, in Bizet’s Carmen alongside the remarkable Béatrice Uria-Monzon, his Don José was both tragic and passionate, the portrait of a man consumed by love. Since then, I have followed his journey through the world’s opera houses, always mesmerised by the sincerity and truth he brings to every phrase.

Now, he returns to us in Barcelona, offering a recital entirely devoted to Giacomo Puccini, the composer whose music is the very language of emotion. This evening promises to be an ode to love, longing, and beauty — a celebration of Puccini’s genius, illuminated by the golden voice of one of the greatest tenors of our time.


🌹 Torna ai felici dìLe Villi (1884)

Puccini’s very first opera, Le Villi, already reveals his instinct for melody and drama. “Torna ai felici dì” (“Return to the happy days”) is sung by Roberto, a man tormented by guilt and grief. It demands both lyrical control and dramatic intensity — a perfect opening for Alagna, whose voice can move effortlessly from whispering nostalgia to passionate despair. The aria’s lines rise like sighs, filled with the aching regret of lost love.


🔥 Orgia, chimera dall’occhio vitreoEdgar (1889)

From Puccini’s rarely performed Edgar, this aria captures the restless spirit of its hero, torn between sacred and profane love. The music is turbulent, full of harmonic daring and emotional storms. Its vocal writing challenges even the most seasoned tenors — wide-ranging, explosive, and demanding both power and elegance. Alagna’s dramatic instinct makes this music come alive, revealing the youthful Puccini searching for his mature voice.


🌙 La tregenda — Intermezzo sinfonico (piano solo) — Le Villi

A haunting orchestral dance, La tregenda (“The Witch Dance”) conjures a supernatural atmosphere. On piano, it becomes a shimmering miniature — rhythmic, ghostly, and full of suspense. It is one of Puccini’s earliest experiments with orchestral colour, a glimpse of the master storyteller he would become.


💕 Tra voi belle, brune e biondeManon Lescaut (1893)

In Manon Lescaut, Puccini’s first great success, we meet Des Grieux — young, impassioned, and head over heels in love. His opening serenade “Tra voi belle, brune e bionde” (“Among you lovely ladies, brunettes and blondes”) is flirtatious, charming, and deceptively simple — a musical smile. Yet beneath its playfulness lies the spark of fate. For Alagna, whose voice glows with warmth and natural grace, it is an ideal moment of youthful radiance before passion and tragedy take hold.


💘 Donna non vidi maiManon Lescaut

Few arias in all opera capture the ecstasy of first love as perfectly as “Donna non vidi mai” (“Never have I seen such a woman”). Des Grieux has just met Manon — and in that instant, his life changes forever. The melody unfolds with tenderness, rising toward a climax of pure wonder. Technically, it requires legato perfection, seamless phrasing, and a glowing top register — qualities that define Alagna’s artistry. When he sings it, one truly believes in love at first sight.


🌅 Intermezzo (piano solo) — Manon Lescaut

Between the acts, Puccini paints a world of longing without words. The Intermezzo is one of his most moving instrumental pieces — a symphonic reflection of lost love. Its yearning theme, heard on piano, is like a distant memory of happiness. It reminds us of the lyric beauty that runs through all of Puccini’s music.


No!... Pazzo son!... Guardate!Manon Lescaut

A moment of anguish and madness. Des Grieux, now desperate and heartbroken, cries out in pain as he watches Manon suffer. The aria begins almost declamatory, then bursts into soaring agony. It tests the tenor’s strength, stamina, and emotional truth. It is the cry of a man torn between passion and despair — a challenge that Alagna meets with his unique blend of fire and lyricism


❄️ Che gelida maninaLa Bohème (1896)

One of Puccini’s most beloved arias, “Che gelida manina” (“What a cold little hand”) introduces us to Rodolfo, the poet who falls in love with Mimì on a winter’s night in Paris. This aria is a jewel of lyric phrasing — soft, tender, intimate — leading to a radiant high C that must sound like the very soul opening in song. Alagna, whose Rodolfo has long been celebrated, brings both poetry and sincerity to this music. His delivery captures every shade — from shy wonder to soaring love.


🌌 E lucevan le stelleTosca (1900)

The tragic Cavaradossi sings this aria before his execution: “And the stars were shining…” It is perhaps Puccini’s most heartbreaking page — a memory of love, sung on the edge of death. The aria demands immense emotional depth and breath control: long, arching phrases that must remain warm and vibrant even in despair. Alagna’s rich, expressive tone and natural Italianate phrasing give this music its full emotional weight — tender, noble, utterly human.


🌸 Duetto dei fiori e coro a bocca chiusa (piano solo) — Madama Butterfly (1904)

The “Humming Chorus,” as it is known, is one of Puccini’s most ethereal inspirations — a moment of stillness and moonlight. Heard on piano, it becomes a meditation on hope and silence. The music floats like a dream, full of suspended beauty, where time seems to stop.


💔 Addio, fiorito asilMadama Butterfly

Pinkerton’s aria of remorse — “Farewell, flowery refuge” — is brief but devastating. It requires immense control and honesty: the voice must carry guilt, tenderness, and regret all at once. Few singers can make this moment truly believable; Alagna’s sincerity and warmth give it a truth that pierces the heart.


🌄 Ch’ella mi creda libero e lontanoLa fanciulla del West (1910)

Here, Dick Johnson faces his death with dignity, asking that his beloved Minnie believe him safe and free. The melody is simple yet noble, flowing with American openness and Italian passion. The aria is technically challenging — sustained phrasing, perfect breath support, and emotional restraint. Alagna’s heroic lyricism is perfectly suited to it: brave, tender, and luminous.


💃 Nella dolce carezza della danza — piano solo (La rondine, 1917)

From Puccini’s most elegant and bittersweet opera, La rondine, this waltz-like intermezzo captures the grace of Parisian society tinged with melancholy. On piano, it shimmers with refinement — the sound of Puccini’s gentler world, full of longing and delicate sophistication.


🌙 Nessun dormaTurandot (1926)

And finally — the aria that crowns the night. “Nessun dorma” (“None shall sleep”) from Turandot is Puccini’s ultimate hymn to triumph through love. It demands everything: vocal power, radiant tone, and absolute emotional command. Few tenors can make the climactic “Vincerò!” both heroic and human. Alagna, with his combination of strength, warmth, and golden timbre, turns it into pure exultation — a cry of victory that resounds far beyond the theatre.


🌟 A Night to Remember

This Puccini evening in Barcelona will be more than a recital — it will be a journey through the soul of Italian opera, guided by a voice that has illuminated the world’s greatest stages. Each aria reveals a different face of love: youthful, passionate, despairing, or transcendent.

Roberto Alagna’s artistry brings them all together in one radiant evening — a celebration of Puccini, of song, and of the eternal beauty of the human voice. On 30 October, Barcelona will shine with music, and the audience will leave the theatre carrying a single thought in their hearts: what a gift it is to feel so deeply, and to hear such beauty.


Ночь Пуччини: Роберто Аланья в Барселоне


30 октября – Торжество страсти, мелодии и вечного голоса Пуччини


Есть артисты, чьё присутствие преображает воздух вокруг них – чей голос несёт в себе свет и тень человеческого сердца. Роберто Аланья – одна из таких редких звёзд. Харизматичный, глубоко выразительный, наделённый голосом, сочетающим в себе золотистое тепло и средиземноморский огонь, он покорил все величайшие сцены мира – от Метрополитен-оперы до Ла Скала.


Я впервые увидел его много лет назад, когда он исполнял «Вертера» Массне в театре «Капитоль» в Тулузе. Его исполнение было незабываемым – нежным, уязвимым, пламенным. Позже, в «Кармен» Бизе вместе с замечательной Беатрис Урия-Монсон, его Дон Хозе был одновременно трагичным и страстным, портретом человека, охваченного любовью. С тех пор я следил за его путешествием по оперным театрам мира, неизменно заворожённый искренностью и правдой, которые он вкладывает в каждую фразу.


Теперь он возвращается к нам в Барселону с сольным концертом, полностью посвящённым Джакомо Пуччини, композитору, чья музыка — сам язык эмоций. Этот вечер обещает стать одой любви, тоске и красоте — чествованием гения Пуччини, освещённым золотым голосом одного из величайших теноров нашего времени.


🌹 Torna ai felici dì — «Виллисы» (1884)


Уже в первой опере Пуччини, «Виллисы», проявляется его чутьё на мелодию и драму. «Torna ai felici dì» («Возврат к счастливым дням») поёт Роберто, человек, терзаемый чувством вины и горя. Она требует как лирического контроля, так и драматической интенсивности — идеальное начало для Аланьи, чей голос легко переходит от шёпота ностальгии к страстному отчаянию. Строки арии поднимаются, словно вздохи, наполненные щемящей печалью об утраченной любви.


🔥 Orgia, chimera dall’occhio vitreo — Эдгар (1889)


Эта ария, написанная редко исполняемым Эдгаром Пуччини, передает беспокойный дух своего героя, разрывающегося между священной и мирской любовью. Музыка бурная, полная гармонических дерзаний и эмоциональных бурь. Её вокальное мастерство бросает вызов даже самым опытным тенорам — широкий диапазон, взрывной голос, требующий одновременно силы и элегантности. Драматическое чутьё Аланьи оживляет эту музыку, раскрывая юного Пуччини, ищущего свой зрелый голос.


🌙 La tregenda — Симфоническое интермеццо (фортепиано соло) — Le Villi


Завораживающий оркестровый танец, La tregenda («Танец ведьмы»), создаёт атмосферу сверхъестественного. На фортепиано он превращается в мерцающую миниатюру — ритмичную, призрачную и полную напряжения. Это один из самых ранних экспериментов Пуччини с оркестровым колоритом, проблеск того, каким мастером-рассказчиком он станет.


💕 Tra voi belle, brune e bionde — Манон Леско (1893)


В «Манон Леско», первом большом успехе Пуччини, мы встречаем Де Грие — молодого, страстного и по уши влюблённого. Его вступительная серенада «Tra voi belle, brune e bionde» («Среди вас, милые дамы, брюнетки и блондинки») кокетлива, очаровательна и обманчиво проста — музыкальная улыбка. Но за этой игривостью кроется искра судьбы. Для Аланьи, чей голос излучает тепло и природную грацию, это идеальный момент юношеского сияния перед тем, как страсть и трагедия овладеют ею.


💘 Donna non vidi mai — Манон Леско


Немногие арии в опере так точно передают экстаз первой любви, как «Donna non vidi mai» («Никогда я не видел такой женщины»). Де Грие только что встретил Манон — и в этот миг его жизнь изменилась навсегда. Мелодия раскрывается с нежностью, достигая кульминации чистого чуда. Технически она требует безупречного легато, безупречной фразировки и яркого верхнего регистра — качеств, которые определяют мастерство Аланьи. Когда он исполняет эту арию, по-настоящему веришь в любовь с первого взгляда.


🌅 Интермеццо (фортепиано соло) — Манон Леско


Между актами Пуччини рисует мир тоски без слов. Интермеццо — одно из самых трогательных его инструментальных произведений — симфоническое отражение утраченной любви. Его тоскливая тема, звучащая на фортепиано, подобна далёкому воспоминанию о счастье. Она напоминает нам о лирической красоте, пронизывающей всю музыку Пуччини.


⚡ Нет!... Pazzo son!... Guardate! — Манон Леско


Момент тоски и безумия. Де Грие, отчаявшийся и убитый горем, кричит от боли, наблюдая за страданиями Манон. Ария начинается почти декламационной, затем перерастает в неистовое страдание. Она испытывает силу, выносливость и эмоциональную правдивость тенора. Это крик человека, разрывающегося между страстью и отчаянием, — вызов, который Аланья встречает с уникальным сочетанием огня и лирики.


❄️ Che gelida manina — «Богема» (1896)


Одна из самых любимых арий Пуччини, «Che gelida manina» («Какая холодная ручка»), знакомит нас с Рудольфом, поэтом, который влюбляется в Мими зимней ночью в Париже. Эта ария — жемчужина лирической фразировки — мягкая, нежная, интимная — ведущая к лучезарному высокому до, которое, должно быть, звучит как сама душа, раскрывающаяся в песне. Аланья, чей Рудольфо давно прославлен, привносит в эту музыку поэзию и искренность. Его исполнение передает все оттенки — от робкого удивления до парящей любви.


🌌 E lucevan le stelle — Тоска (1900)


Трагический Каварадосси поёт эту арию перед казнью: «И звёзды сияли…» Это, пожалуй, самая душераздирающая страница Пуччини — воспоминание о любви, спетое на грани смерти. Ария требует невероятной эмоциональной глубины и контроля дыхания: длинные, арочные фразы должны оставаться тёплыми и яркими даже в отчаянии. Богатый, выразительный тон Аланьи и естественная итальянская фразировка придают этой музыке полную эмоциональную нагрузку — нежную, благородную, совершенно человечную.


🌸 Duetto dei fiori e coro a bocca chiusa (соло для фортепиано) — Мадам Баттерфляй (1904)


«Жужжащий хор», как его называют, — одно из самых возвышенных вдохновений Пуччини — мгновение тишины и лунного света. В исполнении фортепиано он превращается в размышление о надежде и тишине. Музыка парит, словно сон, полный застывшей красоты, где время, кажется, остановилось.


💔 Addio, fiorito asil — Мадам Баттерфляй


Ария раскаяния Пинкертона — «Прощай, цветущее убежище» — короткая, но сокрушительная. Она требует невероятного контроля и честности: голос должен нести в себе одновременно чувство вины, нежности и сожаления. Немногие певцы способны сделать этот момент по-настоящему правдоподобным; искренность и теплота Аланьи придают ему правдивость, пронзающую сердце.


🌄 Ch’ella mi creda libero e lontano — Девушка с Запада (1910)


Здесь Дик Джонсон достойно встречает свою смерть, моля свою возлюбленную Минни поверить ему в безопасность и свободу. Мелодия проста, но благородна, она струится американской открытостью и итальянской страстью. Ария технически сложна — выдержанная фразировка, идеальная опора на дыхание и эмоциональная сдержанность. Героическая лирика Аланьи идеально подходит к ней: смелая, нежная и лучезарная.


💃 Nella dolce carezza della danza — фортепиано соло («Ласточка», 1917)


Это вальсоподобное интермеццо из самой элегантной и горько-сладкой оперы Пуччини «Ласточка» передает изящество парижского общества, окрашенное меланхолией. В исполнении фортепиано оно мерцает изысканностью — звучанием более нежного мира Пуччини, полного томления и утонченной изысканности.


🌙 Nessun dorma — «Турандот» (1926)


И наконец — ария, венчающая ночь. «Nessun dorma» («Никто не должен спать») из «Турандот» — это высший гимн Пуччини торжеству любви. Он требует всего: вокальной силы, лучезарного тона и абсолютного владения эмоциями. Немногие теноры способны сделать кульминационное «Vincerò!» одновременно героическим и человечным. Аланья, с его сочетанием силы, теплоты и золотого тембра, превращает его в чистый восторг — клич победы, разносящийся далеко за пределы театра.


🌟 Незабываемая ночь


Этот вечер Пуччини в Барселоне станет не просто сольным концертом, а путешествием по душе итальянской оперы под руководством голоса, озарявшего лучшие сцены мира. Каждая ария раскрывает разные грани любви: юную, страстную, отчаянную или возвышенную.


Искусство Роберто Аланьи объединяет их всех в один лучезарный вечер — праздник Пуччини, песни и вечной красоты человеческого голоса. 30 октября Барселона засияет музыкой, и зрители покинут театр с одной мыслью: какой это дар — чувствовать так глубоко и слышать такую ​​красоту.


🎶 Une Nuit Puccini : Roberto Alagna à Barcelone


30 octobre – Célébration de la Passion, de la Mélodie et de la Voix Éternelle de Puccini


Il est des artistes dont la seule présence transforme l'atmosphère, qui portent en eux la lumière et l'ombre du cœur humain. Roberto Alagna est l'une de ces rares stars. Charismatique, profondément expressif, doté d'une voix mêlant chaleur dorée et feu méditerranéen, il a conquis toutes les grandes scènes du monde, du Metropolitan Opera à la Scala.


Je l'ai vu pour la première fois il y a de nombreuses années, chantant Werther de Massenet au Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse. Son interprétation était inoubliable : tendre, vulnérable, incandescente. Plus tard, dans Carmen de Bizet, aux côtés de la remarquable Béatrice Uria-Monzon, son Don José était à la fois tragique et passionné, le portrait d'un homme dévoré par l'amour. Depuis, j'ai suivi son parcours à travers les opéras du monde, toujours fasciné par la sincérité et la vérité qu'il insuffle à chaque phrase.


Il nous revient aujourd'hui à Barcelone pour un récital entièrement consacré à Giacomo Puccini, le compositeur dont la musique est le langage même de l'émotion. Cette soirée promet d'être une ode à l'amour, au désir et à la beauté, une célébration du génie de Puccini, illuminée par la voix d'or de l'un des plus grands ténors de notre temps.


🌹 Torna ai felici dì — Le Villi (1884)


Le tout premier opéra de Puccini, Le Villi, révèle déjà son instinct pour la mélodie et le drame. « Torna ai felici dì » (« Retour aux jours heureux ») est chanté par Roberto, un homme tourmenté par la culpabilité et le chagrin. L'air exige à la fois maîtrise lyrique et intensité dramatique, une ouverture parfaite pour Alagna, dont la voix passe sans effort de la nostalgie murmurée au désespoir passionné. Les vers de l'air s'élèvent tels des soupirs, emplis du regret douloureux d'un amour perdu.


🔥 Orgia, chimère dall’occhio vitreo — Edgar (1889)


Tirée de l'Edgar de Puccini, rarement interprété, cette aria capture l'esprit agité de son héros, tiraillé entre l'amour sacré et l'amour profane. La musique est turbulente, pleine d'audace harmonique et de tempêtes émotionnelles. Son écriture vocale défie même les ténors les plus chevronnés : ample, explosive, exigeant à la fois puissance et élégance. L'instinct dramatique d'Alagna donne vie à cette musique, révélant le jeune Puccini en quête de sa voix mature.


🌙 La tregenda — Intermezzo sinfonico (piano solo) — Le Villi


Danse orchestrale envoûtante, La tregenda (« La Danse de la Sorcière ») évoque une atmosphère surnaturelle. Au piano, elle devient une miniature chatoyante, rythmée, fantomatique et pleine de suspense. C'est l'une des premières expériences de Puccini avec la couleur orchestrale, un aperçu du maître conteur qu'il deviendra.


💕 Tra voi belle, brune e bionde — Manon Lescaut (1893)


Dans Manon Lescaut, premier grand succès de Puccini, nous rencontrons Des Grieux, jeune, passionné et éperdument amoureux. Sa sérénade d'ouverture, « Tra voi belle, brune e bionde » (« Parmi vous, belles dames, brunes et blondes »), est enjôleuse, charmante et d'une simplicité trompeuse – un sourire musical. Pourtant, sous son côté espiègle se cache l'étincelle du destin. Pour Alagna, dont la voix rayonne de chaleur et de grâce naturelle, c'est un moment idéal d'éclat juvénile avant que la passion et la tragédie ne s'emparent d'elle.


💘 Donna non vidi mai — Manon Lescaut


Rares sont les airs d'opéra qui capturent l'extase du premier amour aussi parfaitement que « Donna non vidi mai » (« Jamais je n'ai vu une telle femme »). Des Grieux vient de rencontrer Manon – et à cet instant, sa vie bascule à jamais. La mélodie se déploie avec tendresse, s'élevant vers un apogée de pure merveille. Techniquement, elle exige une perfection legato, un phrasé fluide et un registre aigu rayonnant – des qualités qui définissent le talent artistique d'Alagna. Lorsqu'il la chante, on croirait véritablement au coup de foudre.


🌅 Intermezzo (piano solo) — Manon Lescaut


Entre les actes, Puccini peint un monde de désir sans paroles. L'Intermezzo est l'une de ses pièces instrumentales les plus émouvantes – une réflexion symphonique sur l'amour perdu. Son thème nostalgique, entendu au piano, est comme un lointain souvenir de bonheur. Il nous rappelle la beauté lyrique qui imprègne toute la musique de Puccini.


⚡ Non !... Pazzo son !... Guardate ! — Manon Lescaut


Un moment d'angoisse et de folie. Des Grieux, désespéré et le cœur brisé, crie sa douleur en regardant Manon souffrir. L'aria débute presque déclamatoirement, puis explose en une agonie vertigineuse. Elle met à l'épreuve la force, l'endurance et la vérité émotionnelle du ténor. C'est le cri d'un homme déchiré entre passion et désespoir – un défi qu'Alagna relève avec son mélange unique de fougue et de lyrisme.

❄️ Che gelida manina — La Bohème (1896)


L'un des airs les plus appréciés de Puccini, « Che gelida manina » (« Quelle petite main froide ») nous présente Rodolfo, le poète qui tombe amoureux de Mimì par une nuit d'hiver à Paris. Cet air est un joyau de phrasé lyrique – doux, tendre, intime – menant à un do aigu radieux qui doit sonner comme l'âme même qui s'ouvre au chant. Alagna, dont Rodolfo est depuis longtemps célébré, apporte à cette musique poésie et sincérité. Son interprétation en capture toutes les nuances – de l'émerveillement timide à l'amour exalté.


🌌 E lucevan le stelle — Tosca (1900)


Le tragique Cavaradossi chante cet air avant son exécution : « Et les étoiles brillaient… » C'est peut-être la page la plus déchirante de Puccini – un souvenir d'amour, chanté à l'orée de la mort. L'air exige une profondeur émotionnelle immense et une grande maîtrise du souffle : de longues phrases arquées qui doivent rester chaleureuses et vibrantes même dans le désespoir. Le timbre riche et expressif d'Alagna et son phrasé italien naturel confèrent à cette musique toute sa force émotionnelle : tendre, noble, profondément humaine.


🌸 Duetto dei fiori e coro a bocca chiusa (piano solo) — Madama Butterfly (1904)


Le « Chœur bourdonnant », comme on le surnomme, est l'une des inspirations les plus éthérées de Puccini : un moment de calme et de clair de lune. Au piano, il devient une méditation sur l'espoir et le silence. La musique flotte comme un rêve, emplie d'une beauté suspendue, où le temps semble s'arrêter.


💔 Addio, fiorito asil — Madama Butterfly


L'air de remords de Pinkerton — « Adieu, refuge fleuri » — est bref mais bouleversant. Cela exige une maîtrise et une honnêteté immenses : la voix doit exprimer à la fois culpabilité, tendresse et regret. Peu de chanteurs parviennent à rendre ce moment véritablement crédible ; la sincérité et la chaleur d’Alagna lui confèrent une vérité qui transperce le cœur.


🌄 Ch’ella mi creda libero e lontano — La fanciulla del West (1910)


Ici, Dick Johnson affronte sa mort avec dignité, demandant à sa bien-aimée Minnie de le croire sain et sauf. La mélodie est simple mais noble, imprégnée d’ouverture américaine et de passion italienne. L’air est techniquement exigeant : phrasé soutenu, soutien respiratoire parfait et retenue émotionnelle. Le lyrisme héroïque d’Alagna lui convient parfaitement : courageux, tendre et lumineux.


💃 Nella dolce carezza della danza — piano solo (La Rondine, 1917)


Tiré de La Rondine, l'opéra le plus élégant et doux-amer de Puccini, cet intermezzo aux allures de valse capture la grâce de la société parisienne teintée de mélancolie. Au piano, il scintille de raffinement — la sonorité du monde plus doux de Puccini, empreint de nostalgie et de sophistication délicate.


🌙 Nessun dorma — Turandot (1926)


Et enfin — l'air qui couronne la nuit. « Nessun dorma » (« Nul ne dormira ») de Turandot est l'hymne ultime de Puccini au triomphe de l'amour. Il exige tout : puissance vocale, timbre radieux et maîtrise émotionnelle absolue. Rares sont les ténors capables de rendre le « Vincerò ! » culminant à la fois héroïque et humain. Alagna, avec sa force, sa chaleur et son timbre doré, transforme cette musique en une pure exultation – un cri de victoire qui résonne bien au-delà du théâtre.


🌟 Une Nuit Inoubliable


Cette soirée Puccini à Barcelone sera plus qu'un récital : ce sera un voyage au cœur de l'âme de l'opéra italien, guidé par une voix qui a illuminé les plus grandes scènes du monde. Chaque air révèle une facette différente de l'amour : juvénile, passionné, désespéré ou transcendant.


L'art de Roberto Alagna les réunit tous en une soirée radieuse – une célébration de Puccini, du chant et de la beauté éternelle de la voix humaine. Le 30 octobre, Barcelone resplendira de musique, et le public quittera le théâtre avec une seule pensée : quel cadeau de ressentir si profondément et d'entendre une telle beauté.



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