Showing posts with label Saioa Hernandez. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Saioa Hernandez. Show all posts

Sunday, March 15, 2026

Berlin - Norma & La forza del destino - 2027












Une saison céleste : Bellini , Verdi  et la magie de Berlin

Le destin a enfin parlé. L’annonce de la nouvelle saison de la Staatsoper Unter den Linden à Berlin ressemble à une rare conjonction d’étoiles. Voir apparaître dans la programmation les noms de Lise Davidsen et de Saioa Hernández provoque une véritable émotion : deux voix fabuleuses qui brillent aujourd’hui parmi les grandes constellations lyriques du XXIᵉ siècle.

Après son triomphe monumental au Metropolitan Opera de New York, où elle a incarné Leonora avec une intensité bouleversante, Lise Davidsen apportera désormais ce rôle redoutable au cœur de l’Europe. Imaginer que cette voix immense, lumineuse et souveraine résonnera dans l’architecture historique de Berlin, dans La forza del destino — mon opéra préféré — est une nouvelle presque irréelle.

Et comme si cela ne suffisait pas, la saison nous offre un second miracle : Saioa Hernández endossera le rôle mythique de Norma. Il y a quelque chose de profondément magique dans le fait que ces deux artistes interprètent précisément mes deux opéras les plus chers. Depuis l’annonce de cette programmation, je me surprends à compter les mois, presque les jours, dans l’impatience du moment où je pourrai voyager à Berlin pour vivre ces soirées qui promettent déjà d’être inoubliables.

Car certaines œuvres ne se contentent pas de survivre au temps. Elles deviennent des univers entiers.

Verdi et la naissance d’un destin

La forza del destino n’est pas seulement un opéra : c’est une cathédrale musicale. Une œuvre immense, habitée par la fatalité, la passion, la culpabilité et la quête impossible de rédemption.

Et pourtant, cette œuvre extraordinaire faillit ne jamais voir le jour.

À la fin des années 1850, Giuseppe Verdi était déjà un compositeur triomphant. Rigoletto, Il trovatore, La traviata avaient conquis l’Europe. Mais le maître italien était fatigué. Après Un ballo in maschera, il envisageait sérieusement d’abandonner l’opéra pour se retirer dans sa propriété de Sant’Agata, loin des intrigues théâtrales et des exigences du monde musical.

C’est alors qu’arriva une invitation prestigieuse : le Théâtre impérial de Saint-Pétersbourg lui commandait un nouvel opéra.

Verdi hésita longuement.

Heureusement pour l’histoire de la musique, une personne sut trouver les mots pour raviver la flamme créatrice du compositeur : sa femme, Giuseppina Strepponi.

Ancienne soprano brillante, Strepponi possédait une intelligence musicale exceptionnelle et comprenait profondément l’âme artistique de Verdi. Avec patience, affection et une détermination douce mais ferme, elle réussit à le convaincre d’accepter la commande.

Sans elle, peut-être n’aurions-nous jamais eu La forza del destino. Et peut-être même pas les chefs-d’œuvre ultérieurs comme Aida, Otello ou Falstaff.

On dit souvent que derrière un grand homme se trouve une grande femme. Dans le cas de Verdi, cette phrase prend un sens presque historique.

Une œuvre d’une richesse inépuisable

Créée en 1862 à Saint-Pétersbourg, puis révisée quelques années plus tard, La forza del destino est l’une des partitions les plus ambitieuses de Verdi.

L’orchestration y atteint une puissance et une couleur extraordinaires. Dès l’ouverture — l’une des plus célèbres du répertoire — le motif du destin frappe comme une force implacable.

La musique alterne entre scènes monumentales et moments d’une spiritualité intime : chœurs de soldats, processions religieuses, scènes populaires, duos de vengeance et prières suspendues dans le silence.

Les trois duos entre le ténor Don Alvaro et le baryton Don Carlo figurent parmi les confrontations les plus électrisantes jamais écrites pour la scène lyrique. Ce sont de véritables duels psychologiques et musicaux, chargés de rage, d’honneur et de fatalité.

Mais au centre de cette tempête dramatique se tient Leonora.

Leonora et la lumière de la voix

Le rôle de Leonora est l’un des sommets du répertoire de soprano dramatique. Il exige à la fois puissance, lyrisme, profondeur spirituelle et une capacité d’incarnation presque théâtrale.

Ses grandes scènes — ses prières, ses élans de désespoir, sa quête de paix — comptent parmi les pages les plus sublimes écrites par Verdi.

Et puis il y a ce moment unique : « La Vergine degli Angeli ».

Dans cette scène, la soprano chante entourée d’un chœur masculin de moines. L’effet sonore est presque mystique : la voix féminine s’élève au-dessus des voix graves comme une prière venue d’un autre monde.

C’est l’un de ces instants suspendus où l’opéra semble toucher quelque chose de spirituel.

Imaginer ce moment chanté par Lise Davidsen dans la salle de la Staatsoper Unter den Linden donne déjà des frissons.

Une voix pour notre époque

Lise Davidsen s’est imposée en quelques années comme l’une des voix les plus extraordinaires de notre temps. Sa projection impressionnante, la pureté de son timbre et la noblesse de son phrasé rappellent parfois les grandes sopranos du passé, tout en possédant une personnalité artistique profondément moderne.

Lorsqu’elle incarne un personnage, il ne s’agit pas seulement de chant : c’est une véritable incarnation dramatique.

Dans Leonora, cette combinaison de puissance vocale et d’intensité émotionnelle peut atteindre des sommets rares.

Beaucoup de spectateurs décrivent ses performances comme des expériences presque irréelles — ces moments où l’on sent que quelque chose d’exceptionnel se produit sur scène.

Bellini et l’éternité du bel canto

Et comme si Verdi ne suffisait pas à faire battre le cœur des mélomanes, la saison berlinoise nous offre également un autre miracle : Norma de Bellini avec Saioa Hernández.

Norma est l’un des rôles les plus mythiques de toute l’histoire de l’opéra. Depuis Maria Callas, chaque interprétation majeure de ce rôle devient un événement.

La musique de Bellini exige une ligne vocale d’une pureté absolue, une capacité à suspendre le temps dans les longues phrases du bel canto, et une intensité dramatique presque tragique.

Avec Saioa Hernández, la prêtresse gauloise retrouvera toute sa grandeur et son feu intérieur.

L’impatience du voyage

Ainsi se dessine une saison presque irréelle : Verdi et Bellini, Leonora et Norma, Davidsen et Hernández, réunis dans l’un des théâtres les plus prestigieux d’Europe.

Pour un passionné d’opéra, c’est une invitation irrésistible.

Déjà l’imagination voyage : les rues de Berlin, la façade illuminée de la Staatsoper, l’orchestre qui accorde ses instruments, le silence qui tombe dans la salle juste avant que la musique ne commence.

Et puis ce moment unique où la voix humaine — fragile et pourtant infiniment puissante — s’élève au-dessus de l’orchestre et remplit l’espace.

Ces instants sont rares.

Mais ce sont eux qui nous rappellent pourquoi l’opéra existe encore aujourd’hui.

Et pourquoi, lorsque le destin, Verdi et de grandes voix se rencontrent sur une même scène, on a simplement envie d’être là.


Friday, February 20, 2026

New York - Season 2026 / 2027 - Aida















What an extraordinary season is coming up at the Metropolitan Opera! I'm still struggling to contain my excitement at the announcement of the 2026–2027 season: a perfect blend of great classics, bold new productions, and absolutely dazzling casts. It's one of those seasons that reminds us why we love opera so passionately.

From the very first moment, the curtain will rise powerfully with Giuseppe Verdi's Macbeth, chosen to open the season. And what an opening it will be: none other than the magnificent Lise Davidsen as Lady Macbeth. Her powerful and magnetic voice promises an electrifying evening, full of dramatic intensity and Verdian fire.

Among the titles I'm most excited to see again is Verdi's Aida, with its lavish production that never fails to impress. I'm especially thrilled to know that it will feature the wonderful Anna Pirozzi, one of the great dramatic sopranos of our time. And, of course, discovering new Aidas and Amneris will be part of the pleasure: there's nothing more exciting than hearing new voices take on these imperial roles.

Another of my dream comebacks is Giacomo Puccini's La Bohème, always so moving and timeless. Each performance is an invitation to fall in love with Mimì and Rodolfo all over again.

And speaking of Puccini… Tosca! For me, the most fabulous opera he ever wrote. This season will be a true feast for Tosca lovers, with a variety of performers that makes each performance unique. That's the magic of the Met: different sopranos, each with her own style, her own fire, her own way of tearing at our hearts.

Among my favorites will be Aleksandra Kurzak, Sondra Radvanovsky, Eleonora Buratto, Natalya Romaniw, and the impressive Saioa Hernández, fresh from her triumph as Gioconda, who will be kicking off this series of performances. Drama, passion, and stage presence! These will be absolutely unmissable evenings.

I am also eagerly anticipating Maria Stuarda by Gaetano Donizetti, one of my favorite operas from the celebrated Tudor trilogy. And what a privilege to have the star Lisette Oropesa, who has already triumphed as the Queen of Scots in Madrid. Her bel canto sensitivity and dramatic intensity promise unforgettable moments.

In the French repertoire, Jules Massenet's Manon holds a very special place in my heart. Rediscovering it with the voice that captivates me, the marvelous Nadine Sierra, will undoubtedly be one of the season's highlights.

The season also shines with beloved titles such as Così fan tutte and the festive Christmas presentation of The Magic Flute, both masterpieces by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It is always a gift to return to Mozart, and even more so in a home like the Met.

In the dramatic and monumental repertoire, we find Otello, Richard Wagner's Parsifal, Richard Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier, Camille Saint-Saëns's Samson et Dalila, and Luigi Cherubini's Medea: titles that demand stellar voices and extraordinary interpretive intensity.

And I can't fail to mention the new productions that bring freshness and variety, such as Kevin Puts's Silent Night and Missy Mazzoli's Lincoln in the Bardo. It's wonderful to see how the Met combines tradition and modernity, offering both the great pillars of the repertoire and contemporary works that broaden horizons.

The season also includes gems like Leoš Janáček's Jenůfa and La Fanciulla del West, another new Puccini production that promises to be captivating.

Honestly, I couldn't single out just one title: they all thrill me deeply. But what excites me most is seeing so many of my favorite sopranos together in roles I adore. Yes, the tenors and baritones are absolutely stellar, the cast is dazzling… but my heart beats especially strongly for these titles and for these great divas who will bring immortal characters to life.

The Met’s 2026–2027 season is shaping up to be fabulous, varied, and exciting. For those of us who love opera—and especially for lovers of Puccini, Verdi, Donizetti, and Mozart—we are in for a treat.

Now there’s only one thing left to do: wait with bated breath for the curtain to rise. And enjoy, performance after performance, the unique magic of the Met.

There are seasons… and then there are seasons that feel almost providential. The 2026–2027 lineup at the Metropolitan Opera is not merely a calendar of performances—it is a radiant affirmation that opera, in the 21st century, is gloriously alive. For those of us who believe that opera is the supreme synthesis of human imagination—where music, poetry, theater, image, and raw emotion converge into something transcendent—this season feels nothing short of divine.

At the heart of my excitement stand the sopranos. The luminous, fearless, incandescent women who carry forward a lineage that stretches back through the most sacred names in operatic history. These are the voices of our century—artists who take the torch from legends and ensure that the flame burns brighter than ever.

Let us begin with Aida, Verdi’s monumental hymn to love, sacrifice, and destiny. This production, already famed for its splendor, becomes even more thrilling with the presence of the magnificent Anna Pirozzi. Pirozzi possesses a voice of blazing amplitude and bronze-like brilliance, yet she tempers that power with extraordinary sensitivity. Her high notes soar like sunlit banners over the Nile, while her pianissimi shimmer with heartbreaking vulnerability. In her artistry one feels the echo of the great Aidas of the past—Leontyne Price, Shirley Verrett, Grace Bumbry, Martina Arroyo—yet she is unmistakably, thrillingly modern.

And how wonderful to anticipate Angel Blue at the Met, whose voice combines velvety warmth with radiant steel. She sings with a sincerity that pierces the heart; there is an emotional truth in her phrasing that feels almost confessional. Hers is a voice that wraps the audience in velvet and then, in a single phrase, sets it ablaze. I'm so excited to discover Leah Hawkins' voice in Aida.

On September 22, 2026, there will be no place in the world where an opera lover should be but Manhattan. That night, the curtain at the Metropolitan Opera House will rise to open the season with an event already generating fervor in all operatic circles: Lise Davidsen's debut as Lady Macbeth.

The great Norwegian soprano, one of the most imposing, majestic and admired voices of our time, will take on for the first time one of the most feared and fascinating roles ever written by Giuseppe Verdi.

Lady Macbeth is no ordinary role. It is a vocal and dramatic abyss. Verdi, obsessed with expressive intensity, had the soprano from the Florence premiere rehearse more than 150 times. He wasn't looking for conventional beauty: he demanded character, ferocity, darkness, theatrical electricity. New York, as demanding as Verdi himself, expects exactly that.

And Davidsen has everything she needs to set the stage ablaze.mporada 


In Maria Stuarda by Gaetano Donizetti—the jewel of the Tudor trilogy—my anticipation is almost unbearable. This opera occupies a sacred place in my heart. I listen endlessly to the Tudor trilogy, especially as immortalized by Beverly Sills, whose queens remain benchmarks of bel canto artistry. And now, the role returns in triumph with Lisette Oropesa, a soprano of crystalline precision and expressive fire. Oropesa’s technique is immaculate, her coloratura like spun silver, yet what moves me most is her dramatic intensity. She does not merely sing Maria—she becomes the doomed queen, regal and fragile, proud and wounded. It feels like the continuation of a grand tradition. And oh—if only the Met would crown this Tudor journey with Anna Bolena in 2028! That would be operatic paradise.

Then there is Manon by Jules Massenet, one of the most intoxicating jewels of the French repertoire. How delicious to rediscover it through the voice of Nadine Sierra. Sierra’s timbre is pure satin, glowing and youthful, yet supported by impeccable technique and dramatic intelligence. She evokes the elegance and charm once embodied by Beverly Sills, yet she brings her own irresistible sparkle. Her Manon promises to be seductive, tender, capricious, and tragic—all in a single, shimmering arc.

And then—Tosca. Tosca by Giacomo Puccini remains, to me, the most theatrically perfect opera ever written. Passion distilled into three acts. And what a constellation of Toscas this season offers.

Sondra Radvanovsky, with her volcanic intensity and fearless dramatic commitment, channels the spirit of Maria Callas—not by imitation, but through a shared willingness to risk everything emotionally. Her voice can blaze like lightning and then break into the most fragile prayer.

Aleksandra Kurzak brings elegance and emotional immediacy, a silken line that can suddenly ignite into flame.

Saioa Hernández—currently triumphing as Gioconda—arrives with a voice of molten gold, expansive and thrilling, capable of filling the house with sumptuous tone while maintaining dramatic precision.

Each Tosca will be different. That is the miracle of the Met: the same score, yet infinite interpretations. We remember the towering legacies of Renata Tebaldi and Montserrat Caballé—voices that defined eras. And yet, these 21st-century sopranos prove that the lineage is unbroken. The torch passes, the fire remains.

The season’s grandeur extends further: Macbeth, Otello, Parsifal, Der Rosenkavalier, Samson et Dalila, and the magic of The Magic Flute—each title a pillar of the repertoire, each demanding voices of heroic scale and refined artistry.

But what moves me most is this: opera endures because of artists like these. Because new generations rise to meet the impossible standards set by the past—and then surpass them in their own way. Opera is, to me, the supreme art form. Cinema and theater are magnificent, of course. But opera is the ultimate human creation: the total artwork, where orchestra, poetry, stagecraft, light, costume, voice, and soul converge into transcendence.

As a French philosopher once suggested, if one can spend a couple of hours at the opera, life is already justified.

And with a season like this at the Metropolitan Opera—divine in its ambition, incandescent in its casting, resplendent in its repertoire—we are not merely attending performances. We are witnessing the continuation of greatness.

I am counting the days. And my heart is already in the opera house. 


Monday, February 2, 2026

Barcelona - La Gioconda - Ponchielli - Liceu Opera House - Feb / Mar 2026

























An extraordinary event is approaching in Barcelona: the performances of La Gioconda by Amilcare Ponchielli. This is a cultural event of global importance, as we are speaking of the greatest opera by the composer who was the teacher of Giacomo Puccini. Moreover, La Gioconda is an opera of exceptional vocal demands, requiring an extraordinary cast of star singers, which makes it extremely difficult to stage. For this very reason, it will be seen only in Barcelona during 2026, and in no other city in the world. This makes it a unique opportunity to hear Ponchielli’s divine music live and to enjoy its magnificent duets, its powerful choruses, its ballet, and its famously demanding arias for the tenor — and above all for the prima donna of the evening: Gioconda.

The Night When Gioconda Returned

Barcelona had dressed itself in gala attire.

On the evening of February 17, the city shimmered with an intensity usually reserved for coronations or legendary football finals. Cars glided along La Rambla like polished black beetles, their headlights reflected in the wet stone after a brief winter drizzle. Above everything, the façade of the Gran Teatre del Liceu glowed—golden, solemn, expectant—like a temple reopened after centuries of silence.

Inside, the air vibrated before a single note had been played.

The foyer was a constellation of silk, diamonds, and discreet murmurs in half a dozen languages. Opera lovers, critics, conductors, former divas, young singers with hungry eyes, patrons whose families had financed seasons for generations—all had gathered for a reason that went beyond fashion or ritual. They had come because La Gioconda was being reborn, and because this rebirth would happen only here, only now.

Journalists crowded the entrance, calling out names as the cars stopped beneath the portico.

Violetta Cardusi emerged first, incandescent in ivory satin, her presence instantly igniting a storm of camera flashes. Fresh from a Roman film set, she smiled with the calm authority of someone accustomed to attention but still capable of awe.

“Why Barcelona?” a reporter shouted.

She paused, as if the answer were obvious.
“Because tonight, Gioconda lives again. And because Saioa Hernández sings her.”

Behind her stepped Franco Zeffirni, elegant, amused, already studying the theatre with the curiosity of a director who senses a scene worth remembering.

Moments later, another ripple moved through the crowd: Katia Svennelli, wrapped in midnight blue, arriving from Stockholm by way of Naples, where she had already witnessed this production. Her verdict was brief and reverent.

“A miracle,” she said. “Some operas are performed. This one happens.”

Inside the auditorium, the red velvet seemed deeper than usual, the gold brighter. Every seat was occupied. From the royal box to the highest gallery, anticipation hung like a held breath. Conversations circled obsessively around the same names—Urmana, Fabiano, Semenchuk, Muehle—but always returned to one.

Gioconda.

Saioa Hernández.

When the lights dimmed, silence descended with ceremonial gravity. The conductor appeared, greeted by applause that was warm but restrained—everyone saving something for later. The orchestra began, and Ponchielli’s opening bars rose from the pit like dark water stirred by an unseen force.

From the first chorus, it was clear: this was no routine premiere. The sound filled the theatre with sculpted grandeur, massive yet supple, as if the Liceu itself were breathing with the music. The ballet unfolded with hypnotic elegance, its rhythms pulsing through the audience like a collective heartbeat.

And then—she appeared.

Gioconda entered not as a character, but as a destiny.

Saioa Hernández’s voice burst forth with a radiance that seemed to strike the walls and rebound, transformed, magnified. It was a voice of steel wrapped in velvet, of anguish illuminated by beauty. Power without brutality. Emotion without excess. Each phrase carried intention, each high note crowned with authority rather than force.

In the great arias, time lost its linearity. Some listeners thought of Callas, others of Tebaldi or Caballé—but only for an instant. What stood before them was not memory, but presence. A Gioconda of flesh and blood, singing as if her life depended on it.

During the great duet, the audience leaned forward, collectively, unconsciously. Tears appeared without warning. A critic from London lowered his pen. A former soprano closed her eyes, lips trembling, as if revisiting a past she had once lived onstage.

By the final act, tension was unbearable. The tragedy unfolded with inexorable force, and when Gioconda’s last cry dissolved into silence, there was a fraction of a second—tiny, eternal—where no one dared to move.

Then the theatre exploded.

Applause thundered from every level. Cries of “Brava!” cut through the roar like flashes of lightning. Flowers rained onto the stage. The cast returned again and again, but it was Hernández who held the night in her hands, visibly moved, eyes shining, breath still bound to Ponchielli’s final echo.

In the boxes, high society rose to its feet alongside students and pilgrims who had crossed oceans to be there. Paris, New York, Vienna, Milan, Tokyo—all seemed suddenly very far away. For this one night, opera belonged to Barcelona alone.

Outside, long after midnight, the crowd lingered beneath the theatre’s lights, unwilling to break the spell.

They knew—every one of them—that they had witnessed something unrepeatable.

A Gioconda for history.


















An extraordinary event is approaching in Barcelona: the performances of La Gioconda by Amilcare Ponchielli. This is a cultural event of global importance, as we are speaking of the greatest opera by the composer who was the teacher of Giacomo Puccini. Moreover, La Gioconda is an opera of exceptional vocal demands, requiring an extraordinary cast of star singers, which makes it extremely difficult to stage. For this very reason, it will be seen only in Barcelona during 2026, and in no other city in the world. This makes it a unique opportunity to hear Ponchielli’s divine music live and to enjoy its magnificent duets, its powerful choruses, its ballet, and its famously demanding arias for the tenor — and above all for the prima donna of the evening: Gioconda.

This role is one of the most celebrated in operatic history and has been immortalized by many great sopranos, such as Maria Callas, Montserrat Caballé, Zinka Milanov, and Renata Tebaldi — the four fantastic divas whose studio recordings we can still enjoy today, with their superb sound quality. Each of these recordings is marvelous, and each reflects a completely different style, because every soprano was unique.

Maria Callas is especially closely associated with the role. She sang La Gioconda in Verona when she was still unknown, and she recorded it again at the end of her brilliant career, when she was already a global superstar. That historic recording was made in September 1959, just two months after her devastating separation from her husband. This personal tragedy is deeply reflected in the recording: her dramatic intensity permeates every phrase she sings. It was also just two months after the fateful cruise during which Aristotle Onassis entered her life — an encounter that changed the destiny of the Greek diva forever. From that point on, she was never the same singer again. Once disciplined and wholly devoted to art, after separating from Meneghini she increasingly devoted herself to social life rather than singing. Her decline, sadly, became inevitable.

Renata Tebaldi also recorded La Gioconda in the studio. She did so taking Maria Callas as her reference, even though she was advised to listen instead to Zinka Milanov’s interpretation — another great Gioconda. Tebaldi herself famously said: “Callas is much better.” These were Tebaldi’s own words. Montserrat Caballé also left us a fabulous recording of La Gioconda.

Now we have the extraordinary opportunity to hear this opera live in the city of Barcelona. The Gran Teatre del Liceu has scheduled performances that promise to be truly sumptuous, running from February 16 to March 2. The star of the production is one of the most internationally acclaimed sopranos of our time: Saioa Hernández. She has already sung the role in other major theaters with great success, and she was recently triumphantly received in Paris as Tosca, where she is now considered the finest Tosca of the present day.




















Her voice is electrifying: powerful, beautiful, radiant, and at the same time sensual and dramatic, lyrical and refined. It is the ideal voice for Gioconda. To my ears, she recalls both Caballé and Tebaldi. I have heard her live many times over the years, and it is always a privilege to attend her performances. At La Scala, she achieved a monumental success when she inaugurated the season with Odabella — a difficult role that had previously brought great acclaim to the wonderful soprano Cheryl Studer. Saioa Hernández likewise won over the demanding La Scala audience, no less. I myself first heard her live in a role also made famous by Maria Callas: Imogene, the wife of the Duke of Caldora, in Bellini’s Il Pirata.

Everything is prepared for these highly anticipated performances on an international level. Audiences will travel from all over the world for the opening night, as this opera can only be heard in Barcelona, and we do not know when it will next be programmed in New York, London, Paris, Vienna, or at La Scala. This is truly a golden opportunity to hear the Gioconda of the moment live.

The opera will also feature a galaxy of outstanding artists accompanying the Madrid-born superstar Saioa Hernández. The long-awaited opening night will take place on February 17, a date rich in musical symbolism. On that same day, La verbena de la paloma by Tomás Bretón was premiered in Madrid — a zarzuela that has brought success to many great sopranos since 1894.



















February 17 is also significant because the star of the evening is one of the finest Madama Butterfly interpreters of today. At this very theater, the Liceu, she sang Cio-Cio-San with extraordinary musical and dramatic success, earning international praise. Saioa Hernández is deeply connected to Puccini and especially to Madama Butterfly, an opera that left a lasting impression in Barcelona during Christmas 2024. Remarkably, Madama Butterfly was premiered at La Scala on February 17, 1904 — another historic and glorious debut. Thus, February 17 is a date to remember for lovers of Puccini and of his teacher Ponchielli, who left us the magnificent legacy of La Gioconda.

Saioa Hernández could not have chosen a better title with which to return to the city that has seen her triumph as Amelia, Leonora in Il trovatore and La forza del destino, Madama Butterfly, and so many other unforgettable nights. La Gioconda has already brought her immense success here — success that remains vivid in memory and that will now surely be repeated. The anticipation is immense; there is little else discussed in both local and international operatic circles. Trips to Barcelona are being organized specifically to hear this opera with a soprano who is ideal for the legendary role of the great sopranos of history.

The divine voice of the Madrid soprano can be heard live at the Gran Teatre del Liceu on February 17, 20, 23, 26, and March 1 — five opportunities to experience a singer who is deeply loved by this theater and its audience.

The Mariinsky superstar Ekaterina Semenchuk, who previously sang Turandot at the Liceu with overwhelming success, will also alternate in the title role. Thus, Barcelona will offer two dream Giocondas — a luxury for even the most demanding international opera lover.

The cast of stars is dazzling, with artists of brilliant careers who will provide a true vocal festival: fabulous voices, important, powerful, radiant, and beautiful, filling the theater to the last row. We are promised unforgettable nights, and with ballet included — what more could one ask for? I certainly won’t miss it.

History, Legend, and an Unrepeatable Event

La Gioconda by Amilcare Ponchielli occupies a unique and almost mythical place in operatic history. It is not only the greatest masterpiece of its composer — who was also the teacher of Giacomo Puccini — but one of the most demanding operas ever written for the human voice. A true monument of the grand romantic tradition, La Gioconda combines overwhelming vocal writing, sumptuous orchestration, massive choral scenes, unforgettable duets, and one of the most famous ballets ever composed for the operatic stage. It is opera as total spectacle: music, drama, voice, and dance at their highest level.

This extreme difficulty is precisely why La Gioconda is so rarely staged. To mount it successfully requires a cast of international superstars in every role, an orchestra capable of monumental sonorities and infinite refinement, a conductor who deeply understands the human voice, and a production worthy of its spectacular nature. For this reason, in 2026 the opera will be performed only in Barcelona, at the Gran Teatre del Liceu — and nowhere else in the world. This alone makes these performances historic.

Maria Callas, Renata Tebaldi, and the Terror of Gioconda

No soprano in history is more closely associated with the role of Gioconda than Maria Callas. She sang it early in her career, notably in Verona when she was still largely unknown, and the role accompanied her throughout her artistic evolution. Her legendary studio recording, made in Milan in September 1959, stands as one of the most dramatic and emotionally charged documents in operatic history.

That recording was made only two months after her separation from her husband, Meneghini, and shortly after the fateful cruise that brought Aristotle Onassis into her life — an encounter that would profoundly change her destiny. The emotional turmoil of that moment is etched into every phrase she sings. The dramatic intensity, the desperation, the grandeur, and the tragic nobility of her Gioconda remain unmatched.

Yet what is perhaps most revealing is this: after that recording, Maria Callas refused all further offers to sing La Gioconda on stage. The role was so immense, so physically and psychologically demanding, that even Callas — fearless in so many other roles — was afraid to perform it live again. This fact alone speaks volumes about the terrifying difficulty of Gioconda and elevates any modern performance of the role to an extraordinary event.

Her great rival, Renata Tebaldi, also recorded La Gioconda in the studio. Though advised to look to Zinka Milanov as a model, Tebaldi herself famously acknowledged Callas’s supremacy in this role, stating openly that Callas was superior. The Callas–Tebaldi contrast, so central to operatic history, finds one of its most fascinating chapters in La Gioconda — a role that tests not only vocal power, but dramatic truth and emotional endurance.


The Giocondas of Today: Saioa Hernández and Ekaterina Semenchuk

In Barcelona, the title role will be interpreted by two extraordinary sopranos of our time.

Saioa Hernández, one of the most internationally celebrated dramatic sopranos today, will sing Gioconda on February 17, 20, 23, 26, and March 1. Her voice — powerful, radiant, sensual, dramatic, and lyrical — is ideally suited to this formidable role. She has already triumphed in it in major theaters, and her recent Tosca in Paris has confirmed her status as the leading Tosca of our era. Her Gioconda promises grandeur, emotional truth, and overwhelming vocal impact.

Alternating with her is the magnificent Ekaterina Semenchuk, the Mariinsky superstar, whose previous appearances at the Liceu — including a sensational Turandot — were met with thunderous acclaim. These two Giocondas represent a dream casting, worthy of the greatest traditions of the role.

A Stellar Cast of International Legends

The cast assembled for these performances is nothing short of dazzling — a true constellation of international stars.

La Cieca, one of the most moving roles in the opera, will be sung by the legendary Violeta Urmana, an international superstar, on February 17, 20, 22, 23, 26, 28, and March 1, alongside Saioa Hernández on the same evenings. Hearing these two magnificent artists together on stage is reason enough not to miss a single performance. Personally, Violeta Urmana enchanted me unforgettable in 2004 at Covent Garden, singing La forza del destino with the dearly missed tenor Salvatore Licitra — a performance that remains vivid in my memory.

The role will also be sung by Anna Kissjudit, the powerful Hungarian soprano from Budapest, whose rich and commanding voice will bring depth and nobility to La Cieca on February 16, 19, 25, and March 2.

Laura Adorno will be interpreted by two superb mezzos:

Alvise Badoero, Laura’s husband and the terrifying leader of the Inquisition, will be sung by:

The role of Enzo Grimaldo, the romantic hero, will be alternated by two magnificent tenors with golden, magnetic voices:

Their passionate singing, carried by Ponchielli’s soaring melodies, will transport us to the moonlit nights of Venice, making us dream and fall in love alongside Gioconda.

The sinister and crucial role of Barnaba, one of opera’s most formidable villains — who also closes the opera — will be sung by:

  • Gabriele Viviani on February 17, 20, 23, 26, and March 1

  • Àngel Òdena on February 16, 19, 22, 25, 28, and March 2

The final electrifying confrontation between Gioconda and Barnaba is one of the most awaited moments of the evening, alongside the great love duets, the monumental ensembles, and the overwhelming concerted scenes with chorus and orchestra.












La danza delle Ore - atto III - La Gioconda - Ponchielli 


Music, Ballet, and a Legendary Conductor

La Gioconda is also famous for its spectacular ballet music — a jewel of the operatic repertoire — and this production fully embraces that tradition. The show is doubly magnificent: extraordinary music and glorious ballet, united in a visually stunning and lavish production.

The Orchestra of the Gran Teatre del Liceu, considered one of the finest opera orchestras in the world, will be conducted by Daniel Oren, widely regarded as one of the greatest conductors of our time. Deeply loved by singers, Oren is renowned for his profound understanding of the human voice and his ability to draw both vocal beauty and orchestral splendor from the score. Under his baton, Ponchielli’s music will shine in all its richness — the sumptuous strings, the glowing cellos, the radiant violins, the powerful brass, and the magnificent orchestral architecture that only Puccini’s teacher could have conceived.

An Opportunity Not to Be Missed

All is ready for one of the most anticipated operatic events not only of the season, but of the entire year worldwide. La Gioconda will be heard live only in Barcelona in 2026. No New York, no London, no Paris, no Vienna, no La Scala — only here.

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I certainly will not miss it.

La Gioconda à Barcelone 2026

Histoire, légende et un événement lyrique sans équivalent

La Gioconda d’Amilcare Ponchielli occupe une place absolument unique dans l’histoire de l’opéra. Chef-d’œuvre incontesté de son compositeur — qui fut également le maître de Giacomo Puccini — cette œuvre monumentale représente l’un des sommets du grand opéra romantique du XIXᵉ siècle. Rarement un opéra aura réuni avec une telle force la grandeur du drame, l’exigence vocale extrême, la richesse orchestrale, la puissance du chœur et l’éclat spectaculaire du ballet.

La Gioconda est une œuvre totale, un véritable théâtre de passions où la voix humaine est portée à ses limites les plus héroïques. Du premier au dernier acte, tout y est démesuré : les grands duos d’amour, les scènes concertantes impressionnantes, l’écriture redoutable pour les solistes, l’orchestre somptueux aux couleurs chatoyantes, et bien sûr le célèbre ballet — l’un des plus beaux jamais composés pour la scène lyrique. C’est l’opéra du « grand spectacle », celui dont on disait dès sa création à la Scala de Milan que c’était « le plus grand spectacle que l’on puisse voir ».

Cette démesure explique aussi pourquoi La Gioconda est aujourd’hui si rarement représentée. Monter cet opéra exige une distribution exceptionnelle dans absolument tous les rôles, un chœur de premier ordre, un orchestre capable d’une puissance monumentale autant que d’un raffinement extrême, un chef connaissant intimement la voix humaine, et une production scénique fastueuse. Pour toutes ces raisons, La Gioconda ne sera représentée qu’à Barcelone en 2026, au Gran Teatre del Liceu, et dans aucune autre ville du monde. Ce seul fait confère à ces représentations un caractère historique.

Maria Callas, Renata Tebaldi et la terreur du rôle de Gioconda

Aucune soprano n’est plus intimement liée au rôle de Gioconda que Maria Callas. Elle l’a chanté très tôt dans sa carrière, notamment à Vérone alors qu’elle était encore peu connue, et ce rôle l’a accompagnée dans son ascension vers la légende. Sa célèbre gravure de studio réalisée à Milan en septembre 1959 reste l’un des témoignages les plus bouleversants de toute l’histoire de l’opéra.

Cet enregistrement fut réalisé seulement deux mois après sa séparation douloureuse d’avec son mari Meneghini, et peu après la croisière fatidique où Aristote Onassis entra dans sa vie, bouleversant à jamais son destin personnel et artistique. Toute la souffrance, la tension dramatique, la grandeur tragique de ce moment se retrouvent gravées dans chaque phrase de son interprétation. Cette Gioconda est un cri de l’âme, une incarnation absolue du drame.

Ce qui frappe encore davantage, c’est qu’après cet enregistrement de 1959, Maria Callas refusa toutes les propositions de chanter de nouveau La Gioconda sur scène. Le rôle était si écrasant, si dangereux pour la voix et si éprouvant psychologiquement que même Callas, pourtant célèbre pour son courage artistique, préféra ne plus jamais l’affronter en représentation. Ce fait seul dit tout de la difficulté extrême du rôle de Gioconda.

Sa grande rivale, Renata Tebaldi, grava elle aussi La Gioconda en studio. Bien qu’on lui ait conseillé de s’inspirer de Zinka Milanov, autre grande interprète du rôle, Tebaldi elle-même reconnut la supériorité dramatique de Callas dans cette œuvre, déclarant sans détour que Callas était meilleure. La rivalité Callas–Tebaldi, si emblématique du XXᵉ siècle lyrique, trouve dans La Gioconda l’un de ses chapitres les plus fascinants.













Les Gioconda d’aujourd’hui : Saioa Hernández et Ekaterina Semenchuk

À Barcelone, le rôle-titre sera confié à deux grandes sopranos de notre temps, dignes héritières de cette tradition légendaire.

Saioa Hernández, l’une des sopranos dramatiques les plus acclamées du panorama international actuel, interprétera Gioconda les 17, 20, 23, 26 février et 1ᵉʳ mars. Sa voix, à la fois puissante, rayonnante, sensuelle, lyrique et intensément dramatique, est idéale pour ce rôle titanesque. Elle a déjà triomphé dans Gioconda sur de grandes scènes et son immense succès récent à Paris dans Tosca l’a consacrée comme la Tosca de référence de notre époque.

Elle alternera avec la grande mezzo-soprano devenue soprano dramatique Ekaterina Semenchuk, star du Mariinsky, qui a déjà enflammé le public du Liceu avec un succès retentissant, notamment dans Turandot. Deux Gioconda de rêve, offrant au public barcelonais un luxe rarissime.

Une distribution de superstars internationales

Le plateau vocal réuni pour ces représentations est tout simplement éblouissant, digne des plus grandes heures de l’histoire de l’opéra.

Le rôle bouleversant de La Cieca sera interprété par la légendaire Violeta Urmana, immense star internationale, les 17, 20, 22, 23, 26, 28 février et 1ᵉʳ mars, aux côtés de Saioa Hernández lors des mêmes soirées. Entendre ces deux artistes extraordinaires réunies sur la même scène est un événement en soi. Personnellement, Violeta Urmana m’a profondément marqué en 2004 à Londres, au Covent Garden, dans La forza del destino, aux côtés du regretté et trop tôt disparu Salvatore Licitra — une soirée restée inoubliable.












La Cieca sera également chantée par la soprano hongroise Anna Kissjudit, dotée d’une voix puissante et profonde, les 16, 19, 25 février et 2 mars.

Le rôle de Laura Adorno sera confié à deux mezzos de tout premier plan :

  • Ksenia Dudnikova : 17, 20, 23, 26 février et 1ᵉʳ mars

  • Varduhi Abrahamyan : 16, 19, 22, 25, 28 février et 2 mars

Le redoutable Alvise Badoero, mari de Laura et chef de l’Inquisition, sera incarné par :

  • John Relyea : 17, 20, 23 février et 1ᵉʳ mars

  • Alexander Köpeczi : 16, 19, 22, 25, 26, 28 février et 2 mars

Le rôle du héros romantique Enzo Grimaldo sera interprété par deux ténors d’exception, aux voix dorées et magnétiques :

  • Michael Fabiano : 17, 20, 23, 26 février et 1ᵉʳ mars

  • Martin Muehle : 16, 19, 22, 25, 28 février et 2 mars

Leurs voix ardentes, portées par les mélodies sublimes de Ponchielli, nous transporteront dans les nuits vénitiennes, nous faisant rêver et aimer comme Gioconda dans ce pur mélodrame romantique.

Le rôle du terrible et fascinant Barnaba, l’un des grands méchants de l’opéra — chargé de conclure l’œuvre dans un final électrisant — sera chanté par :

  • Gabriele Viviani : 17, 20, 23, 26 février et 1ᵉʳ mars

  • Àngel Òdena : 16, 19, 22, 25, 28 février et 2 mars

Le duel final entre Gioconda et Barnaba, d’une tension dramatique extrême, figure parmi les moments les plus attendus de la soirée, aux côtés des grands duos d’amour et des impressionnants ensembles avec chœur et orchestre.

Orchestre, ballet et direction musicale

La Gioconda est également célèbre pour son ballet spectaculaire, magnifiquement intégré à cette production. Le spectacle est doublement somptueux : musique grandiose et ballet éblouissant, dans une mise en scène fastueuse et visuellement spectaculaire.

L’Orchestre Symphonique du Gran Teatre del Liceu, considéré comme l’un des meilleurs orchestres au monde, sera dirigé par Daniel Oren, unanimement reconnu comme l’un des plus grands chefs d’orchestre actuels. Très apprécié des chanteurs pour sa connaissance profonde de la voix humaine, Daniel Oren sait faire "chanter" l’orchestre avec élégance tout en libérant toute la puissance dramatique de la partition. Sous sa baguette, les merveilleuses mélodies de Ponchielli — les cordes somptueuses, les violoncelles profonds, les violons lumineux, les cuivres éclatants — promettent des soirées d’un raffinement et d’une intensité exceptionnels.

Choreography: The celebrated "Dance of the Hours" (or ballet of the hours) will be choreographed by Vincent Chaillet, former principal dancer of the Paris National Opera, who now enjoys a distinguished career as a choreographer and teacher.

Artistic Team: Stage direction is by Romain Gilbert, with an aesthetic vision that includes costumes by designer Christian Lacroix.

Une occasion unique

Tout est réuni pour faire de La Gioconda à Barcelone l’un des événements lyriques majeurs de l’année 2026, non seulement en Espagne, mais dans le monde entier. Cet opéra ne sera joué nulle part ailleurs cette année-là.

C’est une occasion en or, rare et précieuse, que je ne manquerai pour rien au monde.

The Night When Gioconda Returned

Barcelona had dressed itself in gala attire.

On the evening of February 17, the city shimmered with an intensity usually reserved for coronations or legendary football finals. Cars glided along La Rambla like polished black beetles, their headlights reflected in the wet stone after a brief winter drizzle. Above everything, the façade of the Gran Teatre del Liceu glowed—golden, solemn, expectant—like a temple reopened after centuries of silence.

Inside, the air vibrated before a single note had been played.

The foyer was a constellation of silk, diamonds, and discreet murmurs in half a dozen languages. Opera lovers, critics, conductors, former divas, young singers with hungry eyes, patrons whose families had financed seasons for generations—all had gathered for a reason that went beyond fashion or ritual. They had come because La Gioconda was being reborn, and because this rebirth would happen only here, only now.

Journalists crowded the entrance, calling out names as the cars stopped beneath the portico.

Violetta Cardusi emerged first, incandescent in ivory satin, her presence instantly igniting a storm of camera flashes. Fresh from a Roman film set, she smiled with the calm authority of someone accustomed to attention but still capable of awe.

“Why Barcelona?” a reporter shouted.

She paused, as if the answer were obvious.
“Because tonight, Gioconda lives again. And because Saioa Hernández sings her.”

Behind her stepped Franco Zeffirni, elegant, amused, already studying the theatre with the curiosity of a director who senses a scene worth remembering.

Moments later, another ripple moved through the crowd: Katia Svennelli, wrapped in midnight blue, arriving from Stockholm by way of Naples, where she had already witnessed this production. Her verdict was brief and reverent.

“A miracle,” she said. “Some operas are performed. This one happens.”

Inside the auditorium, the red velvet seemed deeper than usual, the gold brighter. Every seat was occupied. From the royal box to the highest gallery, anticipation hung like a held breath. Conversations circled obsessively around the same names—Urmana, Fabiano, Semenchuk—but always returned to one.

Gioconda.

Saioa Hernández.

When the lights dimmed, silence descended with ceremonial gravity. The conductor appeared, greeted by applause that was warm but restrained—everyone saving something for later. The orchestra began, and Ponchielli’s opening bars rose from the pit like dark water stirred by an unseen force.

From the first chorus, it was clear: this was no routine premiere. The sound filled the theatre with sculpted grandeur, massive yet supple, as if the Liceu itself were breathing with the music. The ballet unfolded with hypnotic elegance, its rhythms pulsing through the audience like a collective heartbeat.

And then—she appeared.

Gioconda entered not as a character, but as a destiny.

Saioa Hernández’s voice burst forth with a radiance that seemed to strike the walls and rebound, transformed, magnified. It was a voice of steel wrapped in velvet, of anguish illuminated by beauty. Power without brutality. Emotion without excess. Each phrase carried intention, each high note crowned with authority rather than force.

In the great arias, time lost its linearity. Some listeners thought of Callas, others of Tebaldi or Caballé—but only for an instant. What stood before them was not memory, but presence. A Gioconda of flesh and blood, singing as if her life depended on it.

During the great duet, the audience leaned forward, collectively, unconsciously. Tears appeared without warning. A critic from London lowered his pen. A former soprano closed her eyes, lips trembling, as if revisiting a past she had once lived onstage.

By the final act, tension was unbearable. The tragedy unfolded with inexorable force, and when Gioconda’s last cry dissolved into silence, there was a fraction of a second—tiny, eternal—where no one dared to move.

Then the theatre exploded.

Applause thundered from every level. Cries of “Brava!” cut through the roar like flashes of lightning. Flowers rained onto the stage. The cast returned again and again, but it was Hernández who held the night in her hands, visibly moved, eyes shining, breath still bound to Ponchielli’s final echo.

In the boxes, high society rose to its feet alongside students and pilgrims who had crossed oceans to be there. Paris, New York, Vienna, Milan, Tokyo—all seemed suddenly very far away. For this one night, opera belonged to Barcelona alone.

Outside, long after midnight, the crowd lingered beneath the theatre’s lights, unwilling to break the spell.

They knew—every one of them—that they had witnessed something unrepeatable.

A Gioconda for history.

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