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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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:
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Ksenia Dudnikova on February 17, 20, 23, 26, and March 1
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Varduhi Abrahamyan on February 16, 19, 22, 25, 28, and March 2
Alvise Badoero, Laura’s husband and the terrifying leader of the Inquisition, will be sung by:
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John Relyea on February 17, 20, 23, and March 1
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Alexander Köpeczi on February 16, 19, 22, 25, 26, 28, and March 2
The role of Enzo Grimaldo, the romantic hero, will be alternated by two magnificent tenors with golden, magnetic voices:
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Michael Fabiano on February 17, 20, 23, 26, and March 1
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Martin Muehle on February 16, 19, 22, 25, 28, and March 2
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:
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Gabriele Viviani on February 17, 20, 23, 26, and March 1
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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.
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 :
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Ksenia Dudnikova : 17, 20, 23, 26 février et 1ᵉʳ mars
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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 :
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John Relyea : 17, 20, 23 février et 1ᵉʳ mars
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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 :
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Michael Fabiano : 17, 20, 23, 26 février et 1ᵉʳ mars
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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 :
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Gabriele Viviani : 17, 20, 23, 26 février et 1ᵉʳ mars
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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.
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.
