When, in 1818, Lisbon's police superintendent, who doubled as inspector of Portuguese theatres, commissioned Rossini to write another of the one-act farces that marked his early career, the composer was working hard on the more substantial Moses in Egypt.
Although only 26, he already had two dozen operas behind him, including The Barber of Seville and La Cenerentola, so maybe he thought the job was a little beneath him. He refused to write an overture and reworked most of the music from a little-regarded work, Sigismondo, written four years earlier.
That maybe was the reason that the piece did not have its première until 1826, which Rossini did not bother to attend. After that, it largely disappeared from the repertoire, and he never wrote one-act farce again.
The story follows the then-popular theme of a Middle-Eastern potentate seeking to marry a slave girl, Adina, who however still has the hots for her suddenly reappeared ex, Selimo. After the former lovers try to escape, he is condemned to death, but when Adina faints, the Caliph recognises a medallion on her bracelet, realising that she is his long-lost daughter, and all ends happily.
Unfortunately, the peremptory nature of the composition, with a fair bit of dry recitative in the 80 minutes, is reflected in a largely pedestrian score, but this 2018 production, a joint venture between the opera festivals in Pesaro and Wexford, is lifted by Tiziano Santi and Claudia Pernigotti’s colourful designs, imaginative direction and excellent performances.
The set resembles a three-tier wedding cake, in which the Caliph’s bath chamber occupies the lowest storey, with toytown servants, including Adina’s two mute maids in red baby-doll dresses, looking like iced cherries. And director Rosetta Cucchi enhances proceedings with inventive goings-on among a host of invented extras.
Rossini took the trouble at least to write a showpiece finale for Adina, which is probably the reason that Lisette Oropesa took the gig. Powerful yet never lacking in sweetness, her voice rises seemingly effortlessly, taking the chicanes of the melody smoothly to the breathtaking top. Even in the fairly ordinary strawberry song earlier—with servants cheekily stealing the fruits with a fishing rod—her floating tones and joyful manner are a delight.
Tenor Levy Sekgapane also shines in Selimo’s big aria, a testing bel canto number that allows him to demonstrate his technique and confident high notes, and baritone Vito Priante as the Caliph is at his best demonstrating his own command of the coloratura writing. His servant Ali has the misfortune of being given a mediocre aria that seems out of place and may have been inserted by someone other than Rossini, but Matteo Macchioni makes a decent job of it—another example of the performers being rather better than the material.
The video recording is not of the highest definition and is hampered by inadequate lighting and twice by a parapet railing that blocks the line of vision.