The Stage

Montezuma

Published Monday 16 August 2010 at 17:49 by Nick Awde

The fall of Montezuma and his Mexican empire at the hands of Cortes and the Conquistadores is a classic example of imperialism at work.

History reworked the facts as changing attitudes in Europe saw in the conquest a potent symbol of the noble savage (ie innocence) against the corrupting power of Catholicism (ie clericalism).

First seen in 1755 with music by Carl Heinrich Graun and libretto by his patron Frederick the Great, Ruhr and Essen’s Theater der Welt 2010’s production reveals this three-acter to be a vibrant morality tale whose language and ideals are as recognisable and relevant today as in the 18th century.

It opens with Montezuma serenely contemplating the peace in his empire as he prepares for his wedding to Eupaforice. He is strangely unperturbed by his general Pilpatoe’s reports of a band of foreigners who are marching on the capital. Unease deepens when the Spanish captain Navres turns up, flinging a Coca-Cola bottle dismissively into the court as a harbinger of the devastation that is to come. Sure enough, when Cortes does materialise, we can but watch as Montezuma approaches his doom with Christ-like resignation - a decision that damns his subjects too.

The damage done, everything is thrown up into the air for Act III where the resonance with present-day Mexico is manifest. The orchestra joins the cast onstage - the conductor pushes Cortes aside - in a circle around Montezuma who stands again Christ-like atop a huge column draped in a huge Mexican flag, Eupaforice Mary Magdalene-like at his feet, the irony complete since they have refused to become Christian. The Mexicans now are dressed for carnival, each brandishing a Coke. But, though corrupted en masse, they know the long road to independence has already started and Montezuma’s demise is no celebration for Cortes, lost in the crowd of the missionary-led chorus closer.

Sung in Italian with surtitles, Montezuma confidently meets the challenge of dramatic contrast posed by the lengthy arias distributed equally among the protagonists, whose high parts are written mostly for castrati (today’s counter-tenors) and sopranos. Athletic Flavio Oliver cuts a sympathetic figure, although a little uncertain in the lower register, while Adrian-George Popescu is a powerfully restrained Cortes along with Christophe Carre’s sinister yet comic Spanish captain Navres. Lourdes Ambriz sings Eupaforice, a deeply complex character, with an enviable range of emotions and almost steals the show with her extraordinary aria sung while being shoved down the steps of a pyramid by her fellow Mexicans. The Concerto Elyma under Gabriel Garrido’s deft hand and Herman Sorgeloos’ monolithic Aztec pyramid flow with director Claudio Valdes Kuri’s remarkably focused movement.

If we’re talking colonialism, corruption and even globalisation, Montezuma pushes all the right buttons, while there is a singular joy in experiencing an opera that is musically and visually accessible to wider audiences, entertaining as it is intellectual. In a show that finds room for very human humour in such tragedy, the sight of Navres’ dog happily wagging its tail over the first violin is worth the ticket price alone.

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