The opera "Don Giovanni," premiered in Prague in 1787, is one of the canonical works of western culture. Among those who genuflected to it as the greatest opera were Goethe, Shaw, and Wagner. Gustave Flaubert said that "the three finest things in creation are the sea, Hamlet, and Mozart's Don Giovanni." As is often the case, the writer of the play and the lines that are sung is obliterated by referring to the opera as the composer's. Mozart was, of course, a great and fecund genius, but the operas for which he composed music that are dramatically satisfying had libretti by Lorenzo da Ponte. "Don Giovanni" is a tragicomedy (Mozart cataloged it as "opera buffa" rather than "opera seria"). The darkness (from the first chords of the overture) and seriousness were pressed by the composer, the light comedy by the librettist, according to Da Ponte after Mozart's early death in 1791. (Da Ponte moved to the United States in 1805, arranged the US premiere of "Don Giovanni" in 1826, and lived until 1838.)

Whether Don Giovanni is the tragic hero or comically frustrated villain of the opera that bears his name is a perennial open question for discussion and interpretation. This is part of the reason that Pushkin, Shaw, E. T. A. Hoffman wrote works based on the opera and that provided grist for Kierkegaard's mill and for a major part of Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf. The original title was "Il dissoluto punnito" (The Dissolute Punished or The Womanizer Punished) and it is quite possible to see the work as the triumph of conventional morality. Although (the "catalog aria" of Leporello) establishes that the nobleman has seduced more than two thousand women, he has no success during the opera. After some providing of context by his servant Leporello. the opera begins with Don Giovanni being chased out of her boudoir by Donna Anna. All the don's plans to deflower Zerlina before her marriage to Masetto are foiled, and Donna Elvira is a past conquest vacillating between wanting him punished and wanting him back. After Giovanni is engulfed by the fires of hell, there is a triumphant sextet celebrating his punishment and the happier (or, in the case of Donna Elvira, more peaceful) future the other leading characters are going to have with him removed from the scene.

Although by no stretch of the imagination is the don a sympathetic character, there is something grand and heroic in his refusal to repent and be saved by the Commendatore (Donna Anna's father, who Don Giovanni slew in a swordfight after fleeing from her room). Mozart did not only write the celebratory sextet for the others but provided heroic music for Don Giovanni's rejection of the easy road to heaven and for facing the uninvited masked guests. And, though a compulsive hedonist and abuser of many (like the Count in the Mozart/Da Ponte adaptation of "The Marriage of Figaro"), there is a discontent bordering on anguish starting from hiding his identity as he flees Donna Anna at the beginning, seeks to avoid killing the Commendatore, and is frustrated over and over again in his attempts to evade Donna Elvira and to seduce Zerlina. In the German-speaking world, the comic aspects have tended to be dismissed as Italian/Mediterranean, the courage and anguish emphasized. Gustav Mahler, in his days as director of the Vienna State Opera, went so far as to slice off the finale, ending the opera in high romantic fashion with Don Giovanni disappearing into the fires of hell.

Until watching the DVD of the 1979 version directed by Joseph Losey, I've inclined to the darker reading (even having seen the movie in its original theatrical release back then). I've always thought that the final sextet is glorious music, but mostly ignored the message of the words (whereas the final confrontation between the Commendatore and Don Giovanni is readily comprehensible with "Peniti!" an obvious cognate of "Repent!"). I am enchanted by how the director of many a heavy and morose film (King and Country, The Assassination of Trotsky, Mr. Klein, Accident) filmed the finale, first in the porch of the Palladian villa, then with the six characters in four boats, still singing away.

Indeed, I also especially like the filming of the arrival of Donna Anna, Donna Elvira, and Don Ottavio, all of whom have donned masks, before the festivities begin, and even Don Ottavio's aria is more interested as his boat moves in a channel between thick reeds. The unfolding of the catalog of conquests during Leporell's "catalog aria" is also visually very satisfying, even with nothing aquatic. The backdrops of formal gardens and neoclassical palaces in Vicenza (and to a lesser extent, Venice) are impressive as no opera set ever can be. The camera work is very fluid, whether moving with the characters or exploring the spaces in which they are singing. (Gerry Fisher also shot "Mr. Klein" and The Go-Between for Losey; they also have fluid camerawork and "Mr. Klein" has similar somewhat washed-out color (this was in the original print and is not a failing of the transfer to DVD).)

Obviously, opera is highly artificial. The artifice is multiplied by providing studio recording of the music. A singer moving toward the camera, a singer standing still, and a singer moving away from the camera all sound the same. I don't really want a less perfect conveyance of the music, but it is a bit disconcerting for there to be no modulation in volume levels as people come and go.

Cast

Aside from striking tableaux and sublime music, a satisfying movie of an opera requires outstanding singers who at least look plausible as the characters and, preferably, can act. For me, the standout performance, in the soprano ingenue role is Teresa Berganza's Zerlina. She has more to do and far better vocal material than her fiancé Masetto, creditably sung and enacted by Malcolm King. The conventionally heroic tenor part (with two arias) of Don Ottavio is well sung by Kenneth Riegel, who looks the part of a somewhat fatuous and calculating upholder of social convention.

José van Dam has the best male part, the cowardly and sardonic servant Leporello, and makes the most of it. The (arialess) title role is written to be something of a cypher and astonishingly reactive, especially since it is the part of the very rich and very licentious nobleman. Ruggero Raimondi's Don Giovanni looks fairly foppish ("effeminate" in the old-fashioned sense of the word as one preferring the company of women rather than "proper" manly pursuits, though his swordsmanship in the opera is more effective than his cockmanship) and even petulant. Despite all the frustrations of his plans, there is also a fearless "come what may" (including visible hellfires) quality to the part, and Raimondi is excellent at the defiant Romantic hero.

I've never seen a completely compelling Donna Anna. Is her honor offended or is she merely a cold fish? It seems that she does not love Don Ottavio, but also is unwilling to give up his protection and devotion. Edda Moser is not passionate, but the music and the lines she's given by Mozart and da Ponte are not passionate, either. She sings well and looks stern.

Mozart supplied the best music to Donna Elvira. Kiri Te Kanawa is not all that passionate (come to think of it, only Masetto is passionate, and he is easily tamed and led around by Zerlina). She looks the part of the agonized woman seduced, abandoned, still in love, thirsting for revenge and sings beautifully.

All in all, the cast has great singers and adequate actors (though Berganza and van Dam turn in genuinely superb performances). There is also (a very Losey touch) a poker-faced, strikingly high-cheekboned and white-powdered valet who takes in everything and emits no sound (Eric Adjani).

The DVD preserves the look of the movie. The singing was very good and sounded very good to me through headphones, but does not meet high audiophile standards (Dolby 2.0). (But neither does my favorite audio recording, directed by Klemperer with another fine cast.)

The scene selection is useful, though I would really like the penultimate chapter to have been subdivided. The only extras are theatrical trailers for the film, one for "Madama Butterfly" and one for "Oliver!"(a quite good one, but why included here?)

Conclusion: At the very least an oustanding cast with a visually interesting incarnation of arguably the greatest of operas, there is only one genuine contender with it for the title of "greatest opera movie," Franco Zeffirelli's inspired production of a lesser opera, "Cavalleria Rusticana." Losey's "Don Giovanni" is infinitely superior to his earlier foray into the time period and the amours of decadent aristocracy, the 1958 "The Gypsy and the Gentleman." It is also superior to Losey's film of Berthold Brecht's Galileo. The class conflict (and knowing servants) was Losey territory (also see "The Servant" and The Go-Between, as well as "Galileo"...and "Boom").

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD