Unmasked

A rather fascinating little film on the Arts Channel last night, Don Giovanni Unmasked, starring Dmitri Hvorostovksy and Dmitri Hvorostovsky. As Giovanni and Leporello. Which I'll concede sounded a little narcissistic to me in theory; but in practice, excellent. The film is a Barbara Willis Sweete creation: she of The Sorceress. But there's deeper thought gone into this one. It could have been a Dmitri Hvorostovsky vehicle - that's what I expected to be - but believe it or not, it isn't.

I doubt I can explain the concept of the film without making it seem hopelessly complicated. It's a film-within-a-film, set simultaneously in the 1930s and 17th century Spain. Death is the projectionist; Leporello hosts a black and white film of the Don's exploits which will apparently reveal his (Giovanni's) true identity. I know. But it's better and more comprehensible than it sounds. (And far better explained here.) Without getting too preposterously analytical and over the top, it really is a neat little exploration of Don Giovanni as a character, of the nature of Leporello's and Giovanni's complex relationship. 'Unmasked'? Well, he is and he isn't, and that's sort of the point.

Just as a film, I think it's extraordinarily effective; Barbara Willis Sweete and I seem to share a similarly flavoured fascination with the opera's dark ambiguities. Musically too it is stunning, the sort of Don Giovanni I dream of, and thus can only wish existed in a complete version (the film runs less than an hour.) I said it wasn't a Dmitri vehicle, and it isn't; yet it almost is because he's quite breathtaking, in both roles, differentiating them just enough but allowing the line between the two characters to be blurred as well. His Don is all one could wish for, commanding, but suave and even sweet when called for, his Leporello grave but still with that vicarious glee in his master's conquests. It is Don Giovanni who dominates proceedings, and so it is in that role that Dmitri's singing is its most thrilling: an irresistably silken 'Deh vieni alla finestra', 'Finch'han del vino' a perfectly articulated quasi mad-scene, and a truly terrifying dinner scene. Which brings me to the orchestra, the Canadian Opera Company Orchestra under Richard Bradford. There's nothing very giocoso going on here; Bradford's reading is as dark and tense as the film, and the result is taut, chilling and quite brilliant. I love hearing Don Giovanni like this. And I also loved seeing it like this.

Most of the hits (especially for Giovanni and Leporello) are here, but this is an independent creation, not just the film equivalent of a highlights disc, or a sort of potted Don Giovanni for the short of attention span - both of which it could have become. Neither is it as relentlessly serious and arty as I fear I may have made it sound. It's a smart concept, and it's nicely executed - visually, dramatically, and musically. Quite special.