The Royal Opera's first new production of 2002 is, for once, a show conceived and built at Covent Garden rather than borrowed wholesale from another house. But that's no guarantee of quality, and this Don Giovanni, directed by Francesca Zambello in designs by Maria Bjornson, turns out to be as devoid of interest as any production of this notoriously difficult-to-stage piece that I have ever encountered. It is, to put it bluntly, shockingly bad, and there were several moments during the evening when thoughts strayed affectionately back to Glyndebourne's notorious recent staging, dominated by its pile of manure.
That show at least had some ideas, but there is no evidence here of any constructive thinking about the characters or the action. Bjornson's set is a giant curved wall: for the opening scene it suggests an ossuary; for the end of the first act it revolves to reveal a garishly painted perspective view of a grand banqueting hall; it begins the second act as a mixture of bare bricks and concrete blocks. There's no statue, just something swinging about upstage that was not properly visible from where I was sitting. The fires of hell summoned by Robert Lloyd's Commendatore to claim Giovanni are a real display of pyrotechnics, complete with suspended flaming hand, but hardly of a piece with anything that precedes them.
Within that visual framework nothing meaningful happens at all. Bryn Terfel's Giovanni is just a bit of a lad, and his very deliberate murder of the Commendatore seems out of character for someone so totally lacking in guile. This Don is neither dangerous nor seductive, which is a bit of a problem in an opera that is all about danger and sex. There are few hints of the commanding stage presence that Terfel can be in the right circumstances.
The blandness at the heart of the opera is not, one suspects, entirely Terfel's fault. Colin Davis's monumentally slow conducting casts a pall over everything, and there are few signs that any of the characters have been properly defined. Rainer Trost's Ottavio is dry and unassertive. Adrianne Pieczonka's Anna is vocally capable, as is Melanie Diener's Elvira, though why she has to arrive in a sedan chair brandishing a telescope and a rifle escaped me.
The best singing comes from Rebecca Evans's sweetly toned Zerlina, and her scenes with Ashley Holland's over-thuggish Masetto do at least strike the right chords in an otherwise dreary evening. There's a total cast change next month, with Charles Mackerras taking over in the pit and Simon Keenlyside assuming the title role. Perhaps things might improve then.
· In rep until February 28. Box office: 020-7304 4000.
