AT THE mandatory 'meet and greet' they were all there . . . Chailly, Zeffirelli, the entire cast and crew of the first production of Verdi's Aida at La Scala since 1984. . .
all but one. He was suffering from "health issues". The Milanese are no fools. The cogs of the rumour mill rumbled into motion immediately.
Five days later, Milan erupted with a scandal that even this most controversial of opera houses had never before courted. In the second performance of the production, this same absentee left the stage just 10 minutes after the curtain went up. The kitchen proved positively too hot for French tenor Roberto Alagna.
La Scala's cheap upper-tier seats, the "loggione", host the most notoriously vociferous of opera aficionados, with whom holds are so scarcely barred as to be completely ignored. Despite the contemptuous fischi (whistles) from the upper stalls, Carlo Bergonzi and Luciano Pavarotti persisted in their respective portrayals of the role of Radames in Aida, but on this occasion, Alagna, whose debut at La Scala 16 years ago was met with widespread acclaim, did not have the necessary proverbials to tolerate the loggione's criticisms.
After the aria, 'Celeste Aida', Alagna is reported to have stared at the audience in seeming disbelief before storming offstage and refusing to return, leaving his stand-in, Antonello Palombi, dressed only in jeans and a t-shirt, to take his place. Cries of "For shame!" and "This is La Scala!" went up throughout the theatre.
The deluded tenor, who once demanded full make-up and hairdressing before a Radio Three interview, told the press that he felt he sang beautifully and without error. In recent interviews, he has said he sees no reason why he should not return to the stage for the last five performances. La Scala's management see many reasons. As do Torino Teatro Regio, on whom Alagna cancelled at the last minute in January 2006.
As do the Met, on whom he and his wife cancelled a series of high-profile concerts in 2001. As do the management and crew of most opera houses in the world who say the temperamental, diva behaviour of this couple (and their huge entourage) is intolerable.
His wife is none other than soprano Angela Gheorghiu, who Dublin audiences won't remember from her NCH appearance last October because, yes, she cancelled.
But in controversy, there is money. How much will Alagna be paid for his next appearance? For the kind of fee the man will be able to command as a result of this scandal, he's probably practising with a backing track of whistles already.
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