Don Giovanni.

In approaching the challenging theme of Don Juan--the myth of the seducer par excellence--choreographer Mauro Bigonzetti was confronted with some thorny questions: Who was Don Juan, really? What does he represent in the publics imagination? Was he really a rake, incapable of repentance, headstrong even when facing death? From Bigonzetti's answers sprang the three fundamental choices that characterize his reading of Don Giovanni (the Italian name for Don Juan). First, he chose not to use music from Mozart's opera, however well known and liked, because it is so closely linked to da Ponte's libretto, and so to the characters as they exist in that work. Second, Bigonzetti decided that the real nature of Don Juan is unavoidably complex. The third choice logically descended from the first two: the choreographer decided not to assign roles at all--to avoid all characterization.

Bigonzetti's Don Giovanni, therefore, is a work that, in its attempt to investigate the mystery of emotion, is intentionally devoid of a plot. All things considered, having multiple Don Juan characters on the stage seems to have been the easiest decision to make. But all that's left from this quest for abstraction and decontextualization are the love skirmishes--whether between women, or men, or both--passionate in the beginning, then desperate and violent. Instead of the mystery of emotion, we get a traditional, and somewhat trite, game of couples. An informal narration, conceived as a prologue and epilogue to the series of choreographic tableaux, was not successfully integrated.

Nevertheless, the fifteen-member-strong Balletto di Toscana demonstrated its superb technical skills, personality, and ability to convey the pathos of the choreography. Especially notable were Katiuscia Bozza's exquisite elegance, Daniela Giuliano's assertive presence, and Alessandro Bigonzetti's and Sveva Berti's flawless technique.

The choreography's best parts are those set to the wonderful piano music that Bruno Moretti composed for the occasion--a markedly rhythmical score that allows Bigonzetti to express his creative instinct to the fullest. The more lyrical character of Richard Strauss's music which is also used, isn't reflected in the dance to the same extent.

The settecento (the eighteenth century) was suggested by the elegant costumes designed by Silvia Califano, who created light corsets for the women and fluttering jackets in cream-colored silk for all. (Considering the general economy of the work, these almost seemed superfluous.) The geometrical composition of light beams designed by the highly acclaimed Carlo Cerri only intermittently established an effective connection between the Teatro Olimpico's amazing intertwined perspectives--created in the sixteenth century by the renowned architect Andrea Palladio--and what was happening onstage.