Riccardo Chailly’s tenure as Music Director of Teatro alla Scala is ending. Myung-Whun Chung will take over later this year. Over the past decade, Chailly has conducted one Verdi opera a year, often cast with an imposing team of house favorites. The distinguished series ends, ironically, with a work Verdi considered “the opera with which my artistic career began”: Nabucodonosor.
The performances star soprano Anna Netrebko, baritone Luca Salsi, tenor Francisco Meli and bass Michele Pertusi. They sold out months ago, not least due to the Netrebko’s participation.
Despite lingering criticisms and boycotts (related to her purported failure to renounce Vladimir Putin), any performance in which she sings becomes an international operatic destination event. In the La Scala corridors last week, I overheard not just Italian but much German, French and Russian. One opulently dressed woman in the last category brazenly filmed much of the performance on her iPhone, despite a strict ban on doing so and the protests of nearby spectators.
Netrebko is not just a fan favorite; she is a great singer. As the power-mad Assyrian princess Abigaile, one of Verdi’s most challenging and varied soprano roles, she delivers (almost) every note with clarity, conviction, and (this evening) without pitch problems. Above all, she possesses a dark and rich timbre all her own. From certain parts of the hall, notably the resonant center of La Scala’s Platea, it envelops the listener in a thrilling surround-sound embrace unique in modern opera.
She has been a star for 25 years, however, and age inevitably imposes compromises. The voice has acquired a metallic timbre, moderate unsteadiness at forte, and some awkwardness where the score calls for flexibility. Still, she works around these constraints intelligently and, overall, they are a small price to pay for vocal riches.
More troubling is Netrebko’s tendency to play the diva. The issue is not so much her somewhat campy, larger-than-life stage presence, which fits the production. Rather it is her vocal style, which substitutes generic passion for interpretive subtlety. Her vocal delivery tends to be uniformly heavy and, two sections of sustained softer singing in Acts 2 and 4 aside, loud. Micro-dynamics, portamenti, rubato, idiomatic rhythmic accents, precise diction and smaller nuances go wanting, though her Italian remains at least intelligible throughout.
The overall result is a monochromatic portrayal of Abigaille: one senses the ruthless ambition of the princess, but not the loneliness and insecurity of the former slave hidden beneath. In this respect, it is ironic that La Scala dedicated this run to the great Italian conductor Gianandrea Gavazzeni, who sixty years ago conducted a celebrated production of Nabucco at La Scala in which the Greek soprano Elena Souliotis sang with Abigaille with as much thrust as Netrebko but far more bel canto delicacy and nuance.
At heart, however, Nabucodonosor is not the story of a treacherous daughter but an epochal conflict between two conceptions of divinity. The Assyrian King presents himself as a living god, whereas the Hebrew prophet Zaccaria preaches submission to Jehovah. Accordingly, the opera has long been viewed (at least before Maria Callas) as a vehicle for stentorian baritones and basses.
Neither is on offer here. Rather, we come face-to-face with the state of modern Verdi singing, which has for decades been slowly eroding from the lowest voices upwards. Throughout, As Nabucodonosor and Zaccaria, Salsi and Petrusi are outmatched in raw power and tonal color, not just by Netrebko but also the orchestra and chorus.
Yet both are intelligent and sensitive artists, and they grab what opportunities exist to shine. The refined introspection of Salsi’s desperate (and lightly orchestrated) plea to the Jewish God (“Dio di Giuda!”), delivered downstage before a simple black curtain, is a vocal highlight. In the more declamatory role of Zaccaria, often backed by chorus, Pertusi has fewer opportunities to stand out but does so intermittently, especially where the melody lies in the upper middle of his voice.
In the secondary tenor role of Ismaele, Meli sings with his customary brassy precision. Mezzo-soprano Veronica Simeoni (inexplicably consumed as a bald woman) as Fenena and bass Simon Lim as the High Priest give solid performances. Few operas have as moving and essential a role for chorus as this. The La Scala forces sing “Va, Pensiero,” Italy’s unofficial national anthem, with uncommon beauty and subtlety, but elsewhere they often push too hard.
Chailly is a celebrated conductor with complete orchestral command. One must thus assume that he wants the thick and minutely controlled symphonic sound he gets. Yet, much as with Netrebko, the result is at once impressive and emotionally inhibited—often more like stately old Brahms than impetuous young Verdi. Especially given the intermittent struggles of some singers to be heard, my preferences would be for a more flowing and transparently voiced style—and for the orchestra occasionally to just cut loose.
The staging, directed by Alessandro Talevi with sets and costumes by Gary McCann and stunning lighting by Marco Giusti, makes an impact without Brechtian irony but simply by encapsulating broad themes in striking visual tableaux. Constant scuffles among choristers illustrate the violence seething underneath Babylonian Captivity. Sober abstraction highlights the spiritual values at stake. Nabucodonosor’s deus ex machina entrance on giant chariot drawn by three eerily transparent mechanical horses—a mix of Burning Man and Equus!—was a genuine coup de theatre of Assyrian grandeur. Someone backstage also seems also to have considered vocal acoustics, which are superb.
Finally, a curiosity. This production includes the first staged performance since 1848 of two balletic divertissements Verdi was compelled to compose for a Brussels revival. Interpolated into the opening of Act 3, the 10 minutes begin with a promising cello solo presaging the final act. Yet the fluffy triviality of the rest, exacerbated by choreographer Danilo Rubeca’s garish dance numbers on a little stage-within-a-stage (think Folies Bergère) confirms Verdi’s initial judgement to forego this relic of the French grand opera tradition.
Overall, this is as consistent and professional a production of Nabucodonosor as one is likely to hear nowadays. The hero of the evening is Verdi himself, whom one can hear discovering his distinctive composing style act by act, resulting in moments of genius. On 29 May at 19:45 European time, the final performance with these singers is to be webcast live on LaScala.net and will remain available over the following week.
Andrew Moravcsik
Giuseppe Verdi, Nabucodonosor
Teatro alla Scala, Milano (22 May 2026)
Riccardo Chailly, Conductor; Alessandro Talevi, Staging; Gary McCann, Sets and Costumes; Marco Giusti, Lights and Video; Danilo Rubeca, Choreography; Luca Salsi, Nabucodonosor; Francesco Meli, Ismaele; Anna Netrebko, Abigaille; Michele Pertusi, Zaccaria; Veronica Simeoni, Fenena; Simon Lim, Gran Sacerdote; Haiyang Guo, Abdallo; Laura Lolita Perešivana
Chorus and Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala Milano.