The first Cavalli
CREMONA, June 21 2026 - On the occasion of the 350th anniversary of Francesco Cavalli’s death, the 43rd Monteverdi Festival, held from 7 to 21 June in Cremona, undertook a major act of historical recovery. Le Nozze di Teti e Peleo, Cavalli’s first opera and the earliest surviving opera of the Venetian seicento, was restored and performed on 19 and 21 June at the intimate Teatro Ponchielli.
Le Nozze di Teti e Peleo premiered in January 1639 at the Teatro San Cassiano — the first opera house open to the paying public — in Venice, and returned to the stage several times during the seventeenth century. In the twentieth century, a performance is documented — probably incomplete and with some adaptations — directed by Filippo Crivelli in 1959, during the XXII Festival di Musica Contemporanea (today’s Biennale) in Venice. It was, however, for this year’s Monteverdi Festival that the score was restored to allow its performance in modern times.
In the programme book, Danilo Mattia De Pascali explains that the original manuscript, held at the Biblioteca Marciana in Venice, was transcribed and transposed into a modern edition by Professor Angela Romagnoli, based on which conductor Antonio Greco carried out the restoration. De Pascali notes that the need for restoration does not arise from problems of preservation or legibility, but from the very nature of the manuscript, which was probably intended for the basso continuo or for some other theatrical function. “In short, the manuscript does not always preserve the full musical texture of the opera, but it often leaves behind its traces. These traces are sometimes crystal clear, at other times more elusive, indicating the direction of Cavalli’s musical and theatrical intent without always delivering it in a finished form.”
According to De Pascali, only the two choruses of the first act, “Alla caccia, alla caccia” and “Su dunque all’armi,” are fully notated. At the opposite extreme stands the opening of the prologue: “The stage direction in the manuscript, «La Fama suona la Tromba, di poi dà principio al Canto» («Fame sounds the trumpet, then begins tosing»), presupposes the presence of an introductory symphony, even though it is absent from the surviving source. This indication led to the choice, made together with Maestro Emilio Botto, to use material by Girolamo Fantini, which is perfectly contemporary with the opera and consistent with the context evoked by the source.” Part of this same material was used as a kind of ritornello at the opening of the prologue, during Fama’s first recitative.
The programme text contains a lengthy argument in defence of the idea that Greco’s work consisted in restoring an ancient, musically incomplete score to permit its performance in modern times, rather than composing “a Baroque opera by Antonio Greco.” The opera, De Pascali insists on, remains Cavalli’s. “The original imagination, the theatrical structure, the poetic and musical world from which everything begins belong to him. But the concrete form that reaches the public today passes through many hands: the surviving manuscript source, Angela Romagnoli’s modern transcription, Antonio Greco’s work of restoration and integration, the dialogue with Petra Deidda’s direction, and the living needs of the contemporary stage.”
The first act opens with the scene that appears as the fifth in the original libretto: the “Infernale” scene. In it, Eaco, infernal judge and father of Peleo, implores Pluto to crush Jupiter’s reckless pride. This is because, as we learn only in the fifth scene of the opera (which in the libretto appears as the first), Jupiter had fallen in love with Teti. He was, however, informed by Mercury that she had received a prophecy: the son she bore would be stronger than his father. Jupiter, understandably, found the idea unwelcome and decreed that Teti should marry Peleo. In this case, as we have seen, it is Eaco who is left dissatisfied. This inversion does little to aid the audience’s comprehension, and it remains unclear whether it is found in the manuscript or reflects a choice by Greco or Deidda.
Another curious decision was to place the interval not between the first and second acts but before the ninth scene of the first act. The “second act” thus began abruptly, with Tritone’s monologue. After the three brief scenes left over from the previous act, came the dance that should have closed one act and the sinfonia that should have opened the next. Again, we do not know how the manuscript divides the acts.
As is typical of Baroque opera, the libretto makes no attempt at fidelity to any single version of the myth. In this telling, the fact of not being invited to Teti and Peleo’s wedding is not the motivation for Discordia’s actions. At the very opening of Greco’s version, as infernal judges and gods debate how much they resent the union of Teti and Peleo, Discordia appears, promising to resolve the problem. She then sends into the baccanale the Apple of Discord with the simple message: “Donisi questo pomo alla più bella.” Giunone, Pallade, and Venere each waste no time in declaring herself the rightful recipient.
But Discordia does not stop there. Through disguise and intrigue, she sows jealousy and discord between the couple, until Himeneo, the god of marriage, appears as a deus ex machina and restores harmony, allowing the wedding to proceed. We know, of course, that the union will produce a formidable warrior: Achilles. Nor should we forget that the apple’s intrigue will yield Venus’s promise to Paris — the hand of the most beautiful woman in Greece. The stage is thus set for the Trojan War.
A notable achievement of the Cremona production was its fluency — a quality difficult to sustain in an opera so dominated by recitative, yet essential for holding the audience’s attention. Much of the credit belongs to Antonio Greco’s conducting, for he is less a restorer than something close to a co-author of the work we hear, despite the programme’s insistence to the contrary. His intimacy with the score was evident throughout, as was the fine playing of the Orchestra Cremona Antiqua. Particularly striking was the suppleness of the basso continuo line.
For the performances of Le Nozze di Teti e Peleo, the orchestra pit was not used: the ensemble was placed in front of the audience, with no barrier between them. Similarly, Petra Deidda’s stage direction made intelligent use of the theatre’s full space, especially when the chorus was involved. A veteran assistant to several prominent directors, Deidda made her debut as a director with a production built on metatheater and confident actor direction, both of which contributed to the evening’s fluency.
Reinforcing the metatheater and referencing classical theatre, large identical masks — imitating carved stone and mounted on sticks — were held by some performers, above all the chorus. Valentina Volpi’s similar costumes did not always help differentiate the characters, whose names were also absent from the surtitles — an omission that would have been easily remedied, since the text was perfectly intelligible both thanks to the recitative style and to the uniformly excellent diction. Volpi also designed the effective, minimalist set, styled after a small period theatre.
The two leads stood out above the rest: mezzo-soprano Valentina Ferrarese as Teti and tenor Ferran Albrich as Peleo. Winner of the Cavalli-Monteverdi Competition, Ferrarese was especially compelling in Teti’s great lament at the opening of the second act — a long recitative demanding creativity, expressivity, and refined phrasing from its interpreter. Albrich brought a strong, baritonal timbre and genuine expressiveness to Peleo.
Discordia was a particularly effective creation, shaped jointly by Deidda and countertenor Danilo Pastore. With elongated arms, this comic character who ensnares everyone in reach saw its stage presence heightened by Pastore’s superb physical performance. Vocally, alternating between falsetto and a register closer to speech, the countertenor not only deployed a time-honoured resource for comic characters but also drew a clear distinction between Discordia and Meleagro, the other role he sang.
The supporting cast is large — fourteen names beyond the three already mentioned — and generally acquitted itself well. Some concern was raised by the emission of young tenor Angelo Testori (Marte, Momo, and Minos). On the opposite end, Matteo Straffi (Mercury and Eaco), also a tenor, deserves praise. Warm applause too for the Coro Cremona Antiqua, prepared by Diego Maccagnola.