My excitement was through the roof for a second Otello performance in as many days, especially since Otello is my favorite opera. But sadly, the best part of my night in Budapest on October 19th, 2024, was the McDonald’s and beer I had afterward. What should have been an unforgettable evening was a complete disappointment from start to finish.
Stefano Poda’s staging brought nothing to the production. It was static and unimaginative, which, for Otello, is unforgivable. I usually appreciate his work—his Aida in Verona was a fantastic and thoughtful production—but this felt like a lazy attempt with no real vision. The result was a performance that was painfully dull, lacking any dynamism or depth. How can Otello, one of the most dramatic operas in the repertoire, end up feeling so lifeless?
The audience made things worse. From where I was seated in the orchestra, people in the boxes kept chatting throughout the performance, which completely shattered any immersion in the story. It was like being in a train station, not an opera house.
Speaking of seating, I have a serious complaint. I had purchased a box seat months in advance, only to be moved to the fifth row in the orchestra without any prior notice. This is unacceptable! I prefer box seating precisely to avoid these kinds of distractions, and I felt like I missed much of the production because my new seat had a terrible view.
Then there was the music itself. Where do I even begin? The orchestra was consistently off-key, and the coordination between the conductor and the musicians was a mess. The timing was off, with sections either rushing ahead of the singers or lagging behind. The disarray was palpable.
Casting was another major issue. How do you cast a team of second-rate singers alongside the legendary José Cura as Otello? It felt like placing a Division 10 football team next to Zidane. The Jago was a disaster—his Italian was shaky, his rhythm was all over the place, and his performance was flat, lacking any menace. He was the least convincing Jago I’ve ever seen. And Desdemona? She was too young, lacked depth, and failed to inspire any empathy.
Honestly, at one point, I thought I was in some sort of hidden-camera prank. It was that bad. I kept waiting for the performance to stop, for someone to say it was a rehearsal or a mistake, and to restart the show properly.
The last time I came to Budapest was to see the great Plácido Domingo in Simon Boccanegra. The difference between that experience and this was like night and day. I had flown in with high hopes, arriving by plane at 5 p.m. for the 6:30 p.m. performance, only to leave the next morning completely let down. It was a waste of time and money.
The only redeeming factor of the night was, unsurprisingly, José Cura. His charisma and sheer presence in the role of Otello showed why he is one of the great tenors. He has performed the role across Europe, and his experience shone through, despite the weak cast surrounding him. Bravo, Mr. Cura! Unfortunately, even his brilliance couldn’t salvage the rest of the disaster that was this evening’s performance.
