The season premiere of Istanbul Opera’s production of Mozart’s "Don Giovanni,” conducted by Christian Blex, took place on Feb. 5. Don Giovanni tells the story of a man – also a murderer – who turns the women he chooses into instruments of his boundless debauchery through limitless forms of abuse, only to face infernal retribution in the end. It is one of Mozart’s most powerful works and among the most enduringly popular operas in the classical canon.

Before the curtain rose, as the orchestra began to play, the overture immediately seized the audience, not as if announcing the beginning of a story, but as if declaring that judgment had already been passed. The D-minor cadence of the opening music weighed heavily on the air even before the curtain opened, sending invisible shockwaves through the hall. Guest conductor Blex, in his first Don Giovanni of his career, displayed high energy at the outset. However, as the scenes progressed, moments of lyrical tension and dramatic contrast were glossed over. Don Giovanni thrives on musical and dramatic oppositions; here, the orchestral depths were insufficiently explored, and its beauties passed by too quickly. As the performance unfolded, the music grew monotonous. This may well have been a conscious choice by Blex, perhaps an attempt to adapt to the tempo habits of Istanbul Opera’s singers, with whom he may be unfamiliar. Still, it was not a way of interpreting Mozart’s masterpiece that I found convincing.

When the curtain finally rose and a dual set with a rotating circular platform appeared, the gauzy enchantment left behind by the music instantly collapsed into something resembling an amateur theatrical performance. No production of this magnificent opera could possibly have been as disastrous as the performance I watched on Thursday night. There was no connection, no energy, no cohesion between singers and orchestra. The acting was embarrassingly poor. Burak Bilgili, singing Leporello, repeatedly fell out of sync with the music, unable to keep pace with the orchestra, and conspicuously so. In the very first scene of Act I, during "Notte e giorno faticar,” he lost rhythmic and cadential discipline and, in an effort to be excessively comic, completely destroyed the legato. This was a telling sign of what was to come.

Bilgili is now far removed from the flashy, brilliant days of his youth. The wear and wobble in his voice have become unmistakable. Throughout the opera, he accelerated more and more in an attempt to conceal the pronounced instability at every pitch he was required to sustain. In doing so, he skimmed over nearly all the notes he was supposed to hold and constantly ran ahead of the orchestra. Throughout the evening, he rushed forward while the orchestra struggled to catch up. There was no sense of ensemble. In "Notte e giorno faticar,” whenever he hardened his voice and shouted to exaggerate the spoken lines, his tempo dropped and his tone grew ugly. As he pushed the sound from his chest, his diction also fell apart. At times, he lost Leporello’s complaining humor and made the character heavy-handed, stripping his phrases of musicality. His stance in the opening scene (standing as an equal partner to Don Giovanni, with the same arrogance as his master) disrupted the work’s fundamental hierarchy. Throughout the opera, Bilgili attempted to theatrically mask his vocal shortcomings by turning the role into broad comedy.

In the critical reception of his Escamillo in Carmen, which he likely sang for the last time in Italy in 2018, reviewers spared him everything except a physical beating. Now it appears that instead of regrouping and rediscovering himself, he has regressed even further. I still fail to understand why he was taken into the Istanbul Opera roster after the age of 45.

Seeing Caner Akgün again after such a short interval was a coincidence. While Don Giovanni suited his voice better than the Rigoletto he recently sang in Mersin, his chronic problems persisted. Faced with such a multilayered role, he once again failed to produce the necessary range of vocal colors. In his first scene, attempting to "sing” the dry recitative rather than deliver it as heightened speech was a fundamental mistake, resulting in a fragmented dramatic experience. I suspect Akgün also misanalyzed the character. In the opening scene, Don Giovanni should not resemble a romantic hero; caught while escaping, he momentarily loses control, creating tension within the dramaturgy. Instead, Akgün focused on playing a "hero” through sheer vocal force, reducing the role to a single dimension. In his duet with Zerlina, rather than seeking balance, he attempted to overpower her. Eye contact was insufficient, and singing throughout in a single timbre and dynamic turned seduction into a crude stage trick. What should have been a gentle offer (building trust and gradually increasing pressure) became a Don Giovanni who repelled Zerlina with coarse emphases rather than alluring her.

It is evident that Akgün’s voice, shaped by years of singing Verdi and Puccini, has drifted far from the refined style required for Mozart. I would strongly recommend that he devote serious study to Mozart interpretation and even turn to Baroque opera for guidance. Perhaps it is time for him to step away from the stage altogether and focus on managing Istanbul Opera, of which he is the director. After all, up until the first quartet, Özgecan Gençer, singing Donna Anna, did not continue onstage and was replaced by Anna Sirel Y. Etyemez. This suggests unrest within the company. Indeed, the following day, the wife of the Istanbul Opera director (herself also an artist of the institution) openly exposed this situation in a comment she shared on Instagram. Additionally, there are allegations of mobbing and suicide surrounding the recent death of Istanbul Opera chorus member Emrah Erdem Gedik.

Rather than seeking personal visibility through underwhelming performances, Akgün would do well to initiate proper investigations into both matters. The "Don Giovanni" I watched was so far removed from being an opera performance that it also revealed clear symptoms of institutional mismanagement.

Tuncay Kurtoğlu was yet another singer who makes one long for his former days. His voice has lost its power and its grounding in the chest register (which is essential for a bass). Vocally so weak was his performance that Il Commendatore amounted to little more than a costume onstage. At times, his voice was even more audible than that of Akgün, a lyric baritone, yet it was devoid of timbre and technique. Rather than embodying command authority, he sounded like a frail old man with no breath left to sing. The final scene resembled a horror film. The metaphysical authority and rhythmic certainty demanded by the opera’s conclusion never materialized. Searching for color, his volume disappeared entirely, and in trying to sound frightening, he became aggressive. When he lost the logic of the duet with Don Giovanni, his singing turned into one-sided moaning. The dramatic negotiation between the two never emerged. Each year, Kurtoğlu’s voice seems to shrink further. He should seriously consider retiring from the stage.

Özgecan Gençer made a full-bodied, striking, and impressive entrance as Donna Anna, though it soon became apparent that she was experiencing a problem. Until the cast change, she was among the highlights of the evening. I wish her a speedy recovery.

Anna Sirel Y. Etyemez, stepping into the role of Donna Anna at the last minute, was unable to achieve stage adaptation from the outset. In an effort to create greater dramatic impact, she sang darker than necessary, performing the entire opera as if it were Puccini. As a result, her voice lacked the delicacy and stylistic sensitivity Mozart requires. Her bewildered stage presence, I attribute to being summoned from home and inserted into the performance at the last moment.

Perihan N. Artan, who sang major roles for many years, once again won the audience’s appreciation through her stage presence. However, time is merciless. Unfortunately, the wobble in her voice has increased. When singing Donna Elvira, her timbre grew heavy as she enlarged the middle register in the chest. Closing the voice during transitions intensified the instability; thinning the sound caused it to shrink and drained the character’s fury. At times, she appeared to be shouting. Although she occasionally produced Mozart’s bright vocal color, she also lost control. Persistent forte passages took their toll. Had this been earlier in her career, I would have advised her on speech, passagework, and coloratura technique. At this stage, however, retirement must also be considered.

Berk Dalkılıç’s lyric leggero tenor did offer a brief cleansing to the ear, yet his disembodied tone lacked volume. In this unforgiving tenor role, he sometimes broke phrases into syllables, turning Don Ottavio into a bureaucrat. Unable to support his pianissimi, his sound diminished. Perhaps assuming the role to be easy, he seemed to lack a breath plan altogether. Intonation issues and dullness in transitions were evident. While Mozart suits his voice, his Mozart interpretation still requires serious work.

Berke Tükenmez was among the better performers of the evening. He may prove to be an asset for Istanbul Opera, though he has much to learn about stagecraft. At times, I even questioned whether he had attended director-led rehearsals. His facial expressions, gestures, and movements suggested he did not fully understand what he was singing, like a tourist who boarded the wrong train in a foreign country, unaware of where he was headed.

Sevim Ateş, as Zerlina, suffered from a tightening of the voice in the upper register, which lowered the overall quality of her performance. Still, she delivered a generally solid portrayal. I would recommend focused work on the laryngeal position and preventing upward movement of the larynx. Nevertheless, her effort showed promise, and she strove to complement her colleagues onstage.

It was evident from the diction of the singers and the disconnect between the text and their stage actions that they did not understand Italian and were unaware of what they were singing. Neither Italian phonetics nor prosody, nor acting aligned with the content. They appeared more like parrots, mechanically mimicking an Italian text they had memorized correctly or incorrectly. At one point, I felt I was not listening to Italian at all. In the end, I cannot say I listened to either an Italian opera or Mozart that evening. Rather, it felt as though they were singing a Puccini opera in Esperanto.

I am deeply saddened by the state into which Istanbul Opera, once the most distinguished institution of Türkiye’s classical music world, has fallen. Director Akgün must first abandon his urge to rush from stage to stage across the country and to seek visibility abroad, and instead restore order within the institution. If he wishes to shine as a soloist, he should relinquish his directorship. If he intends to remain director, he must give up his ambitions as a soloist. For this reason, I will refrain from commenting on chorus, staging, sets, lighting, or sound. I can only hope the institution finds its way out of this situation as soon as possible.