Whether it is the play or the opera, Don Carlos has many handicaps attached to it. Friedrich von Schiller's fictional dramatic poem (dramatisches Gedicht, as he called it, which is another way of saying 'drama' in German) of various real historic events in Spain, forms the opera's basis of the opera. Yet, there is also the play by Frenchman Eugène Cormon, Philippe II, King of Spain (he is better known as the co-librettist of Bizet's Pearl Fishers), and most of all, the work that influenced Schiller, the romantic 17^th century book, Dom Carlos Nouvelle historique, by Abbe de Saint-Real. All of these, in turn, influenced the librettists Joseph Méry and Camille du Locle. (Méry died before the completion of the libretto)

The Abbe introduced the fictional love-link between Don Carlos and Elisabeth, Queen of Spain and wife to King Philippe II, Carlos's father. Historically, Elisabeth and Carlos had been fated for marriage, but politics intervened. Carlos's second betrothed, Anna of Austria, became Philippe's fourth wife after Elisabeth died in childbirth in the same year that Don Carlos died under mysterious circumstances. There are indications that his father had him murdered, but it cannot be clearly proved.

Schiller's play is double the length of a normal play, which presented Verdi's librettists with considerable problems. At the same time, to please Verdi's French audience for this, his first and only opera written in French, certain scenes needed to be added that are not in the Schiller play. The opera, written in the grand manner, ended up being about four hours long, plus intermissions. This must have stretched the patience of the fickle Parisian audience of 1867 that came not to see and hear, but to be seen.

The COC, in co-production with the Welsh National Opera, stuck to the French version with its five acts rather than to a later Italian version Verdi created in four acts. Musically, the COC made the right decision. There are wonderful musical moments in this work. These need to be heard in the right context, although it must be said that this opera is not the usual Verdi product. Only the cabaletta at the end of the duet between Don Carlos and his friend, Rodrigue, Marquis of Posa, can be called a recognizable melody from this opera. In a way, it becomes a leitmotif whenever the two appear together.

Richard Bradshaw, the late general director of the COC, had been scheduled as the music director of this production. It is to his credit that he left the COC Orchestra in such excellent shape that conductor Paolo Olmi was able stepped into the role without apparent difficulty. As a consequence the COC Orchestra shone under his baton.

Chorus master Sandra Horst must be credited with the excellent sound of the chorus, so important to this opera. It ensured that the auto-da-fé scene—something Schiller's play only mentions—succeeded despite irritating staging and irrational costumes. It must be said, however, that the actual pyrotechnics of the burning of the heretics made excellent use of modern technology. Still, how, in heaven's name, do costume designer Carl Friedrich Oberle and stage director John Caird justify the lighting of the pyre by red-garbed Nazarenos, a group not founded until about 300 years after Philippe II ruled Spain? Besides, once inquisitors made their judgment of 'relaxation', they handed their victim over to the secular court and its executioners, who lit the pyre that burned heretics and witches alike. No clerics or religious orders were involved.

The only thing that can be said about this whole scene is that it displayed quite correctly the grand social spectacle an auto-da-fé represented at the time. People enjoyed seeing heretics being burned and made it a festive event. It was perhaps, like the bull fight is today, a living remnant of the Roman coliseum spectacles in which gladiators, Christian's as sacrifice, and beasts fought bloody battles to the final end.

The story of Don Carlos, whether in this opera or in the original play, is about power, politics, court intrigue, family dysfunction, jealousy, obsessive love, and reverberates with the ideas of the Enlightenment that influenced both Schiller and Verdi. The fanatical religious aspects of the 16^th century are merely a background. Yet, set designer Johan Engels, through the excessive use of crosses of varying sizes, and costume designer Oberle through unwarranted religious costumes in scenes that are wholly secular, bring the religious to the foreground. The set, although placed in one of the most sumptuous courts of Europe, is stark, dark and colorless. At the same time, Oberle chose to mix costumes of varying periods, from the late 15^th to the present. With this he removed the anchor from the 16^th century, and consequently made the ship flounder in uncharted waters.

Rodrique and the bespectacled Carlos appear ineffectual in long trench coats, the proletariat looks like lumpenprolrtariat at one moment and the next time like Britney Spears accolades, Philippe II at one point is made to wear a papal cloak more suitable to Pope Alexander VI, rather than a royal cloak. Guards and soldiers are dressed in black, fascist uniforms, jack boots and all. Here I can only say that I am tired of the homo-erotic obsession of opera designers with that period and its placement in inappropriate places. When the prols storm the jail to free Carlos, a giggle had to be suppressed because they waved photo posters of the prince.

There is one scene that has some charm, although it is placed in mid-19th century France. Elizabeth's retinue rises slowly to fill a backlit stage devoid of all furnishings. The whole scene looked like a charming Seurat painting, with the ladies carrying rounded lace umbrellas, looking very much bourgeois French. One can perhaps forgive this one because Elizabeth, after all, was French.

One has to question, however, why the set designer chose to represent the forest of Fontainebleau by huge dark brown crosses, and why these crosses reappear at Saint-Just, the monastery to which Carlos's grandfather, Charles V, had retired after abdicating, and where he subsequently died. In Act II these crosses actually obscure the huge gold statue of Charles for anyone sitting on the right side of the hall. And what of the small red crosses carried in by the crowd and then left standing on steps at stage right? Red crosses represent the Knights Templar. Another Philip, the fourth of France, had them disbanded by Pope Clement IV in 1312. Philip owed the order much money and so accused his lenders of heresy with the result such an accusation entailed.

There are so many implausible acts performed on stage that one has to question the director's knowledge of history and religious practices: murder weapons blessed by a priest, monks removing a murdered Rodrique from the scene, one person crossing himself from left to right, the other from right to left. One could go on, but let it be finished here. Suffice it to say that the stage direction did not impress favorably.