Rule No 1 of Robert Carsen’s Royal Opera production of Aida, revived for the first time since its 2022 debut: forget Egypt. No pharaonic headdresses, no pyramids, no hieroglyphs. This is an Aida with big ideas about the abuse of power and war between nations. We could be anywhere, as long as it is highly militarised. Annemarie Woods’ costumes showcase totalitarian chic; only Amneris is allowed, briefly, to stray from the grunge-for-all colour scheme with a bright red tailored number to watch the Triumphal March. Miriam Buether’s sets are a series of cavernous concrete bunkers.
Rule No 2 of Carsen’s Aida: the work’s characteristic spectacle (specifically requested by the Cairo’s Khedivial Opera House which commissioned the opera) is almost entirely suppressed. We still hear Verdi’s self-consciously “exotic” dances, but what we see is marching, saluting and table-laying. The Triumphal March becomes a military parade involving an elaborate flag-folding routine. A fleeting passage of livelier choreography to narrate a battle follows hot on the heels of yet more striding around and looks like someone has hit fast-forward on basic video-game graphics.
