A few minutes before Gianni Schicchi began, I entered the Oxford Town Hall, immediately struck by an intriguing blend of order and chaos: the meticulous preparation of the set juxtaposed with the tumult of the orchestra, comprising over fifty instruments, ranging from violins to harps! Though engaged in last-minute preparations, each musician sat neatly in place and was busily involved in warming up.
To my surprise, the lights dimmed abruptly, and the hall suddenly fell silent. The stillness was broken when the conductor (Tommaso Rusconi) emerged from behind the curtain and took the lead. With the first orderly notes of Puccini’s opera, we were seamlessly transported to Florence in 1299 with the meticulous traditional Italian costumes managed by Lucas Angeli (director) and Tommaso Rusconi (co-director). This created a sense of realism, as if we were travelling back to the High Middle Ages of Italy — a period which usually only books and art can let us imagine.
Gianni Schicchi centres around a bed in the house of the Donati family, a wealthy and noble lineage in Florence. After Buoso Donati passes away in his curtained four-poster bed, his relatives (Sammy Mills, Anneka Vetter, Ed Freeman, Nathaniel Best, Natasha da Costa, Sam Troy, Divine Simbanegavi, and Tom Campbell) gather — ostensibly to mourn him. But are they grieving for the passing of their relative? Obviously not. Oxford Town Hall is buried in darkness, and the bloody red light on the stage effectively adds to the tension as the orchestra’s tempo quickens. The relatives turn the house upside-down with tense, frenetic choreography: going up and down, in and out, all searching for a piece of paper — the will of their affluent Buoso.
Rinuccio (Sammy Mills), the nephew of Buoso’s cousin Zita, is eager to secure the inheritance so that he may marry the girl he loves: Lauretta (Jemima Price), the daughter of Gianni Schicchi (Ben Gilchrist), a newcomer to Florence. Though the play deals with the rejection of Rinuccio’s relatives (who are staunchly opposed to the match) Gianni and Lauretta are summoned just as all the relatives cry in despair when they realise that their beloved, wealthy Buoso has not left them even a single lire but has instead donated all his wealth to the monastery.
The only one unaffected is Rinuccio, who would love to marry Lauretta — with or without the inheritance. The production team had split the stage into two halves: on one side, Buoso’s relatives focus on the will alongside Gianni. On the other side, Rinuccio and Lauretta verbally express their love to each other and appeal to Rinuccio’s relatives and Gianni for approval and blessings. There was no split-second where a single singer snapped out of character, even if positioned in the darkest spot on the stage, and even when not singing. This lured me into the drama of Gianni Schicchi as if I were a ghost of that house, a bystander observing the intricate emotions of each character.
Among the chaos, Lauretta, who has kept silent in the inheritance debate, only speaking to her lover, sings “O mio babbino caro” (“O my beloved papa”), conveying to her father her love for Rinuccio, and explaining how deeply he loves her back. Everything froze as Price sang. It was just her, the music, the light, and the ultimate amore.
The entire theatre erupted in applause as the song’s final note faded. Shouts of “Bravo!” echoed through the venue as I was on the brink of tears from Price’s performance of this aria. If the song had lasted just a few seconds longer, my tears would have streamed down, staining the papers in my hands.
Even though I was far from the stage, I could tell Gilchrist’s eyes had brightened, for Gianni has had an idea and outlined a deceptive plan: together, Gianni and the relatives will draw up a new will. Gianni plans to stage Buoso lying on the death bed, call the notary, and write up another will. On the stage, Gilchrist imitated Buoso’s old, ill-like accent with great success. Indeed, Gianni deceives even the maestro Spinelloccio (Peregrine Neger) when he suddenly pays a visit. He pledges to split everything equally among the relatives while allocating the three most significant assets — the house, the mule, and the mills — remains undecided.
It is a striking image: the faces of the greedy relatives turn purple with anxiety as they wait for Gianni to announce the will, red with anger when Gianni Schicchi claims the house, the mule, and the mills for himself, and finally green with fear when they realise that if they expose him, they will have to face the severe punishment of Florence — a severed hand and exile!
Ultimately, their greed has silenced them. Here, the choice to use a mixture of red, purple, and blue lighting intensified the suspense, making the scene theatrically beautiful and cinematic. Powerless to change their fate, the relatives resort to the ignoble act of pilfering Buoso’s home, now rightfully Gianni’s, taking even a pillow, a cask of wine, and a blanket.
In the end, after chasing all the relatives out of the mansion, Gilchrist turned to the audience, broke the fourth wall, and challenged: “Is there any better way to use Buoso’s money?”
As the opera concluded, the audience delivered over five minutes of unending applause: a testament to the powerful performance they had witnessed. The spotlight shifted, illuminating the grandeur of Oxford Town Hall, which cast its majestic shadow over Buoso’s claustrophobic four-poster bed. After all, love and wisdom had won over greed and deceit.
However, Gianni Schicchi‘s final questions remained with me. Imagining myself in the shoes of Gianni Schicchi, a man of humble origins and little social standing in Florence, I wondered: “What would I have done in his place? Could there have been a better path, or was deception the only viable option? Finally, is it still a sin if one commits a crime with noble intentions for the sake of a daughter’s love?”
These questions haunted me long after the applause had faded. Positioning myself as Gianni Schicchi, back in Buoso Donati’s four-poster bed, I felt stuck in such a tiny space that I could not grasp a complete breath. What would I do? And if that were you, what would you do, my readers?
What makes Gianni Schicchi so powerful is the moral and philosophical questions that remain relevant regardless of how many times the opera has been showcased and how much time has passed.
[Gianni Schicchi, a production by the Oxford Student Opera Society ran at the Town Hall, 20th-21st Feb]