But this time, for me, returning to the recording and studying the poetry is a knotty exercise. I am bringing with me all the cultural conversations in the media over the last few years about power and abuse, and suddenly this piece I loved leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is sad to return to something I love and feel it foul. No doubt a universal experience: to return to a loved object, see it for what it truly is, and look back at oneself, shocked and horrified for serving such a thing in the past. 

In the world of opera we are bound to a long history of practice: a repertoire of composers, an idolatry of singers, and fantasies of perfection and success. I try to free myself of all of that in my work to tap into something alive, happening here and now in the bodies and imaginations of the young people on stage. There’s no question that Mozart’s opera is formally a masterpiece, and that the content, as problematic as it is, fascinates. We’ve all abstractly known a “Giovanni,” who made us feel so much pleasure and pain, and ultimately helped us learn about ourselves. Mozart draws us in as much as he repulses us. We feel something. We learn about ourselves. We remember. That is the great gift, and service, provided by the theater. 

Director R.B. Schlather's program note for Curtis Opera Theatre's production of Don Giovanni.