‘The early years of opera encompassed a dizzying range of what we might today call subgenres, from the opera scenica to the attione in musica to the festa teatrale. But opera’s most important precursor is generally understood to be the intermedi, short but spectacular displays of song and dance […]’[1]

During the mid-seventeenth century, the incorporation of ballet into opera emerged as Italian operas were being introduced to the French courts under the patronage of King Louis XIV. The Ballet de Cour was an inherently political art form, rich in mythological narratives. These lavish productions encompassed various artistic elements such as dance, spoken word, music, and pantomime. Initially, these ballets were exclusively performed by court members, but it was not until the latter part of the seventeenth century that ballet and opera were acknowledged as distinct art forms and started to be showcased in public theatres with professional performers.

Premiered in 1817 at the Teatro San Carlo, in Naples, Italy, Armida is considered one of Rossini’s most ambitious and innovative works, combining the dramatic power of opera with the expressive beauty of dance. Set during the Crusades, the opera follows the journey of two Christian knights, Rinaldo and Goffredo, as they are lured into Armida’s magical realm.

Its early nineteenth-century debut placed Armida within the realm of imagination. Throughout the Romantic era, artists looked to exploring ‘the unknown’. They developed their stories around the themes of love, spirits, the forces of nature and death. Armida indeed ‘[….] include[s] sorcery and supernatural occurrences, [providing] forms of theatrical fiction […]’[2].

For the opera’s premiere, Rossini collaborated with the renowned choreographer and dancer Jean-Baptiste Blache to create ballet sequences that enhanced the emotional depth and narrative of the opera and elevated its artistic impact. These ballet sequences in Armida are an integral part of the story, portraying the inner conflicts and desires of the characters through movement. Armida herself is often accompanied by a corps de ballet, highlighting her supernatural powers and seductive allure. The ballet sequences add an ethereal and magical element to the opera, transporting the audience into Armida‘s mystical world.

One of the most iconic moments in the opera is the ballet sequence known as “The Enchanted Gardens”. In this scene, Armida beguiles the knights, luring them into a dreamlike realm; a hideous forest that has been deceptively transformed into a palace with lush gardens and exotic creatures. The dancers, playing the role of nymphs, portray the captivating beauty of this magical atmosphere through graceful movements, intricate choreography, and elaborate costumes.

Although during the Romantic period, ballet was the prevalent style for Armida, in this production of Rossini’s opera, Moveo Dance Company’s choreographer Dorian Mallia has chosen a more contemporary approach, directing the dancers in such a way as to ‘enhance the characters’ emotions and feelings’. The dancers act as an extension of the two main characters, Armida and Rinaldo, and shift between realms of fantasy and the ‘realistic’. The choreography is aimed to transport the audience into a world of fantasy and seduction while underscoring the tension and emotions of the story. The contemporary style sets out to capture the essence of the Romantic ideals.

Armida can be argued to be a Gesamtkunstwerk – a total work of art. To encapsulate the true Romantic beauty of this Opera, neither art form can exist without the other – the script is the thought, the singing transmits the emotion, and the dance and design embellish the story through movement and setting. It is a true marriage of the arts where music, singing, acting, dance and design come together to create a multidimensional and immersive experience for the audience.

References:

Connery, Majel & James Steichen. 2015. ‘Between Opera and Dance’. The Opera Quarterly 31 (3): 151–154 (Oxford: Oxford University Press)

Durante, Viviana. 2019. Ballet: The Definitive Illustrated Story. (London: DK Publishing)

Osborne, Richard. 2007. Rossini. (Oxford: Oxford University Press)

Weinstock, Herbert. 1968. Rossini. A Biography. (Oxford: Oxford University Press)

[1] Connery & Steichen 2015: 151–154.

[2] Weinstock1968: 80.

When they arrive in Armida’s enchanted gardens, they are overwhelmed by their beauty, even though they know it’s all an illusion’[1]. (Metropolitan Opera)

In his opera Armida, Gioachino Rossini created a wondrously immersive version of Armida’s Enchanted Garden – where an honoured crusader, Rinaldo, is bewitched and seduced into forgetting his duty by the Saracen sorceress, Armida.

This depiction of the enchanted garden was, of course, heavily influenced by the original story of Armida as created by the legendary Renaissance poet, Torquato Tasso, in his work Gerusalemme Liberata (Jerusalem Delivered). One of the core characteristics of this garden, exploited by both Tasso and Rossini, is the use of illusion. This factor is the true power at work to help corrupt and bind Rinaldo, until he frees himself of the sorceress’ spell:

Armida’s garden is a place of self-willed entrapment: although the garden has a poisonous stream, monstrous guards, fortifications, and mazes, all it takes to escape is a conscious renunciation of its power.[2]

Rinaldo, therefore, becomes self-willingly entrapped as he is not forced to enter the garden, nor is he imprisoned there. He has entered out of his own free will and it is his choice to stay. As sociologist Mark Sanford explains: ‘Self-entrapment is a self-imposed limitation that restricts an individual’s potential and hinders their ability to lead gratifying lives’[3]. This self-imposed limitation leads Rinaldo to forget his duty as a soldier and transform himself into a vulnerable young man seeking love from Armida in this spellbound state. Tasso achieves this illusion by removing anything that would remind Rinaldo of his duty as a loyal soldier. A single object, a shield, the metonymic symbol of Rinaldo’s mission and obligations, makes him conscious of the delusion he is experiencing:

When confronted with the shield, Rinaldo becomes aware of how useless a sword can appear in a place like the garden and how futile a mirror is in battle. […] The shield entices him as cheese does mice. It is a bait to free him from the spell. It is therefore a “metaphysical mirror” in which Rinaldo sees his potential image as a warrior [4].

The shield, therefore, breaks the spell of illusion and reveals the garden as being a futile and wasteful place which imposes limitations to Rinaldo’s self-growth and his duty.

Rossini, in contrast, uses theatrical artifice to manipulate the audience’s attention. He shows the presence of illusion within the enchanted garden by exploiting stage tactics and special effects to overcome staging limitations. Evidence of this may be found in his written stage directions for Armida for its original venue – the Teatro di San Carlo in Naples. One of the stage directions involves an army of torch-wielding demons rampaging through the enchanted garden and rendering it desolate. The fantastical creatures with their magical torches are so awe-inspiring that they allow for the stage to be totally transformed under the audience’s very eyes.

Rossini uses music to highlight the illusion of the idyllic world represented by the garden with the song ‘D’Amore al dolce impero’ (Act II), where Armida sings about love and shows Rinaldo a pantomime about a warrior being seduced by fantastical beings. The musical composition sets out to entrance the spectators with its own seductive melody.

Armida’s garden has seen numerous reimaginings both in literature and in art from artists such as Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, Jan Soens and many others. This new representation at the Manoel Theatre presents another retelling; one where the enchanted garden may bewitch and enthrall us once more.

Bibliography

Croci, Laura. 1987. ‘Rinaldo and his arms in the Gerusalemme Liberata’, Comitatus: A journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 18 (1): 21-33

Opera Armida Resource Pack. 2010. Metropolitan Opera <https://www.metopera.org/globalassets/discover/education/educator-guides/armida/armida.09-10.guide.pdf> [accessed 15 January 2024]

Sanford, Mark. 2023. ‘Breaking Free: Overcoming Self-Entrapment in Pursuit of a Good Career Alignment’, Medium <https://medium.com/illumination/breaking-free-overcoming-self-entrapment-in-pursuit-of-a-good-career-alignment-6d1836c1ecd7>[accessed 17 January 2024]

Wadoski, Andrew M. 2008. ‘Spenser’s Gardens: Poetry, Fantasy and Allegory’ (published online Doctor of Philosophy Dissertation, University of Rochester New York)

[1] Armida Resource pack 2010: 3

[2] Wadoski 2008: 129

[3] Sanford 2023

[4] Croci 1987:31

With its long tradition of heroines and divas, opera has an ambivalent attitude towards its female figures, oscillating between idolatry and erasure. Throughout the genre’s history, (predominantly male) composers and librettists have consistently confined operatic women either to the role of the innocent, self-sacrificing maiden or the evil temptress. Either way, the heroine often meets a fatal end in the final act, the curtain falling like a merciless guillotine: Dido, Juliet, Lucia, and Norma die for love at the end of sublime farewell arias.[1] Worldlier, more unconventional operatic women of the second half of the nineteenth century, who have finally lost the ethereal veil of the early romantic heroine, still must pay for their freedom with their lives: Violetta, Mimì, Tosca, and Carmen all meet the same destiny.[2] Even strikingly modern, twentieth-century characters such as Salome and Lulu must eventually be punished for their transgressions so that moral order can safely be restored.[3]

In Armida, Rossini and his librettist Giovanni Schmidt gave life to a remarkably nuanced female character that subtly eludes operatic archetypes and conventions. The role – tailored for Rossini’s muse and lover, the Spanish soprano Isabella Colbran – is one of the most challenging in the composer’s vast production, due not only to the technical difficulties of the bel canto style, requiring exceptional vocal dexterity, but to the character’s inner complexity. Armida the sorceress, the enchantress, the femme fatale demands a lush, seductive timbre and a mastery of chromatic passages; Armida the tragic lover, the woman scorned and abandoned needs all the vocal purity and lyricism of a romantic heroine. Her dramatic and vocal doubleness, her apparent contradictions, the unresolved tension between her impulses, make Armida, despite her enchantments, sympathetic and deeply human.

From her very first appearance on stage, in a seductive recitativo obbligato, Armida bewitches the rest of the (all-male) cast as well as the audience. Through her charms and sheer flattery, she persuades king Goffredo and his Paladins to help her reclaim the throne of Damascus which, she falsely claims, has been usurped by her evil uncle Idraote. She then turns to her attendant – Idraote himself, secretly in league with her – to gloat: ‘They all sigh for me, already in love!’ The part of the damsel in distress, which Armida plays masterfully, and her staged vulnerability are but a manipulation.

However, when Rinaldo makes his entrance, another facet of Armida’s character is revealed. We learn that the two have met before; she generously rescued the knight and fell in love with him, only to be abandoned for him to return to war. The devious, haughty Armida, in a moment of authentic vulnerability, puts her wounded pride and schemings aside to confess her devotion to Rinaldo in their most famous love duet.

The lovers run away together, but their romance, like the enchanted palace that serves as its backdrop, is a sweet illusion destined to end. Both characters struggle with their own contradictions: Rinaldo is torn between his feelings and his allegiance, Armida between the world of darkness to which she belongs and the light of a noble, redemptive love. In an attempt to keep Rinaldo at her side, away from battle, the sorceress holds him willingly captive in a life of hedonism, and much like Odysseus on Calypso’s island, Rinaldo indulges in the sweet imprisonment until he is bound to turn his back on love and return to duty.

A final redemption or a sentencing for Armida would have been the conventional dramatic choice. The abandoned heroine could die of heartbreak, like Dido, honouring a long operatic tradition, or be punished for her enchantments. Yet, Schmidt and Rossini manage to escape the misogyny of operatic clichés, and choose a different, less well-trodden path for their protagonist. In her final scene, the elusive sorceress chooses not love but vengeance, storming off into her world of shadows.

Armida’s enigmas remain unsolved to the end: does she embody or defy the archetype of the femme fatale? Is she a subversive figure in the world of opera, that so often condemns its women to a tragic end? Does her survival signify an overthrowing of operatic conventions? Or is she yet another scorned heroine, punished for her treachery with her lover’s abandonment? As Rossini leaves all tension unresolved, the question remains yours to answer.[4]

Bibliography

Clément, Catherine. 1988. Opera, or the Undoing of Women, trans. Betsy Wing (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press)

Osborne, Richard. 2007. Rossini (Oxford: Oxford University Press)

[1] Dido, queen of Carthage in Purcell’s 1689 Dido and Aeneas. Juliet, protagonist of Bellini’s Montecchi e Capuleti, an 1830 operatic adaptation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Lucia, the crazed heroine of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor (1835). Norma, titular character of Bellini’s 1831 opera.

[2] Violetta, the courtesan who falls ill with tuberculosis in Verdi’s La Traviata (1853). Mimì, a Parisian bohemienne who dies of the same disease in Puccini’s La Bohème (1895). Tosca, a Roman opera singer who jumps off Castel Sant’angelo in another of Puccini’s veristi works (1899). Carmen, the rebellious Romani woman of Bizet’s 1875 opéra comique, who is stabbed by her former lover.

[3] Salome, the biblical anti-heroine of Strauss’s 1905 opera, adapted from a play by Oscar Wilde. Lulu, murderous femme fatale in Berg’s 1937 modernist opera.

[4] Richard Osborne, Rossini (Oxford University Press, 2007), p. 257

During a personal interview about the production of Rossini’s Armida at the Teatru Manoel, director Paul Carr explained that the opera is rarely performed and is not one of current popular choices. He feels that the storyline is weak, so he sees it as the director’s responsibility to generate new interest in the work. To do this, Carr has decided to adopt a more contemporary approach to the performance. He has set the piece in a museum exhibition about the crusades, using the Manoel Theatre’s 100-year-old painted backdrops as exhibits. The visitors become so engrossed in the works that they change into the characters of the story. As theatre historian Kara Reilly explains:’[The] interest in retelling stories is not driven by a desire to replicate an assumed ‘original’. Their process begins [with] a keen interest […] in how stories might change to reflect differing perspectives and differing contexts’.[1] Carr has therefore opted for a unique adaptation of Armida which will undoubtedly resonate more with a present-day audience.

Carr’s version of Armida may be considered an interdisciplinary production. Opera is already seen as such due to its integration of music and drama; the score and the dramatic narrative work in tandem to enhance the emotional expression and storytelling of the piece. However, Rossini’s Armida also includes dance, an element which Carr considers a main point of focus for the production. In the interview, Carr admitted that enhancing the narrative through technological media was not a viable option due to budget constraints. Nonetheless, this outcome has proved to be beneficial as now the public’s attention will be held by the performers’ creative physicality within the space, because ‘Not by coincidence, it is in dance that the new images of the body are most clearly visible’.[2] Carr revealed his intention to have the six dancers on stage become an “extension of Armida herself”. He sees Armida as a mad sorceress, struggling between love and revenge, and compares her to a modern-day “drag queen”. Carr’s direction foregrounds the sexuality of the piece, highlighting elements of love, desire and betrayal in the story, and exploiting these themes as a means to cross boundaries. In Carr’s words, he wants “the production to be both sexy and dangerous”.

Carr’s innovative approach may also be seen in his declared aim ‘to find comedy where it can be found’ within Armida, so as to ‘darken the dramatic moments even more’. Humour, which often goes unnoticed or is underestimated in tragedy, can leave a great impact within this genre of performance. In an interview, Simon McBurney, the artistic director of contemporary theatre company Complicité, made similar observations when he noted that traditionally, tragedy is seen as very profound and critical whilst comedy is comforting and amusing. However, he believes the opposite to be true. ‘Tragedy is rather good for man’s dignity. It makes us feel we’re really important creatures whereas comedy reveals the absurd truth’.[3]

Carr believes that a modern-day audience may not feel ‘emotionally attached to Armida’, Its concerns are not those of spectators living during the Romantic era. When asked how he anticipates the audience’s response to his production, Carr simply hopes they will enjoy ‘an evening of entertainment’ while watching a production that is rarely staged, and presents a fresh interpretation. This would undoubtedly be satisfying enough for everyone involved in the opera.

References:

Lehmann, Hans-Thies. 2006. Postdramatic Theatre. (London and New York: Routledge)

McBurney, Simon interviewed by Kirsty Young, Desert Island Discs, BBC Radio 4, 15 July 2012 < BBC Radio 4 – Desert Island Discs, Simon McBurney > [accessed 26 January 2024]

Reilly, Kara. (ed.) 2017. Contemporary Approaches to Adaptations in Theatre. (London: Palgrave Macmillan)

[1] Reilly (ed.) 2017: 9

[2] Lehmann 2006: 163

[3] McBurney 2012

Known to some as the ‘Swan of Pesaro’ and to others as ‘Signor Crescendo’, Rossini, hailing from a musical family, had an early exposure to music, undoubtedly paving the way for his future success.[1] In 1825, if asked in Europe who the most important and famous living composer, many would not have thought of Beethoven but would have certainly replied, ‘Gioachino Rossini’. By that time, the composer had become popular in the opera theatres of Bologna, Rome, Milan, Naples, Paris and Vienna.[2]

Rossini’s time in Paris was crucial, witnessing the creation of notable works and substantial contributions to the French musical scene. Although Rossini composed several operas during his residence in Paris from 1824 onwards, it is noteworthy that Armida, one of his significant works, predates his time in the French capital. Armida was composed in Naples and premiered at the Teatro di San Carlo on 11 May 1817, marking the inauguration of the newly rebuilt theatre after it had been destroyed by fire. Rossini, who referred to himself as ‘the last of the classicists’, witnessed a decline in the popularity of his serious works during the Romantic era. Notwithstanding this decline, his comic operas have consistently retained their appeal, and his influence on the structure of later Italian Romantic works remains significant.[3]

Rossini’s musical prowess allowed him to experiment with a variety of dramatic and musical elements. Notably, through his work Armida, Rossini transformed the opera into a cultural document, effectively reflecting the essence of the Romantic era, characterised by its focus on deep personal emotion and its criticism of the developments brought about by the Industrial Revolution. Beyond being a musical composition, Armida emerges as a cultural artefact that provokes a deeper look at the interconnectedness of music and cultural expression. Rossini skilfully forges this through the singers to evoke personal emotions, the chorus to convey societal perspectives, and the orchestration to depict the supernatural and magical elements.

Through the increased role of the chorus throughout the opera, Rossini intended to effectively illustrate the social changes of the time, such as the rise of progressive movements aimed at tackling societal problems and improving the quality of life.

The chorus’ song “Sì, d’amor la reggia è questa, questo è il centro del piacer” in Act II scene 2, bridges the romantic sentiments prevalent during Rossini’s period and those portrayed through the music and libretto. In the final part of this act, Rinaldo is caught in the struggle between his love for the sorceress and his loyalty to his mission. In the duet between the two lovers, the crusader simply repeats Armida’s words, highlighting the turmoil that he is experiencing:

(Armida) A quell’alma tal portento sembra un sogno lusinghier.
A sì strano e lieto evento si confonde il suo pensier.
(Rinaldo) A quest’alma tal portento sembra un sogno lusinghier.
A sì strano e lieto evento si confonde il mio pensier.

The characters in Armida reflect internal struggles and complex emotions. These align with the wider cultural trend of delving into the intricacies of human experience. A case in point is Armida’s aria ‘D’Amore al dolce impero’, where Rossini offers an opportunity for the soprano to exhibit her vocal skill with intricate coloratura passages. Individual feelings are clearly expressed through Rossini’s delicate melodies and the profound emotional resonance of the music, coalescing smoothly with the very spirit of Romanticism.

The fascination with the supernatural, characterised by an attraction towards the fantastical as well as the emotional, had a significant impact on most of the composers of the Romantic period. It expressed a continuous yearning to break free from the constraints of reality. The attraction for sorcerers and witches persisted throughout the nineteenth century, stimulating writers’ and composers’ imaginations and providing rich thematic material for novels, poetry and operas. Composers such as Carl Maria Von Weber, Wagner and Verdi were influenced by contemporary authors, such as Ernst Theodor Hoffmann, Edgar Allan Poe, and the tales of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, and sought to translate their ideas into the musical world. Rossini’s Armida employs her magical abilities, richly brought to life through the music, to disrupt Rinaldo from his Christian mission during the Crusade.

As seen in the orchestral introduction to Armida’s enchantments in Act II, Rossini creates an otherworldly atmosphere, employing mysterious harmonies and orchestral techniques to evoke the mystical essence of Armida’s sorcery. In this context, Rossini developed innovative techniques that enhance the opera’s supernatural and magical aspects, reflecting a wider interest in exploring new sounds and effects typical of the Romantic period, while also conveying social significance adeptly through his music.

References

Hindley, Geoffrey. 1971. The Larousse Encyclopedia of Music (London, New York, Sydney & Toronto: The Hamilyn Publishing Group Limited:)

Grout, Donald & Claude Palisca. 2001. A History of Western Music (New York & London: W. W. Norton & Company)

Latham, Alison (ed.). 2002. The Oxford Companion to Music (New York: Oxford University Press)

Batta, András. 2009. Opera: Composers, Works, Performers (Cologne: Kӧnemann)

Naughtie, James. 2007. The Making of Music: A Journey with Notes (London: John Murray)

Orrey, Leslie & Milnes, Rodney. 1987. Opera: A Concise History (New York: Thames and Hudson)

Lindenberger, Herbert. 1998. Opera in History: From Monteverdi to Cage (Stanford.: Stanford University Press)

Margulis, Elizabeth Hellmuth. 2018. The Psychology of Music: A Very Short Introduction. (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press)

Rosen, Charles. 1995. The Romantic Generation (Cambridge: Harvard University Press)

[1] Hindley 1971: 352

[2] Grout and Palisca 2001: 1-2

[3] Latham (ed.) 2002: 1080

Gioacchino Rossini’s Armida, the third opera composed for the Teatro San Carlo, is little known and rarely performed. It is a challenging piece to stage; the soprano, holding the sole female part, has to do justice to the seductiveness of the music and the demanding coloratura which Rossini wrote to draw attention to the vocal abilities of his Spanish wife, Isabella Colbran. The male parts include six tenors, a rarity in itself. The story is one of evil magic and enchantment, and in the grand finale, Armida, like the Greek heroine Medea, flies off, crying revenge.

The Teatru Manoel production also poses a challenge. The director, Paul Carr, has opted to present a contemporary interpretation of the story; the role of the conductor, Davide Levi, is to make the audience feel the force and sensuality of Rossini’s music. The elimination of the overly long ballet in Act II (a convention at the time for grand operas), has allowed choreographer Dorian Mallia to create a consistent dance presence on stage, using contemporary movement to highlight the passion the two lovers feel for each other. Through his original costumes, Luke Azzopardi has contributed to placing the story in a twenty-first century setting, with subtle references to costumes in the time of the Crusaders.

The production of Armida has given rise to another challenge. For the first time, Teatru Manoel is collaborating with the School of Performing Arts of the University of Malta to produce an informative booklet that throws light on different aspects of the opera. The five contributions have been written by students in theatre, music and dance, and provide an insightful look into the interdisciplinary aspects of the alluring work. Patrons taking away this booklet will be able to remember the work as they enjoy the insights provided by the short articles.

It is anticipated that this work will lead to further close collaboration between the theatre and the University of Malta.

Theatre Anon was set up back in 1994, and the strength behind their projects is the fun element they offer and the promise of a unique and delightful experience for the audience. Whilst treating subject matters that are worlds apart, one thing that these two productions have in common is the use of human-sized puppets.

Daqsxejn ta’ Requim lil Leli

Daqsxejn ta’ Requim lil Leli, a poem written by Immanuel Mifsud, has been transformed into a theatrical piece with puppetry, animation, and live music. Leli reflects on life as he feels himself approaching his last breath. He embarks on a nostalgic journey through his memories of the good days, the better days, but also the sad and lonely days. Mifsud adds that this is not a mournful requiem but one that has the power to elicit deep emotions.

Immanuel Mifsud reflects on his writing style… one filled with mixed emotions that draws the readers into a meditative state. His writing skills, evolving from his romantic nature, move the reader. He believes that people, men in particular, are able to disguise their inner feelings. Therefore, Mifsud’s poetry seeks to challenge this and encourages the freedom and release of emotions.

Director Paul Portelli explains how he was instantly captivated by the music that Kris Spiteri composed for the work. He goes on to say that as Kris and Immanuel asked him to direct this work for The Arts Festival back in 2018, he accepted immediately. They approached visual artist Vince Briffa to create all the visuals and admits that the creative process to combine music, poetry and visuals was truly exciting.

Paul explains how the life-sized puppet that represents Leli, is a creation that the audience can totally relate to, as he portrays the main aspects of a human life, dreams, happiness, and sadness.

When composing the music for this production, Kris Spiteri wanted to create a balance between the sounds and the visuals that were being portrayed on stage. Through his music, he describes musically the sea, the mother, a hospital room, and the train in Cierny Balog, but at the same time he composed his interpretation of the Isle of the Dead and the amalgamation of life and death in the main themes.

The Little Prince

Theatre Anon together with Teatru Manoel will also be presenting The Little Prince, that was originally created for ŻiguŻajg Arts Festival for Children and Young People three years ago.

Liliana Portelli, one of the cast members of The Little Prince and founding member of Theatre Anon explains that this production is based on the book with the same name, written by Antoine de Sant-Exupery. This story takes the readers on a journey to a planet where a little prince lives on his own. This prince decides to leave this planet and embarks on a journey where he meets with many particular and interesting characters from different planets… until he arrives on planet Earth. Liliana further explains how the prince then meets a pilot and the two get lost in conversation about universal themes of love, friendship and solitude.

Portelli highlights how the main character will enchant the younger audiences but will also capture the hearts of adults. It is quite spectacular to see a life-sized puppet, brought to ‘life’ by two actors who quite magically animate him to reflect real human gestures, making the audience forget that they’re watching a puppet and not a living person.

She also mentions that the scenery for this production, designed and created by Francesca Grech, is based on illustrations from the original book. Bringing all these elements harmoniously together is Albert Garzia’s soundscape that was created specifically for this work and which he will be performing live.

Daqsxejn ta’ Requim li Leli will be performed in Maltese with English surtitles at Teatru Manoel, on the 15th of February at 8pm, Saturday 17th at 8pm, and Sunday 18th at 7pm. The Little Prince will be performed in English on Friday the 16th of February at 8pm, Saturday the 17th at 3pm, and Sunday the 18th at 3pm at Teatru Manoel.

www.teatrumanoel.mt comes with a new calendar that clearly shows when events are on and search functionalities that let you pick your preferred genres, dates and venues. The Learning and Participation page has been improved to create a better user experience for youth and younger audiences who are the core audience of Teatru Manoel’s TOI TOI programme. The page will also be equipped with downloadable resources related to TOI TOI productions, such a resource packs that encourage young audiences to think critically about the topics presented to them.

The website will also have frequent updates about upcoming productions, behind-the-scenes information, and more. The new ‘Opportunities’ page will be a space entirely designated to open calls and vacnacies within the theatre. Audition calls are essential for the theatre’s creative work, but are equally essential to artists interested in working with the theatre. This page will make it easier for artists to find what opportunities are available.

With the introduction of a Maltese version of the website, Teatru Manoel is dedicated to more accessibilty to cater for all its patrons. A fun facts blurb has also been introduced to share snippets of information about the theatre’s history, for a more elaborate retelling of Teatru Manoel’s history, patrons can visit the historical timeline on the ‘About Us’ page. Here, users can also access information about other services that Teatru Manoel offers.

We hope that the new website will be a better user experience for you and encourage you to visit frequently for all our latest news and updates. In fact, we’ll be launching our full 2023 – 2024 season very soon, so stay tuned!

The Teatru Manoel team.