Opera

Livermore’s film adaptation of Aida, which references Cabiria

The Rome Opera House is moving to the Circus Maximus with a Verdi opera

by Giorgia Basili

17 July 2026

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(Foto Fabrizio Sansoni - Teatro dell’Opera di Roma)

3' min read

Translated by AI

Versione italiana

3' min read

Translated by AI

Versione italiana

From 12 to 28 July, *Aida* will be staged at the Circo Massimo’s summer theatre, the temple of entertainment in antiquity. The love story between Aida and Radamès – the slave daughter of the King of Ethiopia and the Egyptian commander, torn apart by war – echoes the conflicts of the present day, and the audience is well aware of this.

Cinema complex

What is most striking about this production is its cinematic style. The curtain becomes a screen upon which colour temperatures unfold, alongside human figures resembling crumbling sand sculptures, hieroglyphs, gold and coiling snakes. The two large side screens, as well as displaying the libretto in Italian and English, focus attention on the black-and-white faces, amplifying their expressive power with references to silent cinema and the 1914 epic *Cabiria*, evoked by director Davide Livermore.

Livermore describes *Aida* as Giuseppe Verdi’s most intimate opera, ‘an absolute expression of love’, but also of self-sacrifice, because the protagonists sacrifice everything to achieve their sole objective. On the podium, Daniele Callegari, with the chorus conducted by Ciro Visco, interprets the opera as ‘a mirror-like work’: it begins with a delicate overture, builds to a sense of grandeur and returns to the intimacy of the finale, where ‘the silent tension, even more so than the grandeur of the scene, brings the drama to life’.

The cast features Elena Stikhina as Aida, Angela Meade as Amneris and Luciano Ganci as Radamès.

The set design is by Giò Forma, the costumes by Gianluca Falaschi, the lighting by Fiammetta Baldiserri and the video work by D-Wok.

Whilst the dancing in the first scene of Act I may at times seem excessive, in the Temple of Vulcan the music and choreography strike a perfect balance: the wind instruments, as if they were the fingers of a snake charmer, accompany the priestess’s ritual, whilst the trio between Aida, Amneris and Radamès offers one of the first musically most intense moments.

In the second act, Amneris dominates the scene with ‘Vieni amor mio, m’inebria, fammi beato il cor’, before forcing Aida to confess her love. In the prayer ‘Numi, pietà del mio soffrir’, the bassoon persists like a sob that foreshadows the fate of the two women. The screen is bathed in green smoke, as if it were the flow of the protagonist’s consciousness. The famous Triumphal March bursts forth in a triumphant fanfare of trumpets, strings and percussion, accompanied by battle-inspired choreography.

The third act, set at night on the banks of the Nile, is one of the opera’s finest moments. The curtain takes on a scarab-green hue, whilst the orchestra brings to life the ‘murmur of the violins, like the chirping of cicadas’, enriched by the flute. Aida’s aria is supported by the oboe; the duet with Amonasro reaches one of the opera’s high points; and the cellos accompany the heroine’s anguish before her meeting with Radamès.

In the fourth act, Angela Meade’s full interpretative power comes to the fore: Amneris experiences love, jealousy, anger and despair, culminating in the commander’s condemnation. In the tomb, accompanied by the harp and the words ‘The heavens open to us, and our wandering souls / Soar towards the light of the eternal day’, Aida and Radamès seal their absolute, uncompromising love.