Palazzo Visconti and La Scala, Luchino’s ‘homes’. A magnificent exhibition

The Gallarati Scotti family held their open house on Mondays, the Borromeo family on Thursdays, and the Ricordi family on Fridays. The Visconti family held theirs on Wednesdays. D’Annunzio would arrive with a bouquet of violets, a tribute to the mauve colour so beloved by the hostess, Donna Carla, along with grey – the two colours that her son Luchino would, many years later, insist Piero Tosi use to dress Silvana Mangano in Death in Venice. Tea was served at five, champagne at seven; Arturo Toscanini would pop in for a glass before heading to the theatre. Years ago, Manolo Borromeo told Gaia Servadio that ‘many would go to La Scala for the second act of La Traviata or the third of Lohengrin, in the old aristocratic custom – that is, without worrying about following the opera in religious silence and in its entirety, as is the custom today. In the Visconti household, however, whenever there was a performance, the lights would invariably be dimmed at the same time, and Don Giuseppe would point this out to those present: ‘They’ve turned the lights on at La Scala’. Thus, the exhibition curated by Giovanni Agosti, with design by Margherita Palli, which the Museo Teatrale alla Scala is dedicating to the relationship between Luchino Visconti and Piermarini fifty years after his death (“‘Thanks to Luchino Visconti’”) and which concludes the two-part series that began in January with the fine exhibition on the ‘Revolution of the Ring’ and that staging project, never completed in the early 1970s, which would later lead to the rise of Luca Ronconi and Pier Luigi Pizzi.

Indeed, it is that table set with porcelain and silverware that isn’t too polished (sparkling cutlery was not considered a mark of distinction in the family) that serves as a small pop-culture nod, one that captivates and intrigues; and one might well have added, perhaps, a mention of the little plays that Luchino Visconti used to stage every Sunday with his brothers, the servants and schoolmates in the dressing room, draping a sheet across the room, because his love for the theatre began like this, thanks to a performance at La Scala of the ballet Piero Micca, as he recounted to L’Europeo in 1976, a few months before his death, and those home-made productions, which were by no means improvised (“Luchino never shied away from anything”, said Uberta Visconti), in keeping with a powerful tradition of amateur drama found throughout the Western world from the Renaissance onwards, and which resurfaces in English, American and Italian fiction, from Thackeray and Louise May Alcott right up to Maria Teresa Fendi’s memoirs published a few months ago. Once upon a time, theatre was part of everyone’s life.

At number 44 Via Cerva (now 8 Via Cino del Duca), the family’s business interests were also evident: “The Visconti di Modrone family have always been regulars at La Scala: box number 4, first tier, left-hand section, which they owned from 1843 to 1920,” says the museum’s director, Donatella Brunazzi, today. “We have highlighted this on several occasions in exhibitions over the past few years, starting with the one dedicated to the boxes, which opened with a portrait of Guido Visconti di Modrone – Luchino’s grandfather and a great benefactor of La Scala – who laid the foundations for the theatre to become an autonomous body.” The future director also spoke of this; although he would not take to the stage until adulthood, following a long and tumultuous journey that included owning a racing stable: “I grew up with the scent of the stage in my nostrils,” including his own personal stage, kept alive through charades, performances of Hamlet and even comedies written specifically for the amusement of family and friends, and performed by everyone, including the lady of the house, of whom there are photographs in stage costumes lavishly adorned with feathers.

This exhibition, therefore, is not merely a celebration, but the story of a lifelong bond, which culminated in 1954 with Gaspare Spontini’s La Vestale, starring Maria Callas, whose neoclassical costume by Piero Zuffi – featuring a dense pattern of pleats beneath the bust – is on display; this costume revolutionised the way opera direction was conceived, This was followed by the famous La Traviata of 1955, with sets and costumes by Lila De Nobili. It is notable to see the care with which today’s Academy students lean over the display cases to discover the details of the original watercolours and to trace the historical and classical artistic references in other productions. Visconti staged eight productions at La Scala, a body of work characterised by rigorous musical fidelity and visual power that was destined to leave a profound mark on the history of international theatre. The exhibition also recounts – as it should, and with great impact – what could not be realised: from the Falstaff commissioned by Arturo Toscanini for the inauguration of the Piccola Scala to Poliuto, right up to the Ring project.