El Gato Montés
Music and libretto: Manuel Penella

(Teatro de la Zarzuela, Madrid, 11/12 June 2026)

reviewed by Antonio Díaz-Casanova

More than just that pasodoble ...

Enormous expectation preceded the first genuinely national zarzuela production of Christoph Loy – not strictly his zarzuela debut in Spain, since a few weeks ago his Barberillo could be seen in Oviedo – fervent recruit to Hispanic lyric theatre, champion of its patterns, knowledgeable enthusiast and unapologetic defender of the manifold virtues of Spain’s musico-theatrical heritage. Since El Gato Montés (‘The Wildcat’) is a work loaded with topical patriotic connotations, curiosity about Loy’s approach from such a cosmopolitan globalist perspective was even stronger. The final result, let’s admit right away, is mixed: it contains very positive and impactful elements, destabilised by others in which the German director does not live up to his reputation.

His primary interest in distilling the tragedy is clear: the omnipresence of Death on the stage and in the dramatic journey (the apparition foreshadowing the bullfighter’s goring in the second act, and again in the final scene is visually very strong); the protagonists’ emotional helplessness; passion and unbridled jealousy; the social marginalization of the ‘other’, and the primitive, earthy purity of first love … all these in a closed, claustrophobic environment, constricting the characters. Even in the final scene – supposedly set in the mountains – the stage walls continue to envelop the dying lovers, and it will be precisely Death itself which opens the door, not as an end but as a liberation from that social, sentimental ultimate cage of life. In relation to these elements, Loy achieves the evening’s most striking images: another pillar of his work is the composition and resolution of the men’s duel over Soleá, with its contrast between black and white and its overall, powerful formalism.

On the other hand, his staging blurs the popular and ‘characteristic’ components, as demonstrated by the soulless and prosaic exposition of the off-stage bullfight [with its famous pasodoble] and the excessive stylization of the sets – most especially the costumes, with their preponderance of suits, jackets and ties (the aversion of today’s directors for period dress makes an interesting question). An unbecoming clumsiness of such a seasoned director as Loy is the lack of import in the successive entries of key characters such as the protagonists or the Gypsy, who always emerge in a rather pedestrian and bland way at the edges of the stage, at times to involuntarily comedic effect. The voluminous settings occupy the entire back of the stage, thus preventing frontal perspectives on these characters, who thus lose tragic imprint and theatrical force. And one last comment, no less important: there are too many interruptions and intervals in the evening, which break dramatic tension and audience concentration rather too much. On the face of it, the scenic changes do not seem to require so much time, but I’ll leave that debate to Those Who Know.

I was able to see the two alternative casts, and on the whole it can be said that the balance tilts favourably towards the first. In the title role, neither David Oller nor Borja Quiza manage to completely satisfy. The first by default and the second by excess are far from the troubled personality of that wounded ‘Wildcat’, so battered in body and soul. Oller’s voice is very light for a role of this dramatic substance, aside from the fact that his technical support is very basic. The sounds arise moment by moment and his singing lacks fluency; it springs up and then stumbles, with little connection between the notes, manifesting an excess of vibrato and with more tendency to declamation than true singing. This lack of legato prevents him from shining forth in the most lyrical moments, while in the moments of greatest sonic impetus he is out of bounds. His acting could also be greatly improved. Quiza, on the other hand, has been for some time now overfond of vocal volume, reflected in abrupt, high-mettled, uncontrolled singing, with an abundance of open and bland sounds, which at times even causes his tuning to suffer. Occasionally, in this or that phrase, or in some vocal gesture, this stentorian style serves to embody the character of ‘The Wildcat’, but such moments are fleeting.

Juanillo’s male antagonist Rafael was sung by two tenors of Mexican origin: Rodrigo Garull and Rafael Humberto Rojas. Garull offered a very passionate interpretation, dedicated and courageous, configured in a very truthful conception of character, but from a perspective that valued singing and expression, not merely empty flashes of brilliance. His voice is very well rounded, his timbre warm and attractive; and he also encompasses vivid interpretation, having the wisdom to vary vocal colour in his more reflective moments. After a somewhat hesitant start, he got on top of things, achieving moments of fiery intensity, notably at the end of the first act and in the famous duet of the second. A very pleasant surprise. Rojas’s performance is less distinctive, given a much less brilliant voice as to timbre and less well-organized projection, with a tendency to push the tone and place each note differently (some in a good place, obviously). He improved in the course of the performance but ultimately his voice is very light for the role – though curiously he was not adept at taking advantage of the score’s most lyrical moments, since in his few attempts to control the sonority, the voice lost its place, breaking up and losing itself in a sort of limbo, reduced to an inconsistent murmur.

Mané Galoyan and Miren Urbieta-Vega embodied the long-suffering Soleá. Urbieta, making up the second cast alongside Rojas and Quiza, has a sumptuous voice, with expansive lyricism, a sound presence, good projection, drive and cutting-edge in the trickiest part of the tessitura, where the character must also ride the surging orchestra – as in the entire finale of the second act, where she delivered some phrases of formidable power – and clean handling of the vocal line. Some metallic resonances begin to be noticeable in her voice that were not previously evident, and which somewhat muddy the stream of sound, but on the whole she is a very estimable and enjoyable singer. Galoyan, an Armenian soprano with a promising career in international opera, has mastered a good schooling, with a very interesting voice, less substantial than Urbieta, but handled with distinguished taste. She does not shine with the generous volume of her colleague in passages of greater intensity, but in compensation she has greater variety of phrasing and timbral play: for example, she was at her best through the exquisite art with which she delineated her first-act solo (‘Juntos dende chavaliyos’), performed initially with well-sustained and rounded mezzo-voce singing, but gradually acquiring a dramatic and sonorous character of extraordinary scope. Here were two conceptions from different vocal perspectives, both very convincing.

As the bullfighter’s mother, we had two veterans of the theatre: Milagros Martín and Maria Rodriguez. Martín was very capable in all aspects, although her tendency to over-egg the chest register is beginning to become a vice – a custom rooted in old zarzuela practise, but perhaps too old. Rodríguez’s voice these days has a loss of legato, loss of polish and some lack of control, but she maintains her splendid stage presence. The role of the Gypsy who predicts the tragedy, was shared by María Luisa Corbacho (with very strained and fluttering projection, in an over-artificial vocal structure), and Carol García, a much fresher and more youthful voice, perhaps without enough substance for the character, but with easy and natural singing. Manel Esteve (Padre Antón) and Gerardo Bullón (Hormigón) created comic cameos very well accentuated in phrasing, always restrained, gracious and marked by musical taste. The former is more problematic vocally these days, while the latter – splendid as we’re used to hearing him – is always relegated to roles far below his artistic intelligence. I must also give a positive mention to Sara Rosique and Patricia Illera, who sang (with most delicate finesse offstage) the Shepherd Boy’s song.

The theatre’s musical director, José Miguel Pérez-Sierra, was conducting both these performances (in the last three he will be replaced by Rafael Sánchez-Araña). He performs appreciably as a whole, far from his usual inclination towards sheer sonic volume, although his taste for excessive decibels still sometimes gets the better of him, as in the choral entrance greeting Raphael in the first act. He maintains a lively theatrical pulse, very effective and fluent, demonstrating particularly well-balanced musical phrasing in the orchestral interludes. What was lacking, was greater refinement in extracting all the instrumental colours and abundant timbral piquancy that Penella’s work contains – this is a very estimable composition in that aspect, a far cry from the castanet-and-tambourine fest that malicious tongues have claimed it to be down the decades.

As a curiosity I must note that in addition to the various musical interludes indicated in the score, an orchestral version of the work’s central theme, ‘Juntos dende chavaliyos’, was added during one of those many pauses for scenic changes, a recurring melody of ineffable tenderness, which the composer uses throughout the score as a consolatory haven to temper the sentimental boyish orphanhood of the two protagonists. It is a great example of that ‘melodic spontaneity which attracts and captivates’, as defined by the young Reveriano Soutullo, who at the time of the work’s appearance took on the critics to explain Penella’s musical style. More than a century after its premiere, perennially battered and cancelled by highbrow critics, El Gato Montés maintains its popular freshness and its fascinating duende. It continues to attract and captivate.

© Antonio Díaz-Casanova and zarzuela.net, 2026

Cast: Juanillo – David Oller / Borja Quiza; Soleá – Mané Galoyan/ Miren Urbieta-Vega; Rafael – Rodrigo Garull/ Rafael Humberto Rojas; Frasquita – María Rodríguez/ Milagros Martín; Gypsy – Carol García/ María Luisa Corbacho; Padre Antón – Manel Esteve; Concrete – Gerardo Bullón;  Loliya – Adriana Viñuela; Caireles – Pablo Gálvez; Pezuño – Alonso Gabarrús; Recalcao – Alberto Camón; Pastorcillo – Sara Rosique/ Patricia Illera; Seller – Javier Alonso; Alguacilillo – Alberto Camón; Laborers – Joaquín Córdoba/ Pedro Prior/ David Villegas; Orquesta de la Comunidad de Madrid; Coro del Teatro de la Zarzuela, Antonio Fauró (chor. d.); Pequeño Cantores de la ORCAM (d. Ana González); José Miguel Pérez-Sierra (c.); Christoph Loy (d.); Manuel La Casta (des.); Robby Duiveman (cost.); Albert Faura (l.); Mónica Domínguez (choreo.)

en español
Manuel Penella (English)
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16/VI/2026