An orchestra is not born on the playbill, but in the rehearsal room. It is in that space-time that a plurality of individuals organizes itself into a sounding body, through tacit conventions, shared habits, a practical memory that concerns not only what is played, but how it is played together. In this sense, rehearsal is not a technical preliminary to the performance, but rather the place in which the orchestra builds identity, style, interpretive continuity within the framework of a tradition.

If one looks at the history of opera houses between the nineteenth century and the early twentieth, one is struck by the different configuration of time. A title could remain on stage for weeks or months, often with a frequency close to daily performance: the long permanence on the bill made it sensible to invest many rehearsals and allowed performers a process of progressive refinement over the course of the run. The audience thus encountered not only the opera as a text, but a version that evolved over time, depositing small adjustments, ensemble memories, variations in the collective perception of the work.

Today’s organization of seasons introduces an almost reversed framework. The same title is often scheduled for a limited number of evenings, distributed over short time spans, with cycles that close quickly to make room for other productions. Faced with this contraction of life on stage, rehearsal time takes on a different value: no longer the start of a long process, but a concentrated moment in which one must set up an arrangement that is already, in tendency, stable—destined to be exhausted after only a few performances.

A silent transformation of the theatrical model follows. “Repertoire” theatre—where certain titles return cyclically and remain for a long time—gives way to an “event” theatre, characterized by tight sequences of productions, each of which occupies the bill for a reduced period. The orchestra, in this context, is called upon to adapt to a logic of continuous rotation: changes of programs, of conductors, of soloists, often in close succession, with a strong demand for flexibility and for the ability to move rapidly from one stylistic code to another.

This quantitative change—fewer performances, shorter spans—also has a qualitative dimension. Where once the orchestra’s sound was shaped through prolonged engagement with a relatively small number of titles, today it tends to take shape as the result of a series of intense but brief encounters with different repertoires. The center of gravity shifts from duration to intensity: not so much the long working-over of a single score, as the ability to activate quickly, with each new production, a set of shared competencies sufficient to guarantee coherence and intelligibility of the opera.

The repertoire theatre and the event theatre

In the history of European musical institutions, repertoire theatre functioned as the reference model for many decades. In this model, a certain number of titles constitutes a stable core of the season, revived cyclically, with an orchestral and vocal ensemble that works for a long time on those repertoires. The revival of an opera is not a simple repetition, but an opportunity to refine the interpretation, to modify balances, to let an idea of style shared among conductor, orchestra, singers, and staging settle into place.

Event theatre, instead, privileges the unique—or almost unique—production: an opera is mounted for a short cycle, often with an orchestra different from that of the previous production, with a conductor and a cast specific to that version. This model responds to needs of visibility, novelty, tightly packed programming, but it entails a different economy of time. The orchestra no longer has time to build a collective memory of that title, nor to develop a lasting relationship with the conductor or with the cast.

The difference is not only quantitative, but qualitative. In repertoire theatre, the orchestra takes part in a process of sedimentation: it learns to play together on that repertoire, it develops a kind of “bodily memory” of the sound, of the attacks, of rubati, of dynamics. In event theatre, the orchestra is called upon to be a flexible device, capable of adapting rapidly to different codes, but with less space for the construction of a shared interpretive tradition.

The duration of rehearsal and perceived quality

Rehearsal time is a crucial indicator of the seriousness of a cultural system. In the history of symphonic and operatic orchestras, the number of rehearsals has been considered a parameter of quality: fewer rehearsals, more risk of approximation; more rehearsals, greater possibility of refinement and cohesion. This relationship is not automatic, but it signals a fundamental choice: investing time means recognizing that quality is not only an outcome, but also a process.

Today, in many seasons, rehearsal time has become a sharply compressed variable. The tight calendar, the need to meet multiple productions in little time, cost pressure all lead to reducing the number of days available. This does not necessarily mean the result is worse, but it changes the nature of the work: one moves from an idea of rehearsal as slow construction to an idea of rehearsal as rapid “assembly” of an already given setup.

For the audience, this transformation has subtle but significant consequences. An orchestra that has worked a long time on a title tends to play with greater security, with more stable intonation, with more precise articulation. An orchestra that assembles an opera quickly can be effective, but with a certain “haste” in the sound, with less consolidated intonation, with more mechanical articulation. The audience, even without realizing it, perceives this difference: not only as technical quality, but as a quality of presence, warmth, involvement.

The orchestra as a stable body and the orchestra as a flexible device

The orchestra can be thought of in two fundamental ways: as a stable body and as a flexible device. In the first case, the orchestra is an entity with its own identity, its own sound, its own history. The musicians work together over time, develop a collective memory, build a shared repertoire. In the second case, the orchestra is a set of individual competencies, called upon to converge rapidly on a common performance, but without a shared history.

This distinction is not absolute, but indicative of two different organizational models. In many historic theatres, the orchestra long remained a stable body, with a principal conductor who worked for a long time with the same ensemble. In this model, the conductor is not only an interpreter, but a builder of sound, a shaper of style, a guardian of an interpretive tradition. The orchestra, in turn, becomes a place in which practices, gestures, ways of playing settle that transcend the single performance.

In the flexible model, by contrast, the orchestra is often assembled ad hoc for individual productions. The musicians are called upon to work together for a brief period, with a different conductor each time. This model permits a great variety of interpretations, but with less space for the construction of a collective tradition. The orchestra becomes a reliable device, but with less depth of shared stratification.

The role of the conductor and the chorus master

The relationship between conductor and orchestra is another hinge point. When the conductor works for a long time with the same ensemble, a relationship of trust, mutual understanding, shared memory is established. The conductor knows the characteristics of the orchestra’s sound, its strengths and weaknesses, its listening habits. The orchestra, in turn, learns to read the conductor’s gestures, to anticipate intentions, to respond with greater immediacy and cohesion.

In a system of rapid rotation, this relationship is transformed. The conductor must adapt quickly to a different orchestra, often with less time to build a relationship of trust. The orchestra, in turn, must adapt quickly to a new conductor, a new style, new demands. This does not prevent results of quality, but it changes the nature of the work: one moves from a long-term relationship to a series of intense but brief encounters.

A similar role is played by the chorus master and the orchestra principals. In a stable orchestra, these performers function as the “memory” of the repertoire: they know interpretive traditions, ways of attacking, articulating, shaping dynamics. In a flexible system, this memory tends to fade, because musicians change frequently, and with them the consolidated practices.

The audience and ways of listening

The transformation of organizational models has consequences also for the audience and ways of listening. An audience that saw the same title for months had the possibility of comparing different performances, perceiving the evolution of the interpretation, depositing its own idea of style. Today, with short cycles and limited performances, this possibility is reduced. The audience encounters the opera as a unique event, with less space for comparison and sedimentation.

Moreover, the brevity of runs also modifies the relationship between audience and opera. An opera seen once, in an event context, tends to be perceived as an isolated experience, whereas an opera seen multiple times, in a repertoire context, becomes an experience of familiarity, deepening, shared memory. This change is not only quantitative, but qualitative: it concerns the way the audience relates to the text, the sound, the tradition.

Desiderata: organizational models and possible balances

In the face of these transformations, it is possible to formulate some desiderata that look more to possibilities than to regrets. One might hope, for example, for greater care in designing calendars, so as to restore to rehearsal time a function not only preparatory but formative, both for performers and for institutions. A less tightly packed calendar, with more space between one production and the next, would allow more time to be invested in rehearsal, without renouncing the variety of the season.

Likewise, a periodic revival of titles already tackled, with the same ensembles, could favor the construction of a shared memory that does not exclude flexibility, but anchors it to a common history of sound and gesture. This does not mean returning to an exclusively repertoire model, but imagining a hybrid model: shorter seasons, but with more time for rehearsal; new productions, but with the possibility of reviving titles already addressed in previous years.

Finally, one might think of a valorization of orchestras as stable bodies, with their own sound and their own history. This does not necessarily imply a permanent structure, but greater continuity in personnel, greater attention to building a shared interpretive tradition. In this way, the orchestra would return to being not only a device for execution, but a place in which a culture of sound, a collective memory, a lasting relationship between music and audience is deposited.

The orchestra as a place of time