Meet Mario Conte
Mario Conte: the mind behind The Opera! Arie per un’eclissi’s soundtrack
Orpheus gets married. The world smiles. A moment later, a gunshot shatters the dream. Eurydice vanishes, sucked into the underworld. And so, Orpheus, desperate and stubborn as only a lover can be, embarks on his frantic race to win her back.
So far, everything goes according to the script. But <The Opera! Arie per un’eclissi> is not just an opera, not just a musical, not just a film: it is a bizarre creature balancing between the sublime and the futuristic, the sacred and the pop, ancient drama and an auteur music video.
The music. That of Puccini, Handel, Verdi, and Vivaldi, which here ceases to be mere classical repertoire and transforms into something else: an electronic, rarefied, pulsating soundscape that envelops the audience and drags them into Orpheus' visionary nightmare. The credit goes to Mario Conte, producer and composer, who has crafted a unique, layered, and daring soundtrack. Here, operatic art merges with drum and bass, synthesizers blend with strings, and a tenor’s voice grazes the vocoder effect. And among all this, a small masterpiece stands out: a cover of <The Power of Love> by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, reinterpreted with Bach-like counterpoint and operatic voices that seem to come from another world.
We had the opportunity to chat with Mario Conte, the magical mind behind the film’s stunning music.
Mario Conte shot by Elisabetta Claudio, courtesy of press office © All rights belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Orpheus defies death with music. Have you ever thought of challenging something with yours?
“More than thinking of it as a challenge, I believe that choosing to be a musician in life has been a challenge in itself - and it continues to be. In a strict sense, I don’t think music should challenge; rather, it should surprise and make us reflect on the conventions we are accustomed to - possibly dismantling them”.
Puccini, Handel, Verdi, Vivaldi - drum and bass, vocoder, synthesizers. Sound can take us beyond the boundaries of reality. What is the most absurd boundary you have crossed while composing this soundtrack?
“It’s not easy to define the boundaries of reality. Reality itself exists within us only as a perception of the senses. Sound, as both an idea and a sensory element, doesn’t so much take us across a boundary as it offers us an infinite number of perceptible realities, which I find even more fascinating. This is the concept behind the film’s soundtrack and, more generally, my approach to music”.
When Orpheus sings “Nessun dorma”, he fights against fate. Do you believe in destiny, or do you think music can change it?
“Personally, I don’t believe in destiny as fate. I believe in self-determination. I would define destiny more as an unpredictable randomness, a variable, an anomaly in the predictability of future events - something closer to what Neapolitans call <‘a ciorta>. If destiny existed in the classic sense of inescapability and immutability, nothing could change it, which, in my view, is one of the meanings of the myth of Orpheus.
If, on the other hand, we speak of destiny in a broader sense, I believe music can be a vehicle for associative thought. It can stir the collective consciousness of human beings - for better or for worse. Verdi and the Italian Risorgimento come to mind, as well as the songs and military music of various regimes, or the music of ’68. Totally different styles and messages, yet all capable of igniting and influencing the thinking of generations.
Unfortunately, however, music and art have never truly impacted political decisions - whether to wage war or not, economic policies, or the perpetration of horrific genocides at the expense of other human beings. That would mean truly changing the course of history and, therefore, destiny - but I believe that is impossible through art”.
Tell us about your love story with music. Was it a revelation or a slow-burning obsession?
“As a child, I instinctively played the piano at a very young age. My father played it too, though not professionally. I was exposed to ‘cultured’ musical environments thanks to my paternal grandmother, who sang in the choir of the Teatro San Carlo in Naples, and my uncle (a superb musician and Hammond organ expert, now a doctor), who introduced me to all the music of the ’60s and ’70s when I was little. He also gave me my first synthesizer, which sparked my passion for creating imaginary sounds.
By the time I was ten, I had already dreamed of becoming a musician - but I never imagined it would actually happen. I consider myself a lucky person”.
Is there a particular track from the soundtrack that holds a special place in your heart? If so, why?
“Every track on the album reminds me of something and is important for that reason: so many incredible artists, musicians, performers, and friends with whom we shared this long and challenging journey. If I had to name one, I’d say <Dystopian Venezia>, which plays with Vivaldi and a very early ’90s drum and bass vibe. A dark and dystopian baroque piece, enriched by the incredible violin inserts of the great Fabio Biondi”.
Silence is the only sound Orpheus cannot bear. Do you fear it, or do you seek it? Can it make us feel alive, but also remind us of our mortality?
“Silence has always fascinated me - especially because it doesn’t actually exist, at least not in nature. Every environment has a sound. Sometimes it’s extremely subtle or diffuse, so we perceive it as silence in contrast to more defined and powerful foreground sounds. I would describe it more as background noise rather than silence - and often, it is precisely these imperceptible backgrounds that help us unconsciously identify and distinguish an environment.
In my work on sound design, whether for theater or audiovisual projects, I always pay particular attention to silence as a narrative element. In a way, it is both the epilogue of what has just happened and the premonition of what is to come.
In the film <The Opera!>, all the silences and ambient backgrounds stem from reverberations created from the recorded resonances and noises of orchestras. These fragments, processed through various techniques, became sound textures that define different settings. We wanted the music to be present even when not perceived as such, requiring a sonic fabric that interacted with the film’s surreal cinematography”.