As operas go, it deserved to be billed as the greatest show on earth. Elephants, tigers, a lion, a camel, a 14-foot python and a flock of doves sent a circus aroma wafting over Montreal’s Olympic Stadium last week, as the Operama – International Opera Festival staged its spectacular production of Verdi’s Aïda. With a 39-foot-high model of a sphinx looming overhead, Italian opera stars Katia Ricciarelli and Nicola Martinucci—backed by a cast of close to 1,000 singers, musicians, torch twirlers, acrobats, animal tamers, exotic dancers and spear-carrying extras—performed opera’s tragic tale of an Ethiopian slave’s love for an Egyptian war hero. The $7-million production drew more than 64,000 people for two performances—a turnout organizers say will allow the completely unsubsidized event to turn a profit. Said Maestro Giuseppe Raffa, the opera festival’s flamboyant artistic director: “This is democracy, opera for the people. You cannot pay for opera by playing to 2,000 people.”

For months, Montrealers have watched Aida fever mount. A display of the show’s exotic zoo animals on St. Catherine Street, costumes featured in department store windows, thousands of posters and a massive television campaign all added to the allure of the event. So did negative rumors, including one published report—although unconfirmed—that Ricciarelli would be unable to attend because of pregnancy. Still, the diva arrived on schedule, vowing to sing as if she were at La Scala and let the $1.5-million sound system take care of volume. Said Ricciarelli: “I consider myself a modern singer. Such events are a challenge.” Last week, while the Montreal Expos played out of town, musicians in formal attire and portly priests in flowing gold gowns took over the dressing rooms. And families and fans in T-shirts and shorts, along with black-tie and sequin-gowned guests who arrived in limousines, paid between $20 and $150 for tickets. In fact, the highest-priced seats—about 4,000 folding chairs on the field—did not provide the best vantage point. The vast expanse of Italian architect Tito Varisco’s 131-foot-wide stage lost much of its impact, the orchestra and soloists sounded faint, and many patrons had to strain to see over those in the rows ahead. But from higher up, in the lower-cost bleachers, Raffa’s adventurous production managed to deliver a majestic and, at times, movingevening of theatre.

The show’s visual high point was the triumphal march of Act 2, when dozens of Ethiopian prisoners and exotic animals spilled onto a stage already groaning with a chorus and legions of extras. Logistics prevented Maestro Giuseppe Raffa from bringing the original production’s orchestra from Italy, although he was able to bring most of its principal singers. Given the brief two-day rehearsal period on the stage for the dancers, musicians, chorus and extras who were hired locally, the choreography and staging was remarkably smooth and powerful. Even the intimate scenes stood out in the middle of the spectacle.

Maestro Giuseppe Raffa has staked his career on the artistic and financial viability of megaevents such as the Olympic-sized Aida. And at a time when heavily subsidized opera companies throughout Europe and North America are struggling to make ends meet, his risk seems to have paid off. Last fall, an open-air Aida—also featuring Ricciarelli and Martinucci—was staged at the foot of Egypt’s Giza pyramids. A critical and financial success, it drew some 60,000 people to eight performances. Its success boosted the local tourist industry and enabled Raffa to take the show on the road. In December, Aida’s principal singers, sets and costumes travel to Australia and then onto Japan. Raffa also plans to mount the show in the United States.

For all its claims to democratize opera, the Montreal event did offer something special for a select group. Organizers staged a lavish opening-night party that attracted 400 patrons who paid $500 each. After the show, partygoers feasted on champagne, caviar, lobster and chocolate-covered strawberries until 3:30 a.m.

Meanwhile, outside the stadium, Maria Carelli and her 87-year-old mother, Francesca, stood in line when an already overcrowded city bus left them standing at the curb. Still, both were smiling broadly. “Superb,” said Carelli, holding her mother’s arm. “An Aida to remember for always.” With its circus-like approach and baseball-stadium setting, Aida seems to have provided a memorable night at the opera for everyone.

-MARIANNE ACKERMAN