Teatro V

On 7th February 1857, after a delay of one year due to problems of copyright on a possible production of King Lear, Verdi accepted and signed a new agreement with the Teatro di San Carlo of Naples for an opera to be staged in January or February 1858. Not long after he had put behind the experiences of Simon Boccanegra (June 1857) and Aroldo (August), Verdi, then, had to face the issue of a new subject for Naples, which would no longer be King Lear, discarded for various reasons, and not even El tesorero del Rey by António García Gutiérrez or Ruy Blas by Hugo, to which he had given more serious thought, but Gustave III by Eugène Scribe, a play written in 1833 for Daniel Auber in which the king of Sweden is assassinated, in 1792, by a group of noblemen led by Jacob Ankarström. The composition of the score, between October 1857 and January 1858, went hand in hand with Verdi’s complex relationship with the Neapolitan censors, who would end up distorting the libretto and unnerving the composer to the point that he ended up refusing to stage the opera and breaking his agreement with the theatre.

Callas first sang Bellini’s Norma in 1948, when she was just 25. She went on to perform the role of the heroic, but vulnerable Druid priestess –the ultimate embodiment of bel canto – more frequently than any other. In this second studio recording her conductor was again Tullio Serafin (he originally tutored her in the role in 1948),and the venue was again La Scala – where the opera was premiered in 1831. By 1960, Callas brought a wealth of new nuance to her interpretation, and she is aptly partnered by the creamy-voiced Christa Ludwig (in a rare recording of an Italian role) and the towering Franco Corelli.

This set is what early music or baroque opera purists might call politically incorrect. The orchestra at Venice's La Fenice is too big, the playing is Romantic, with plenty of rubato and not crisp, and very few of the singers get through the music as Handel wrote it or embellish it the way he wished. But it does feature Joan Sutherland at her most amazing. Her huge voice, pure tone, impeccable technique, seamless legato, and glorious ease are the definition of bel canto. While this two-CD release is not ideal, it does present Alcina in much of its loveliness.

Renata Scotto shows an amazing flexibility and control. Her Caro nome is one to be heard many times. She reaches a high D and decrescendo's to an incredible ppp. I felt the aria drug a little in tempo, but the gorgeous sound more than made up for it. As Rigoletto, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau has the vocal power demanded by the score. Too often he sounded as if he was delivering a recital of Leider. A smooth velvet sound was his mark throughout. In his duets with Gilda, this payed off handsomely. Even in his dealings with the courtiers after Gilda's abduction he showed us a rarely seen Dietrich blustery side.

In Parma, where audiences are considered the most discerning in all Italy, the benchmark for vocal artists is set traditionally high. Operagoers here are intimately familiar with the works of their favourites, from Rossini to Puccini, and know every tricky corner by heart. God forbid any singer who fails to accomplish the task without due seemliness Unsurprisingly, then, this performance attempts no directorial experiments. The main setting for this realistically inspired production both indoors and out is Rosinas house, which is converted as required into its constituent parts.

Abbado's Verdi recordings are some of the finest available and this Requiem recording is no expection. Abbado takes a less ferocious approach than say Muti, or Barenboim, balancing the dramatic moments effectively against the more introspective aspects of the score. Ricciarelli is in fine form here, singing with a fine sense of line and intense emotional declamation. Her intonation is perfect. Verrett blends seamlessly with Ricciarelli, making the most of their duet and capturing the intense sadness of much of the writing quite well. Domingo, in his first recording of the part, provides a steady stream of golden tone, effortlessly produced. His emotional temperature runs about right here - not overly dramatic - after all, this is not Aida - but strong feelings kept on a tight rein. Ghiaurov is phenomenal.

Placido Domingo has recorded the role of Otello commercially three times (maybe four–who’s counting?), and each has something to offer. This performance, opening night at La Scala, 1976, when Domingo had been singing the role only slightly more than a year, is the most thrilling and most vocally secure. If it lacks the ultimate in insights and tragedy, it’s hardly empty: even at this stage of his career, Domingo could find the intelligence in each role he sang. His growing impatience with Iago in Act 2, his barely-controlled rage with Desdemona in Act 3, and his towering sadness in the final scene are all the work of a superb singing actor. In addition, the sheer vocal splendor is something to revel in; rarely thereafter were the high notes so brilliant.

This is a fine alternative to Christopher Hogwood’s period performance on L’Oiseau-Lyre, and will be welcomed heartily by fans of Marilyn Horne. Orlando is a great role, filled with arias and scenes acrobatic, tender, and exclamatory (he goes mad in Act 2 and stays that way for much of Act 3). In l985, when this present set was taped live at Venice’s La Fenice, Marilyn Horne was still in control of her awesome powers–her breath control, fluidity, big, round tones, impeccable diction, and sheer intelligence still astound after all these years. And she’s certainly superior to the nasty-sounding, if dramatic, James Bowman for Hogwood. Lella Cuberli’s Angelica is fine but is outclassed by Arleen Auger; however, I prefer Jeffrey Gall’s countertenor Medoro to Catherine Robbins’ girly one (both for Hogwood again).

Composed for Venice in 1837, just a year-and-a-half after the fantastic success of Lucia di Lammermoor, Pia de' Tolomei "pleased altogether", in the composer's words. He revised it a couple of times thereafter and it was shown at various theaters as distant as Malta until 1855, after which it disappeared. It takes place in 13th-century Siena: Pia is married to Nello; his cousin Ghino loves her but she refuses his advances. Ghino angrily accuses Pia of adultery with an unknown man, who turns out to be Pia's brother, Rodrigo, and Nello imprisons her. Ghino eventually feels remorse and confesses his deception, but not soon enough to save Pia from being poisoned by Nello.