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Seen and Heard Opera
Review
Rachmaninov,
The Miserly Knight and Puccini, Gianni Schicchi,
Glyndebourne Festival Opera, 22nd July 2004
(H-T W)
The first ever
stagings at Glyndebourne of "The Miserly
Knight", rarely heard and one of only
three short operas Rachmaninov wrote, and
of Puccini’s famous comedy "Gianni Schicchi"
were superlative in nearly every aspect –
true vintage Glyndebourne. Both were, of course,
on the wish list of Glyndebourne’s young and
energetic new music director Vladimir Jurowski,
who had assembled a dream cast and who also
conducted. The London Philharmonic, in top
form, was in the pit.
Three of Pushkin´s celebrated
`Little Tragedies´ had already been set to
music: "The Stone Guest" by Alexander
Dargomizhsky, "Mozart and Salieri"
by Rimsky-Korsakov and "A Feast during
the Plague" by César Cui. It was
left to Rachmaninov, to compose the last tragedy.
"The Miserly Knight" had its world
premiere at the Bolshoy Theatre in Moscow
on January 24th 1906 with Fyodor Chaliapin
in the lead part of The Baron. But contrary
to Rachmaninov’s expectations it was not a
success. Sadly, the heavy Glyndebourne program
book does not give any performance history
and I do not know if it had ever been done
in the UK before but this dark and overpowering
music with a hint of Wagner is certainly worth
rediscovery.
All four of the `Little Tragedies´
deal with one specific deadly sin – in this
case avarice. In the first scene, Albert (Richard
Berkeley-Steele) complains to his servant
(Maxim Mikhailov) that his rich father, The
Baron, does not give him enough money to prepare
for a tournament in style. He asks the moneylender
(Viacheslav Voynarovskiy), but he is not willing
to help out again. He would only give him
poison to shorten his father’s life, and that
Albert rejects furiously. Instead, he plans
to turn to the Duke, to force his father to
support him in an appropriate way. In the
second scene, the Baron (Sergei Leiferkus)
opens his safe, looks with proud at his hoard
of gold and reflects without the slightest
conscience on the human misery caused in its
acquisition. He does not trust his son and
wishes that the moment he himself dies, he
could come back and take the keys to the safe
back with him to his grave. In the third and
last scene, the Duke (Albert Schagidullin)
has summoned the Baron, while Albert waits
in the next room. He hears of all the various
crimes his father accuses him of and storms
in calling his father a liar. The Baron throws
his glove towards Albert and challenges him
to a duel. Separated by the Duke, the Baron
is suddenly alone. He cannot breathe and instinctively
searching for his keys he suffocates and dies.
The opera, of just seventy
minutes duration, has an incredible and overpowering
musical impact, and the production (Annabel
Arden) along with the simple but oppressive
stage design (Vicki Mortimer) on a revolving
stage, played their part in intensifying the
drama. Vladimir Jurowski and the mainly Russian
soloists were in their element. I only objected
to the invention of an omnipresent aerialist,
who had already disturbed the prelude and,
later on, over-shadowed the Baron’s movements
symbolising avarice. It is symptomatic of
the worst and most disturbing acts of vandalism
in productions nowadays not to let the music
speak for itself but to support the music
with visually unnecessary elements, which
easily distract the concentration of the audience
from the composer’s intentions.
After the dinner
interval it was Italian comedy at its best,
full of detailed characterization, fun, speed
and temperament. Puccini’s "Gianni Schicchi",
together with "Il Tabarro" and "
Suor Angelica" (part of his "Il
Trittico" and first performed at the
Met on the 14th December 1918) is a stroke
of genius. The houselights went off and the
same metal-framed scenery as before opened
giving way to a typically Italian interior,
the home of the rich Buoso Donati, who has
just died. His body is surrounded by his grieving,
but also greedy relatives, who all hope to
share his wealth. A rumour spreads that he
has left everything to a monastery. Finally,
the young Rinuccio (Massimo Giordano) finds
his will. He releases it to his relatives
only after being promised in marriage Lauretta
(Sally Matthews), the daughter of Gianni Schicchi
(Alessandro Corbelli), a notoriously shady
local character. The rumour that Donati had
left everything to a monastery is, of course,
right and the expectations of his relatives
turn into fury – what are we to do now? For
Rinuccio only the clever Gianni Schicchi can
help – he had secretly called for him already.
The relatives treat him badly at first and
step back from their promise to let Rinuccio
marry his daughter as he cannot expect any
inheritance. Now the comedy really starts.
Gianni Schicchi is indeed far too clever;
quickly he twists everyone round his little
finger. He decides that Donati’s death has
to be kept a secret. In the presence of all
the relatives Schicchi, disguised as Buosa
Donati, dictates his last will to a lawyer.
But when it comes to the vast amount of property,
Schicchi (alias Donati) leaves everything
to his dear old friend Gianni Schicchi. There
is no way out for the relatives unless they
wish to avoid a scandal. Schicchi drives them
out of his new property and triumphs; Lauretta
and Rinuccio embrace each other.
I have not seen
such dedicated ensemble acting for a long
time (largely due to the producer, Annabel
Aden, who seems to know Italian life and temperament
very well indeed – a promising Glyndebourne
debut.) Each part was superbly cast and it
was a joy to hear again singers like Marie
McLaughlin (La Ciesca), Felicity Palmer (Zita)
and Adrian Thompson (Gherardo), all so much
part of Glyndebourne’s past.
Vladimir Jurowski
conducted with astonishing verve and the London
Philharmonic was in splendid form. But it
was the grandiose singer-actor Alessandro
Corbelli who dominated the production. Even
if this had not been the case, Sally Matthews
and her performance of Lauretta would have
stayed in the memory forever.
Her timbre, her
delicate vibrato, the never strained beauty
and lightness of her voice in `O mio babbino
caro´ - all were second to none. Having heard
her only once before (in the soprano part
of Mozart’s Requiem) I firmly believe her
to be the most spellbinding lyric soprano
today.
Hans-Theodor Wohlfahrt
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