When I opened the parcel I thought this was the celebrated
Glyndebourne Figaro which has been widely recommended for generations
and which is currently available on Classics for Pleasure. I confess
to never having heard that version, conducted by Vittorio Gui and recorded
at Abbey Road in 1956. The present reading was recorded at Glyndebourne
in two sessions a year apart. Paul Campion, in his excellent introductory
notes, recalls that Figaro was one of the operas featured in
Glyndebourne’s very first season, and that John Christie, the owner
of Glyndebourne, and Fred Gaisberg of the Gramophone Company, were keen
to record it. Sessions were arranged and in 1934 sizeable portions of
the opera were recorded as a sort of trial run. It was immediately clear
that the experiment had been successful, and the rest of the opera was
recorded the following year. The cast was substantially the same for
the 1935 season, though a member of the chorus, Italo Tajo, was conscripted
to sing Bartolo’s aria as Norman Allin, who had sung and recorded the
rest of the role the previous year, was no longer present and the 1935
Bartolo was, as Campion rather mysteriously tells us, "considered
unsuitable".
Though billed as the first complete Mozart opera recording,
this is not, in fact, the case. Almost the only recitatives are the
accompanied ones which introduce certain arias. Only one short passage
of recitativo secco is included, just after the Act 3 "letter"
duet. These few bars are given with piano accompaniment. The chorus
is excised completely from Act 1 and in Act 4, Barbarina’s little Cavatina,
where she despairingly looks for the lost pin, is also cut, as are Marcellina’s
and Basilio’s arias. The absence of recitative takes away much of the
sense of theatre, Figaro becoming a series of set pieces, and
this is certainly a pity. Act 3 starts directly with Susanna’s duet
with the Count, which is very strange for those who know the opera.
But perhaps you don’t know it. Well, you have a treat
in store, as Figaro must be numbered amongst the very greatest
of works. It has a deeply subversive story, in which Susanna and Figaro,
both "below-stairs", are constantly thwarted in their preparations
for marriage by the Count, who wants to exercise his noble rights (with
Susanna, naturally). A complicated tale of trickery, disguise and mistaken
identity ensues in which the long-suffering Countess plays an active
role. The pin, already mentioned, features largely, and he who understands
the meaning of the pin may fairly be said to hold the key to the convoluted
plot. In the end the Count is thoroughly beaten at his own game, outwitted
by the others. But only for now, we feel. The way in which the characters
are portrayed in music is miraculous and, even in the most hilarious
passages, profoundly moving.
The opera’s overture sets the performance off at a
fizzing pace. Busch was clearly a deeply sympathetic Mozartian, and
his reading is full of striking insights. Time and again a little detail
of phrasing or dynamic is used to make us hear the music afresh. The
London Symphony Orchestra, by another name, play magnificently. The
recorded sound is remarkable, the only pity being that the voices are
forward and much of the orchestral material, so carefully nurtured by
the conductor, is covered by them.
As the Countess Aulikki Rautavaara sings beautifully,
but some might think an element of the Countess’s character is missing
when the singer emphasises the sadness of her situation with little
attempt to portray her determination and strength of character. This
comes out particularly clearly in the two contrasting sections of her
big aria Dove sono. Yet she does manage to bring out the lighter
side of the character sometimes, and when the Countess forgives her
philandering husband a final time (shortly before the end of the opera,
CD2, track 13, 1’42"), the resignation in her voice is very touching
indeed. By her singing she tells us how well she knows that, forgiven
or not, he will never change. Roy Henderson as the Count is the only
piece of miscasting in the set. His sings as if his interest in Susanna
is more true love than carnal desire; indeed, he expresses himself much
like the adolescent Cherubino does. There are some things he does marvellously
well, though. The mixture of mystification and speculation in his voice
when his wife’s dressing room door opens to reveal, not Cherubino, as
he suspected, but Susanna, is quite masterly (CD1, track 16, 0’58").
But of the terrifying tyrant, the bully, the cold-hearted, deceitful
predator, there is nothing, and this is a serious flaw. Willi Domgraf-Fassbänder
(Brigitte Fassbänder’s father) is a manly, capable Figaro who would
hold his own against all but the most powerful Counts, and as Susanna,
Audrey Mildmay, who was John Christie’s wife, plays the role exceptionally
well, even if she wasn’t vocally the strongest member of the cast. Her
murmur of admiration of Cherubino as she and the Countess dress him
up (CD1, track 12, 1’57") is delicious. Cherubino is the Countess’s
page, a teenage boy coping as best he can with the tempestuous emotions
flowing through him. Luise Helletsgruber communicates his character
exceptionally well, but remains totally and stubbornly female. The other
parts are all very well taken, with a special mention for Heddle Nash,
marvellous in the tiny role of Don Basilio.
This is a detailed reading of Figaro which should be
in every Mozart or opera lover’s collection. It’s not the best place
to start if you don’t already know the work, firstly because without
the recitatives the piece isn’t there in its entirety in any case. There
is an excellent synopsis (in English) but you really need the words
to understand this work, if only for the ensemble numbers. I love Colin
Davis’s first recording on Philips, with Jessye Norman, at the beginning
of her career, a wonderful Countess, and Clifford Grant giving quite
simply the finest performance of Bartolo’s "vengeance" aria
I’ve ever heard.
Naxos find room at the end of the second disc for five
historical recordings of Figaro arias. I listened to these blind,
and found Conchita Supervia languid and urbane rather than impetuous
in Cherubino’s two arias, with a fast vibrato and a tight, rather querulous
tone. Lina Pagliughi’s singing gave much more pleasure, simple and unaffected,
the voice itself controlled and well suited to Susanna’s character.
And then Eleanor Steber as the Countess is quite simply a wonder. Words
are inadequate to convey the sheer beauty of this voice, though the
word exquisite represents a fair bash at describing her legato singing.
The same word might be pressed into service for her high G shortly before
the end of Porgi amor, though the same (and adjacent) notes at
the end of Dove sono are perhaps a little hard. But this is great
singing: stoical, noble, desperately sad. It would be ridiculous to
say that it’s worth buying the set for these two arias alone. All the
same…
William Hedley
Chorus and Orchestra of the
Glyndebourne Festival conducted by Fritz Busch