It
is a century since Die lustige Witwe had its premiere
but it still feels fresh as paint. The same cannot be said of
many another operetta much younger than that. It is a fitting
tribute both to Lehár and to his first great success, that Naxos release this recording, now seemingly
out of copyright. It was not the first complete recording; as
early as 1907, two years after the premiere, a recording was
made on 32 single sides, the booklet tells us. But it was, as
far as I know, the first LP version. There haven’t been too
many recordings since then. In 1958 Decca recorded the work
with the original conductor, Robert Stolz, at the helm of the
Vienna Philharmonic, the lovely Hilde Güden as Hanna and the
Swedish tenor Per Grundén, who was a great favourite with the
Viennese in the 1950s, as Danilo. In the early 1960s EMI recorded
it again, with Schwarzkopf and Gedda resuming their parts from
the present recording, the young Eberhard Wächterm the best
ever Danilo and Lovro von Matacic conducting. I bought that
set when it was new and it is still my benchmark. Karajan, who
was producer, Walter Legge’s first choice for the present recording,
did it for DG in the 1970s. I haven’t heard that recording;
it is the only one, besides Stolz’s, with a tenor Danilo. In
the 1990s DG went to Vienna
and set down the operetta with the Vienna Philharmonic conducted
by John Eliot Gardiner. He had a starry cast with Cheryl Studer
and Bo Skovhus as Hanna and Danilo. It was a version that was
hailed, and rightly so, as a serious contender to the Matacic
recording. EMI recorded it live, without spoken dialogue, from
a concert performance with Franz Welser-Möst conducting and
Felicity Lott and Thomas Hampson taking the leading parts. All
of these are, in their own rights, valid interpretations of
the score. There may be others but I have no recollections of
them, if they exist.
The
first few minutes of the overture tell us that Mark Obert-Thorn
has done it again. The original EMI tapes were, of course, very
good and the transfers here show the Philharmonia Orchestra
in tremendous shape with glowing string tone, captured with
a fullness and brilliance that belies the age of the recording.
All through the performance the playing of the orchestra is
a wonder of precision and beauty. The overture, which is the
long and elaborate medley that Lehár wrote in 1940 for the Vienne
Philharmonic to be performed at his 70th birthday
concert in April that year, is a virtuoso piece better suited
to the concert hall. However it is good to have it and especially
when played so well. Otto Ackermann was a really good conductor
of the Viennese repertoire and here he ensures playing that
is both refined and bouncy. He may be more or less forgotten
today but he recorded quite extensively in the 1950s, collaborating
with Schwarzkopf in several other operettas and also in her
first recording of Richard Strauss’s Vier letzte Lieder.
Time and again during this performance he shows his obvious
affection for the music.
The
singers could hardly be bettered – with one exception, which
I will come back to in a moment. The very first voice we hear,
that of Otakar Kraus in the small but important role of Cascada,
at once makes you prick up your ears: light, clear and beautiful.
Also Anton Niessner as Baron Zeta sings well with some deft
decorations added to the written music. As an actor he is more
reticent, less involved than his counterpart in the Matacic
recording and over all there is less theatricality here than
in the remake. The secondary couple, Valencienne and Camille,
are ideally sung and acted by Emmy Loose, the loveliest of Viennese
soubrettes, and the young Nicolaï Gedda, here recorded just
a year after his sensational debut at the Royal Opera in Stockholm. He is in marvellous voice with shining top notes and his legendary
half voice employed to perfection. The two Valencienne–Camille
duets included here are always highlights in any performance
of The Merry Widow, but here they stand out even more than usual.
And I wonder if Camille’s Wie eine Rosenknospe in the
second act has been more gloriously sung. Maybe by Gedda himself
in the stereo remake ten years later, but there is a youthful
freshness here that the older Gedda couldn’t quite equal. It
is a pity that their second duet, Zauber der Häuslichkeit
was omitted.
As
Hanna Glawari, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf is at her most seductive,
caressing every phrase with obvious delight and she is in marvellous
voice from her entrance song and all the way through. The Vilja-Song
is wonderfully sung and here the Philharmonia Chorus also contributes
gloriously. Schwarzkopf is also an excellent speaking actress.
What
sets The Merry Widow apart from most operettas is that the personages
are real people and not just cardboard characters. Therefore
it comes as a disappointment when Danilo appears and does not
for one second sound like the young hot-head from the Balkans
- eager, aggressive, proud. Instead we hear a Danilo decidedly
elderly and radiating Viennese “Gemütlichkeit”. I have always
admired Erich Kunz in this kind of repertoire (and I wrote an
enthusiastic review of Preiser disc with him not long ago) but
Danilo is a part he is not suited to. Being a bass-baritone
he also has problems with the high-lying tessitura and so has
to take lower options quite often. This becomes very obvious
in the monologue Es waren zwei Königskinder, which is
more or less rewritten. Still, in his own inimitable way, Kunz
sings well and he certainly knows how to make the words “tell”.
His articulation is really admirable and he shows real anger
in the Königskinder soliloquy.
The
spoken dialogue is, as always on records, foreshortened, but
there is enough left to make the listener understand what is
going on. Too much dialogue can be tiring for repeated listening.
Here Naxos have sensibly give the spoken parts separate tracks to make it possible
to exclude them at will.
There
are more omissions than the afore-mentioned Valencienne–Camille
duet, which also was left out in the stereo remake. The second
act play-scene and Dance Duet of Hanna and Danilo (with the
Merry Widow Waltz) has gone, so has the opening Entr’acte and
Maxim music of act 3. Moreover the famous act 3 duet for Hanna
and Danilo (The Merry Widow Waltz again) is devoid of the beginning
Lippen schweigen and starts with Hanna’s Bei jedem
Walzerschritt.
There
is a good synopsis by Keith Anderson and a very informative
note by Malcolm Walker about the work, this specific recording
and the lead singers. It should be noted though, that the name
of Nicolaï Gedda’s teacher was Carl Martin Öhman, not
Carl Maria. Öhman had his career mainly in Berlin during the 1920s and 1930s, not least as a Wagner tenor, but he also
sang Prince Sou-Chong in Lehár’s The Land of Smiles no
less than 700 times in Sweden
in the 1930s and 1940s, so he obviously could teach Gedda a
thing or two about operetta singing.
Even
if I marginally prefer EMI’s stereo remake with von Matacic,
Schwarzkopf, Wächter and Gedda, now at mid-price in the Great
Recordings of the Century series, this is indeed a recommendable
version. Good sound, excellent playing and glorious singing.
I can’t believe anyone will regret buying it.
Göran Forsling
