Under the terms of his
contract as musical director of the Naples’ two Royal Theatres,
Rossini was to provide two operas each year for the city.
He was also allowed to compose occasional works for other
cities. In the first two years of the contract he composed
no fewer than five operas for other venues, including four
for Rome where he went after the premiere of
Elisabetta to
present performances of
Il Turco in Italia and to
write a new work,
Torvaldo e Dorliska. On his return
to Naples, Rossini found the great Teatro San Carlo, the
premiere theatre, had been destroyed by fire. There was no
other theatre suitable for a serious opera. He composed a
cantata to celebrate the marriage of the daughter of the
King, for which he pillaged much of the music from his own
previous works, and followed this with his only buffa for
Naples,
La Gazzetta, his eighteenth opera.
It was premiered at the small Teatro dei Fiorentina on 26
September 1816. This premiere had been postponed because
Rossini was indulging his social life to the full, as was
his wont. When eventually
La Gazzetta reached
the stage it was not a success and was withdrawn after a
few performances. It lay forgotten until revived in the 1960s.
Its failure was attributed to a clumsy libretto by Giuseppe
Palomba after the novel
Il Matrimonio per concorso by
Carlo Goldoni. It certainly needs some measure of concentration
to follow. The music is however full of Rossinian felicities.
Yes there are self-borrowings and the jolly overture was
rescued from potential oblivion when Rossini used it again
some months later in Rome for
La Cenerentola. Even
as an enthusiast of Rossini’s operas, I had not managed to
hear either of the live audio performances that appeared
some years ago on the Nuova Era or Bongiovanni labels. This
performance allowed me to hear the complete work for the
first time and with the advantage of the stage picture to
help me follow the plot. Or at least in theory!
The
theory broke down fairly early in act 1 when I became confused
by all the comings and goings of singers and extras. After
watching the whole of act I (DVD 1. Chs. 2-14) I re-read
the story again and, more importantly, watched the illustrated
synopsis. This made everything much clearer as to who was
who, although the arguments and misunderstandings of the
farsa only became clearer as each act unfolded. Set in a
Paris inn, Rossini’s farsa recounts a complicated story involving
a ridiculously pompous old man, Don Pomponio, who has advertised
in the newspaper La Gazzetta for a husband for his daughter
Lisetta. She is in love with Filippo the young proprietor
of the inn. Other guests at the inn include another father,
Ansalemo, who is trying to marry off his daughter Doralice.
Another guest is Alberto a wealthy young man in search of
a wife. Such a set of circumstances is perfect for the twists
and turns of mistaken identities and lovers’ quarrels. Despite
threats of duels, it is a farsa and all ends happily.
The
Director, Dario Fo opts for an ultra-updated presentation.
The women of the chorus are in elegant modern dress as they
enter and move with balletic movements of arms and body as
they sing (DVD 1. Ch.2). Later on young ladies in short underskirts,
showing suspenders holding up their stockings, make irrelevant
arm movements simulating violin playing as Alberto sings
his aria (DVD 2 Chs. 5-6). Sexiness is overt here, as elsewhere,
but fails to be either seductive or titillating. The various
comings and goings of these extraneous people, match in style
the constantly changing sets with balconies and backdrops
being flown at a hectic pace. It is as though the director
were a child who when let into a toyshop felt the necessity
to indulge his every fantasy. The sets are opulent and often
aesthetically pleasing were one allowed to see them for any
long period. Even with the costs of production shared with
the Rossini Festival at Pesaro, and perhaps elsewhere, this
staging must have made a fair dent in the Liceu budget. The
cost could be justified if the dancing, dresses, extras and
sets had illuminated the confusions of the plot rather than
adding to them. In this respect the production here is in
sharp contrast with Michael Hempe’s productions of two of
Rossini’s earliest farsa,
La Scala di Seta (see
review) and
L’occasione
fa il Ladro (see
review).
Shared between Oper der Stadt Köln, and
recorded at the Schwetzinger Festival, the direction
and elegant sets illuminate the mistaken identities and complexities
of the plot.
Two
of the singers in this performance also appeared in their
roles at Pesaro, Bruno Pratico as Pomponio and Cinzia Forte
as his daughter Lisetta. He is now rather portly, and his
idiosyncratic over colourful modern dress does little to
help his portrayal. When dressed up as a Turk he looks silly
rather than ridiculous (DVD 2. Ch. 12). The fact that Pratico
survives it all to vocally portray the character’s ridiculous
pomposity says much for his long experience in this fach.
As Pomponio’s advertised daughter, Cinzia Forte’s strengths
are in her long lithe legs rather than in her thin-toned
singing. (DCD 2. Chs.10-11). The Doralice of Marisa Martins
is also thin-toned. Only Agata Bienkowska as Madame La Rose
has much vocal colour.
As
Alberto, the tall American Charles Workman replaces the chubby
but more vocally mellifluous José Manuel Zapata who had appeared
at Pesaro. Workman’s height and acting ability make him a
suitable match for the leggy Cinzia Forte during the intended
confusions of the plot, but his rather dry tone was not easy
on my ear (DVD 2 Chs. 5-6). Along with Pratico, the other
natural Rossinian in the cast, both vocally and histrionically,
is Pietro Spagnoli as Filippo the innkeeper and Lisetta’s
intended, or at least when all the confusions are sorted
out. Spagnoli sings with steady tone and his unexaggerated
acting is a strength in this frenetic production.
Rossini’s
music, apart from the overture, is thin in act 1 but is distinctly
more lively and more like what we might expect in act 2.
It cannot be said that
La Gazzetta is one of his more
inspired works. It was the only farsa he wrote for Naples
and at a time when his love life and Isabella Colbran seemed
to be his most urgent concern. This production buries whatever
virtues there are in Rossini’s music in an over-rich mixture
of vaudeville and burlesque which sometimes degenerates into
slapstick. Whatever was the reason for Pomponio to run round
the stalls with a balloon, or the verbal exchanges with the
conductor? Any pleasures on hearing this opera for the first
time, and assessing its worth musically, were lost to me
in the excesses of the production.
Robert J Farr
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