When
this set was first released in 1958 it was hardly greeted
with great enthusiasm, far less so Callas’s debut in the
opera two years previously. At La Scala in 1956, eschewing
the direction of Franco Zeffirelli - whose role had added
to the success of
Il turco in Italia the previous
season - Callas was reportedly all at sea in a creaky production
in which a distinct lack of stage direction was rather
over-compensated for by outrageously hammy acting. For
decades those performances were the stuff of notoriety
as one of Callas’s rare failures in a new role. Now that
one of those performances is available on CD (see
review)
we can all hear for ourselves that the rumours, unlike
the acting, were not exaggerated.
Despite
all, Walter Legge was still determined to take Callas’s
assumption of the part of Rosina into the studio. With
her came two other alumni of that La Scala cast, Luigi
Alva (Almaviva) and Tito Gobbi (Figaro). La Scala was replaced
by the Philharmonia, and Giulini (the conductor at La Scala)
by Alceo Galliera. Furthermore, the score was presented
in a more complete form than that used at La Scala - one
can only imagine the intelligent, noble Giulini bowing
his head in shame at the atrocities committed by producer
and cast on that front - although by no means entirely
without cuts. The studio performance was recorded in stereo
at a time when such a luxury was not guaranteed; Sawallisch’s
roughly contemporaneous
Capriccio springs to mind.
And, despite those indifferent early notices, the recording
has become something of a gramophone classic: one of the
most cherished recordings of the opera. It now arrives
as part of EMI’s ‘Great Recordings of the Century’, dedicated,
incidentally, to the memory of Ken Jagger, compiler and
editor of the series. This also places it in direct competition
with the Glyndebourne recording of five years later, also
much loved and certainly just as worthy of the ‘Great Recording’ moniker.
That
later recording shares with the present one the casting
of Alva as Almaviva. His is a lovely voice, supple and
clear, used with intelligence and a supreme sense of style.
His youthful ardency reminded me at times of Alfredo Kraus
in his prime and, in a way, of Juan Diego Florez. His Act
1 aria ‘Ecco ridente’ demonstrates the mellifluousness
of his tone and his keen sense of line. Comparing this
to his later recording, there is a noticeable gain in richness,
the voice gaining a slightly baritonal quality in the lower
register, but a slight loss of the purity that was so evident
in 1958. Nevertheless, Alva is ideal for this part, the
voice alone conveying all the seductiveness and daring
of the young count. That he can also convey a smile, a
nudge and a wink without appearing to try is something
special indeed.
Alva
also scores points for not over-acting his ‘drunk’ scenes.
Gobbi also resists the urge to overplay his hand and the
result is yet another classic portrayal from this vintage
period. His ‘Largo al factotum’ is masterfully done. The
level of wit on display here, whilst by no means unexpected
from this artist, is rare in the recorded history of this
- particularly well-served - opera. There is a definite
sense of this Figaro being the central character, the crux
around which all the machinations of the plot revolve.
His interaction with Alva in Act 1 Scene 1 is a delight
to hear, the two voices matched superbly, his duet with
Callas’s Rosina in the following scene electrifying. Zaccaria
doesn’t entirely escape a sense of bluster in his performance
of Basilio’s ‘Calumny’ aria, but the character shines through
and his huge voice is heard to great effect at the climax.
The relatively unknown Fritz Ollendorff makes for a very
good Bartolo, not ideally steady at times but, again, acted
with a keen sense of comedy without hamming it up.
Which
brings us to Callas and, if it is certainly not a case
of ‘saving the best till last’, neither is it any particular
statement of weakness on her part. More it is an acknowledgement
that in this opera, above any other that Callas committed
to disc, the diva is not centre-stage. I have already noted
that Gobbi’s portrayal of Figaro looms large over the proceedings,
though that is only as it should be rather than a display
of ego on the part of the great baritone. And then Almaviva
is the more loveable character, particularly when so winningly
sung.
I
believe that is why Callas is so much more successful here
in the studio than she was at La Scala. Despite Rosina
not being the central character, at La Scala Callas was
the reigning Prima Donna and the audience flocked to see
her,
even if it was only to jeer and boo. With such lack of
actual direction it seems only natural that Callas would
overact to the point of one critic deeming her interpretation
of the role ‘nearly worthy of psychoanalytical study’.
In the studio, with the character re-positioned in the
plot as appropriate, Callas suddenly seems more relaxed
than on any other of her recordings. The disastrous attempts
at comedy have been refined down to an easy-going sense
of fun. Even her passage work, often a sticky area for
this artist, just seems to pour out naturally with no sense
of effort. When the voice is called upon to take flight,
as at the climax of ‘Una voce poco fa’ - sung, unlike most
of the rest of the score, in the mezzo-soprano key - it
does so with such little effort and such refulgence of
tone that one marvels at the supreme qualities of a voice
that even at this time was in decline.
Received
wisdom would have it that Callas’s portrayal of Rosina
was ‘waspish’ or ‘viperish’. There are certainly elements
of the fire-spitting Callas on display here, but I think
in these more enlightened times, ‘waspish’ can be substituted
with ‘feminist’. This is no naïve innocent but an intelligent
young woman who, heavens forbid, might be the equal of
the men who surround her: over-bearing guardian, cunning
music teacher, handsome but predatory suitor. Callas shows
temperament, she sings the notes, she is stylistically
aware, she is in fabulous voice.
Yet
for all these individual qualities, what makes this recording
so memorable is the sense of ensemble. It helps that Callas,
Alva and Gobbi were used to working together and that Zaccaria
was no stranger either. But the whole performance is held
together wonderfully by Galliera. Not exactly a household
name, even back then, it is telling that the majority of
his relatively small commercial discography was produced
at the helm of a series of concerto recordings with the
Philharmonia - such as Lipatti’s famous Grieg. Here he
once more demonstrates his talents as an accompanist, giving
his singers ample support and flexibility when necessary.
And yet he also encourages sharply characterised playing
from the, then, peerless Philharmonia, clearly apparent
from the fizzing account of the overture onwards. His swift
tempi and lean, transparent textures today feel somewhat
ahead of their time; fast forward to the 1962 EMI recording
conducted by Gui (
review)
and you’ll hear what I mean. Gui’s tempi, whilst not exactly
sluggish, do not convey nearly as much joy as those employed
by Galliera.
It
is that Glyndebourne recording, however, that I’m tempted
to go back to. It has the benefit of Alva again and of
the legendary Glyndebourne stalwarts Sesto Bruscantini
(Figaro) and Ian Wallace (Bartolo). And anyone who knows
Gui’s Glyndebourne recording of
Le nozze di Figaro (
review)
from 1955 will appreciate, there was always a sense of
fun when conductor and company were reunited for a recording.
Above all it has the benefit of the Rosina of Victoria
de Los Angeles. Hers may be a more traditional assumption
of the role than that of Callas, but it is none the worse
for it and Los Angeles’ voice can be heard at its absolute
prime. At her worst, this singer could have run rings round
Callas in terms of vocal control, tone and sheer malleability.
Having
heard Callas, Alva, Gobbi and Galliera I would certainly
not want to be denied the opportunity to hear this recording
again, and it certainly deserves classic status. The choice
between the two EMI recordings is likely to be reliant
on mood in future. Both are recordings to live with. The
Gui set is slightly fuller in sound, the Galliera slightly
cleaner of texture. For a relatively modern recording I
would not want to be without Patané’s 1988 Decca recording
with a young Cecilia Bartoli as Rosina, a stylish William
Matteuzzi as Almaviva and the ever-dependable Leo Nucci
as Figaro (Decca 00289 425 5202). It is a relaxed, genial
reading that, much like the Callas recording has rarely
been out of the catalogue since its release. It remains
an extravagance on three full-price discs. The budget price
Naxos set under Will Humberg (see
review)
will satisfy most, although it is worth noting that three
Naxos CDs retail for roughly the same price as either of
the two-disc EMI sets.
EMI’s
presentation as part of their ‘Great Recordings of the
Century’ series is much as we have come to expect; smartly
produced, with informative notes, synopsis and full libretto.
Owen E. Walton
see also review by Göran
Forsling
EMI Great Recordings of the Century pages