Amahl and the Night Visitors, an opera in one act, was 
                  commissioned by NBC as an opera for television, receiving its 
                  first performance on Christmas Eve, 1951. Unsurprising, then, 
                  that the composer should choose a seasonal story. The young 
                  boy Amahl lives with his widowed mother somewhere along the 
                  route taken by the Three Kings. In the opening scenes we learn 
                  that he is no different from many children - capable of mischief 
                  and something of a dreamer - except that he can walk only with 
                  the aid of a crutch. We also learn that they are very poor. 
                  His mother doesn’t believe his stories of the wondrous 
                  star, nor, later, when he answers a knock at the door, of the 
                  three regal visitors waiting outside. She eventually welcomes 
                  them, however, and calls upon her shepherd neighbours to bring 
                  food and gifts. As night falls and the Kings sleep before their 
                  onward journey, she is tempted to steal some of the gold they 
                  carry with them, a gift for the infant child they are seeking. 
                  She is caught red-handed by the Page, but Melchior tells her 
                  to keep what she has taken, as the new-born will build a kingdom 
                  based on love. Hearing this, she returns the gold, and Amahl 
                  offers his crutch as a gift. The opera closes as the Kings depart. 
                  Amahl, miraculously healed, goes with them to give thanks to 
                  the child in person. 
                    
                  It is easy to imagine how effective and affecting the work must 
                  have been. The story is a sentimental one, but who can resist 
                  a bit of sentimentality at Christmas? Menotti wrote the libretto 
                  himself, and some of the imagery is a bit ropy, but quite a 
                  bit of action is packed into three quarters of an hour, and 
                  the opera’s pacing is excellent. There are many lovely 
                  moments. Amahl’s comforting little song to his mother 
                  (track 3) about having to go begging is charming, and the King’s 
                  “Good evening!” when the exasperated Mother eventually 
                  opens the door to them herself is a delicious coup de théâtre. 
                  The Kings explain to the Mother why they are following the star 
                  in a quartet that rises to genuine eloquence (track 8), and 
                  much of the Shepherds’ music is delightful, especially 
                  their offerings to the Kings and the Kings’ slightly crackpot 
                  “thankyou”s. 
                    
                  There have been other recordings of this opera but I haven’t 
                  heard them. This performance is given by the original television 
                  cast, and they are all excellent, though a contemporary cast 
                  would probably assume the roles in a less overtly “operatic” 
                  manner. Chet Allen if very fine, and his words are remarkably 
                  clear. This is just as well, as the booklet contains a detailed, 
                  track by track synopsis but no libretto. 
                    
                  I haven’t heard the original LPs, but I suspect producer 
                  Mark Obert-Thorn has worked miracles with them. A note in the 
                  booklet explains the limitations of the original material, and 
                  there are certainly moments, particularly in the later scenes, 
                  where the sound is none too pleasant. Thomas Schippers, who 
                  championed the composer, conducts a brisk performance. 
                    
                  Menotti’s ballet, Sebastian, was first produced 
                  in New York in 1944. The Suite recorded here is in six 
                  sections played without a break. There are a few oriental touches, 
                  not unlike those to be found in Amahl, and which presumably 
                  refer to the title character who is a Moorish slave. His name 
                  is well chosen: he dies following multiple arrow shots which 
                  he has contrived to receive in place of the intended victim, 
                  the woman he loves with no hope of a future. He thus selflessly 
                  saves her life, leaving the way clear for another suitor. The 
                  music is immediately attractive, and though there are dramatic 
                  passages, it is melodious and graceful to the point that one 
                  is surprised to read the rather bloodthirsty and dramatic scenario. 
                  Like Amahl, it is highly tonal, the only real excursion 
                  into chromaticism coming, rather predictably, in the movement 
                  entitled “Street Fight”. The final section, “Pavane”, 
                  is particularly attractive, with some individual and surprising 
                  melodic turns. The performance seems to be a fine one, as one 
                  would expect from members of the Philadelphia Orchestra - merry 
                  men, all - under Mitropoulos. 
                    
                  William Hedley