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Giuseppe VERDI (1813-1901)
Otello - Tragic opera in four acts (1887)
Otello, a Moor, commander in chief of the Venetian fleet - Jon Vickers
(tenor); Desdemona, his wife - Renata Scotto (soprano); Iago, an
ensign - Cornell MacNeil (baritone); Emelia, Iago’s wife - Jean
Kraft (mezzo); Cassio, a captain under Otello - Raymond Gibbs (tenor);
Roderigo, a Venetian gentleman - Andrea Velis (tenor); Lodovico,
Venetian ambassador - James Morris (bass-baritone)
Metropolitan Opera Chorus
Metropolitan Opera Orchestra/James Levine
Original Director and Set design: Franco Zeffirelli
Costume design: Peter J Hall
Video Director: Kirk Browning
rec. 25 September 1978
LPCM Stereo. DTS 5.1 surround Region free NTSC DVD. Colour.
Original tapes restored in an attempt to meet current technical
standards
Subtitles and leaflet introduction in English
SONY CLASSICAL
88697910129 [144:00]
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Otello was Verdi’s first totally new operatic composition since
Aida premiered in 1871. It was not that he had been idle.
His Requiem for Manzoni had followed in 1874 and he travelled
widely in Europe conducting his works. His friends among the
Milan literati thought he had more operatic composition in him
despite his being in his seventh decade. A number of them quietly
plotted to tempt him, his knowledge and love of Shakespeare
being paramount in their thoughts. With the aid of a dinner
invitation from Verdi’s wife, who was in on the plot, his publisher,
Ricordi, and the conductor Faccio, broached the subject with
the great man. Boito’s name was mentioned as librettist. The
next day Boito was brought to see Verdi and three days later
he returned with a detailed scenario; quick work unless there
had been prior manoeuvring!
Verdi encouraged Boito to convert his synopsis into verse with
the words: it will always be good for you, for me, or for
someone else; he would not commit himself to compose the
work. Verdi was to prevaricate on The chocolate theme,
as it was called, for some time. However, when the composer
indicated that he was ready to revise Simon Boccanegra
he enlisted Boito as librettist. The composer and his new librettist
got on well and the foundations were laid that brought Otello
to magnificent fruition at La Scala on 5 February 1887. It was
Verdi’s 27th opera and his first wholly new work
for the stage for eighteen years. Verdi was then seventy-four
years of age and really thought that he had finished with operatic
composition.
Verdi’s conception of Otello involved greater, and significantly
different, orchestral complexity compared to Aida (1871)
and Don Carlos (1867) its immediate operatic predecessors.
It marked a major compositional departure from his previous
aria, duet and chorus scene to a more fluently smooth transition
from one event to the next. In his conception, Verdi was greatly
aided by Boito’s taut libretto. It reduced Shakespeare’s “Othello”
by six-sevenths yet lost none of its essence. Still fully in
place is the tale of destruction of the erstwhile hero by the
genie of jealousy aided by Iago’s machinations. Boito dispensed
with Shakespeare’s Venice act and focused the whole of the action
in Cyprus.
The success of any performance of Otello depends on the
singing of the name part. It is unequalled in the Verdi canon
in the vocal demands it makes on the tenor protagonist. Placido
Domingo has dominated the role on stage for a generation. Before
him it was Jon Vickers long remembered for his assumptions at
the Metropolitan Opera since 1967. He recorded the role under
Serafin in 1960 with Tito Gobbi as a formidable Iago (RCA).
They were a duo I was privileged to see in the theatre. Vickers’
interpretation was central to the 1970 Salzburg Festival production
by Karajan, alongside Freni and Glossop. This made it onto film
with the voices lip-synchronised. Filmed in Munich and at the
Salzburg, Dürer Studios, in August 1973, it has appeared on
CD
and DVD.
If just lacking the free ringing top to his voice of the audio
recording of 1960, Vickers’ interpretation at Salzburg had a
greater dramatic and vocal intensity. This surely derived from
his long association with the role including earlier performances
in New York. It was then, just over ten years after the tenor’s
Met debut in the role, five after his Salzburg filmed recording
and in Vickers’ fifty-second year. It was also only a year after
the Met had launched its groundbreaking PBS series of Live
from the Met, bringing the drama of live opera to television
viewers. Not unexpectedly, the technical qualities of this recording
do not bear comparison with the brilliance of the current HD
broadcasts to cinemas across the world. It is however adequate
– certainly sufficient to appreciate the glory of Zeffirelli’s
staging which had been first seen in 1972. More importantly,
it catches the singing of one of the greatest interpreters of
the most demanding tenor role in the Italian operatic repertoire
on a live stage rather than a film set.
The first question to answer is how does Vickers do in this
his fifty-second year. He starts with a viscerally thrilling
Esultate (CH.2). He is dominant as he sorts out the drunken
goings-on between Cassio and Roderigo (CH.5). There’s superb
expression in his singing in the love duet that concludes the
act (CH. 7). By the time Otello’s jealousy has been aroused
and Desdemona has riled him by pleading for Cassio, Vickers’
brief Ora e per sempre addio is frightening in its impact
(CH.14). As Otello’s rage intensifies the sheer power of his
calls for blood with the repeated Sangue, is fearsome
in vocal power and acted realisation. One really feels that
it would not be safe to meet this man at this moment (CH.17).
He is able to continue this histrionic level throughout Act
Three as Otello demands the handkerchief from Desdemona and
as we learn of the arrival of the Ambassador. By Act Four his
tone is a little dry, but he still manages a legato line and
soft singing as he asks his wife if she has prayed before he
strangles her (CH. 31). In Nium me tema and in his final
act of stabbing himself his acting is first class and involving
(CHs.32-33). Overall, Vickers’ assumption of the role of Otello
is all encompassing in its reality and realisation. Every word,
phrase and action is weighed and counted for individual and
collective effect. Everything is delivered with seemingly natural
expressive nuance.
In the circumstances of Vickers’ delivery of the title role,
it would have been easy for the other principals to be overwhelmed.
This is not so in the case of Scotto’s Desdemona. Her singing
may not be as pure as that of Freni for the Karajan film but
her performance comes near to matching Vickers in this her only
series in the Zeffirelli staging. Her warm womanly tones and
expression are welcome in the love duet (CH. 7), albeit her
legato is not perfect. Her acting throughout creates a most
moving and realistic foil to Otello’s overwhelming power. Her
long-honed singing and stage skills are particularly evident
in Act Four where her Willow Song (CH.28), on a wisp
of breath in the reprise, is wonderful to hear as is the pathos
conveyed in Desdemona’s farewell to Emilia. Scotto launches
the Ave Maria (CH.29) with security as she caresses the
bedspread, no altar-kneeling here as Otello enters, knife in
hand.
Scotto’s realisation of her part is a match for Vickers. Regrettably,
Cornell MacNeil is not. All in all his Iago is a bit of a dull
dog. He manipulates the confrontations of Act One with something
of the required cynicism but after his desiccated rendering
of Iago’s Credo - that masterful addition to Shakespeare
that is wholly by Boito - it is largely down-hill. Andrea Velis
as Roderigo looks rather old as a suitor for even the wife of
a no longer young Otello. Raymond Gibbs as Cassio is weakly
sung and portrayed, not a criticism that can be levelled at
the Emilia of Jean Kraft in her role’s few opportunities.
Levine’s evenly paced vibrant interpretation puts Karajan, with
his variable tempi, to shame. The chorus of the Met sound suitably
Italianate and commit themselves fully. The sound has a few
moments of peak distortion and, as I have hinted, the picture
is not a patch on today’s standards. That being said, it has
come up remarkably well and with imaginative lighting there
are few over-dark moments. For the rest we can appreciate the
magnificent Zeffirelli set and Peter J. Hall’s sumptuous period
costumes.
Robert J Farr
See review by Simon
Thompson
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