Falstaff was the first of Salieri’s operas to be
revived in modern times (1961). It was also the first to be the subject of a
commercial studio recording (1986). There is a very good reason for this.
The
opera buffa style, a close relative of Mozart’s
masterpieces in the same genre, sounds generally less dated than
Salieri’s worthy but less inspiring
opera serie, which had,
even during his long lifetime, been eclipsed by greater works by his
contemporaries and successors. Also the score contains many vocal and
orchestral felicities, which even today can still enchant the ear. Salieri,
in his earlier
La grotta di Trofonio, had influenced Mozart’s
later
Don Giovanni in places. Here, having thoroughly absorbed
Mozart’s score, Salieri himself shows the beneficial results of
acquaintance with it - for example, in his treatment of the relationship
between Falstaff and Bardolph, which continually reminds one of Giovanni and
Leporello. The music remains a bit short-breathed - at least at the
beginning - with plentiful acres of
secco recitative including the
whole first scene of the Second Act. Even here there are lots of
well-considered touches to tickle the palate and keep the listener’s
interest alive; try the recitative accompanied by solo cellos while Bardolph
is dreaming. After a while the concerted numbers become more substantial,
with a First Act finale after Ford’s failure to find Falstaff at his
house, which has decided echoes of the similar passage in
Don
Giovanni. It comes complete with menacing timpani underpinning the
ensemble.
Treatments of Shakespeare’s
The merry wives of Windsor
were not new even in Salieri’s day - a now-forgotten setting by
Dittersdorf had been produced only three years before Salieri’s score.
His efforts have long been overshadowed by later versions of the same
material: Nicolai’s
Merry wives of Windsor, Vaughan
Williams’
Sir John in love and Verdi’s
Falstaff
are only among the most prominent of these. Vaughan Williams probably comes
closest to the Shakespearean original, preserving the Elizabethan
milieu with its multitude of sharply observed minor characters.
Arrigo Boito, in his libretto for Verdi, makes use of other Falstaff
material from Shakespeare’s
Henry IV to anchor the action
firmly in the period of the early fifteenth century. Shakespeare himself was
inconsistent in this respect, since the text of
The merry wives of
Windsor contains a number of contemporary Elizabethan references. We
tend to miss the significance today of Falstaff, a knight of the realm,
being shown consorting with a collection of various low-life companions. In
the period of
Henry IV, only a generation after the social trauma of
the Peasants’ Revolt, this would have been regarded as really shocking
in a manner that even in Shakespeare’s own day was already becoming
obsolete. Prospero Defranchesci’s Italian text for Salieri eliminates
a great deal of the Shakespearean sub-plots including the tribulations of
the young lovers Nanetta and Fenton and Nanetta’s various suitors, as
well as Mistress Quickly. The production here updates the staging to the
early nineteenth century without doing any significant damage to what
remains of the timeless action.
Michael Hampe is, as always, a model of taste and discretion in his
direction in the basic but satisfactory sets (by Carlo Tommasi), never
stepping outside the bounds of the scenario envisioned by the composer but
bringing plenty of nice touches to its realisation. Take as an example the
difficulties encountered by Falstaff in writing his letters to the wives
when the candles keep going out. These touches are generally received in
stony silence by the rather unresponsive audience. The only point at which
we get a real laugh from them is in the superbly comic scene where Mistress
Ford, disguised as an old German woman, comes to Falstaff to arrange their
rendezvous - taking over the role of Mistress Quickly. Their continual
banter, veering wildly between German and Italian (substituting for
English), has some overtones of
The magic flute but also possesses a
zany idiocy which is quite its own.
The casting has not a single weak link. The then young John del
Carlo is a magnificent fat knight, brimming with self-confidence and showing
a real sense of danger as well as fatuousness. As the merry wives, Teresa
Ringholz and Delores Ziegler make a stunning pair of conspirators, striking
plenty of sparks off each other and their husbands. Richard Croft displays
plenty of
bravura as Ford, not least in his ‘jealousy
monologue’ which begins as highly dramatic accompanied recitative and
then develops into a barnstorming aria with clarinet
obbligato. Jake
Gardner is equally good as Slender - here taking over the role of Page - the
husband whose belief in his wife’s fidelity forms a dramatic contrast
to the less trusting Ford and gives a whole new dimension to the plot. The
character of Betty combines elements of Nanetta and Mistress Quickly, and is
given a lively performance by Darla Brooks. Carlos Feller is a nicely
curmudgeonly Bardolfo.
Incidentally the scenario gives us Falstaff’s second visit to
Ford’s house - found in Shakespeare but omitted by both Verdi and
Vaughan Williams - where he has to effect an escape by disguising himself as
an old spinster. This is dramatically redundant but it helps to bring more
substance to the Second Act which would otherwise be perilously short on
incident; Salieri packs the whole of Verdi’s first two Acts into one.
Indeed there is a considerable element of musical redundancy in the Second
Act as well, since we get a repeat of Ford’s disguised visit to
Falstaff complete with a second and less effective ‘jealousy’
aria. Ford raids his own house twice in search of the unwelcome suitor, and
Mistress Ford pays a second visit to Falstaff in the disguise of a German
woman. The last scene opens with an aria on the subject of jealousy and its
dangers from Slender which has distinct echoes of Figaro’s similar
nocturnal aria in the last Act of Mozart’s opera, but without
Mozart’s horns - which would seem to be almost
de rigueur when
cuckoldry is in the air - it falls rather flat. Salieri also misses a trick
with the final scene around Herne’s Oak, where he does not indulge
himself to any great extent with the expected ‘fairy’ music -
although there is a curious pre-echo of Verdi in Falstaff’s cries of
pain when he is being pinched by the spirits. On the other hand Salieri
scores a palpable hit with his delightfully sly pay-off at the end of the
final ensemble, leaving Falstaff to finish the singing by himself in a
highly original touch. Salieri’s manuscript score is available from
the ISMLP site, but it is a massive file to download and of dubious
legibility. So far as I can tell, we are given the musical text without any
cuts.
The television picture is only available in the old
‘square-screen’ ratio of 4:3, which may be disconcerting for
some viewers. The English subtitles by Mitch Cohen, rather sparse, are
rhymed throughout but do not appear to constitute a singing translation,
which seems rather odd. In any event they give enough of the flavour of the
text to allow for ready comprehension of the action when supplemented by the
extensive synopsis given in the booklet. Some of the rhymes are far-fetched
(“ridiculous” and “periculous” indeed) and
occasionally modernisms such as “yucky” grate. However, as a
version of Salieri’s
Falstaff this is a real comedy, musically
and dramatically realised to the best possible effect. The music comes
through with real strength, even the influences of Mozart fully absorbed
into the whole and packing a superb punch. The recorded sound, slightly
forward and using modern instruments, has plenty of body and the continuo is
imaginatively realised by an undeservedly anonymous fortepiano player. I
particularly liked the way in which he or she opens the Second Act by
playing the first chord several times over before the singers, laughing at
Falstaff’s discomfiture, actually take any notice of the fact.
The original Hungaroton LPs, of which I have a copy, have plenty of
life but the singing is considerably better in the performance under
consideration here. That recording apparently made the transfer from LP to
CD (Hungaroton HCD12789-91), but it appears to have disappeared from the
current catalogue. If you want the score with period instruments, there is
an alternative recording from Jean-Claude Malgoire (Dynamic CDS4051/2),
which I have not heard; and the 1961 revival which first brought
Falstaff back to the stage in modern times has also made its way onto
a CD transfer, in what other reviewers have described as fairly antique
sound. On the other hand, there are no other DVDs of Salieri’s
Falstaff currently available; and this recording and performance give
the score as good a performance as you are likely to hear in any medium, and
in a thoroughly acceptable production. The score is very nearly as good as
Mozart, too, well worth investigation.
You will notice, I hope - if you have got this far - that I have
managed in this review to get right to the end without even mentioning the
fable that Salieri poisoned Mozart. Oh, damn …
Paul Corfield Godfrey
[145.00]
