Giuseppe VERDI (1813-1901)
Macbeth (1847, revised 1865)
World premiére of the original 1865 French version
Ludovic Tézier (baritone) - Macbeth; Silvia Dalla Benetta (soprano) - Lady Macbeth; Riccardo Zanellato (bass) - Banquo; Giorgio Berrugi (tenor) - Macduff; David Astorga (tenor) - Malcolm; Francesco Leone (bass) - Un médecin; Natalia Gavrilan (mezzo-soprano) -La Comtesse; Jacobo Ochoa (bass) - Un serviteur / Un sicaire / Premier fantôme; Pietro Bolognini (treble) - Second fantôme; Pilar Mezzadri Corona (treble) - Troisième fantôme; Cassandre Berthon (speaker)
Chorus of the Teatro Regio of Parma
Filarmonia Arturo Toscanini/Roberto Abbado
rec. live, 11-13 September 2020, Parco Ducale di Parma, Festival Verdi, Italy
Libretto and notes in Italian with English translation (also available online)
DYNAMIC CDS7915.02 [79.42 + 72.25]
I have commented in the past that the performance of Verdi’s operas in Paris always seemed to generate editorial problems which have continued to plague later generations – not that Verdi is the only composer to have suffered in this way. The situation is bad enough with the operas that Verdi actually wrote for the Opéra using French texts, which then were subjected to all sorts of barbaric treatment in the matter of cuts and translation when they were subsequently adapted for Italian stages. Then, of course, there were the inserted ballet scenes which were required for Parisian audiences, and the sometimes wholesale alteration of scores which resulted, for example, in the transformation of I Lombardi into Gerusalemme. But nowhere were the amendments more swingeing than in the case of Macbeth, where whole sections of the original Italian score were jettisoned in favour of new material to produce a substantially different work which has continued ever since to be performed in its revised form.
Not that the process was that simple. The Parisian performances of Macbeth were written not for the Opéra itself but for Léon Carvalho’s Théâtres Italiens which – despite its name – performed in French, and had recently successfully mounted a heavily truncated version of Berlioz’s Les Troyens. But unlike scores such as Don Carlos and Les Vêpres siciliennes, Verdi did not work in French for his adaptation. Instead he turned back to Francesca Maria Piave as one of his original librettists, commissioning new material in Italian which was only then translated into French for its Parisian audiences after the music had been completed. These included a completely new aria for Lady Macbeth, a revised opening scene for the Fourth Act, and the truncation of the ending by the exclusion of Macbeth’s final arioso (Carvalho, as Berlioz observed bitterly, had a habit of insisting on the making of cuts as a method of placing his own ‘mark’ on the scores he produced). But the major alterations came in Act Three, with the addition of substantial ballet scenes, a wholesale overhaul of the phantom visions and a new duet for Macbeth and his Queen to replace Macbeth’s barnstorming final aria – with the result that almost two-thirds of this Act consisted of entirely original or heavily revised material.
Why, then, can this recording make a valid claim to be the first appearance on disc of the French version of the score? Well, in the first place Verdi immediately set about performances of the revised version on Italian stages – using the Italian text he had already set – and this new edition effectively eclipsed all its rivals. Only in the 1960s, beginning with Leinsdorf’s RCA set which revived Macbeth’s final arioso, did anybody pay much attention to the musicological history of the opera. Claudio Abbado in his recording also restored the final arioso, and Muti went further in his complete recording by adding an appendix containing material from the original version (which were unfortunately omitted when the LPs made the transition to CD). There have also now been recordings of the original Italian version in its entirety. But nobody before now has released a recording of Macbeth in the form that Verdi gave in Paris, with the complete ballet music inserted in its correct places and the whole sung in French.
Not that the French translation commissioned by Carvalho especially for those Paris performances is in any sense a masterpiece, although it is admittedly better than the Italian translation inflicted on Don Carlos when the whole procedure was undertaken in reverse a few years later. As the booklet note here observes, the original translation by retired tenor Gilbert Duprez was deliberately chosen to imitate Shakespearean English where possible; but this led to conflicts with Verdi’s rhythmic setting of the Italian, and a new substitution was commissioned from Charles Nuittier and Alexandre Beaumont which only occasionally veered in the direction of Shakespeare rather than Piave. That consideration, and the lack of Verdian singers prepared to undertake their roles in French, may perhaps explain the previous lack of enterprise in this direction.
What is more surprising is that the initiative in this field should have come, not from one of the French operatic companies, but from Italy itself in the shape of a concert performance given in Verdi’s festival city of Parma two years ago. The fact that the recording was made in concert obviously had major advantages, since the predominantly Italian cast was not required to completely re-learn their doubtless familiar roles in a foreign tongue; and pictures of the sessions predictably show all the singers with scores open on stands in front of them. The only French singer among the principals is Ludovic Tézier in the title role, a singer familiar to British audiences from appearances at Glyndebourne a quarter of a century ago but with a voice that still sounds fresh and strong, even heroic in a role that does not exactly demand nobility of tone. His command of the role is a positive joy; and he clearly engages with the text in his native tongue, relishing the tension of the murder of Duncan which forms the dramatic highlight of Verdi’s original Italian score. As his Lady, Silvia della Benedetta was a last-minute substitute for Davinia Rodriguez and she has perforce recourse to the presence of a French actress Cassandre Berthon to read the letter with which her first appearance onstage begins. But she is fine throughout, even in a concert performance managing her disappearance at the end of her sleep-walking scene with a fine sense of poise and a quiet high D. The remainder of the cast is equally admirable with both Riccardo Zanetallo as Banquo and Giorgio Berrugi as Macduff displaying a fine lyric line. The chorus are well and enthusiastically engaged (they have plenty to do!) and the orchestra under Roberto Abbado have spring and vigour in their step throughout, with a fine delivery of the awkward battle fugato at the end where the recording balances are finely judged. The booklet gives us an introductory note to the score and the edition employed, and parallel text and translation in French and English.
Not an essential issue except for absolute Verdi completists, then; but an interesting sidelight on his often-prickly relationships with the French opera establishment, well recorded and presented. And it is thoroughly worthwhile to hear Verdi’s heavily revised Act Three in the form in which it first appeared on the stage.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
Previous review: Ralph Moore
