Ermanno WOLF-FERRARI
	(1876-1948)
	Sly 
	 José Carreras (ten), Isabelle
	Kabatu (sop) & Sherrill Milnes (bar)/Barcelona Liceu Choir &
	Orchestra/David Giménez.
	José Carreras (ten), Isabelle
	Kabatu (sop) & Sherrill Milnes (bar)/Barcelona Liceu Choir &
	Orchestra/David Giménez.
	 KOCH-SCHWANN
	364492 [114 mins]
KOCH-SCHWANN
	364492 [114 mins]
	
	Crotchet  
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	New to me, but not to the CD catalogues, this opera is another variant upon
	those many stories that depend upon elaborate practical jokes, the audience
	sharing the fun of knowing what is happening to the victim, in complicity
	with the perpetrators. The best known is Falstaff, his story of easy
	gullibility set most famously by Verdi, with any unease finally assuaged
	by Falstaff's own willingness at the end to see the joke and lead the fugal
	finale, and also by
	Salieri.
	
	Another example of the genre is Cosi fan
	Tutte, which ends in an equivocal, disturbing vein capable
	of numerous interpretations. See
	http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2000/feb00/bartoli.htm
	and
	 http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2000/apr00/aprcosi.htm
	
	Wolf-Ferrari's Sly is quite other. The emphasis is on
	savage, cruel fun, taking advantage of a hapless drunk anti-hero, which we
	may share at first with misgivings and initial doubts, before it turns to
	a tragic denouement in which our feelings are fully engaged with José
	Carreras, as his humiliation leads to tragedy and a typical operatic
	death, expiring in the hands of his lover, who had been an unwilling pawn
	in the control of the practical jokers.
	
	To get the bizarre and off putting title out of the way, there is a card
	sharper in the first scene, but Carreras's character is Christopher Sly,
	who has nothing whatsoever sly about him. It is equally peculiar that another
	main player, in this story of common folk taken advantage of by aristocrats
	seeking amusement in a London tavern, is called Plake, an unlikely surname.
	
	Sly is the life and soul of the pub crowd, always good for a laugh and a
	song, a poet who always ends up as a butt for fun, inebriated and incapable,
	and liable to be apprehended as a debtor. There is a class collision with
	the arrival of the Earl of Westmoreland (Sherrill Milnes) and his entourage.
	His bored mistress (Isabelle Kabatu) is drawn to this very different, free
	spirited man, but persuaded to take part in the plot to take him off in drunken
	sleep and have him awakened, fitted up in finery in the Earl's castle, ostensibly
	its owner, with all roles reversed and the aristocrats purporting to be his
	servants.
	
	Through the second act he is confused and disorientated, eventually brought
	to his senses and the truth of what has been done to him. Unable to credit
	the sincerity of his assigned temptress (Kabatu) he finally learns and accepts
	the whole truth too late, after he has fatally slashed his wrists using 'the
	only companion that has always helped me to oblivion and joy', i.e. a bottle,
	broken this time, to become a weapon to injure himself.
	
	In this performance, I found myself fully engaged, and in the final scene
	deeply moved by the situation, and vastly impressed by it's musical setting.
	 Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari (1876-1948) was behind the times when he wrote
	Sly in a conservative, Puccini-like verismo idiom in 1927, but he
	was unrepentant to that criticism. However, he became discouraged because
	of the rise of Nazism and the continual demand for 'something new', and
	eventually declined into straitened circumstances, dying in 1948 in Venice.
	
	This is a gutsy, live recording from Barcelona (2000) of a Zurich Opera House
	production, the large cast and chorus and orchestra under the reliable baton
	of David Giménez, with a palpable theatre ambience. The production
	is excellent, with full texts and parallel translations. The casting is strong,
	Sherrill Milnes implacable as the cruel, practical joking Earl, Isabelle
	Kabatu sympathetic as the conscience torn heroine, and José Carreras
	sings out his heart as Sly, totally inside the confused, sensitive skin of
	one for whom his public persona is but a mask for insecurity. His last act
	monologue, Eppure
era commossa' (and yet
she was moved)
	[track 13] is a tour de force amongst self revelatory solo scenes in opera
	and sampling it will help you to decide whether to acquire this old-fashioned
	but durable opera, which balances to perfection story and music, and which
	has been one of my brightest discoveries this year.
	
	Peter Grahame Woolf