You've got to hand it to the Met. If you are going 
          to mount a performance of Rossini's final Italian blockbuster then there 
          is only one way to do it, and that is properly. That means investing 
          in lavish sets and costumes, arranging them in grand, tableau-esque 
          public scenes to show them to best advantage, and gathering a cast that 
          can cope with the hair-raising vocal demands that Rossini (and his Venetian 
          audience) expected from professional singers schooled in the bel canto 
          style of the period. It also needs a conductor who can navigate with 
          a sure pace through what is a very large musical landscape. 
        
 
        
Stage director John Copley and his designer clearly 
          had the budget to do what is required and they are served by a rare 
          breed of singers who can convincingly carry off that combination of 
          lyricism and virtuoso coloratura that is the bel canto style. After 
          Semiramide, when Rossini went to Paris, he wrote new operas 
          (and adapted some old ones) to cater for the taste for grand opera in 
          the French manner. This meant dropping some of the Italianisms that 
          suffuse Semiramide, including the florid vocalising and the habit 
          of writing main male parts to be sung by women, a hangover from Italian 
          castrato practice. Yet Semiramide clearly shows how some 
          French Grand Opera practice had crept into Italy, especially in Venice, 
          and the result is a grand opera that is Rossini’s final and finest celebration 
          of bel canto. 
        
 
        
There have been a number of reasons offered as to why 
          this masterpiece dropped out of the repertoire not long after its initial 
          success (although there was a performance at the Met in 1894). One of 
          them is that the kind of bel canto mezzo-soprano required to play Arsace, 
          the male lead, had virtually died out by the second half of the 
          nineteenth century. The opera’s 20th century post war resurrection depended 
          on a revival of the breed and here we have the magnificent Marilyn Horne 
          who has made a major contribution to the return of some of Rossini’s 
          forgotten masterpieces to the repertoire. This recording is over a decade 
          old now, yet even then Marilyn Horne seemed to have been around a very 
          long time. My initial encounter with her voice was on one of the first 
          LPs I ever heard, dubbing Dorothy Dandridge in Carmen Jones, 
          the black musical version of Carmen in the mid-fifties. Her teaming 
          up with Joan Sutherland in Semiramide in the sixties provided 
          one of the great vocal feasts of the decade and the Decca recording 
          of 1966, in spite of all that Donizetti, was probably the finest thing 
          that Sutherland and conductor husband, Richard Bonynge, ever did together. 
          It set a benchmark that was not endangered by the recording made nearly 
          thirty years later by DG with Cheryl Studer and Jennifer Larmore under 
          an erratic Ion Marin. This DVD though provides a worthy competitor to 
          the Bonynge. 
        
 
        
Marilyn Horne’s Semiramide is June Anderson who is 
          well capable of handling the vertiginous coloratura although she’s not 
          quite La Stupenda – but then who is. Neither of 
          them could be accused of putting too much effort into the acting side 
          but to be fair, their rather static approach to things is a production 
          issue and what they do is in keeping with the overall tableau approach 
          designed for the vastness of the Met. This does become a disadvantage 
          for DVD because when the camera homes in on, for example, an intimate 
          duet, we are invading a space in a way that is not possible for most 
          of the audience. 
        
 
        
One of the great strengths of the production is its 
          sense of homogeneity, especially on the musical side. A strong feeling 
          teamwork persists which may have something to do with this world class 
          performance being an all American affair from conductor through orchestra, 
          chorus and cast. The result is an accuracy of ensemble that often borders 
          on, and reaches, perfection. A well known example is Serbami ognor, 
          the extended duet between Semiramide and Arsace made famous by Sutherland 
          and Horne in extracted form. The first section of it is taken significantly 
          slower by Conlon compared with Horne’s version with Bonynge, but conductor, 
          orchestra and soloists are absolutely at one in the rendering. Perfection. 
        
 
        
This DVD at last provides a worthy successor to the 
          Decca/Bonynge version in musical terms. Both sound and vision are good 
          and although there is nothing else on the two discs, there is an informative 
          booklet. 
        
 
        
John Leeman