One of the pleasures for the opera lover in recent
years has been the emergence, on various labels, of legitimate issues
of live performances, from the past thirty years or so, originating
in Italian provincial theatres and often with casts of wholly native
speakers. By provincial, I mean not from La Scala in Milan rather than
Rome, where the standard Italian administrative nightmare left the main
opera house closed for much of that period. I also specify legitimate
because various illicit recordings have appeared on LP and CD, often
with execrable sound, the result, I suspect, of hidden recorder and
microphone. This issue is a first class example of the newer genre;
obviously using tapes from a more ‘official source’, combined with 20
to 16 bit mastering for CD, to give an excellent quality of sound in
respect of aural perspective and capture of voices and orchestra. The
downsides of live performances are intrusive applause and ‘theatre cuts’;
both are present here. Although the applause is quickly faded it does
disturb the dramatic frisson of a live occasion. The cuts amount to
a total of about 8 minutes of music, mainly in acts 1, 3 and 4.
The major pleasure of this performance is being able
to hear singers who never made it onto major studio recordings alongside
those who did. The Rodolfo, Umberto Grilli, is a true tenor with a rather
throaty sound. Except for too many sobs when Mimi dies, he sings with
sensitivity and some sense of phrasing but is not able to colour his
tone nor bring much sense of character to the part. His ‘che gelida
manina’ (CD 1 tr 5) is musical, but as soon as Freni enters with her
‘Mi chiamano Mimi’ (tr 6) its obvious what her potential lover lacks
in the vocal stakes. Of course this is the juxtaposition of the great
with the merely adequate or even good. Freni colours her tone and invests
phrases with such meaning that her Mimi jumps out of the speakers and
wrenches at the heart. This recording comes between her studio recordings
under Schippers (1964 for EMI) and Karajan (1972 for Decca). In the
former she sounds somewhat too young and innocent whilst in the latter
she is, as here, sheer magic! Mario Sereni, also the Marcello on the
1964 recording, sounds distinctly older than on his studio self, indeed
too old, with a hollow hole in the middle of the voice. The Musetta
is clear toned, expressive, tuneful and vibrant, whilst the Colline
is rather throaty in farewell to his coat (CD2 tr.6 part). The street
urchins, singing their own language, give an added impetus and vibrancy
on their appearance in act 2.
On the rostrum De Fabritiis is sensitive to the music
whilst giving support to his singers allowing them time for expression
and phrasing. The booklet has interesting essays on La Bohème
and its libretto, a synopsis and an essay on the history of La Fenice,
(like La Scala it premiered five of Verdi’s operas) all in Italian and
English. I add a grumble about the sparse tracking; 9 and 7 respectively
for the two discs is distinctly stingy. A sticker indicates that some
part of the proceeds are in aid of the re-building of the lovely (an
understatement) ‘La Fenice’ which, in typical Italian administrative
manner still looks to be some years away.
Robert J Farr
Orchestra and Chorus
of Teatro La Fenice, Venice. Cond. Oliviero De Fabritiis.