How did Monteverdi’s
‘Orfeo’ sound at its premiere and does
it matter today? We still know frustratingly
little about the work’s performance
in Mantua; we are not even certain which
room in the palace was used, though
Philip Pickett produced some interesting
research and convincing arguments at
his performance of ‘Orfeo’ on the South
Bank last autumn. We do know that Monteverdi
used quite a small group of singers,
just nine or ten people who doubled
roles and formed the chorus. The work
is still closely related to the Italian
madrigal and to the Florentine Intermedi
(musico dramatic interludes which form
the immediate precursors of the opera),
though Monteverdi and his librettist
Striggio have gone that one step further
by creating a drama in which singers
interpret roles. The Florentine intermedi
presented dramatic situations more as
tableau; for instance, in the scene
written by Marenzio the allocation of
voices is not related to the characters
presented by the text.
Still, we can make
a reasonable attempt at reconstructing
Monteverdi’s sound-world and people
like Philip Pickett have recorded performances
which are as close as as scholarship
allows to Monteverdi’s intentions. But
is this always necessary? Monteverdi’s
music is far greater and richer than
can be constrained in a small-scale,
chamber performance; the temptation
is irresistible to swell up the performance
into something large and grander. This
is inevitable when the work is presented
on the vast expanses of the world’s
opera houses. Emmanuelle Haim’s current
version is based on a series of concert
performances that she gave of the opera,
but in many ways the style of performance
would not be out of place in a modern
opera house. This is not wrong, but
it does imply an element of compromise
with the genii of authentic performance.
In casting ‘Orfeo’,
Haim has taken advantage of the current
generation of singers who have grown
up with the authentic performance stylistic
revolution (after all Nigel Rogers’
first recording of the role, with Jürgen
Jürgens was made back in 1974).
These are singers who are equally adept
at singing early opera and 19th
century. In fact some of them, such
as Natalie Dessay, Christopher Maltman
and Ian Bostridge, are better known
for roles in 19th and 20th
century opera.
It is, in fact, Ian
Bostridge who is the raison d’être
of this performance. He brings his lieder
singer’s skill to the performance and
gives us a detailed picture of a neurotic,
intense Orfeo. His live account of the
role with Haim was riveting, but on
disc, with generous support from Haim,
Bostridge is strong and highly involving.
Admirers of Bostridge’s
art will be content with this and delight
in how his consummate intelligence sheds
light on this, the first bravura tenor
role. But for me, his performance was
too redolent of the 19th
century. His phrasing and usage of the
voice are one factor in this, but another
is the use of vibrato. Whereas John
Mark Ainsley (for Philip Pickett) and
Anthony Rolfe Johnson (for John Eliot
Gardiner) rein in their vibrato and
use it as another tool in their armoury
of expression, for Bostridge vibrato
seems an essential part of the voice.
There are times when the essential core
of the voice almost disappears, leaving
just an expressive, vibrato-laden aura.
This works well in later opera, but
I find it unsatisfactory in Monteverdi;
Bostridge’s expressive devices such
as vibrato and ornament merge into a
single whole.
Here I must come clean
and admit that my favourite performance
of the title role remains Nigel Rogers’
for Jürgen Jürgens, recorded
in 1974. In many ways this is an unsatisfactory
performance which more than shows its
age. But there is something about Rogers’
performance, in such show pieces as
the aria Possente Spirto, that
has rarely been bettered. Some people
will not like the dry quality of his
voice, but I find his use of the voice
thrilling and his use of ornament for
expressive purpose cannot be bettered.
For Philip Pickett, John Mark Ainsley
has that same element of edge to his
voice as Rogers and in many ways his
performance is equally as thrilling.
But the set pieces of Orfeo are more
than just bravura and occasionally Ainsley
seems to lose his way structurally.
A warmer-voiced interpretation comes
from Anthony Rolfe Johnson for John
Eliot Gardiner, but Johnson is a seasoned
performer in early music and he successfully
mitigates his vibrato, using it for
expressive purposes and combining it
easily with ornament in a way that Bostridge
does not. Also, with Bostridge I came
away with the suspicion that the role
might lay a little low for him. This
can be a continual problem with music
of this period as scholarship continually
redefines our view of a role and the
pitch at which it is sung. But this
music must be sung in the middle of
the voice, and I did not feel that it
always lies in the middle of Bostridge’s.
To hear him at his best, listen to the
joyous Qual honor di te fia degno
from Act 4.
Bostridge is not the
only performance that is redolent of
a later era. Natalie Dessay contributes
a dignified ‘La Musica’ but again I
felt she sounded too 19th
century and conveyed little feeling
for the words. Alice Coote is an intense
Messagiera with a strong feeling for
the worlds, but the role seemed to occasionally
lie a little low for her. Patrizia Ciofi,
who has recently come to prominence
in this repertoire, contributes a lovely,
touching Eurydice and Christopher Maltman
is a baritone Apollo. The role lies
reasonable in Maltman’s range, but the
effect is to give us another rather
19th century view and his
passage-work can be a little smudged.
For Apollo’s duet with Orfeo, Saliam
cantand’al Cielo I again wanted
to return to the Jürgen Jürgens
recording where Nigel Rogers’ Orfeo
duets brilliantly with Ian Partridge’s
Apollo.
Haim does not use the
traditional doublings, so some singers
get little chance to make an impression.
It rather seems over luxurious to have
Dessay singing only La Musica, Alice
Coote only Messagiera and Veronique
Gens as Proserpina.
It is Gens, a graduate
of William Christie’s Les Arts Florissants,
who gives an object lesson in how to
perform this music. She integrates a
sense of line with expressive ornament
and vibrato in a way that makes one
long to hear her in more of this music.
As Caronte, Mario Luperi
is disappointing but then I have heard
very few performers who are fully equal
to this role, perhaps John Tomlinson
for Gardiner come closest.
The smaller roles are
all cast from strength and Pascal Bertin,
Paul Agnew, Christopher Maltman and
Richard Buckhard make a fine group of
Pastori, displaying a strong feeling
for ensemble and some lovely singing.
Haim’s view of the
work can be highly dramatic, with speeds
sometimes fast and sometimes rather
slow; I found some of her speeds for
the ritornello too slow for my ears.
The musicianship of Les Sacqueboutiers
and Le Concert d’Astrée is never
in question and they give fine support
to all of the singers. Haim adds some
very vivid percussion. This is highly
effective but contributes to the sense
that Haim is building up the work to
suit 19th century performance
spaces (admittedly I heard it performed
in the Barbican). There is no problem
with this: what you get is a very fine
performance which would do credit to
any opera house; the sort of performance
that one might wish to hear the next
time ENO revives their production. In
the end, it all boils down to our interpretation
of how the opera first sounded and,
more importantly, how much this sort
of issue means to you.
This is a fine recording
and will appeal to all admirers of Ian
Bostridge. Those purists who are looking
for a performance which attempts to
recreate Monteverdi’s original sound-world
may be disappointed and are advised
to look elsewhere.
Robert Hugill
European Voices; Las Sacqueboutiers