A curious affair, this. 
                Picture quality is fairly poor (the 
                NTSC format?), on the verge of being 
                blurred. Playing time is under an hour 
                (although it seems more). Neither Alfredo 
                Kraus (who, with the lion’s share of 
                the solo items, is the ‘star’ of the 
                evening) nor a rather diva-ish Renata 
                Scotto are in the first flush of youth 
                ... and it does show. The Slovak Philharmonic 
                is the dutiful accompanist, and that 
                is what it sounds like, accompaniments 
                routinely drilled out under Konrad Leitner 
                (a name almost new to me – he’s appeared 
                on Naxos, again as operatic accompanist). 
                The audience is appreciative, though, 
                which does help to lend the whole a 
                sense of occasion. 
              
 
              
The first item comes 
                from Linda di Chamounix – by 
                Donizetti, not Verdi as the back cover 
                of the DVD claims. An interesting choice. 
                The recorded sound is on the recessed 
                side though, and too much facial close-up 
                is off-putting. But Melanie Holliday 
                can do the various manouevres well (nice 
                even scales up into the higher reaches), 
                even if she does shriek out the top 
                note of the cadenza. 
              
 
              
Alfredo Kraus makes 
                a grand entrance – in slow-motion!. 
                He proves, in Leoncavallo’s Mattinata, 
                that he still has a hefty upper register 
                (he was born in 1927); his next ‘number’, 
                by Tosti (L’alba separa dalla luce 
                l’ombra) is clearly a labour of 
                love, and it is obvious he simply adores 
                the words. He seems to know this is 
                appropriate repertoire for him now, 
                as he sticks mainly to songs and, indeed, 
                he cuts a suave Core ’ngrato 
                (finishing on a powerful high note). 
                His ‘La donna è mobile’ proves 
                he can float notes as well as the next 
                man; the hyper-Romantic Falvo brings 
                the likes of Tito Schipa to mind (and, 
                by the way, its Lehár-like tendencies 
                form the perfect preamble to Renata 
                Scotto’s Merry Widow excerpt). 
                Scotto’s Lehár is, alas, hopelessly 
                affected in gesture when the orchestra 
                has the tune, one time video is definitely 
                not an advantage (and her eyes are glued 
                to the music when she sings!). A definite 
                miscalculation that culminates in a 
                totally inappropriate and crass crescendo 
                on the final note. 
              
 
              
The excerpt from Verdi’s 
                Macbeth is taken by the baritone 
                Paolo Coni, whose discography includes 
                Rodrigo on the Muti/La Scala Don 
                Carlo. Coni displays a firm sense 
                of line and his cadenza is impressive. 
                A highlight. 
              
 
              
Ramón Vargas 
                is no small name, and his good reputation 
                is confirmed here. ‘Una furtiva lagrima’ 
                (‘lacrima’ on the back cover) is one 
                of the best-loved of all operatic tenor 
                excerpts, and Vargas does not disappoint. 
                His pitching and legato are both superb 
                servants to his touching espressivo. 
                His other solo, Rossini’s La danza, 
                is a catchy, contrasting tarantella 
                napolitana that he despatches with real 
                aplomb. 
              
 
              
Gail Gilmore is a real 
                performer. To watch her eyes in ‘O don 
                fatale’ is worth the price of the DVD 
                alone. Her low register is strong, her 
                high notes firm, the enthusiastic ovation 
                thoroughly deserved. Her name is new 
                to me and I shall be watching out for 
                her again. 
              
 
              
As is the case with 
                such occasions, an ensemble finale provides 
                the ‘climax’, here the Brindisi from 
                Traviata. Everybody enters into 
                the spirit of the thing (the audience 
                even claps along) and it probably worked 
                wonderfully if you were there at the 
                time. The audience shot to its feet 
                at the end. 
              
 
              
A very, very mixed 
                bag, then. Neither is it clear exactly 
                who this is aimed at, given the mix 
                of young(er) and old singers. Interesting 
                as a curiosity but really, I would suggest, 
                only for fervent Kraus-fans. 
              
 
              
Colin Clarke