This 1977 performance
of Don Giovanni at Glyndebourne has
long been held to be a classic staging.
Peter Hall’s direction does nothing
that works against the plot or da Ponte’s
libretto, and is generally sensitive
to the music too. John Bury’s sets present
the opera in a somewhat gloomy atmosphere
but this works to underline the darker
side of human behaviour portrayed by
the character of the Don, and thus never
far removed from civilised society.
But this is not a production
for those seeking deep psychological
insights into the characters, their
actions or the motivations behind them.
The closest the cast comes to insightful
acting is the Leporello of Stafford
Dean. The graveyard scene for example
shows Leporello genuinely not wanting
to be there addressing the Commendatore’s
statue and showing real shock at the
fact that it speaks. Don Giovanni not
so much as lifts an eyebrow at this
momentous event, although he remarks
on the strangeness of it. For a singer
that sends that cold shiver down the
spine, and makes you feel it too, you
should look elsewhere; for example to
Thomas Allen’s portrayal conducted by
Muti, now available as part of the La
Scala DVD edition (OALS3001D). What
you do get is a well-sung production,
though perhaps not an outstanding one
all round.
The opera throws up
notorious problems in relation to casting
which are highlighted by the choices
made. Benjamin Luxon is hardly the first
baritone who springs to mind as a suitable
Don, in terms of appearance at least.
Tall, thin and with a handlebar moustache
he is most definitely not your generic
slick, fresh-faced wideboy who uses
nothing more than good looks and charm
to make petticoats ruffle. Instead he
delivers a performance that is all the
more creditable because he uses the
genuine assets he has as man, musician
and actor to win over his conquests.
He is a Don of age, experience and presence
approaching his latter years, yet still
excited by the adding of conquests to
the list to prove his pulling power
has not yet deserted him. As such, the
running scorecard, if you will, that
is Leporello’s list seems not totally
beyond the bounds of physical possibility,
yet still beyond the measure of most
men.
The voice is finely
focused, phrasing delivered with experience
and care. Rarely has ‘Deh vieni alla
finestra’ seemed so right, or indeed
so moving. The character is weaker though
when it comes to the more exuberant
moments – the ‘champagne aria’, for
example – these do not convince me nearly
as much. But it is still a fine reminder
of Luxon in his vocal prime.
Stafford Dean as Leporello
continually brings Rembrandt’s ‘Wide
Eyed’ self portrait etching (1630) to
mind, so involved and animated are his
facial expressions throughout. However,
there are moments when these are missed
slightly due to the camera angles or
edits, and this is a pity. He finds
genuine and mocking humour, cowardice,
compliance against his will and many
of the other requisite facets of the
character to contrast with Luxon’s Don,
combined with a generally excellently
sung rendition of the role.
Donna Anna is a problematic
character to cast. Do you go for the
dramatic soprano to bring out the thirst
for vengeance in her arias and portray
her as a fire-eating battleaxe of a
wife, or a more lyrical soprano to show
more genuine humanly emotions? Horiana
Branisteanu’s portrayal is most definitely
the latter – indeed, with the possible
exception of Joan Sutherland on the
Giulini CD set, she is one of the few
I have heard who can both declaim her
big moments without harshness and scale
down the voice to observe the markings
as written ... and appear distraught.
Though like others her face lacks obvious
emotion, her eyes say much with their
smouldering dark powerful stare.
Leo Geoke (Don Ottavio)
moves efficiently through the role,
though he is easily superseded by many
a tenor in terms of technique, finesse
and acting skill. The late Gösta
Winbergh on the Karajan CD set (one
of that set’s few out-and-out successes)
comes to mind. Even without seeing Winbergh
you can imagine stage action, and occasionally
even when seeing Geoke it is difficult
to place him in the action.
Rachel Yakar has the
dramatic measure of Elvira I feel and
vocally too is capable of meeting the
task, but suffers somewhat by appearing
constrained by the direction she has
received. If left more to her own dramatic
inclinations the results might have
had greater visual impact.
The pairing of Elizabeth
Gale’s Zerlina and John Rawnsley’s Masetto
is a pleasing one – both are full of
character. Pierre Thau’s Commendatore
is no match for that of Gottlob Frick
for Giulini, but then who is? His contribution
is steady within the confines of the
part, but more could have been made
of it.
The London Philharmonic
play with obvious experience of both
score and house; though at times I felt
the winds a little recessed. Haitink’s
Mozart opera experience, as he freely
admits, was at that time only beginning,
and relative to later achievements this
is evident. However, there is nothing
that is unmusical or overtly out of
place – it just lacks the depth of insight
he was to achieve later on, or indeed
the driving inevitability achieved by
Furtwängler in his Salzburg staging
(now available on DVD).
So in summation, this
is a set that tends to wear its qualities
lightly in relation to others. For me,
largely because of the voices (Luxon,
Dean and Branisteanu in particular),
this set will serve as an appendix to
other interpretations I have mentioned,
most of which take priority due to their
interpretational qualities.
Evan Dickerson
The
Glyndebourne Chorus 
ARTHAUS
MUSIK EUROARTS 101 087 [168’00"]
