Luisa
Miller came at the end of what Verdi referred
to as his anni de galera or
years in the galleys. It was a period when he was always
racing against time. Whilst composing one opera, he was
planning the subjects of others and supervising, often
in minute detail, the writing of the librettos of another
one or two. Added to those pressures were negotiations
with impresarios and publishers for operas to follow. In
Part
2 of my Verdi conspectus, I
deal in detail with the ten operas that he composed in
the five years between I due Foscari (1844) and Luisa
Miller (1849). In 1847 he had signed a contract to
compose an opera for Naples. He then spent the next two
years trying one pretext or another to withdraw from it. He
particularly resented the restrictive nature of the Neapolitan
censors in respect of the more interesting subjects that
appealed to him as a basis for an opera. The political
unrest in Europe in 1848 gave him the perfect excuse he
wanted and he wrote to the San
Carlo breaking off his contract. But it was not to be got
rid of that easily. As the Austrians re-took control in
the north after the insurgency in Rome and elsewhere, the
status quo returned. The San Carlo blamed Cammarano for
failing to provide a libretto and threatened to sue and
imprison him. With a wife and six children to support,
Cammarano wrote to Verdi begging him to renew his Naples
contract; for his librettist’s sake the composer did so.
For
the new Naples opera Verdi stipulated that the work should
be ‘a brief drama of interest, action and above all feeling’. He
also wanted something spectacular to suit the size of the
San Carlo and proposed an opera based on ‘The Siege of Florence’.
The Naples censor, as might be expected, would have none
of it. Cammarano suggested Schiller’s ‘Kabale und Liebe’ (Intrigue
and love), the last of his early prose plays, noting there
was ‘no rebellion, or the rhetoric of Die Rauber’,
the Schiller source of I Masnadieri, the Verdi opera
written for London. Cammarano, expert in dealing with the
censors of his native city, took care to eliminate the political
and social overtones of Schiller’s play with its story of
innocence destroyed by corruption and the machinations of
those in power. In Cammarano’s hands, subtly manipulated
by the composer, Schiller’s play became Luisa Miller,
Verdi’s fifteenth opera. It was premiered at the San Carlo
on 8 December 1849.
Verdi
might originally have wanted something spectacular for the
San Carlo; what he and Cammarano hatched was an intense personal
drama. In parts of La battaglia di Legnano, Verdi’s
previous opera, the composer had learned how to express intimate
emotions in his music. In Luisa Miller he takes this
skill a quantum leap forward together with a new concentration
of lyrical elements, achieved by the avoidance of excessive
use of brass and timpani. Instead, the plaintive woodwind
tones give character to the more intimate pastoral nature
of the early scenes in particular. The individual characters
are filled out musically and encompass the varying emotions
they have to convey which differ significantly in the three
acts. It is in the music of the last act where scholars and
musicologists suggest that Verdi really breaks new ground
and shows himself compositionally ready for the subjects
of the later great operas.
It
is often said of La Traviata that the three acts require
the eponymous soprano to have three different voices: a lyric
coloratura in act one, a full lyric voice in act two and
a spinto voice in the final act. Exactly the same could be
said about Luisa Miller, except perhaps that the coloratura
of act one are not as demanding as in Traviata. In
this 1979 Met performance the role of Luisa is sung by Renata
Scotto who had made an early international impact substituting
for Callas in La Sonnambula at the Edinburgh Festival
in 1957. She quickly gained a reputation as a singing actress
and her early recordings were in the lyric soprano fach.
In the 1970s she sang the verismo repertoire as well as Verdi
and Puccini, losing some of her vocal lightness in the process,
but never her histrionic ability to convey the emotions of
a character. So it is in this performance directed by Nathaniel
Merrill with period costumes and in traditional, if somewhat
over-elaborate, cluttered and ornate sets, designed by Attilio
Colonnello. In act one scene one (CHs.3-10), Scotto’s petite
figure and acting convince the watcher of a young girl in
love. She lightens her tone whilst bringing character to
her singing and any slight hardening of tone quickly passes.
The camera avoids too many close-ups that would, despite
her small rounded face, have betrayed her forty odd years.
In act two, scene one, as she hears of her father’s imprisonment
and is confronted by Wurm’s threats (CHs. 23-26). Scotto’s
singing and acting make the desired dramatic impact. But
it is in act three that she reveals her full vocal strengths
and acting ability. First in the magnificent Verdian duet
with her father (CHs. 37-39), and then as she is tricked
by Rodolfo into joining him by taking poison and dies (CHs.
40-43). Scotto has the necessary vocal heft for these dramatic
scenes. More importantly she also has the ability to characterise
and give meaning to the words via vocal colour and nuance,
although she does have to resort to some heavy chest register
at times. Her interpretation fully justifies the reception
she gets at the end and also the issue of this rather dated
performance onto DVD.
All
the men sing strongly, none more so than Domingo who, already
with several performances of Otello under his belt, sings
with dramatic impetus, lyrical tone and ardour. Rodolfo gets
the only big tune of the opera that has made it onto recitals Quando
le sere al placido (Ch. 32), which he sings with good
expression, phrasing and characterisation. Throughout, his
acting is committed and convincing, although I suspect that
he would have liked to have dispensed with his over-ornate
wig. Excess wig hair and make-up apart, Sherrill Milnes is
equally convincing as Luisa’s father. He sings with strong
even tone, fine legato and a real sense of Verdian line,
which is something James Morris as the evil scheming Wurm
lacks. Bonaldo Giaiotti sings steadily with good tone as
Count Walter, but is far too generalised in his acting and
vocal characterisation. He might have been singing Padre
Giardano in La Forza del Destino or Zaccaria in Nabucco.
He fails to convince as Count Walter whose evil deed, and
aspirations for his son, set the events of the play and opera
in motion. As the Duchess Frederica, whom Walter wishes his
son to marry, Jean Kraft sings adequately but looks far too
old even for the excessively bewigged Rodolfo!
I
have referred to the rather over-done sets. Despite my reservations
I prefer these to a producer’s concept that buries Verdi’s
intentions in silly ideas and the odd block or cube around
the stage. Levine’s conducting is vibrant without being overpowering
in Verdi’s intimate scenes. The picture quality is not up
to the latest standards with the colours lacking sharpness
and lens distortion sometimes evident. Despite those limitations
I welcome this issue. It is not only the first availability
of this Met performance in any medium, but also to the best
of my knowledge, the first performance of Luisa Miller on
DVD (see note below). Its limitations leave room for the
very picturesque 1978 Covent Garden performance, which forms
the
basis of
the audio recording conducted by Maazel (DG 459 481) and
any other production of quality that may come along. Any
contemporary production would, however, find it difficult
to match the singing in this performance, or that at Covent
Garden, with today’s dearth of great Verdi voices.
Robert J Farr
Editor's Note - there is another
Luisa Miller available on DVD, though Region 1/NTSC
only, a 1988 Lyon recording, featuring June Anderson in the title
role, and conducted by Maurizio Arena (Kultur D0030).
Count Walter,
local landowner - Bonaldo Giaiotti (bass); Rodolfo, Count
Walter’s son - Placido Domingo (ten); Frederica,
Duchess of Ostheim and Walter’s niece - Jean Kraft (mezzo);
Wurm, Count Walter’s steward - James Morris (bass); Miller,
a retired soldier - Sherrill Milnes (bar); Luisa, Miller’s
daughter - Renata Scotto (sop) 
[148:00
+ 12:00] 
