In comic operas there are stock figures. One of these is the bass,
often conceited and self-important, silly or evil – or both –
who often ends up being ridiculed, humiliated and has to humble
himself. We first meet him in Uberto in Pergolesi’s La serva
padrona, then in Il barbiere di Siviglia – Paisiello’s
as well as Rossini’s – as Doctor Bartolo. Mustafa in L’Italiana
in Algeri is a close relative, as is Don Magnifico in La
Cenerentola. The eponymous anti-hero in Don Pasquale
is also a pitiable character – the slimy Dulcamara in L’Elisir
d’amore less so. Later in history Sir John in Verdi’s Falstaff
is possibly the most complex character in this mould, thanks to
Boito’s masterly condensation of Shakespeare’s portraits and Verdi’s
music. He has predecessors: Salieri wrote a Falstaff before
Verdi was even born. On German ground Otto Nicolai created a rather
likeable character in Die lustigen Weiber von Windsor.
In operas by Lortzing and Flotow we encounter similar second cousins.
We shouldn’t forget Osmin in Die Entführung aus dem Serail
either. A lesser known but well delineated relative within the
German sphere is Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the larger-than-life
barber in Peter Cornelius’s Der Barbier von Bagdad. He
isn’t an evil person, quite the contrary, but he is a big braggart
and manages to make a mess of things. The plot goes back to a
story from ‘The Arabian Nights’ and a condensed version goes something
like this:
The young and rich
Nureddin is deeply in love with Margiana, the daughter of the
Cadi. His childhood friend, Bostana, arranges a meeting and
Nureddin sends for Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the best barber
in town, to make him presentable. The barber is more interested
in talking about his knowledge of art and science and Nureddin
asks his servants to throw him out. The Barber turns furious
and chases the servants, knife in hand, but some tactical flatteries
makes him calm down and do his job. When Nureddin tells him
about his approaching meeting, the barber gets so excited that
he offers to accompany Nureddin. In the second act the two lovers
meet but are disturbed by the sudden return of the Cadi. Nureddin
hides and when the barber hears cries from a slave being punished
he believes it is Nureddin and rushes into the house. Believing
Nureddin to have been murdered he sends for the Caliph, who
arrives. Nureddin is found and pressurised by the Caliph. The
Cadi accepts that the young couple should be married. The verbose
barber makes such an impression on the Caliph that he is invited
to work for him.
Not one of literature’s
masterworks, maybe, but much thinner and more incomprehensible
librettos have been successfully set to music. Cornelius’s opera
was not a success at the premiere on 15 December 1858
at Hoftheater in Weimar. The composer describes the disaster
as follows:
‘My work had drawn
a full house. The performance filled the evening and was excellent,
splendid, considering the difficulties the work presents. Right
from the start, the applause was accompanied by persistent hissing
from a hired, well-organized and expediently distributed group
that was unprecedented in the annals of Weimar … At the end
there was a fight lasting ten minutes.’
The reason for the
debacle was decidedly not the quality of the music or
the play. This was a protest against the conductor of the evening,
Franz Liszt, whose radical ideas were not to everybody’s liking
– and it was successful. The production was taken off the repertoire
and Liszt resigned and left Weimar for good. But the one who
suffered the most was Cornelius, who never saw his opera staged
again during his lifetime. It was revived about twenty years
later, again with no success. In 1884 in Karlsruhe, Felix Mottl
– who orchestrated Wagner’s Wesendonck-Lieder – presented
it, but in truncated and altered form. It was not until 1904
that it was staged in its original shape. After that it was
regarded as one of the best German comic operas – next to Die
Meistersinger von Nürnberg according to some judges.
I hadn’t heard the
opera before, although there exist two studio recordings. Columbia
set it down in London in 1956 with Erich Leinsdorf conducting
and a starry cast including Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Nicolai Gedda,
Hermann Prey and with Oskar Czerwenka as the barber. In the
early 1970s Heinrich Hollreiser recorded it with Sylvia Geszty,
Adalbert Kraus, Bernd Weikl and with Karl Ridderbusch as the
barber. There also seems to have been an even older, Vienna-based
recording, from 1952.
What I knew from
as far back as the early 1960s was the overture, which appeared
now and then in recordings and on concerts. I remembered it
as something quite different from the usual potpourri of melodies
from the subsequent opera. This piece, with a playing time of
over seven minutes, is symphonically constructed – a kind of
symphonic poem in fact. It is artfully orchestrated with a lot
of woodwind solos and an orchestral texture that is transparent
and airy - more Mozartean than Wagnerian. What is more: the
whole opera is permeated by this artfulness with impressive
ensembles and powerful but still translucent choruses with some
contrapuntal writing. On top of all this there is an atmospheric
entr’acte opening act two, thematically built on the
muezzin’s proclamation of prayer. It is the only music in the
score with an oriental touch.
The proceedings
are dominated by Nureddin and Abul Hassan Ali Ebn Bekar, the
barber. Both singers are excellent. Horst R. Laubenthal, then
at the beginning of a great international career – was born
in 1939 and made his debut in 1967. He has a mellifluous lyric
tenor, ideally suited to Mozart and the lyric German tenor roles.
He is also a vivid actor. The fine love duet in act two is one
of the high-spots in the opera. There he is especially winning,
partnered by Helen Donath, who here manages to soften her voice
a little – elsewhere she can be irritatingly acidulous. There
is nothing sour about Hans Sotin’s impressive barber, however.
This must be a dream role for a fruity bass and Sotin revels
in the opportunities to make a show. His is a large, sonorous,
warm and evenly produced voice of exceptional beauty. The very
lowest notes – and he is required to sing quite a few of them
– are somewhat sketchy but otherwise he is admirable. He produces
ringing top notes that many a baritone should envy.
The rest of the
cast are more or less comprimarios, but the young Dale Duesing
– he was only 26 at the time – is a fine Caliph. Veteran Fritz
Peter is a Cadi full of character and Marga Schiml – also still
in her twenties – does what she can with Bostana’s role. The
versatile Ferdinand Leitner, who had a special affinity with
Mozart, obviously enjoys the score. He is well supported by
the Cologne Radio forces. The male chorus has a field day in
the riveting Hinaus aus Hof und Haus (CD 1 tr. 7), where
they are ordered to throw the cackling barber out of the house.
The sound is what
is to be expected from a 35-year-old radio recording: not very
spectacular but well balanced. I wouldn’t have minded some more
cue-points and a libretto should have been included. Not many
listeners will be familiar with the work and the brief synopsis
is no substitute.
Whether Der Barbier
von Bagdad will ever be a standard work again is hard to
prophesy – this kind of story has probably lost its attraction
to latter-day generations. It is nevertheless rather amusing
and the music definitely deserves a better fate than oblivion.
Göran Forsling
