Franco
Corelli and Renata
Tebaldi were two of the greatest Italian opera singers of
the 1950s and 1960s. They were roughly the same age and died
within roughly a year of each other: Corelli,
b. 8 April 1921, d. 29 October 2003; Tebaldi,
b. 1 February 1922, d. 19 December 2004. At this concert in
Tokyo they were both past fifty and had lost something of their
former lustre. Even so, they were both in fairly good shape
and were singing in repertoire they obviously liked. With their
expected professionalism the result was in the main thrilling.
The Japanese audience were ecstatic and almost invaded the stage
during the encores. Thirty-four years later we can now make
a more sober assessment. The atmosphere in the hall does make
a difference. Being surrounded by an over-enthusiastic audience
makes it difficult to remain coolly analytical. With the way
now clear for dissent it still remains a privilege to be able
to experience these two legends in live surroundings.
Perhaps
the most serious obstacles to full appreciation of the concert
are the technical shortcomings. This was obviously a live broadcast
and it is shown in full, without any attempts at editing. This
creates a feeling of presence but for repeat viewing there is
really too much applause, too much waiting for the next entrance
and too much walking in and out. I can put up with that and
I do have a fast-forward button which will allow me to skip
some portions.
The
sound is more than acceptable, as far as the voices are concerned
– not in any way comparable to studio recordings of the same
vintage, but never mind. The balance is acceptable but the sounds
of the orchestra are more constricted. The violin tone in particular
is rather thin and wiry and the overall sound picture tends
to sprawl. This may have something to do with the placing of
microphones, since I believe the Tokyo Philharmonic was a splendid
band in 1973.
When
it comes to the visual experience one needs a fair amount of
indulgence. There is a lack of focus, the pictures are soft-centred
and the long shots are decidedly blurred. When Tebaldi
walks onto the stage her red robe seems to be double copied
and the copy follows her at arm’s length. The close-ups are
better and one gets used to the lack of a truly sharp image.
The video direction isn’t particularly imaginative but, honestly,
how thrilling is a concert visually?
There
is a long spoken introduction in Japanese with subtitles in
Japanese but eventually we reach kick-off. Corelli,
a bit tense, opens with a couple of Italian songs, where he
impresses with his superb breath control, especially in Occhi di fata. His singing of whatever material he has had at hand
has always been a bit larger than life. He is notable for his
powerful baritonal low register, his ringing upper register with long
held top notes, his emotional intensity and his spectacular
diminuendos. It’s all here and much of it is admirable. Mind
you this does not stop his indulging in the lachrymose and in
glottal stops. So his taste is not impeccable and La
donna è mobile lacks everything
that makes a memorable Duke of Mantua: lightness, elegance,
charm and a bit of haughtiness. Corelli
is foursquare and sings at a relentless forte, apart from a
fine diminuendo in the second stanza. This insensitivity comes
as a backlash after Tebaldi’s restrained
and stylish O del mio dolce ardour. She comes back after the Rigoletto aria with another sensitively sung aria,
Adieu, notre
petite table from Manon,
sung in Italian to be sure but otherwise stylishly done. The
difference between the approaches of the two stars is clearly
demonstrated in the duet that concludes act I of Otello.
Tebaldi, in one of her most famous
roles, is infatuated, soft and genial, floating her tone beautifully;
Corelli rather gruff and stentorian.
Visually the end of the duet becomes almost embarrassing: two
grown-ups, supposedly in love with each other, behaving so awkwardly
– like amateur actors. Tebaldi tries
to achieve something that approaches contact but Corelli
is not interested.
He
makes amends by delivering a superb version of O souverain from Le Cid. Here his body becomes liberated, he moves naturally, his gestures
are alive and again his extraordinary breath control allows
him to sing long unbroken legato phrases. And Tebaldi
follows this up with another of her great impersonations: Cio-Cio-San,
alias Madama Butterfly. Un bel di vedremo again shows her at her best.
Grieg’s Jeg elsker dig has survived all kinds of readings and arrangements
through the years but Corelli’s version
is a borderline case, bawled in English – well, sort of. He
also performs a compact version of Monteverdi’s Lamento d’Arianna – sung as though it were a verismo aria – but with a beautiful pianissimo end. Tebaldi’s readings of two songs by Rossini and Verdi – beautiful
and finely nuanced – are balm to your soul, to quote Samuel
Butler. Then comes the final number of the announced programme,
O soave fanciulla from La Bohème. This
is quite fascinating to watch. Corelli
starts as though Mimi were standing at the other end of the
hall, bawling out his lines, Tebaldi again adopts her infatuated expression and looks smilingly
at her Rodolfo. When her turn comes she fines down her tone
to a lovely mezza voce. Corelli
bawls on and Tebaldi, singing even
softer, smiles forgivingly, thinking: ‘OK! Have it your own
way, but I sing it as Puccini wanted!’ And, wonder of wonders,
contact is established and they end the duet – fortissimo of
course – looking like two lovers.
After
uproarious applause, flowers and lots of curtain calls, the
orchestra walk out. There’s more applause and a sudden cut.
Now there is a grand piano on the stage and we are treated to
no less than five encores. Corelli
starts and now he is relaxed and smiling. He tosses off two
songs with great intensity and also visual thrill. Tebaldi’s
Donizetti song reinforces the utterly charming impression she
has radiated all through the concert, whereupon Corelli
shows his true mettle in Core
‘ngrato with superb pianissimos
and ringing top notes. Tebaldi gets
the last word with an almost casually light and swift O mio babbino caro.
There
are some numbers I will do my best to avoid in the future when
returning to this concert. Readers have already figured out
which arias I mean. For Tebaldi admirers this DVD is a must and I believe many others
could derive a lot of pleasure from it. Primarily it’s the visual
aspects that prevent a more general recommendation. On the other
hand many of us listen for hours and hours to historical recordings
with bacon-frying in the background so a choice must rest upon
which is the most important: the pearl or the mounting.
Göran
Forsling
Renata
[89:00]
