This
recording was previously available, albeit poorly advertised,
on the Pioneer Label alongside other performances from
Covent Garden in the 1990s. It re-appears in standard packaging
at mid-price among the first fruits of the purchase of
Opus
Arte by the Royal Opera House. The artwork of the packaging
is striking whilst the accompanying pamphlet gives only
the production, cast, chapter details and a synopsis of
the plot in English. In the case of this production I think
there should have been more background as it constituted
the first staging in a major theatre in modern times of
a long lost Verdi opera. I recount the circumstances before
considering the performance.
Following
the premiere of
Luisa Miller in Naples in 1850 the
years that Verdi called his
anni di galleri (years
in the galleys) could finally be seen to be over. Despite
having cursed the pressures of his compositional life and
the psychosomatic sore throats and stomach pains it induced,
Verdi still, from time to time, put himself under pressure
by leaving too little time to become familiar with the
characters of the libretto plot and also compose the music.
Verdi’s actual contracted commitments were two. The first
was an opera for Ricordi, his publisher. This was to be
given in the autumn of 1850 in any Italian theatre of the
publishers choosing, except, at Verdi’s continued insistence,
Milan’s La Scala. The second was for an opera for La Fenice
in Venice. With time pressing for the Ricordi commission
Verdi proposed four subjects to his compliant librettist
Piave, including
Le Roi s’amuse,
the basis
of the later
Rigoletto. Piave countered with a list
including
Stiffelius, based on a French play. The
story concerns a minister of a Protestant sect whose wife
commits adultery in her husband’s absence and who forgives
her from the pulpit after choosing an apposite reading
from the Bible. It is a melodramatic story packed with
human emotions and inter-relationships as well as dramatic
situations. Given Verdi’s success with the intimate relationships
involved in his two previous operas,
La battaglia di
Legnano and
Luisa Miller, the composer felt
confident about his capacity to deal with the story.
La
Traviata and
Stiffelio are the only operas
that Verdi composed on contemporary subjects.
Piave
quickly produced the libretto of
Stiffelio, Verdi’s
sixteenth opera and the composer spent the summer months
of 1850 on the work. The two travelled to Trieste, the
venue chosen by Ricordi for the premiere. They hit big
opposition from the Catholic Church who not only objected
to the concept of a priest being a married man, but also
that the congregation were represented kneeling in prayer!
Further, Stiffelio’s quotation from
The Sermon on the
Mount, as he publicly forgives his wife Lina her adultery
was forbidden, as was her earlier address to her husband
when she appeals
Ministro, ministro confessateri (Minister,
minister, hear my confession). Verdi considered that the
changes demanded would emasculate the dramatic impact of
the whole plot. He agreed to compromises with the censors
as
long as the dramatic situation and the thrust of his music
was not affected. In other circumstances and where compromise
was not possible, as with
Un Ballo in Maschera,
he might have packed his bags and took his opera elsewhere.
With
Stiffelio having been placed by Ricordi in
Trieste this was not open to him, despite his frustration
and near incandescent anger at the necessary revisions.
The premiere on 16 November 1850 was well received with
press comments such as
tender melodies follow one another
in a most attractive manner. All the performances in
Trieste were sold out with the church scene omitted in
at least three of them. In other Italian cities
Stiffelio was
re-titled
Guglielmo Wellingrode, its principal character
no longer a 19
th century protestant pastor,
but the Prime Minister of a German principality in the
early 15
th century! As the Verdi scholar Julian
Budden notes (Verdi, Master Musicians Series, Dent. 1984)
the composer was used to having certain subjects rejected
by the censors and seeing his works bowdlerised, particularly
when revived in Naples and the Papal States. This was the
first time, however, that he had suffered the mutilation
of a work at its premiere. He determined that he would
find a way of making it censor-proof. He first withdrew
the work and in 1856, with Piave altering the locale and
period and with significant modifications and additions
to the music, it became the revised opera
Aroldo, premiered
at the Teatro Nuovo, Rimini on 16 August 1857.
As
was Verdi’s habit when revising a scene or aria in an opera,
he removed the revised or replaced pages from the manuscript
autograph. To all intents and purposes,
Stiffelio ceased
to exist in a performing version complete with orchestration,
although vocal scores were available. In the late 1960s
orchestral parts for both
Stiffelio and its bowdlerised
version
Guglielmo Wellingrode came to light in the
Naples Conservatory. As a consequence an integral performance
of
Stiffelio became possible after one hundred and
fifteen years. This took place in the performing edition
by Rubin Profeta in Parma on 26 December 1968 conducted
by Peter Maag. An even better version of what Verdi wrote
is the basis of the 1979 Philips recording, part of their
early Verdi series under Lamberto Gardelli (422-432-2).
As well as Carreras the recording features Sylvia Sass
as the adulterous wife in one of her rare assumptions on
a mainstream label. An alternative live audio performance
from Trieste in December 2000, featuring Dimitra Theodossiou
as Lina and Giorgio Casciarri in the title role is available
from Dynamic (CDS 362/1-2).
Further
work by Edward Downes on secondary vocal sources was the
basis for this seminal production staged at Covent Garden
in the winter of 1993. Although by the time of the production
the Verdi family had given access to autograph sources,
Downes could only benefit from vocal parts and was not
able to use any of the new orchestral material. This new
material was used in a
preliminary Critical Edition
staged at the Metropolitan Opera, New York the following
autumn to mark the twenty fifth anniversary of Placido
Domingo’s debut in the house (
review).
Philip Gossett outlines some details of the preparation
of the Critical Edition and its derivation in his book
Divas
and Scholars, (Chicago 2006. pp 162-63). The University
of Chicago Press and Casa Ricordi published the final Critical
Edition by Kathleen K Hansell in 2003. With the emergence
of the new material, and following on from this Covent
Garden production and that at the Met,
Stiffelio has
been performed at La Scala, Berlin and Los Angeles. The
work now takes its rightful place in the middle period
Verdi canon.
The
present production by Elijah Moshinsky in sets by Michael
Yeargan and costumes by Peter J Hall is realistic, atmospheric
and in period. With the help of this cast of committed
actor-singers and Edward Downes in the pit, Moshinsky’s
production shows
Stiffelio to be the dramatic and
musically cohesive work that Verdi knew he had created.
The eponymous role requires the tenor to be fully involved
dramatically and makes considerable demands on his acting
ability as well as his singing. There are times when the
emotional pressures on Stiffelio arising from his wife’s
infidelity, and his doubts, are reminiscent of those found
in
Otello. There is no Iago to weave distrust in
his mind but actual evidence, not least when Stiffelio
notices that his wife is not wearing her wedding ring (CH.
4). Carreras’s body and face portray his involvement throughout
the unfolding story and particularly in the dilemmas of
Stiffelio’s position as husband and priest. Whilst allowing
he is often singing full out and sometimes showing a little
vocal spread (CH 9), when Domingo in the rival version
has some power to spare, I count this as one of Carreras’s
best-recorded assumptions. As his wife, Catherine Malfitano
matches him for dramatic involvement and singing. Hers
is not as beautiful a voice as that of Sharon Sweet at
the Met, but her committed acting more than compensates
and as a total portrayal is to be preferred. Good examples
can be seen in Lina’s prayer (CH 5) where Malfitano’s expressive
singing and phrasing is matched by her facial and body
language. As Lina’s implacable father Stankar, who is appalled
at her behaviour, the physically imposing Gregory Yurisich
towers above his daughter. His demeanour is appropriately
stiff as befits an ex-army officer and the character. He
sings with good strong tone and feel for a Verdian phrase.
Stankar’s dilemma is well represented and portrayed by
Yurisich in the father-daughter duet (CH 6) where he melts
a little and in the opening of act three as he contemplates
suicide as the answer to the dishonour, as he sees it,
of Lina’s behaviour (CH 13). In the marked comprimario
parts of Stiffelio’s older colleague Jorg and the seducer
Raffaele, Gwynne Howell and Robin Leggate, both sing exceptionally
well and act convincingly.
Within
five months of the premiere of
Stiffelio, Verdi
presented
Rigoletto in Venice. There is no flood
of arias in
Stiffelio as in the successor opera
so that the audience would hardly depart with a tune on
their lips. Rather the concentration is on the dramatic
situation, superbly brought out by this singing cast and
Edward Downes in the pit. There are many moments of drama
in
Stiffelio that bring Verdi’s later operas to
mind, not least
Otello. The tense final scene inside
the church with the words that Verdi actually set to music
(CH 16) comes very close. In this performance one is left
wondering that whilst Stiffelio the preacher forgives the
adulteress, whether the man himself forgives the wife.
This final moment is well caught by Brian Large’s expert
video direction which is exemplary throughout. The picture
quality is good whilst the sound is vivid and forward except
for the odd variation as singers turn away from the microphone.
Robert J Farr