Un giorno di regno was Verdi’s second opera, a setting of
a dated libretto by Felice Romani (probably revised by Temistocle
Solera), and set as long ago as 1818 by the Bohemian Adalbert
Gyrowetz. This in turn was based on the play La Faux Stanislaus
by Alexandre Vincent Pineu-Duval. The opera had an unhappy genesis
and an unhappy reception. It was composed in haste, between June
and September of 1840. Worse than mere haste, Verdi had barely
begun composition of the opera when his wife Margherita fell seriously
ill; she died in July. The Verdi finances, too, were difficult
– Margherita had recently had to pawn her jewellery (unknown to
Verdi) to pay the rent. Given his wife’s illness and death, Verdi
sought, unsuccessfully, to escape from his contract with La Scala.
Scarcely the ideal circumstances, one might have thought, in which
to write an opera buffa. When the work was finished, the
first performance (Teatro alla Scala, Milan, 5 September 1840)
was a disaster and it was removed from the stage after one night.
Looking back in 1879, Verdi himself observed that “Certainly the
music was partly to blame, but so too were the performers”. One
suspects that a larger share of the blame should fall on the performers
than on the composer. One reason for thinking that is that when
revived in Venice in 1845 and Naples in 1859 – as Il finto
Stanislaus, the title originally employed by Gyrowetz – the
work met with a much more favourable reception. Another is the
evidence of one’s own ears - I have never been lucky enough to
see a production - when listening to a recording such as this
performance from the Bregenz Festival or to the studio recording
by Norman, Carreras, Cossotto et al, conducted by Lamberto
Gardelli on Philips Classic Opera 4756772.
Un
giorno di regno is not, the greatest or most mature of
Verdi – but to judge it by those standards is to miss the
point – it would be about as sensible as complaining that
The Two Gentlemen of Verona isn’t as good as The
Tempest. For anyone wanting to try to understand Verdi’s
development Un giorno di regno is necessary listening;
for anyone who enjoys the range of Italian opera it is recommended
listening. With a fair admixture of Rossinian influence there
is plenty of evidence that Verdi had paid proper attention
to Bellini and to Donizetti too. The Act One duet between
Belfiore and Edorado, for example, is clearly founded on ‘Venti
scudi’ from L’elisir d’amore. The work offers, in some
parts, a kind of ‘lost’ bel canto opera; in other parts
an early adumbration of idioms that were to become recognisably
Verdian.
Even
leaving aside its fascinating place in Verdi’s development
– and, therefore, in the history of Italian opera - Un
giorno di regno is simply enjoyable listening,
provided that one doesn’t ask too much of it. The duets between
Kelbar and La Rocca – notably ‘Diletto genero’ in Act I –
are delightful set-pieces. Edoardo has some very decent arias,
as does the Marchesa. Some of the vocal ensembles are particularly
fine, not least the sextet ‘Cara giulia, alfin ti vedo’.
This
lively, engaged performance – audience noise is minimal and
the on-stage noises are more atmospheric than intrusive –
has an energy and vitality which the Gardelli studio performance,
for all the excellence of much of its singing (notably that
of Carreras) can’t quite match. Margherita Rinaldi has some
impressive top notes and handles the coloratura well; the
usually marvellous Giuseppe Taddei is, well, marvellous; Domenicho
Trimarchi and Enrico Fissore are masters of their buffo
craft. Vittorio Terranova – who was, a fine Donizetti tenor
and has later counted José Cura amongst his students – is
a very attractive Edoardo, singing the role with some beautifully
unaffected lyricism; Elena Zilio sings with appropriate verve
and spirit. In short, no-one lets the side down. Piero Bellugi
conducts with energy and understanding. The recorded sound
is entirely acceptable. This set from Gala offers an economical
and, more importantly, a well-performed opportunity to hear
one of Verdi’s least-often heard works. The only drawback
is the absence of any kind of libretto, and, indeed, of a
detailed plot-summary.
As
a bonus we are given extracts from a concert performance of
Macbeth, conducted by Muti and recorded in Philadelphia
in 1983. It’s decent enough and one would not have regretted
the expense of a ticket if present, I suspect. But it isn’t
a reading to which most Verdians are likely to return very
frequently. Only Renato Bruson’s interpretation of the title
role really stands out. The rest of the cast don’t seem fully
within their roles, as if they had, indeed, learned them for
a one-off concert performance or, at any rate, had not performed
them in the theatre for some time. Pleasant enough but unmemorable.
It is the recording of Un giorno di regno that offers
the best reason for buying this set.
Glyn
Pursglove