By the time of the composition of Ballo in Maschera, Verdi
was rich, powerful and famous. He had purchased an estate at Sant’Agata
near his birthplace and found peace and great pleasure in its
development. He no longer needed to write two operas each year
and only agreed a contract if location, singers and subject appealed
to him. In 1857 he wanted to write an opera based on Shakespeare’s
King Lear. However, when the Teatro San Carlo in Naples approached
him Verdi did not believe the house soprano to be suitable for
his vision of Cordelia. Instead, Verdi chose the subject of Un
Ballo in Maschera based on the true story of the assassination
of Gustavus, King of Sweden, at a ball. Verdi asked the poet Antonio
Somma to prepare a libretto. When the libretto was submitted to
the censor in Naples they made seven major objections that involved
no fewer than two hundred and ninety seven lines, nearly one third
of the text! Their objections involved the assassination of a
king, the location in northern Europe, the inclusion of sorcery
and the use of firearms on stage. Poet and composer agreed the
transfer of location to Boston, America, the King to become a
Duke and the assassination to be a stabbing not a shooting. Still
the censor was not satisfied and Verdi cast around for another
theatre. The censor in Rome was more accommodating and the opera
saw its first performance at the Teatro Apollo with the original
King becoming Riccardo, Earl Of Warwick, an English colonial governor,
and the Swedish Count Ankarstrom, becoming Renato his secretary.
Riccardo secretly
loves Amelia, the wife of his secretary and trusted friend
Renato, who warns him that conspirators are plotting to kill
him. Despite the warnings, Riccardo goes, disguised, to a
gypsy soothsayer to test her powers. There he finds Amelia
pleading to be rid of her feelings for him. She is told to
pick an herb, at midnight, from below the gallows. Testing
the gypsy, Riccardo, incognito, is told the first to clasp
his hand, will kill him. No one will take his hand until his
friend, Renato, arrives and greets him. Amelia and the Riccardo
meet as she visits the gallows gathering the necessary herbs,
and in a magnificent duet declare their mutual love. Renato
arrives to warn the King of imminent danger and is left to
guard his veiled wife. The conspirators arrive and force her
to reveal her identity. Renato believing himself to be betrayed
by both his wife and friend joins the plot against the life
of Riccardo. Lots are drawn to choose the assassin and Renato
is, to his vengeful joy, chosen. Meanwhile the King realises
he must break with Amelia and he writes an order appointing
her husband to a post abroad accompanied by his wife. But
this is only revealed after Renato fatally wounds him with
a gunshot at a masked ball. Riccardo dies proclaiming Amelia’s
innocence and asks that all his enemies be pardoned.
The DVD box has
a sticker proclaiming this to be ‘the rarely seen revised
version set in colonial America’. Well it is certainly
the version that Verdi ended up presenting in Rome rather
than that which he had intended for Naples. But seen? The
2005 recording under Chailly (review)
uses the American names although it’s staging is idiosyncratic
in respect of venue. At the time of this production at the
Met, the Boston edition was the accepted version on record
and had been so since the Callas-Di Stefano recording of 1956
(review),
the Leontyne Price with Bergonzi of 1962 (GDS 86645) through
the three Decca recordings, 1960 (review),
1970 (460 762-2) and the 1982 digital recording (410 210-2),
the latter two featuring Pavarotti as Riccardo. This choice
for recording was probably influenced by what the singers
knew and appeared in most at that period. In the bonus interviews
Katia Ricciarelli refers to the difficulties of mixing the
two and using the wrong name when used to singing the other
version. Certainly by the mid-1970s the Swedish version was
the order of the day at Covent Garden in Otto Schenk’s memorable
production. When I caught up with it in 1975, Reri Grist,
Carlo Bergonzi and Sherrill Milnes were parts of a very strong
cast rehearsed by Elijah Moshinsky, the director in this Met
production.
Moshinky’s production
efforts in this performance are severely constrained not only
by the inadequate, even inappropriate and sparse sets of Peter
Wexler and the unimaginative costumes of Peter J Hall, but
also the acting ability of the principals. No one ever accused
Pavarotti of being a great actor on the operatic stage, a
state of affairs that regressed with his increasing obesity.
Here, he is merely corpulent; as is his secretary. But only
in the final scene of the opera, as Riccardo dies after being
shot by Renato, does he let his face and body into the action
(Disc 2 Ch.13). Riccardo is a role that suits Pavarotti to
perfection vocally and he does sing with elegant phrasing
and open-throated tone throughout. His manner is matched only
by Bergonzi, who was an equally wooden actor. Pavarotti’s
singing of Amici miei in act one (Disc 1 Ch.4), Di
tu se fedele in act 2 (Ch.16) and his contribution to
the lovely love duet of act two, which Verdi never bettered,
together with his singing in the last two scenes (Disc 2 Chs.8-14)
represent the tenor at his best. In terms of beauty of singing,
and regrettably limitation of acting, Katia Ricciarelli is
a compromised Amelia. An attractive woman, she looks wonderful
throughout, her silvery soprano rising to every challenge
is a delight on the ear. But, Amelia is a woman with a terrible
guilty secret whom her husband threatens with death whilst
she pleads to see their child one last time at the start of
act three (Disc 2 Ch.1) and in the following aria Morro,
ma prima in grazia. Not enough of Amelia’s fraught situation
shows on Ricciarelli’s face or in her body at these moments.
Much the same applies to here singing of Ecco l’orrido
campo as she arrives at the gallows in act two
to collect the plant specified by Ulrica. There the set looks
like an over-large bedstead; it could not have been helped!
Having criticised Ricciarelli’s acting, I have to admit that
I prefer her singing to that of Barstow at Salzburg with her
uneven legato and occluded tone and I say this despite the
latter’s outstandingly fraught portrayal (review).
As I infer, if
there is an actual gallows in act two the video director keeps
it largely from sight. This may be no bad thing if the set
for Ulrica’s location is anything to go by. In most productions,
Ulrica is often, and appropriately, shown near a den or cave
where she could certainly pass for a witch. Here, in white
bonnet she looks more like someone’s aunt who might, at worst,
be about to deliver a little sermon on life’s slings and arrows
to the various people who arrive down an incongruous large
rear staircase. Despite this limitation of costume, and lacking
the ideal vocal thrust in the chest register, Bianca Berini
holds up well and is expressive in her singing and facial
expression (Disc 1 Chs.11-17). Appropriately well dressed
for the part and pert of figure is Judith Blegen as a sprightly
Oscar, Riccardo’s page. Both her Volta la terrea in
act one (Disc 1 Ch.8) and Saper vorreste (Disc2 Ch.12)
are sung well and with expression, although a touch more colour
would have helped erase memories of the non pareil Reri
Grist in this role. Perhaps the most involved acting and vocal
expression among the principals comes from Louis Quilico as
Renato. His nut-centred Verdi baritone would be widely welcomed
on today’s operatic stages. At the time of this recording
he got very few chances on record to portray his strengths.
Both his Alla vita (Disc 1 Ch.6) and Eri Tu
(Disc 2 Ch.4) are phrased with distinction and a wide tonal
range. Also worthy of note is the singing and acting of the
veteran William Wilderman as Samuel.
The sound starts a
little echoey but settles down and the picture has cleaned up
well for its age. Giuseppe Patane, vastly versed and competent
in this repertoire, keeps the drama and lyricism of Verdi’s opera
in good balance. The extended curtain calls are boring and repetitive.
The bonus interviews are interesting, particularly with hindsight.
Pavarotti is also to be seen on the 1991 Met recording of the
Swedish version (review)
with production, set, costume design and lighting under the single
control of Piero Faggioni. With Levine on the podium, tempi are
a little brisk at times. Pavarotti is less mobile than here and
his voice dryer at the top, whist Aprile Millo is an involved
Amelia, although a little over-vibrant at times. Whilst also in
4:3 format the picture quality is superior (DG 440 073 029-9 GH).
Robert J Farr