The original five-act form of
Don Carlos was premiered
at the Paris Opéra on 11 March 1867 to go alongside the Great
Exhibition held that year. It was by far the longest of Verdi’s
operas even after much material had been jettisoned to ensure
that the Parisian audience could get their trains home after the
performance. Whether that concern influenced its modest reception
can only be guessed at. The premiere of the Italian translation,
as
Don Carlo, fared little better. Both the Italian public
and theatre managements found the opera over-long and were slow
to take it to their hearts. It was not long before the act three
ballet and then the first act, the
Fontainebleau act, were
dropped altogether. The arrival in Italy of the shorter, more
cogent and equally grand
Aida in 1871 added to the view.
After a failure in Naples in the same year Verdi made his first
alterations to the score for a revival under his own supervision.
Still its fortunes disappointed and with others shortening the
work in various ways the composer began to consider doing so himself.
Subject to other demands, he did not begin serious work on this
until 1882, concluding his revision as a four act opera the following
year with the premiere, at La Scala, having to wait until 1884.
This new shorter four-act revision involved much rewording to
explain the sequence of events and maintain narrative and dramatic
coherence. Verdi’s own reworking involved the removal of the
Fontainebleau
act, the
Ballet and the
Inquisitors’ chorus
in act five as well as other detailed changes. The full story
of the genesis of
Don Carlos, and its various forms, is
told in detail in section 2 of the fourth part of my
Verdi
Conspectus. The premiere of the new four act
Don Carlo,
which has become known as the 1884 version, was a great success
at La Scala with the tenor Tamagno, who created
Otello
three years later, singing the title role. As is now accepted,
a version sung in English, is denoted by the French title of
Don
Carlos.
In Britain an abbreviated five-act version produced by Visconti
and conducted by Giulini at Covent Garden heralded a renaissance
of the work worldwide (see
review).
However, the economics of staging generally favoured the shorter
1884 version and this was what Opera North presented in 1993,
a halcyon period in its history with productions of
Boris Godunov,
The Thieving Magpie,
Jerusalem,
Faust and
La Gioconda appearing on the roster.
The original 1993 production by Tim Albery, in sets by Hildegard
Bechtler, featured John Tomlinson as Philip with Opera North stalwarts
Keith Latham, David Gwynne and Clive Bayley as Rodrigo, the Inquisitor
and the Monk. By the first revival in 1998 Bayley had become the
Inquisitor with Alastair Miles as Philip and Julian Gavin as the
eponymous Carlos. With Albery returning to refresh his creation,
all three reprised these roles in the 2009 staged revival whose
presentation was assisted, stimulated and aided by support from
the Peter Moores Foundation and by this recording. The recording
joins that of Verdi’s
Nabucco in Chandos’s
Opera In
English series in featuring Opera North forces under Richard
Farnes (see
review).
In my
review
of the live performances I found the dramatic scene between Philip
and the Grand Inquisitor lost a little because of the similarity
of the voices of Miles and Bayley, each a strong but lean bass.
I am pleased to note that in this recording the latter has reverted
to the Monk with the Inquisitor being sung by the equally strong
but tonally more sonorous and vocally distinct John Tomlinson.
As in the theatre, Richard Farnes whips up a fire in this scene
to great dramatic effect in what is one of the particularly notable
all-male duets in the work (CD3 trs. 4-5). Another of those significant
duets occurs between Philip and the idealistic Posa after the
King has discovered Elisabeth unattended and dismissed her companion.
This is perhaps the greatest improvement Verdi made in his many
alterations to the score. In this recording it lacks a little
of its power and dramatic thrust. The chilling effect of the King’s
warning to beware the Grand Inquisitor also suffers. In my view
this is more to do with the use of English than any failing of
the singers. William Dazely’s Posa responds well to a King filled
with doubts (CD 1 trs.16-18).
In terms of Verdi singing the male side is particularly well served
here. Alastair Miles sounds suitably old and weary as he reflects
on married life in the loneliness of his study (CD 3 tr.2-3).
This follows the wonderful cello chords of the introduction that
sets the mood for his soliloquy (tr1). Dazely’s Posa was a real
revelation in the theatre and is so in this recording. His portrayal
is wholly convincing with the highlight of his interpretation
being his singing in the prison scene and as Posa dies (CD 3 tr.11-15).
In the theatre I found Julian Gavin’s Carlos a little over-sung
and wanting in more gentle phrasing and caressing of the vocal
line. I am pleased to say most of those problems are absent here
with the tenor singing an ardent and well-characterised performance.
This is particularly clear in the duet with Posa (CD 1 tr.5) and
in how he handles the confusion in the Garden Scene when Carlos
confuses Eboli with Elisabeth and declares his love (CD 2 trs.3-5).
On stage Janice Watson portrayed a rather glacial Elisabeth, not
many marital comforts for Philip I suspected. As on that occasion
she sings her last act aria with silvery tone and well-drawn phrasing
(CD 3 trs.18-19) adding to my favourable impression in the following
duet with Carlos (trs.20-21). Jane Dutton’s lyric mezzo has a
variety of vocal colours and is effective in both the lyrical
Moorish song (CD 1 tr.8) and as she dramatically regrets
her own beauty after admitting her adultery with Philip (CD 2
tr.10).
As in the theatre, all the singers have excellent diction, the
males in particular. However, this makes me acutely aware of the
limitation imposed by the compromised relationship of English
language prosody with Verdi’s music; they have to get their voices
around the words while keeping true to the vocal line in what
is accepted as a good translation by Andrew Porter. In his constant
reversal to the French language for his various revisions, Verdi
wrote in a manner for the words to sit on the music, much as the
bel canto composers did half a century before. For many
listeners being able to hear the words so clearly allows the story
to unfold without their having to read the libretto along the
way.
In the theatre, Albery’s management of the
auto da fe scene
(CD 2 trs. 6-10) was exemplary with an impressively staged pyre
an added
coup de théâtre. In this recording, with a strong
roster of Flemish deputies, the committed singing of the chorus
and with Farnes again lighting metaphorical fires in the orchestra
it is an equal
tour de force.
Robert J Farr