Gluck wrote Ezio for Prague at a time when the Bohemian
capital was a renowned international centre for Italian opera.
Ever since the coronation of Charles VI in 1723 composers from
all over Europe had gone there to stage “Italian seasons”. These
included Italians themselves – a Venetian company was one of
the first – but also many composers from the Habsburg empire,
most notably Mozart who premiered Don Giovanni and La
Clemenza di Tito in the city. Gluck, who had studied at
Prague’s Charles University, composed Ezio for the 1750
carnival season. Many of its numbers were subsequently copied,
so we can infer a success, and some of its tunes were even adopted
for liturgical use at St Vitus’ Cathedral. Ezio soon
fell off the radar, however, and it doesn’t seem to have done
much business since. It’s appropriate, then, that this recording
should come from the enterprising Czech label Arcodiva who recorded
this live performance in 2010.
The opera is to a text by Metastasio, that doyen of 18th
century opera seria librettists. It revolves around fairly
typical themes of love triangles, mistaken assumptions and happily-ever-after
conclusions, though in this case the denouement is so rapid
as to be almost a parody of the convention! Gluck’s music for
this, his fifteenth opera, is solid and dependable but, to my
ears, shows little promise of the great genius his later years
would produce. The arias are pleasant and easy on the ear and
there are memorable turns, such as an effective “rage” aria
for Massimo in the second act, and an energetic trio which rounds
off that same act. Much of it is fairly forgettable, though,
and it isn’t until Fulvia’s final aria where she envisions a
terrible fate, that we get even a hint of the “reform” principles
that Gluck was to put to such famously effective purpose in
his later works.
The performances are very good, though they take a while to
catch fire and the first act is fairly unimpressive from nearly
everyone. Jana Levicová grows into the role of Ezio, acquiring
dignity in the face of suffering in the second act, though her
first act appearances are characterised by languid, almost droopy
singing, especially in her first aria. Eva Müllerová’s Fulvia
is more beautifully feminine though, again, somewhat limp at
the start. She is the singer who most successfully ornaments
her da capos, but it takes a while for her voice to attain
the muscularity needed to carry this off convincingly. Her “Zeffiro”
aria shows her off well, though, and she makes one of the finest
contributions to the last act. The most successful singer overall
is Michaela Šrůmová as the emperor Valentiniano. Her
voice is pure, alluring and agile throughout, always winning,
though always undoubtedly feminine. Yukiko Šrejmová Kinjo
makes a strong Onoria, contrasting well with the other ladies.
The men are a little disappointing: Martin Šrejma is the
better of the pair, secure in his middle and lower range, and
impressing in his rage aria, though he is uncomfortable at the
top and struggles to be heard at some moments in the first act.
Ondrej Socha has a gravelly, unlovely baritone and he struggles
throughout with pitching.
The Prague Symphony Chamber Orchestra play on modern instruments
and do a good job, though their performance – or is it the direction
of Jirí Petrdlík? – is rather homogenous and they could do with
making more of the contrasts in the work. I wonder if the music
would sound any more energetic coming from period instruments.
The whole is recorded in a church acoustic which mainly brings
benefits, creating an atmospheric bloom around the sound, though
sometimes there is rather too long a wait between the end of
a recitative and the beginning of an aria, perhaps to let the
acoustic settle. Enthusiastic applause at the end of each act
tells you that the recording was made live, but the audience
are so well behaved at all other points that otherwise you wouldn’t
suspect it.
None of this should put you off exploring, and if you’re a serious
collector of Gluck then you can pick up this set without fear
of disappointment. For most of us it remains something of a
curiosity and a rarity, but it’s still an interesting listen.
The Italian text is provided but the issue’s only serious let-down
is a lack of any translation, matched with a synopsis that I
found fairly difficult to follow. Most listeners would surely
have preferred some space devoted to a translation rather than
the artist biographies we are given instead. The booklet does,
however, contain a scholarly essay about the piece and some
useful contextual background.
Simon Thompson
Prague Symphony Chamber Orchestra/Jirí Petrdlík 
