Georges BIZET (1838-1875)
Carmen (1875)
Giacomo PUCCINI (1858-1924)
Tosca (1900)
Giuseppe VERDI (1813-1901)
Aida (1871)
Verona Arena Chorus and Orchestra/Alain Lombard (Carmen), Daniel Oren (Tosca),
Nello Santi (Aida)
rec. 1992-2006
ARTHAUS 107 520 DVD [6 DVDs: 415.00]
As is always the case with chunky boxed sets which contain collections of
disparate performances, one wonders precisely what market issues such as these
are aimed at. Possibly at those who have visited the Verona Arena, and want
a souvenir of their visit? Possibly completists who want to own every copy
of a particular opera? Be that as it may, this box contains an absolutely
excellent Carmen, a very good Tosca and a complete dud of an
Aida. The audiences clearly enjoy all the performances, and cheer them
to the non-existent rafters.
CARMEN
The productions of Franco Zeffirelli have always divided, and continue to
divide, critics. His stagings are invariably packed full of original insights
and ideas but the results can be overloaded with detail. His fondness for
the grand effect can result in a surfeit of irrelevant onstage movement which
distracts from the principal centre of dramatic attention. However on the
vast stage of the Verona arena there is no danger of this, and even the equine
intruders who figure in three of the four Acts hardly seem over the top. And
there are some nicely original ideas - in the First Act Micaela invites José
to join her for a coffee while they discuss his mother’s health, for
example, which is more realistic than having them standing about discussing
the subject in a public square. Zeffirelli gets the singers to interact plausibly
with each other, and despite the fact that close-ups reveal performers’
eyes straying to the conductor on occasions there is plenty of dramatic interchange
as well.
With an entirely non-French cast, and in the Verona acoustic, it is probably
just as well that Guiraud’s recitatives - which are really not as dreadful
as received opinion would claim - are by and large employed instead of Bizet’s
original spoken dialogue. In two places dialogue is however substituted for
the recitative, once just before the Seguidilla and once after the
Card Trio, for no very obvious reason; and in the final Act the Entr’acte
is moved from the beginning of the Act to a new position after the
opening chorus to provide a ballet interlude. This seems unnecessary, since
Guiraud did prepare a full-length ballet for that Act if dancing was required
(at the Paris Opéra, for example) which is nowadays invariably omitted
(it includes a first draft for the Farandole from the second L’Arlésienne
suite, which Guiraud also arranged). Otherwise we are given the standard early
twentieth century text, with no additions from the controversial Oeser edition
- which attempted to restore Bizet’s original including passages which
may have been cut by the composer before the first performance - and this
works well.
The mainly young cast give excellent performances musically as well as dramatically.
Marina Domashenko is a very Slavonic mezzo, but she sounds well suited to
her role and her singing is free from any suspicion of wobble even on the
highest notes. Marco Berti looks rather gormless at the beginning, but he
grows into the possessed fanaticism of the frustrated lover with an intensity
that is consequently even more frightening; and he sings extremely well despite
a (not uncommon) failure to give us a pianissimo at the end of the
Flower Song. One can however see why Carmen would wish to throw him over for
the extremely handsome Raymond Aceto, who also brings just the right degree
of fatuous self-satisfaction to the part of the glamorous toreador. And Maya
Dashuk is an excellent Micaela, for once a real rival to Carmen with a beautifully
creamy voice and plenty of self-aware presence - a far cry from the milksop
figure we sometimes encounter. The supporting roles, with the exception of
a woolly-sounding Zuniga, are all excellently taken.
Alain Lombard, the only Frenchman involved in the whole enterprise, gets an
outstanding performance from the orchestra with invariably well-judged speeds
and plenty of expressive pointing; only the flute in the Third Act Entr’acte
and the horns during Micaela’s aria could possibly be more emotionally
engaging. The chorus acquit themselves excellently, with some very striking
phrasing and plenty of body, and throw themselves with enthusiasm into Zeffirelli’s
individual treatment of the various chorus members.
TOSCA
The production here by Hugo de Ana here does not take much advantage of the
Verona space - the sets are generally confined and basic - but the dramatic
direction is superb. The singers really interact with each other, and except
when they move off microphone are well captured in sonic terms. There is plenty
of subtlety here, although how much would have carried through into the vast
arena is more debatable. The staging manages a real coup de théâtre
with a spectacular entrance for Scarpia, and the Te Deum spreads grandiosely
across the whole of the acting area. In the Second Act Scarpia is a real threat
to Tosca, almost raping her before Vissi d’arte, to such an extent
that one wonders why he feels the need to seek her consent. At the end Tosca
disappears up a short flight of stairs into darkness, whereupon a stunt double
appears at the very top of the set - but she does not jump, presumably because
the rising stage area at Verona would not permit that, and the result is almost
triumphant rather than tragic. The best solution to the problem I have seen
comes in the otherwise generally indifferent recent production at the Metropolitan
Opera in New York, where Tosca launches herself across the stage into mid-air
to be caught by a blackout in mid-flight. Any conscientious Health and Safety
Officer would have nightmares for weeks about this, but the result is spectacular
in the extreme and I never want to see again the heroine plunge over the back
of the stage to be caught on a mattress carefully positioned below - and usually
hesitating to make sure the mattress is in its proper place before she does
so.
Fiorenza Cedolins as the heroine is quite simply superb, singing with variety
of tone and absolute command of all her vocal registers, and her reactions
to Cavaradossi and Scarpia are realistic. Marcelo Álvarez as her lover
also produces plenty of volume when required, but can shade his voice down
to produce singing of a subtlety that is sometime surprising and often enchanting.
Ruggero Raimondi starts with great gusto after his triumphant entrance, showing
no sign of age; but afterwards his voice begins to sound tired and he sometimes
resorts to shouting instead of singing. The smaller parts are well taken,
with a charming young soprano as the shepherd boy but who is his silent companion,
and what is he doing there?
In the last Act there has been an increasing tendency in modern productions
for Cavaradossi to show that he realises that his ‘fake’ execution
will be all too real, endeavouring to conceal this fact from Tosca by a false
show of bonhomie. Hugo de Ana and Álvarez will have none of
this - he is as deceived as she is. The more subtle interpretation may be
sustainable in dramatic terms, but Puccini’s music clearly shows that
both believe in the idea of the fake execution, and the composer would surely
have given an ironic twist to the music if he had intended otherwise. Moreover
Cavaradossi is not really any more ‘street-wise’ than Tosca. He
impulsively agrees to help Angelotti in the First Act without any conceived
plan of how he is going to do this; he allows the fugitive to hide in the
face of imminent arrest rather than getting him away to a safe distance; and
worst of all he deliberately provokes his own sentence of death by taunting
Scarpia after Napoleon’s victory is announced, when anybody with the
slightest degree of intelligence would have maintained a discreet silence.
If he had done this, the opera might well have finished half-way through
the Second Act, with everybody (except Angelotti) living happily ever after.
But then, Sardou’s play is a creaking melodrama and not even Puccini
can really persuade us otherwise.
The orchestral playing under Daniel Oren is well-controlled and full of character;
the chorus are a bit ragged - the children especially so - but the difficulties
of maintaining co-ordination across the vast spaces of the Verona Arena must
be formidable. There are some gripping effects, especially from the real cannon
- some of which seem to fire more convincingly than others - towards the end
of Act One. The first cannon shot brought my dog leaping to his feet with
concern.
AIDA
Aida is a work that has long been closely associated with presentations
at Verona, and we are informed that the sets and costumes here are based on
those for the first performances there in 1913. They are also about the best
thing about this production, although one may take leave to doubt that some
of the scanty costumes for the dancers would have been acceptable in that
era. However the stage designs make any element of dramatic surprise at the
end of the Third Act almost impossible - Aida and Radames must both be effectively
blind not to notice Amonasro and Amneris listening in - and the producer has
largely left his singers to their own devices, which in the case of nearly
everyone except Aida and Amneris means very little indeed. It would appear
that the video producer agreed with this assessment; the camera continually
cuts away to pieces of variably interesting scenery, or to shots of the conductor
(which are not interesting at all) even in the middle of vocal phrases - which
ruins any sense of dramatic verisimilitude altogether.
In fact the conducting of Nello Santi effectively sinks this performance without
trace. Even in the 1960s he was always a routine conductor at best, and by
the time of this performance in 1992 he appears to have ossified totally.
When he sets a tempo, he hardly ever sticks consistently to it for long; and
it is clear that the singers, rapidly losing confidence in his ability to
meaningfully direct the performance, have decided to set their own speeds
leaving the orchestra to tail along in their wake as best they can. This leads
to an absolute disaster at the end of the Temple Scene, where for the lack
of a clear lead from the conductor Radames and Ramfis cannot even sing “Immenso
Phthah!” together. The internal balances in the orchestra also leave
a great deal to be desired; the scrawny strings at the beginning of Act Three,
not even vaguely ethereal, still manage to relegate the flute solo which they
are supposed to be accompanying to almost total inaudibility.
Of the singers, Dolora Zajick is the only one who seems to evince any more
than the slightest interest in her fellow performers; she brings the house
down - as any good Amneris should - in the trial scene, and it is not her
fault that the orchestra is bumpy and frequently out of time both with her
and each other. Maria Chiara, a very good Aida in her day, was past her best
in 1992. Her top notes are sadly worn and her attempts at pianissimo
are vitiated by an obstinate vibrato; and one cannot blame her for
showing a decided lack of interest in her Radames. In this role Kristján
Jóhansson hardly cuts a heroic stage presence, persistently refusing
to look at anyone else on it and instead delivering a blasting and unremitting
stream of fortissimo straight out to the audience; when entombed he
actually manages to trim back to mezzo forte once or twice, but the
dramatic situation seems to concern him not one iota. Juan Pons copes with
Santi’s persistent refusal to set a steady speed by setting his own
tempo at maximum volume and keeping to it despite everything else going on
around him, and he too is reluctant to lower his voice. Nicola Ghiuselev is
good and solid as Ramfis, but the rest of the cast is nothing special. The
chorus, which looks massive in the Triumphal Scene, are curiously underpowered;
indeed it sounds as if only half of them are actually singing. The corps
de ballet are fine, but their costumes in the Dance of the Priestesses
are noisy and the swishing of them actually drowns out the music.
The undiscriminating audience applaud enthusiastically at every possible opportunity,
sometimes drowning out the orchestra and once - at the beginning of the Temple
Scene - drowning out the voice of the Priestess, although when we do actually
get the chance to hear her we do not feel we have missed much. There have
been two other recordings of Aida from Verona available at various
times. One of these from 1966 with Leyla Gencer was in black-and-white; but
a 1981 recording - with a younger and much fresher Maria Chiara - is generally
very much better cast, Anton Guadagno is an infinitely better conductor than
Santi, and for anyone specifically wanting a Verona performance it can be
strongly recommended. But this DVD is a real dud, and anyone who purchases
this rather oddly assorted box must be prepared to treat it as such.
Incidentally it seems to me that Verona’s choice of repertory, restricted
as it is to the most popular of the Italian and French repertoire, must more
or less have exhausted the possibilities of the spectacular venue. There are
a great many other operas which would benefit from the grandiose opportunities
that could be provided for stagings - Meyerbeer or Spontini, for example,
or some of the Russian operas, or even Lohengrin. One realises that
the repertoire must be such as would attract a substantial paying public,
but surely a greater degree of adventurousness would be welcome.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
A rather oddly assorted box.
see also review of the Aida performance on TDK
by Robert
Farr
Masterwork Index: Aida
Performance details
Carmen: Marina Domashenko (mezzo: Carmen),
Marco Berti (tenor: Don José), Raymond Aceto (baritone:
Escamillo), Maya Dashuk (soprano: Micaela), Cristina Pastorello
(soprano: Frasquita), Milena Josipovic (soprano: Mercédès),
Marco Camastra (tenor: Dancaire), Antonio Feltracco (baritone:
Remendado), Dario Benini (bass: Zuniga), Roberto Accurso (baritone:
Moralès), Benjamin Britten Children’s Choir, Verona
Arena Chorus and Orchestra/ Alain Lombard, dir. Franco Zeffirelli,
video direction George Blume
rec. Verona Arena, 2003 [2 DVDs: 150.00]
Available separately as Arthaus 107 019
Tosca: Fiorenza Cedolins (soprano: Tosca), Marcelo
Álvarez (tenor: Cavaradossi), Ruggero Raimondi (bass:
Scarpia), Marco Spotti (bass: Angelotti), Fabio Previtali (baritone:
Sacristan), Enrico Facini (tenor: Spoletta), Giuliano Pelizon
(bass: Sciarrone), Angelo Nardinocchi (bass: Gaoler), Ottavia
Dorrucci (girl soprano: Shepherd boy), A.Li.Ve Children’s
Choir, Verona Arena Chorus and Orchestra/Daniel Oren, dir. Hugo
de Ana, video direction Loreena Kaufmann
rec. Verona Arena, 2006 [2 DVDs: 119.00]
Available separately as Arthaus 107 195
Aida: Maria Chiara (soprano: Aida), Kristján
Jóhanssen (tenor: Radames), Dolora Zajick (mezzo: Amneris),
Juan Pons (baritone: Amonasro), Nicola Ghiuselev (bass: Ramfis),
Carlo Striull (bass: King), Anna Schiatti (soprano: Priestess),
Angelo Casertano (tenor: Messenger), Verona Arena Chorus and
Orchestra/Nello Santi, dir. Gianfranco de Bostio, video direction
Gianni Casalino rec. Verona Arena, 1992 [2 DVDs: 146.00]
Available separately as Arthaus 107 253