Riccardo ZANDONAI (1883-1944)
Francesca da Rimini: Tragedia in 4 Acts (1914)
Francesca, Sara Jakubiak (soprano); Paolo il Bello, Jonathan Tetelman (tenor); Giovanni lo Sciancato, Ivan Inverardi (baritone); Malatestino dall’Occhio, Charles Workman (tenor); Samaritana, Alexandra Hutton (soprano); Ostasio, Samuel Dale Johnson (baritone); Biancofiore, Meechot Marrero (soprano); Garsenda, Mané Galoyan (soprano); Altichiara, Arianna Manganello (mezzo-soprano); Adonella, Karis Tucker (mezzo-soprano); Smaragdi, Amira Elmadfa (mezzo-soprano); Ser Toldo Berardengo, Andrew Dickinson (tenor); Il giullare, Dean Murphy (baritone); Il balestriere, Patrick Cook (tenor); Il torrigiano, Thomas Lehman (baritone)
Berlin Deutsche Opera Chorus & Orchestra/Carlo Rizzi
Christof Loy, stage director; Johannes Leiacker, set designer; Klaus Bruns, costume designer; Olaf Winter, lighting designer
rec. 14 and 17 March 2021, Deutsche Oper Berlin
Picture format: NTSC 16:9; Sound format: PCM Stereo / DTS 5.1 surround; Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Audio language: Italian; Subtitles: Italian, English, German, French, Japanese, Korean
Reviewed in surround
NAXOS NBD0142V Blu-ray [140 mins]
When Puccini realised that he would not live to complete Turandot, his favoured choice to finalise the work from his sketches was Riccardo Zandonai. That was not to be, but the fact that he thought so highly of his young contemporary should give us pause for thought. The stylistic similarities are very obvious, and one could imagine that such a completion would have worked well. There are hints that Zandonai’s success, at its height when Puccini died, would, some felt, overshadow that of the older composer. They need not have been concerned because of his dozen or so operas, only Francesca really succeeded. His four act tragedia was first performed in Turin in February 1914. Covent Garden quickly picked it up the same year and it went on to premiére in Milan, New York and Chicago within the next three years. It was his only lasting success, holding its place in the repertoire through the first half of the 20th century before dropping away to just the occasional revival today.
Francesca is tricked into marrying the physically undesirable Giovanni by the family sending the handsome Paolo to woo her. This works only too well. By the time she realises the deception, it is too late. She reproaches Paolo and he is sent away out of Francesca’s reach. On his return, sometime later, their mutual passion is reignited, and they become lovers. Giovanni discovers them together and kills them both. The parallels with Tristan and Isolde are obvious and this is emphasized during story-telling scenes in Acts 1 and 3. The opera has been called the Italian Tristan and the musical gravity of the two works lends that idea some validity, but Wagner’s masterwork is undeniably stronger.
Act 1 opens with a solo viola played by the jester who has entered the court of the Malatestas for reasons never explained. Operatically he is there to recount the story of Tristan and Isolde, about which he prepares to sing to the gathered ladies of the court, here inexplicably dressed as schoolgirls. His presence is not welcome, and he is dragged off to be mistreated by some of the henchmen, an event not even hinted at in the libretto. The jester is finely sung by baritone Dean Murphy who makes more sense of his role than does the production. The meat of the plot is explained by Ostasio (the very powerful Samuel Dale Johnson – no surprise to read that he currently sings Angelotti and Don Giovanni) - a sort of chief retainer. He relates in a conversation with the notary Ser Toldo Berardengo, that Paolo, a brother of the intended husband Giancotto, is to woo Francesca into signing the marriage contract. Francesca enters, having become aware of the arrival of the “husband” and already she knows that this man she has never met is “the one”. Zandonai’s music exhibits a great lyrical intensity as she, despite the protestations of her sister Samaritana, realises that she will have to leave to be with this man. Sara Jakubiak as Francesca is superb throughout, and justifiably dominates the stage with her spectacular presence and singing. The relationship between Francesca and Samaritana is, like that of Elektra and Chrysothemis, one between the obsessed and strong, and the weak and defeated – and I am aware that Ms Jakubiak has actually sung Chrysothemis. The two singers, Jakubiak as Francesca and Alexandra Hutton as Samaritana, are vocally well contrasted. Jakubiak is every inch the passionate diva and Hutton is equally good but she characterises at a far lower emotional temperature. When Paolo (another splendid voice, Jonathan Tetelman) enters, he and Francesca fall into a haze of unfulfilled desire and Zandonai’s masterly inventions suffuse the soundstage with intense beauty. I note that the production chooses to use this moment to have the notary get Francesca’s signature on the wedding contract, then the unattractive Giancotto to replace Paulo as the suitor on stage. Only at the very end of Act 1 does Francesca realise she has been duped.
Act 2 follows here without a break. Outside the fortress a battle is about to start. Francesca, seemingly ignoring the danger, stays with the soldiers. Paolo appears and admits his treachery has destroyed all peace in his mind. His passion for Francesca is undimmed. This passage of great beauty gives the opportunity for a short but intense love duet, (Jakubiak and Tetelman are magnificent here), before the battle breaks out in all its fury. Paolo is injured but not fatally and Francesca’s husband Gianciotto (strikingly sung by Ivan Iverardi) returns from the battlefield to proclaim that they are close to victory. Francesca manages to get drinks to both her husband and her lover, and they return to strike the last blows against their enemy. A bloody triumph ends the act with plenty of tumultuous music. Paolo’s reward for his gallantry is to be appointed to a military post far away. Francesca, according to the libretto, falls prostrate to the floor crossing herself, presumably at both her own loss and at all the carnage. In this production, she walks triumphantly amongst the soldiery apparently glorying in the blood and gore. I confess that I don’t understand!
Act 3 brings us back to a beautiful apartment some considerable time later where Francesca is reading the story of Lancelot and Guinevere to her ladies (you will notice the literary thread), who have at least now shed their school uniforms in favour of proper dresses. The music at the start is upbeat and Zandonai provides some delicate and altogether lighter textures, but it is not long before the songs are of Tristan and Isolde. A servant tells Francesca that Paolo has returned from his posting after just two months. His entrance changes everything and the rest of the act is a long love duet ending with the two submitting to their mutual desire. The music and indeed the singing are hugely impressive – this is a true operatic love scene.
The final act is in two parts. In Part 1 the third brother Malatestino, (powerfully sung by Charles Workman), a violent and unpredictable character, declares his desire for Francesca. She firmly rejects his advances but reveals she is disturbed by the sounds of torture from elsewhere in the castle. He leaves carrying an axe to do something about it, a task that clearly excites him! Francesca’s husband Gianciotto appears, and she tells him of Malatestino’s treatment of her, then leaves upon hearing him returning. Gianciotto is angry and ready to confront Malatestino when he arrives with his “gift” for Francesca, the head of the offending torture victim, who he has clearly executed on her behalf. Malatestino redirects his brother’s anger by mentioning that he suspects Francesca of having a relationship with Paolo. They plot to surprise the lovers that very night. In Part 2 a brief scene of Francesca with her women leads to the appearance of Paolo and to their final declarations of love before Gianciotto enters and kills them both. Though he is not mentioned in the libretto, Malatestino sits at the side and gloats at the outcome.
The singing and orchestral playing are superb, giving this lesser-known piece a magnificent performance, but there are problems with the production. The music and the libretto present the story of a doomed love, just as Dante (c.1320) originally implied in his depiction of the pair caught in a whirlwind of helpless desire. Boccaccio’s (1374) addition of spurious historical details allowed D’Annunzio (1902) to expand the story such that the librettist Ricordi (1914) was able to write a very fine piece, one of the best operatic librettos (and, one might add, a libretto that attracted several composers). The staging is much more interested in the political story that took place in 13th century Ravenna, but with the usual tactics of Regietheater it updates it so far that parts of the story no longer make sense. Perhaps the most destructive changes are the depiction of a rather self-seeking Francesca in early parts of the opera, and much worse, at the start of Act 4 where far from rejecting Malatestino, Francesca seems to be actively seducing him, of which tactic there is nothing in the libretto. It helps not at all that this essentially medieval story is, in defiance of a lot of the sung text, updated to the period in which the opera was written, the early 20th century, and manages to retain incongruously flourished crossbows and axes. In fairness, director Christof Loy, in an interview with Dorothea Hartmann, printed in the booklet, does explicitly make the case for seeing Francesca as far more complicit in events than the text really implies, very far from being an ingenue, but this sort of directorial intervention is what we have to accept if we are to enjoy a new opportunity to hear and see a work that could almost have been written by Puccini.
Despite all this, I have no hesitation in recommending the disc to collectors, since there are few modern alternatives and, as noted, there are many fine moments in the work. For me the piece may be equal to similarly neglected works by Korngold, Zemlinsky and Schreker which were written around the same time, but not to those of Richard Strauss and indeed Puccini himself.
The opera is well filmed in HD, bright and clear, and the audio, while not the very best in terms of dynamic range, is serviceable, with the surround giving valuable depth to the aural image. The package is completed with a synopsis and useful - one might say, essential - notes (see above) about the production. One problem is the lack of a full Italian-English libretto (I had to cobble one together with the help of Google) because Ricordi’s libretto helps enormously to explain the goings on, especially when the production is being unhelpful in this regard.
One cannot leave it there, however. There is the none-too-small matter of the 1984 Met production with Renata Scotto and Placido Domingo on stage, and the Met Orchestra directed by James Levine. It was justifiably described by the New Yorker magazine as Scotto’s ideal role and a “great performance”. Producer Piero Faggioni takes the now rare decision to follow the instructions in the libretto and stages the piece exactly as Zandonai intended. The result is a blood, thunder and passion-soaked staging that pins you to your seat and, most importantly, makes complete sense of the plot from first to note to last. Despite the age of the 4:3 picture and the middling sound (on DGG DVD 00440 073 4313), this performance, also cast in depth, and directed for video by the great Brian Large, leaves this new production in the shade for emotional and theatrical impact. The present Blu-ray, clear and analytical as it is both to see and hear, does not offer that experience. Find a copy of the Met performance to discover what this work is all about - or dare I suggest that you buy both?
Dave Billinge
Previous review: Paul Corfield Godfrey
