Mozart was approached
by the impresario Guardasoni with the
commission to write an opera for Emperor
Leopold’s Coronation Day in Prague on
6 September 1791. This must have come
as a considerable surprise. He well
knew that he was not flavour of the
month in the Royal Court, particularly
with the Empress. By the time a positive
decision had been made to present a
newly composed opera as part of the
celebrations, and Salieri had refused
the commission due to pressure of work,
time was very short. Mozart was heavily
involved in the composition of Die
Zauberflöte.
Much has been written
and conjectured about the how Mozart
might have composed Tito, including
suggestions that he might have done
it in his head during the three day
coach journey from Vienna to Prague
and then wrote it out on his arrival.
Research on the paper used in the manuscript
score, which fortunately survives, indicates
a more complex story. Mozart certainly
wrote some numbers from the opera before
he had any idea of the commission coming
his way. It is suggested that he had
been approached by Guardasoni after
the success of Don Giovanni in Prague
with the proposal for another opera,
perhaps even one based on the Tito libretto.
These pieces were part of a composition
that did not come to fruition at that
time. Certainly La clemenza di Tito
was chosen for the Coronation Day opera
because of the prior availability of
Metastasio’s libretto - one that could
easily be adapted by Mazzola the Court
poet who had replaced Da Ponte. That
Tito was in the rather static opera
seria form might have disappointed Mozart
whose last work in this genre had been
Idomeneo in 1781 since when his operas
had moved on in style and vitality as
well as humour.
Working with Mazzola
Mozart was able to breathe some vitality
into Metastasio’s original libretto.
Despite these efforts circumstances
surrounding the Coronation Day lead
to the work’s initial failure. However,
by the final performance on 30 September,
the night of the premiere of Die
Zauberflöte in Vienna,
it was a resounding success. In the
following forty years Tito stood alongside
Don Giovanni as Mozart’s most popular
stage work until it fell into decline.
The recently reissued Decca 1967 recording
did much to catalyse renewed interest
and several staged productions and audio
recordings followed, not least by period
instrument bands who managed to breathe
vitality into the more turgid parts.
One of the best of the staged productions
was that by Anthony Besch at Covent
Garden in 1974. He and his designer
were not frightened of the period Roman
setting or costumes. I found the opera
most interesting and stimulating in
this context. That series of performances
was the basis for the later highly regarded
Philips recording under Colin Davis.
I regret I know of no video recording
of that production.
The present production
started life in 1982 at Brussels’ Théâtre
de la Monnaie during Gérard Mortier’s
regime as intendant. When he moved to
Salzburg he revived it there. The conductor
Riccardo Muti found difficulty with
the production and decamped. With Mortier
now in charge in Paris it reappears,
albeit refurbished. With a shoe box
staging Roman allusions are restricted
to a throne, a model Roman building
being carried around, a distant pillared
corridor viewed through an open door
at the rear of the shoe box and a crown
of laurels for Tito. The costumes are
a mish-mash. Publio has a long trailing
morning coat whilst at times Tito looks
as if he is dressed in a cross between
Long Johns, a white boiler suit and
pyjamas. The women, those playing women
and those in travesti, are dressed as
if they have strayed in from a modelling
session in a Paris Haute Couture salon.
The acting is very stylised with exaggerated
facial agonies and wringing hand movements,
both in frequent close-up. Yes, there
is some focus on aspects of the personal
dramas and interactions of the persona
of the drama but the overall lack of
cohesion and context left this viewer
with a sense of frustration. The most
profound frustration I felt is that
the core role of Sesto is taken by the
American high mezzo Susan Graham. Without
doubt she is the outstanding interpreter
of this role before the public at this
time. Her singing is outstanding and
her interpretation overcomes the limitations
of the direction, stylised acting and
costume. Her rendering of Sesto’s Parto,
parto is vibrant and expressive
and no mere vocal showpiece (D1 Ch.
16). Likewise, Graham’s rendering of
the rondo aria Deh per questo
istante, as Sesto pleads with
Tito to remember their past affection,
is a vocal tour de force (D2 Ch. 13);
a pity though about the close-ups as
she plays with Tito’s laurel crown.
Elsewhere the singing
varies between the acceptable and the
mediocre. Catherine Neglestad takes
the ‘bady’ role of Vitellia, with its
range from G below middle C to top G.
She hasn’t quite got the lowest notes
or the ideal freedom at the top, but
she sings with dramatic intention and
inflection and a good range of vocal
colour in her contrition aria (D2 Chs.
18-19). Neglestad’s applying to her
face of what look like war-paint symbols
during Sesto’s Parto, parto,
and the overflowing of bosom in her
wedding dress in the last scene, do
nothing for the role’s credibility or
the drama of the opera. In the small
role of Servillia, Ekaterina Siurina
sings pleasantly as does Hannah Esther
Minutillo as Annio although the latter’s
very feminine features and floor mop
hair style do not help in conveying
of masculinity. Of the men Roland Bracht
as Publio is steadier than as Sarastro
on Haitink’s 1981 audio recording of
Die Zauberflöte whilst
his costume, beard and hairstyle do
nothing for his dramatic credibility.
In the name part Christoph Prégardien
is dry-voiced and tonally ungracious.
When I saw the Besch’s Covent Garden
production, Stuart Burrows might have
looked matronly in his toga but he was
sappy of tone and vocally mellifluous,
qualities he took into Colin Davis’s
recording. Prégardien does not
have those vocal skills and with his
heavy jowls does not benefit from the
frequent close-ups. The direction and
costumes make him seem more the vacillating
ninny than the noble, compassionate
Emperor of the libretto.
Gerard Mortier obviously
loves this production and has done everything
in his power to present it in this long-lasting
form. Personally I much prefer the 1991
Glyndebourne production (Arthaus Music)
whose overall standard of singing is
also superior. Ponnelle’s film of the
opera, conducted by Levine, is also
scheduled for release on DG in the spring
of 2006. With Tatiana Troyanos as Sesto
it will provide further competition.
As for this issue, the only justification
for adding it to a collection is the
outstanding singing of Susan Graham
in this performance of Mozart’s penultimate
staged work. Die Zauberflöte
was premiered on 30 September and ten
weeks later the composer was dead. Which
of those last two works for the stage,
much of which were contemporaneously
composed, is the greater work. This
point is much more debated now that
Tito is more widely available for critical
appraisal than it was when Decca issued
their ground-breaking Vienna recording
forty years ago.
Robert J Farr
Orchestra and Chorus of The Opéra National
de Paris/Sylvain Cambreling 
OPUS
ARTE OA 0942 D [2 DVDs: 68.01 + 79.11] 
