The very un-politically correct war comics that I read as a boy
often featured caricatured Japanese soldiers who, as well as screaming
“Banzai!” rather a lot, frequently wore spectacles with lenses
as thick as the bottoms of beer bottles. Perhaps the artists were,
though, on to something for, to judge from the size of the Japanese
subtitles on this DVD, the Japanese must be a very short-sighted
race indeed.
This
is, in fact, a real problem here for, unlike most DVDs where
you can just switch them off, these subtitles were embedded
into the recording at source and, as VAI explain, cannot be
removed at all. They are present throughout the performances,
sometimes even when there is no singing to translate (scene
setting?). Thankfully, the English subtitles, when selected,
are far more discrete and, where possible placed over the
Japanese ones so that you do not lose any more of the on-screen
action. But that raises, incidentally, another technical issue.
Like most DVDs this one has a main menu from which you can select
subtitles in the language of your choice – but whether I opted
for English, French, Spanish or whatever, the resulting words
invariably appeared on the screen in German! Thankfully I discovered
by chance that the solution is to ignore the main menu options
and to use your remote control’s “options” button to set the
subtitles language. At least, this worked for me – I hope it
will for all potential purchasers!
So,
on to the performances – and Cav first ... A very simple
set on the large stage offers plenty of room for action, especially
from the lively and well-drilled chorus. A major flaw is, though,
the lighting. A naturalistic production like this surely needs
to look very bright and very hot, emphasising and reinforcing
the emotional temperature of the stage melodrama. Unfortunately,
the blue-grey skies louring over the village in this production
make the village look less Sicily than Surbiton.
The
quality of musicianship is, though, apparent from the beginning,
with a sensitively played Prologue - de Fabritiis’s 56 years
previous experience in the pit clearly in evidence as he draws
highly idiomatic performances from his Japanese orchestra both
here and in the later Intermezzo - a powerfully sung
off-stage Siciliana from Domingo and a confidently sung
opening chorus.
From
her first appearance, it is clear why Cossotto was so often
the Santuzza of choice in the 1960s and 1970s (she also took
the role on Karajan’s 1965 recording and 1968 filmed version).
Her deep, rich and powerful voice is ideally suited to the emotions
required by the role and her acting is very effective and moving
(though even she is defeated by the [over]acting expected of
her as she emotes silently during the last part of the Prologue).
This Santuzza is one angry woman - not the helpless and hopeless
creature one sometimes encounters – and her Easter Hymn is
the comparatively brisk outpouring of one who is not there to
wallow in self pity. Domingo (carrying a few extra pounds in
the mid ‘70s) is equally powerful and the two of them match
– and escalate – each other’s passions superbly and to impressive
dramatic effect in their big duet. Later, Turiddu’s song in
praise of wine also goes well both vocally and as a piece of
acting. By making the supposed joie de vivre look and
sound forced, Domingo makes his character’s subsequent “remorse”
and “repentance” quite explicable.
The
other cast members – all native Italians – provide sound support.
Interestingly enough, the DVD cover refers to them all as “singing
actors” rather than (as one might have thought more likely)
“acting singers”, though that might ultimately be justified
by their uniformly rather unremarkable (if vocally perfectly
adequate) performances. Attilio d’Orazi has, despite some rather
unconvincing facial hair, effective stage presence. Though not
initially making a great impact as Alfio the carefree carter,
he subsequently rises to the occasion well in his confrontations
with both Santuzza and Turiddu. His wife Lola, sung by Gabriella
Novielli, suffers, though, by being presented too low key rather
than the flashy tart she surely ought to be: it is hard to believe
that this woman could have ensnared anyone, let alone the village
stud Turiddu. Mamma Lucia (Nella Verri) is the victim not only
of her son’s delinquency but also of more rather unsophisticated
work by the make-up department.
Moving
on to Pag, the big selling point of this release becomes
immediately apparent, for this performance was given and recorded
on the very same night as the Cav - and Plácido Domingo
took the lead tenor role in both. That is something that, for
obvious reasons, not many singers have attempted.
Immediately
one is struck one again by the orchestra’s full-blooded and
vital contribution that underpins the on-stage dramatics most
effectively. Tonio’s Prologue is well sung and powerfully delivered
by Benito di Bella and is much appreciated by the enthusiastic
audience, whereupon the curtain rises to reveal – Surbiton!
Yes, it’s essentially the same set with a low wall running along
the back and Cav’s church now transformed into a nondescript
tenement. Thankfully, however, many of the earlier performance’s
positive features - quite apart from Domingo himself! - remain
in place. The chorus, for instance, is once again both very
strong vocally and dramatically animated, filling the available
space on stage with notable energy and enthusiasm in the crowd
scenes.
Elena
Mauti-Nunziata is a good-looking Nedda and makes a strong, stylish
impression in her ode to the birds, carrying that over successfully
into her confrontation with the amorous Tonio and the more passionate
encounter with her lover Silvio - Lorenzo Saccomani singing
well and passionately in their duet, even though he is forced
to do so through yet another poorly applied set of false whiskers.
The
star of the show, though, is predictably and undoubtedly Plácido
Domingo. Assuming that the interval between Cav and Pag
was of normal length that night, his vocal strength right
from I Pagliacci’s opening scene is amazing … and he
even has the stamina to give that drum a far heftier than usual
thumping! His is a powerfully dramatic interpretation: you’d
be frightened of this Canio even in the unlikely scenario of
finding him in a good mood. Of course, there are also
all the masterly and handsome sounds that one would expect too,
but they are all married – and fall subservient - to the score’s
dramatic requirements. Thus Vesti la giubba is, in this
interpretation, delivered with rather less wallowing self pity
than is often the case, even though the traditional sobs are
still in plentiful supply at the end. As always, it brings the
house down.
Act
II’s “play within a play” is well conceived and executed, with
our final soloist Beppe/Harlequin (Piero De Palma) giving a
creditable performance. There’s also great and very lively support
from that Japanese chorus. Domingo’s portrayal of the humiliated,
despairing and murderous Canio is a technically superb and highly
convincing piece of operatic acting that almost convinces one
that this pretty preposterous plot - which, in spite of all
the Prologue’s protestations to the contrary, it really is -
might really be verismo after all.
The
technical quality of these recordings is very good, given that
they are more than thirty years old. The sound is clear and,
although the camera loses sharp focus once or twice, the director
was clearly well clued up so that he doesn’t miss any important
action. Unfortunately, VAI’s packaging offers nothing other
than a single small insert listing artists and tracks. These
outstanding performances deserve better.
Perhaps
one day technology will permit the removal of those embedded
Japanese subtitles without damaging the original material. But
still, in the meantime, Domingo’s legion of fans and all lovers
of fine – and dramatic - singing should seek out this DVD without
delay.
Rob Maynard
Fiorenza Cossotto
- Santuzza 
[158:02]
