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
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
Verona Arena Chorus and Orchestra/Alain Lombard (Carmen), Daniel
Oren (Tosca), Nello Santi (Aida)
[6 DVDs: 415.00] 