Nazzareno de Angelis’s
reputation essentially rests on one
role: the titular hero of the present
opera. De Angelis (1881-1962) sang Mefistofele
over 500 times across a career that
lasted upwards of 35 years. His other
major role was Rossini’s Mosè,
an excerpt of which appears in the appendix
to the present set, but this Mefistofele
is his only complete opera recording.
De Angelis’s reputation remains huge,
and one should be grateful to Naxos
for enabling us to remind ourselves
why, and cheaply. Much care has gone
into this production, from Ward Marston’s
excellent work on the sound to Malcolm
Walker’s knowledgeable notes.
De Angelis had a big
voice (with ‘big’ in capitals, really),
one that fitted Boito’s ‘hero’ perfectly.
He first sang the role of Mefistofele
on October 10th, 1919 at
the Teatro Costanzi in Rome. Apparently
the audience cheered for nearly an hour
and the scene was set …
Part of his success
in assuming this role is that the range
seems to fit his voice so well; part
is also the rich bass, so flexible (and
so good at pitched, ‘Mephistophelian’
laughter). It is easy to imagine de
Angelis projecting right to the very
corners of the largest opera houses,
so vibrant and resonant is his instrument.
His repertoire also included Wotan,
King Marke, Gurnemanz and Hagen. After
hearing this set, that Wagnerian roster
comes as no surprise.
One of the most popular
excerpts from Mefistofele is ‘Ave Signor’,
from the Prologue. The almost Berliozian
lightness of the orchestra acts in contrast
to de Angelis’s entrance, which can
only be described as huge. This is imposing
singing and vocal acting and delivers
the climactic point of the ‘Prologue’.
But for sheer power, try the darkly
commanding passages around the ‘Death
of Faust’ (Epilogue). The other oft-excerpted
section is the ‘Ballad of the World
(‘Ecco il mondo’, end Act 2). De Angelis,
predictably, provides stupendous singing
… absolutely magisterial. Not only does
the devil have all the best tunes, he
has all the best opportunities and,
obviously, the best interpreters. De
Angelis’s final held note is wonderfully
self-indulgent.
Molajoli prepares the
ground excellently. The brass-laden
opening to the opera is not only dramatic
but also glowing with grandeur in this
recording. Despite some (understandable)
lack of depth to the recording, orchestral
detail comes through well. Perhaps the
indistinct chorus of the Prologue is
not inappropriate anyway (the angels
are supposed to be heard through clouds
and mist). But the chorus is little
short of magnificent at the start of
Act 1 (‘Easter Monday’). This is virtuoso,
jubilant singing. There is no doubting
the electric atmosphere (even if the
recording does get congested at high
levels).
Mafalda Favero (1903-1981),
who takes the part of Margherita, was
at La Scala from 1928-43. She also took
the roles of Liù, Norina and
Zerlina at Covent Garden, 1937-39. It
is certainly easy to imagine her as
Zerlina (Don Giovanni) or Norina
(Don Pasquale). Favero is rather
tremulous to begin with (Act 2 Scene
1). Act 3 (The Death of Margherita)
is her big chance, and she warms, from
rather nervous beginnings, towards a
tender duet with Faust. She is remarkably
touching as she prepares for her own
death at the end of this act. Her Faust
is Antonio Melandri, who debuted at
La Scala in 1946 (as Calaf) and who
enjoyed an international career. In
Act 3 he seems less convincing than
his Margherita (his repetition of ‘Pace’
does not ring true, especially on direct
comparison to Favero’s replies). He
supplies typical Italian tenor fodder
in Act 1 Scene 2, nicely sung but little
more. In this scene Faust and Mefistofele
appear together – perhaps in less august
company Melandri would come off better.
All of the smaller
parts are well taken. The duet between
Elena and Pantalis (Giannina Arangi-Lombardi
and Rita Monticone) in Act 4 is really
lovely. Here, as elsewhere, Molajoli
inspires his instrumentalists to express
real feeling. He has the gift of making
his tempi seem just right and of moulding
his phrases with the utmost care.
The Naxos synopsis
is incomplete. There is no précis
of the ‘hymn to love’ at the end of
Act 4 (track 10 is omitted entirely);
a shame, as other elements of presentation
are fine. Perhaps this was a review-copy
quirk?
The de Angelis fillers
are, as often with this company, generous
and fascinating. The Barber excerpt,
a blustery ‘La calunnia’ emerges almost
preternaturally clear for its 1927 origins,
and that goes for orchestra as well
as voice. Next some more Rossini, but
not nearly so well known. As mentioned
above, Mosè was an important
opera for de Angelis, and again one
can hear why. He is astonishingly tender
in half-voice. This is a really beautiful
piece (there is also a wonderful trill
at the end. One can actually hear the
alternation of two separate notes, quite
a rarity for a vocal trill!).
Two Nabucco
excerpts add some Verdi to the proceedings.
The lovely legato line of ‘Sperate o
figli’ is unfortunately offset by an
orchestra whose ensemble is suspect.
‘Tu sul labbro dei veggenti’ has many
lovely moments during the course of
its sadness, but does uncharacteristically
give the impression of meandering somewhat.
Which is a criticism that could never,
ever be levelled at King Philip’s aria
from Don Carlo, ‘Ella giammai
m’amò’. The solo cello (excellent)
prepares the way, but it cannot compete
in expressiveness with de Angelis. De
Angelis does not dwell on the King’s
misery, and it becomes powerfully expressive
as a result: no degeneration into mere
surface self-pity here, instead an exposition
of Philip’s tormented mind. The dynamism
near the end is entirely in keeping
with the interpretation.
This is an unforgettable
set which acts on the one hand as a
monument to a great singer, and on the
other a reminder of how involving and
expert Boito’s one masterpiece really
is.
Colin Clarke
Nazzareno de Angelis (bass) Mefistofele; Mafalda
Favero (soprano) Margherita; Antonio Melandri
(tenor) Faust; Giannina Arangi-Lombardi (soprano)
Elena; Rita Monticone (mezzo) Pantalis; Giuseppe
Nessi (tenor) Wagner; Emilio Venturini (tenor)
Nereo; Ida Mannarini (mezzo) Marta