The very fact that this recording was made at
all is a cause for celebration. The 2004 Tristan und Isolde
was declared by EMI to be the last commercial recording of its
kind; henceforth opera would be available only on DVDs of live
performances – but here we are with a brand new Madama Butterfly
performed by a top-rate cast and conductor.
When he became the Royal Opera’s Music Director
in 2002, Pappano vowed to make recordings only with his resident
forces, but being a pragmatist and no prima donna of the old
school, he sensibly compromised his principles when the opportunity
arose to make this recording in Rome. Given that an opera recording
can incur costs approaching half a million pounds, it made sense
to integrate the project into the annual schedule of the Accademia
Nazionale di Santa Cecilia. Overheads such as the hall, the
studio and the orchestra itself were thus absorbed within the
Accademia’s budget and the project became commercially viable.
Furthermore, the timing was right: had the current financial
crisis hit earlier, or the session schedule been delayed, one
wonders if it would ever have got off the ground.
So we have every reason to cheer and hope that so risky a venture
as a new, complete, opera recording proves financially successful.
I feel a certain pressure on me as a reviewer to be as positive
as possible about this set – and, thankfully, that’s not too
hard. The indications are all good: the reigning EMI house diva
Angela Gheorghiu has a particular affinity with Puccini; her
voice has just the right plangency and morbidezza for
his heroines. She has not sung the rôle on stage – but then,
neither had Mirella Freni when she made her seminal version
with Karajan – and indeed, she never did perform it live. German
tenor Jonas Kaufmann is one of the two or three most sought-after
on the circuit, with a voice having the kind of heft that is
all too rare today. Antonio Pappano is proving to be the most
dependable and successful of conductors; despite being only
in mid-career he has already made a dozen opera sets at a time
when most conductors can only dream of so doing. Finally, the
idea of returning a major Puccini recording to the Accademia
Nazionale di Santa Cecilia has a nostalgic as well as a practical
appeal: they were responsible for legion top-quality recordings
in the 1950s.
So can I be sufficiently positive about this recording? Yes;
but with some qualifications. Let’s start with the obvious:
the sound is spectacularly good; spacious, warm, and superior
to any previous set – so much so that there is quite a lot of
extraneous noise, especially if one listens through headphones:
creaks, thumps, groans and cars accelerating all form a sonic
underlay, so acute are the microphones. Balances are very good
and the virtuosity of Pappano’s orchestra is there for all to
hear; there is energy and attack in plenty, in combination with
some lovely gradation of dynamics. Little details and subtleties
emerge under Pappano’s direction; he has clearly re-thought
the score and brought his customary zest to bear. Karajan’s
reading – my main reference point for comparison – is often
longer-breathed and grander, and the sound a little more plush,
less pointed – but I haven’t heard many complaints about either
his conducting or the technical quality of the Decca recording.
Madama Butterfly must stand or fall by the quality of its two principals,
but I’ll deal with the supporting cast first. All are more than
adequate, yet each is bettered elsewhere. I have always thought
that Robert Kerns’s Sharpless, in the Karajan set, has been
unfairly criticised for dullness; he has a pleasant voice and
responds both wisely and sympathetically to the caddish Pinkerton’s
self-inflicted predicament. He is no Gobbi, whose nuanced vocalisation,
apart from some strain in the upper reaches of his range, is
near ideal in the 1954 recording conducted by Gavazzeni. Compared
with both of these, Fabio Capitanucci is a bit of a bellower;
he has a nice voice but little subtlety. As Suzuki, Enkelejda
Shkosi is a little wobbly and matronly compared with Christa
Ludwig, though her Flower Duet with Gheorghiu goes very well.
Similarly, Cristina Reale’s Kate reveals too much wobble in
her few phrases. Gregory Bonfatti’s Goro has one of those “cutting
edge” character tenors which can grate on the ear; I much prefer
Michel Sénéchal’s silky insolence in the Karajan. Raymond Aceto’s
Bonzo is simply unacceptable; his uningratiating tone is as
bad as I had remembered - from his Capellio in “I Capuleti e
i Montecchi”. Give me Marius Rintzler’s noble sound any day.
The chorus is excellent, especially the ladies accompanying
Butterfly as they ascend the hill.
Now to the raison d’être of this set: Gheorghiu’s Butterfly.
As with her recordings of La Rondine and Tosca,
both made before she had sung the parts on stage, this is her
first essay at this most demanding of lyric-spinto rôles – although
you would never guess it. She really lives the part and certain
moments are unforgettably realised: the searing, surging despair
of her “Ah! m’ha scordata?”, the lovely, liquid portamenti in
the love duet, the heart-rending cries of “Morta!” in “Sai cos’ebbe
cuore” – as Sharpless observes, “Quanta pietà” indeed; she never
fails to move. Even without quite having the vocal resources
of some of her illustrious vocal forebears, she manages triumphantly
the transition from fragile teenager to heart-broken wife and
mother to tragic heroine. She cannot emulate the unearthly beauty
of Mirella Freni’s floated D-flat in the entrance aria – Gheorghiu’s
is not ideally steady – but she does almost everything else
admirably. Her fans will want this set for her performance alone.
There is one puzzling little oddity, given the obvious
time and trouble expended on this recording: Gheorghiu fluffs
the words at the beginning of Act 2, saying “Perchè rispose”
instead of “dispone”. A negligible error – but why not re-take?
Finally, to Jonas Kaufmann’s Pinkerton – and
for me, here’s the rub. I have greatly admired his singing,
both live and on disc, although I was far less enthusiastic
than some about his singing of the classic Italian tenor rôles on his recital disc; it seems to me that his timbre
is far better suited to Weber, Wagner and Bizet’s Don José and
I hear nothing here to change my mind. I miss the smile in the
voice, the Italianate gleam, the seamless legato of a true Puccini
tenor like Pavarotti in his prime. Kaufmann’s hefty, baritonal
sound is certainly thrilling and there is every justification
for characterising the cruel, feckless Pinkerton as a bit of
a brute. This, apparently, was Kaufmann’s conception of Pinkerton
as “cold, calculating”; it both suits his voice and explains
why, according to reports, both Gheorghiu and Pappano were urging
him to greater passion in the love music. That said, it robs
Pinkerton of an essential vocal allure and the audience of any
chance of suspending their condemnation of an essentially unattractive
anti-hero. You have to believe that Pinkerton, as a”Yankee vagabondo”,
temporarily believes his own lies while he is serenading his
new child-wife. In addition, I am perturbed by Kaufmann’s apparent
acquisition of a new vocal bad habit: he repeatedly injects
little glottal sobs into what should be a seamless sound. Presumably
he does this for emotive effect but too much of “les larmes
dans la voix” becomes a tiresome tic. The top of his voice,
although often thrilling, does not expand or caress in the
manner of singers such as Bergonzi or Björling. Thus the climactic
B-flat of “America for ever” is uncomfortable, the pianissimi
can turn husky, and too many high notes are approached with
that little bleat which disrupts the line. I still much enjoyed
listening to his virile, impassioned sound, but I found his
portrayal of Pinkerton a tad two-dimensional, and I hope that
he will not let the glottal habit take root in his voice.
The packaging of this set is a “2CD Limited Edition
deluxe clamshell, [with] 152pp booklet, libretto, synopsis,
liner notes, [and] photos”. In other words, beautifully presented
– although the way the booklet rattles inside the over-large
box is a bit irritating.
Coincidentally, this new recording was made during
the 150th anniversary of Puccini’s birth; it certainly does
him honour it but will not replace the Karajan in my loyalties.
Ralph Moore
Orchestra
e Coro dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia/Antonio Pappano
