It’s impossible to come away from an Offenbach operetta without a smile on your face, and this work is no
exception. While by no means one of his more celebrated works
it is a musical delight, gleaming with good humour from start
to finish and Gardiner’s performance and this recording do it
full justice.
The plot concerns a group of bandits in
northern Italy, led by Falsacappa, who have fallen on
hard times. In order to gain some ready cash they intervene
in the Duke of Mantua’s plans to marry the princess of Granada, passing off Falsacappa’s daughter, Fiorella,
as the princess. They are horrified to find that the Mantuan
treasury is empty due to administrative embezzlement, but
in the end all is forgiven and the Duke’s treasurer arranges
a loan to cover everyone’s expenses. Like many of Offenbach’s other operettas the plot satirises certain
decadent aspects of Second
Empire
France which the audience would surely have recognised, such as the
governmental incompetence which leads to the empty treasury,
or the incompetent Carabinieri who always turn up too late
to be of any use. The work is musically more sophisticated
than its plot would suggest: in particular the way it pokes
fun at figures of authority like the Duke, or the harrumphing
music associated with the officers of the law. In contrast,
the music for the bandits themselves is consistently light-hearted
and fun and quite touching when it comes to the young lovers,
Fiorella and Fragoletto. The arrival of the delegation from
Granada provides a welcome opportunity for some
Spanish colour.
Gardiner’s performance dates from towards
the end of his time as director of the Opera de Lyon and,
while it may not be as widely loved as his recording of Chabrier’s
L’Etoile, it is every bit as successful. There is
a wonderful feeling of ensemble about the performance and
you very much get the feeling that this was a true company
effort without imported superstars. The performers are all
extremely well suited to their roles, led by the roguish,
throaty tenor of Raffall as Falsacappa. He clearly lives
and breathes this music, as do the female leads. Perhaps
Ghislaine Raphanel is a little too edgy as his daughter Fiorella,
failing to convey the winsome youthfulness of this character.
Mezzo Colette Alliot-Lugaz, however, is outstanding in the
breeches role of Fragoletto, her dark, fruity tone providing
a rich contrast between the two lovers: compare their two
entrance arias (CD 1, tracks 7 and 11) to see what I mean.
All of the other soloists are excellent, but you don’t come
away from this set marvelling at star performances: instead
it’s the sense of ensemble that sticks with you. Take, for
example, the Act 2 trio (CD 2, track 8) where the voices blend
with each other as if they’ve been doing this sort of thing
for their whole lives. Marvellous! The chorus work is fantastic
too, be they roguish bandits or incompetent Carabinieri, and
the finales of each act, where each of these elements comes
together, are quite splendid. Unsurprisingly in view of their
conductor, the orchestra plays with transparency and clarity
which really opens up the textures, nowhere more strikingly
than in the clipped, bright opening. Recorded sound is EMI’s
best, clear and immediate.
All of this is shaping up, then, for a top
recommendation, but EMI fall down badly in the presentation
of this set. It’s a budget double re-release so, unsurprisingly,
there are no texts or translations. Contextual notes are
provided but the synopsis included is ridiculously brief and
really will not do for the listener who wants to follow the
work in any level of detail. The CD sleeve claims that the
libretto can be found on EMI’s website, but I searched long
and hard and couldn’t find it anywhere. EMI need to set this
right in order for this set to have the widespread appeal
it so clearly deserves.
Simon Thompson
