Saverio Mercadante is most often seen as a stop-gap in the history of Italian
opera, lost in the transition between late bel canto and early Verdi.
It’s an undeserved ignorance, though, as anyone who knows Il Giuramente
will be aware. There is a lot more to the composer than that, and one of
the many virtues of this release is the excellent booklet essay which contextualises
Mercadante's career and achievements. It’s essential reading for any
serious opera lover. Riccardo Muti seems to agree that he is worthy
of reassessment, and as part of the 2011 Ravenna Festival he brought back
from the grave Mercadante’s take on the Figaro story. Muti is famous
for his musical archaeology on well known works, but this recording succeeds
because it refocuses attention on an unfairly neglected work by an unfairly
neglected composer. We are all the richer for having it.
Beaumarchais wrote a trilogy of Figaro plays, the first two of which were
famously set to music by Rossini and Mozart. However, Mercadante's opera
isn't the third in the trilogy: that’s La Mère Coupable,
which was later turned into an opera by Darius Milhaud. I Due Figaro
is based on a play by another French writer, Honoré-Antoine
Richard Martelly. The plot is much more light-hearted than La Mère
Coupable and serves as a very satisfying alternative third part as it
picks up most of the same characters from pretty much the same emotional
state where we left them. Figaro is, perhaps, a little more grumpy than
we remember him, and much of the plot involves him getting his comeuppance
for some venal scheming. It’s easy to recognise the Almavivas, Susanna
and Cherubino from their previous selves. Much of the action, such as the
bickering between Susanna and Figaro or the touching familiarity of the
scene where Susanna uses her wiles on the Count to prevent him from sending
her away, feels like being reintroduced to old friends.
The plot itself revolves around the marriage of the Count and Countess’s
daughter, Ines. Figaro wants to marry her off to his friend Torribio, who
is masquerading as a nobleman, so that they can share the dowry. Ines is
in love with Cherubino who has returned to the house as a successful soldier,
fifteen years after the events of Le Nozze. Some parts of it clearly
owe a lot to Beaumarchais and Mozart, especially the easily recognisable
scene where Cherubino hides in a wardrobe to escape discovery while in Ines’
bedchamber. It works well as a piece on its own, though, and Mercadante's
music fits the story brilliantly. Written in 1826, we are clearly still
in the sound-world of Rossini and in many ways Mercadante models himself
on his compatriot. He does so most successfully and provides an entertainment
wholly worthy of consideration on its own terms. He embraces the Spanish
setting of the story much more enthusiastically than did Rossini or Mozart
and there are numerous flashes of Spanish colour throughout. This starts
with the delightful overture or, more accurately, Sinfonia caratteristica
Spagnola. Susanna's entrance aria is a Bolero, and there are plenty
of other Spanish touches to give the story a firm setting, perhaps encouraged
by the fact that the opera was written for Madrid. The arias bear the composer's
own stamp, and he has a particular gift for ensemble. Listen, for example
to the quintet that sees Cherubino's entry or the subsequent quartet in
Act 1, both of which fizz with most attractive music while advancing the
plot with plenty of drama and subtlety. The Act 1 finale is a case in point:
as the dramatic situation tightens the music does likewise and culminates
in a chorus and ensemble that Rossini would doubtless have been proud to
have written.
This is clearly a work that Muti believes in, and his, presumably hand-picked,
cast are every bit as convinced as he is and do a good job of sharing their
enthusiasm. Eleonora Buratto leads them as a beautiful, fulsome Susanna.
She sings her introductory Bolero enchantingly, and she is sensational in
the final scene, leading the concluding ensemble with knockout coloratura
and sumptuous pathos in her appeal to the Count for mercy. On hearing this,
it's no wonder he capitulated. As the Countess, Asude Karayavuz sings
with an appropriately regal air, if without the final quality of refulgence
one might hope for. Her Act 1 aria, Prender che val marito, is this
opera's equivalent of Dove sono in a somewhat lighter vein. She sings
it with a sparkiness that we might not necessarily associate with what we
know of this character. Cherubino is still a mezzo, even though it's
fifteen years later! Annalisa Stroppa sings the part most attractively,
providing a more throaty contrast to the other ladies around her. She is
paired winningly with the beautiful purity of Rosa Feola’s Ines, especially
beguiling in her Act 2 aria. The men are every bit as fine. Antonio
Poli is a honeyed, youthful-sounding Count, and he never makes a sound that
is less than beautiful. Mario Cassi is also a very good Figaro with the
right mix of lyricism and buffo charm. The two minor roles of Torribio
and Plagio are sung very well.
The Luigi Cherubini Youth Orchestra take the work seriously while still
revealing the comedy. The recorded sound helps them to balance well with
the voices on stage. Top praise must go to Muti himself, though, for rediscovering
this work and having the conviction to push through the recording. It is
for good reason that the badge of RMM (Riccardo Muti Music) is emblazoned
on the back: this is his project and he has brought it to life most convincingly.
The booklet contains two excellent essays, cast biographies and full libretto
with English translation. In short, this is well worth exploring.
Simon Thompson
Well worth exploring.
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