Tales of a drunk, depressed fantasy author

That's right, kiddies! This week, we're going to learn about one of the greatest French operas in the popular repertoire: Jacques Offenbach's "Les Contes D'Hoffman" or "The Tales of Hoffman."

Offenbach specialized in operettas and wrote very few full-scale operas. Amongst the many famous melodies he wrote, most people recognize the Can-can, the Marine's Hymn ("From the Halls of Montezuma"), and the Barcarolle from "Hoffman." He started writing "Hoffman" in 1877 and died, having finished the vocal and piano score and most of the orchestration, in 1880. Four months later, in February of 1881, "Hoffman" was performed for the public for the first time, the orchestration having been finished by Ernest Guiraud. It was and is considered Offenbach's masterpiece. It concerns E.T.A. Hoffman, who narrates the tales of his three great loves to his friends. In each of these tales, as in reality, his love is stolen or destroyed by an evil genius. After he finishes his stories, he falls over drunk, and his Muse reveals herself to him.

For the purpose of this blog, it's kind of important for me to explain the plot at length-- please pardon-- if you don't want to bother reading it, just skip this paragraph, but I'll warn you, most of the other stuff won't make sense. So here it goes. The opera opens with the Muse and the Spirits of Wine and Beer. The Muse is calling on the Spirits to help her win back Hoffman, who is currently in love with an opera diva named Stella. Next, the Evil Councilor Lindorf is seen buying a letter intended for Hoffman from Stella's servant. Inside is a key to the diva's dressing room and an invitation for Hoffman to come in after the opera. So Lindorf steals the key and then goes to the tavern to make sure Hoffman doesn't make it to the opera. There, Hoffman and his friends are having a good time drinking and talking about each other's girlfriends. However, whenever Hoffman's mistress Stella is mentioned, he sulks. He entertains his companions first with the legend of a dwarf named Kleinzach, and then offers to tell them the stories of his three great loves. The students all clamor to hear, and even Lindorf stops to listen. The first tale Hoffman tells is of Olympia, an automaton made by the scientists Spalanzani and Coppélius. Spalanzani has told everyone that Olympia is his daughter, and Hoffman has posed as a student in order to get closer to Olympia, whom he has seen once in a window and believes is a real girl. Spalanzani holds a great party where Olympia is to make her debut, and Coppélius sneaks in to make a bargain with Spalanzani. Coppélius sells Hoffman a pair of rose-colored glasses that allow him to see Olympia as a real human being. Spalanzani tricks Coppélius out of 500 ducats. The party goes on, and Olympia sings a dazzling aria and impresses all the guests, always with Spalanzani or his servant Cochenille touching her shoulder to rewind her mechanism. All the guests are called to dinner, and Hoffman is asked if he will keep Olympia company. Hoffman is delighted and confesses his love to Olympia. He puts his hand on her shoulder as he talks to her, and all she ever says is "Oui! Oui!" which he takes to be agreement and a confession of her love. But then, he touches her hand, and she gets up and starts running around, he following to find out how he has offended her. Hoffman's best friend Nicklausse comes and tells him what the other guests are saying about Olympia: "That she is dead... Or never was alive!" Hoffman disregards this and finds Olympia again as a waltz begins. He and the doll dance, and as the pace of the waltz grows faster, so do the doll's movements, until she throws Hoffman and his spectacles break. Meanwhile, Coppélius has discovered that he has been swindled and vows revenge. When Olympia exits, Coppélius is waiting in her room and smashes her to pieces. Spalanzani is overwrought with grief, and the guests all laugh at Hoffman for having been in love with a doll. The second tale is of Giulietta, a courtesan. Hoffman shows disinterest and even disdain for her and claims that he will never fall under her spell. Giulietta is offered a beautiful diamond by the wicked Dapertutto in exchange for stealing Hoffman's reflection. Giulietta accepts and soon captures Hoffman in her snare, pleading for him to let her have his reflection, which he agrees to in his delirium. Schlémil, Giulietta's former lover (whose shadow she has also stolen for Dapertutto) is enraged to find her and Hoffman together. Schlémil has the key to Giulietta's room, which Hoffman kills him for in a duel. Then, he discovers that his reflection really has been stolen, and Giulietta and Dapertutto, laughing, abandon him when the authorities are called. Nicklausse drags Hoffman away from the scene. The third and final tale is of Antonia, a dying girl with an angelic voice. Her father Crespel orders her not to sing for fear of aggravating her condition, and tries to tell his deaf servant Frantz not to let anyone in the house. Frantz, of course, misunderstands his master and lets Hoffman in to see Antonia. The couple sing a love duet and discuss their plans to elope the next day. Then, Antonia leaves Hoffman hides as Crespel enters and Frantz announces the arrival of Dr. Miracle. Crespel is enraged and tells Frantz not to let Miracle in, saying that the "doctor" will only kill Antonia as he killed her mother, Crespel's wife. Nevertheless, the doctor enters as if by magic and takes a seat. He calls Antonia and gestures as if seating her, feeling her pulse, etc. and when he asks her to sing, her voice is heard, even though she is not present in the room. Miracle claims he can cure her, but Crespel drives him out. Hoffman leaves his hideout and Antonia re-enters. Hoffman begs her not to sing, and she promises not to. But then, Miracle appears in her room and whispers in her ear, telling her that a woman of her talent and beauty should not be ignored and remain obscure. She should be a diva! She should be applauded and praised! Hoffman only wants her for her beauty, and he will eventually turn to infidelity, says the Doctor. Why should she give up her dreams for that? Antonia tries to ignore the Doctor, because she loves Hoffman so dearly, and kneels, imploring, before her mother's portrait. Miracle haunts the portrait and makes it sing with Antonia's mother's voice. He begins to wildly play a violin and tells Antonia to join her mother's voice with her own. Antonia does so, and when she begins gasping for her last breaths, Miracle disappears and Crespel rushes to his daughter's side. Antonia dies, and Crespel blames Hoffman and tries to kill him, but Nicklausse stops the grieving father. Thus ends the last of Hoffman's tales. Then, the audience sees the same set-up from the first scene: Hoffman and his friends in the tavern. Nicklausse explains that the three women all represented different parts of one woman-- Stella. Olympia is her body, Giulietta is her mind, and Antonia is her soul. Hoffman passes out in a drunken stupor and the crowd leaves. Then, Nicklausse reveals himself to be Hoffman's Muse, who cries, "The man is no more-- be reborn a poet! I love you, Hoffman! Be mine!" Hoffman declares his loves for the Muse, and once again falls unconscious. Stella, who had waited for Hoffman, finds him dead drunk, and Nicklausse tells her that the Councilor has been waiting for her. Stella exits with Lindorf, and the opera ends.

There are a lot of interesting notes and traditions with "Hoffman." The traditions are in regards to the casting: Normally, one bass-baritone will play the four villains (Lindorf, Coppélius, Dapertutto, and Dr. Miracle), one tenor will play Spalanzani, Pitichinaccio (a dwarf in Giulietta's tale) Frantz, and Andrés (one of Hoffman's friends in the tavern), and there are a few other parts that are usually cast as dual roles with Hoffman's buddies Herman and Nathanaël. Also, it used to be a tradition for one soprano to play all four of Hoffman's lovers (Olympia, Giulietta, Antonia, and Stella), but in recent years, the only singers to have done this are Beverly Sills and Joan Sutherland. Productions of this opera can, unfortunately, get very creepy due to its fantastic nature. Also, many times, the order of the tales gets mixed up-- many productions have the story of Antonia before the story of Giulietta. This order makes less sense to me because the loss of Antonia is the most tragic and therefore has the most impact on the audience, and that impact holds over when the story returns to Hoffman and his pals at the Tavern. Also, I feel that it is more effective because it builds up the drama as he moves from one facet of Stella to the next in order of importance: the body, the mind, and last but most importantly, the soul. Sorry if that doesn't quite make sense, but that's just the way I see it. So anyway, this opera is incredible. If possible, you should see it live, because oh my gosh, it is so cool!! The music is absolutely gorgeous. Plot-wise and music-wise, Offenbach never loses me for a moment. He was absolutely brilliant, and this opera really is a masterpiece!

 I ordered this on Amazon for $18.50 (Available as MP3 downloads or physical discs. I got physical discs)and ordered the Sills/Bergonzi/Cappuccilli "Lucia di Lammermoor" for the same price at the same time. I got free shipping! Free shipping makes this Ruthie a very happy Ruthie. Anyway, I love this recording of "Hoffman!"


Beverly Sills, I have discovered, is fabulous! Her voice is so light and clear, her diction is impeccable (compared to Sutherland's, anyway), and her voice isn't muddled or anything. It's wonderful! She's delightfully perky and bereft of true emotion as Olympia, dark, mysterious, and sneaky as Giulietta, and innocent and doleful as Antonia. I love Beverly Sills!


Stuart Burrows isn't half bad in the title role (although I'll confess, Joseph Calléja is my favorite Hoffman), and strangely enough, he kind of looks like the real E.T.A. Hoffman. Burrows expresses a lot of emotion, and his voice is nice and consistent. Kudos to Mr. Burrows!


Norman Treigle is our evil quartet of bass-baritone villains. The guy just looks like a bad@ss, without makeup or costumes or anything. His voice is terrific. He too is very expressive, and so good at being nasty!! Treigle does an absolutely astounding job as each one of Hoffman's arch-rivals. Über-kudos to Norman Treigle!!!


Susanne Marsee is delightful and fun to listen to as Nicklausse/The Muse, and she delivers her spoken lines (she has a spoken monologue at the start of the opera and another at the close) very effectively. She does a great job!


Nico Castel plays Andrés/Spalanzani/Pitichinaccio/Frantz. It's wonderful! He has a lovely set of pipes, and he's very good at acting with his voice. Schlémil/Hermann is played by Raimund Herinx, Nathanaël/Cochenille by Bernard Dickerson, Crespel by Robert Lloyd, and the Voice of Antonia's Mother is sung by Patricia Kern. All are amazing. Such strong, vibrant voices, and all of them expressive! This is a truly perfect cast. Also, Julius Rudel conducted very nicely. I couldn't really hear any kinds of mistakes or places where he should've slowed down or anything. He was spot-on.

This is a very impressive recording, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in trying "Les Contes D'Hoffman." Next week I'll tell you about the new "Lucia di Lammermoor." Until then, I remain


Your friend and fellow opera-lover,


~R.M.




         

...But save the Troubadour!

Hi, there! I know I skipped last week-- please, don't throw anything at me-- I was rather sick, and having a long day. Heck, I've been having a lot of long days this week!

So, anyway, this week I want to write about Verdi's "Il Trovatore," "The Troubadour." Considered one of Verdi's three greatest operas (the other two being "Rigoletto" and "La Traviata"), this dark and dramatic work was written in 1854. Verdi, of course, was known for using very dark themes in his operas, and I'd say this one about tops the scale in that regard; it tells "A story of gypsy vengeance and mistaken identity." Set in 16th-century Spain, the opera is divided into four "Parts:" "The Duel," "The Gypsy," "The Gypsy's Son," and "The Ordeal."  The opera opens as Count de Luna's guards tell the tale of his sad past: the Count once had a brother who, while still a baby, grew sick. An old gypsy woman who was found near the baby's cradle was accused of cursing him and burned at the stake, but the gypsy's daughter stole the Count's baby brother. A child's skeleton was found in the ashes of the flame the gypsy had burned in, but the Count's father insisted that the baby boy was still alive and made the Count swear never to stop looking for his brother. Next, we see the Count's preparations to woo the fair Leonora thwarted by his enemy, the Troubadour Manrico, who Leonora is in love with. Leonora comes out of her chambers, and in the darkness mistakes the Count for the Troubadour. A bit of hectic madness ensues, the misunderstanding is cleared up between Manrico and Leonora, but Count de Luna demands a fight, and Manrico is willing to give him satisfaction. The two go off to have a duel, and the first "Part" ends. In the next part, a bandaged Manrico and a caravan of gypsies are seen working merrily away to the tune of a very famous chorus, "Chi de gitano" or the "Anvil chorus." But their merriment does not last long; Azucena, an old gypsy woman, sings a haunting aria narrating the death of her mother, who was burned at stake [*HINT HINT HINT*]. Azucena then can only repeat the words her mother said before she died: "Avenge me! Avenge me!" The gypsies leave to seek other amusements, leaving Azcena and Manrico alone. Manrico asks his mother what is the matter, and she tells an even darker tale as she goes through the finer details of what happened the day her mother was burned. Moments later, Manrico receives intelligence that Leonora, who thinks Manrico is dead, is about to join a nunnery. Despite his mother's warnings, Manrico leaves to stop Leonora before he loses her forever. Little does he know that the Count is already there, poised to kidnap Leonora. Manrico, however, has brought help, and the Count's forces are outnumbered. Manrico wins the day and takes Leonora back to his hideout. Thus ends the second part.

Phew... *stretches* Two more parts to go. Deep breath! On we go!

So... Third part: Azucena wanders off to look for Manrico and gets captured by Count de Luna, who recognizes her as the gypsy who stole his baby brother. He imprisons her, plotting revenge. Meanwhile, Manrico and Leonora are preparing to be married, when someone comes and tells Marnico that De Luna is planning on burning Azucena at stake. Manrico rushes off to go save his mother, and the third part ends. And now, the finale. The fourth and last act opens with Leonora and one of Manrico's comrades outside de Luna's castle. Manrico has been captured, and de Luna intends to execute him as well as the gypsy. Leonora has come to see if she can reason with de Luna and save Manrico. She finds de Luna and pleads with him to no avail. "Kill me, drink my blood, trample my corpse, but save the Troubadour!" She says, but the Count will not comply. Finally, she kneels down and offers herself to the Count in exchange for Manrico's life. The Count is all too eager to accept that bargain, and makes her swear to it. While the Count arranges Manrico's release, Leonora drinks a dose of poison she had hidden in her ring, and says in sottovoce, "You will have me... but cold and dead!" Meanwhile, Manrico and Azucena are contemplating their respective demises in their prison cell. Azucena fears the stake more than anything in the world, but Manrico manages to get her to lie down and sleep, to dream of happy times. Then, Leonora comes in and attempts to convince Manrico to leave, but he will not go without her. He suspects that she has sold the love she swore was his. He curses her for her infidelity, but she keeps trying to get him out, until she faints and explains, "I chose to die yours rather than live as another's." Manrico immediately repents of his accusations, and the Count, having entered in the background, sees that Leonora has betrayed him. As Leonora breathes her last, the Count sends Manrico to the stake. Just then, Azucena wakes up, and tries to stop the Count from killing Manrico-- minutes too late. "He was your brother!" She cries, "Mother, you are avenged!" The Count, horrified, screams, "And I must live on!" and the opera ends.


Wow. That took really long. Would you have ever guessed that Manrico was the Count's long-lost brother?? [*wink*] So, some notes about the opera: the "Anvil Chorus," Azucena's aria "Stride la Vampa," Manrico's arias "Ah, si, Ben Mio" and "Di Quella Pira" and the Count's aria "Il Balen del Suo Sorriso" are all very famous. The duet between the Count and Leonora in the fourth act is pretty standard amongst singers specializing in Verdi, too. But I think these songs are all better when you hear them in context. Verdi once said that in order for a production of "Il Trovatore" to be successful, "All you need are the four greatest singers in the world."  So, what recording do I have to offer you today?

 Here it is, folks! The RCA Victor 1970 recording of "Il Trovatore" starring Placido Domingo in the title role, Leontyne Price as Leonora, Fiorenza Cossotto as Azucena, and Sherrill Milnes as the Count de Luna. Zubin Mehta conducts the New Philharmonia Orchestra and John McCarthy directs the Ambrosian Opera Chorus. 

This collection of recordings, as far as I have experienced, is fabulous. Great casts, excellent sound quality, and very reasonably priced. Heck, the recording of "I, Pagliacci" from this series only costs $8 new on Amazon! I think this one was $11 or maybe $15. Either way, the RCA Victor Opera Treasury collection is great, so if you find other operas from it, they'll probably be really good purchases. Let's talk about the cast...


As I have said, I love Placido Domingo. He is not only a great singer but a marvelous actor. His performance here is so incredible-- it's mostly what made me fall in love with this recording (I rented it from a library before I owned it). 


Fiorenza Cossotto is absolutely amazing as Azucena. Her voice is dark and mysterious, with a great vibrato, good consistency, and good heavens, what control! She sounds haunting without sounding cold. She's a great singer, and she is perfect for this role.


I have always had a fondness for Sherrill Milnes. A lot of people say he sang incorrectly for a long time (which is true-- I've heard it in videos on Youtube), but in all the studio recordings I have of him, he sounds great. He is as versatile and as great at acting as Domingo. He's very reliable as baritones go, and he does a great job as the Count.


Hm... Leontyne Price... I like her voice, and she has a great range, etc. etc. etc., but I don't think she's the greatest Leonora. I feel like Price's voice is a little bit dark for the role, or maybe her voice was just stressed during the recording session. Her high notes sound stressed and a bit stretched out to me, but no weaker than her lower-register bits, which is a good thing. Price's voice is stable, powerful, and flexible. She's not half bad as Leonora, but I would definitely recommend that you explore Youtube, etc., and listen to other Leonoras first. Sandra Radvanovsky is a good one, for example. But, this recording is still fantastic, and I highly recommend it! The chorus is wonderful, the conducting is wonderful, and all around, it's just a beautiful recording of "Il Trovatore."


With that, I bid you farewell until next week.


Your friend and fellow opera-lover,


~R.M.