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.

Bloody Lucia

Hello! Now that I know I have a reader, I must make an effort to post regularly. Finding someone that shares your interests is so motivating!

This week, I'd like to write about one of my very favorite operas, "Lucia di Lammermoor" by Gaetano Donizetti. Written in 1836 and set when Mary Queen of Scots took the throne in 1542 , this dramatic opera tells the tale of Lucia, a young Scottish woman whose family is in serious political trouble. The only thing that can save Lucia's family is for her to marry a nobleman named Arturo. However, there is a problem: Lucia is in love with her brother Enrico's sworn enemy, Edgardo of Ravenswood. In secret, Lucia and Edgardo exchange rings and vows before he leaves for France. Meanwhile, Lucia's brother Enrico has already found out about her secret romance and made a plan to get her to marry Arturo anyway. He intercepts all letters from Lucia to Edgardo and back, and he gives Lucia a forged letter that says Edgardo has been unfaithful. Brokenhearted, Lucia finally agrees (under heavy duress) to marry Arturo for the sake of her brother. At the wedding, Edgardo arrives to claim Lucia as his bride, only to find that she has already signed a wedding contract. He throws her ring at her, curses her, and leaves. Enrico later goes to Edgardo's ruined castle to challenge his foe to a duel the next morning, and Edgardo accepts. Back at the wedding party, a terrible tragedy has occurred: Lucia has gone completely insane and murdered her bridegroom. She comes out of the bedchamber covered in blood, raving about Edgardo, an evil spirit trying to separate them, their wedding ceremony, and her soon-coming death. Enrico comes back and sees the results of his trickery: his sister is insane and dying, his political alliance is most literally torn asunder, and everything is going to pot. The next morning, Edgardo awaits Enrico for the duel and hears mourners passing by. Inquiring for whom they mourn, he learns that Lucia is dying, but before he can go see her one last time, the death bell tolls-- he is too late. Overcome with grief and regret, he stabs himself and the opera ends.

There are several interesting notes about "Lucia di Lammermoor" I'd like to mention. First, it is partially based on a true story. There was in fact a bride (I think in Scotland) who tried to kill her husband on their wedding night. Apparently, in real life, the husband survived and died twelve years later (I can't imagine what that marriage was like!). But Sir Walter Scott wrote a novel (with some liberties taken as to the facts of the case) about the event, and Donizetti and his librettist took further liberties when crafting the opera's plot. Second, the scene in which Lucia comes raving and covered in blood is a very famous in the opera world, often referred to as "The Mad Scene." Mind, other operas have mad scenes, but this one is special. Anyone who mentions "The Mad Scene" is referring to the one from this opera. In the film "The Fifth Element," the blue alien diva Plavalaguna begins her "Diva Dance" with the beginning aria and recitative of the Mad scene, "Il Dolce Suono." 

The Diva Dance from The Fifth element-- Youtube 

When Donizetti first wrote the opera, he wanted the part we hear as a flute in the Mad Scene played by a glass harmonica. However, when the opera was written, the glass harmonica was still a relatively new invention, and considered too eccentric for audiences to appreciate. So, Donizetti wrote the part for a flute. Now that you know about the opera itself, let's write a review!

    
This was the first recording of "Lucia di Lammermoor" I ever heard. My older sister kindly gave it to me for my birthday because I was so curious about the origin of the aria "Il Dolce Suono." 

Joan Sutherland stars as the vulnerable and Ophelia-like Lucia. Sutherland became incredibly famous for her rendition of Lucia in the late 1950's, when she was in her late twenties and early thirties. This recording was made in 1972, when she was forty-four years old. Now, I'm a bit picky about my coloraturas-- I love recordings of Sutherland from the '50's and '60's. They're fabulous. But what she did to her old coloratura roles in the seventies and eighties? I can't bear it. Most recordings you'll find in stores of Joan Sutherland are from the seventies-eighties period, when (in my humble opinion) her voice was past being suited to that range. Take this Lucia for instance: Her voice sounds throaty and deep, she rushes through high notes as much as possible, and she's not acting at all! She butchered the role! She is physically capable of singing the high notes, but it's not beautiful any more. It's not graceful or moving or poignant. It just makes you think of that old "Brünnhilde" image of opera singers and the typical "Opera singers are really terrible" idea. Neither of those are what opera is about! Opera is about beauty, humanity, and emotion! 


...Forgive the rant, I'll continue the review.

Everyone else in this recording is amazing. Luciano Pavarotti costars as Edgardo and gives a brilliant performance, Sherrill Milnes soars as the vindictive and plotting Enrico, and Nicolai Ghiaurov plays the role of Raimondo, a priest who tries to console and guide Lucia through her unhappy lot. This recording made me a Ghiaurov fan. I will never get over how beautiful his voice is in this role. When he sings "Ah! Cedi, cedi" it's to die for. The chorus is wonderful, the conducting is wonderful, and you almost can't ask for a better recording. EXCEPT FOR SUTHERLAND!

I must warn you, fellow opera-lovers: Do not let Joan Sutherland be your first experience of any role in opera. Don't let her be your first Lucia, don't let her be your first Violetta or Gilda, don't let her be your first anything. And the same goes for Maria Callas, unless you're talking "Carmen." So what's the solution? I happen to have an idea:

I have actually listened to clips of this recording on Amazon, and from what I can hear, it's really good! Beverly Sills is great as Lucia (from what I heard in the 30-second clips), and the rest of the cast is not half bad. And another really cool thing: the Mad Scene is done with a glass harmonica, just as Donizetti intended. When you hear that sucker, you know why he wanted it that way. It sounds so much more rich and haunting and vivid. It's really amazing. By the way, it is in fact available for purchase as downloadable MP3s or a physical CD set on Amazon.

There is only one other recording of "Lucia" I know of that has the glass harmonica, and it's only on video, as far as I understand. 

A couple of years ago, the Metropolitan Opera in New York did a production of "Lucia" for their simulcast series, and I attended it. It was splendid. It was set in Victorian Scotland instead of Renaissance Scotland, and it had Anna Netrebko as Lucia, Piotr Beczala as Edgrado, Mariusz Kwiecien as Enrico, and Ildar Abdrazakov as Raimondo. Amazon carries the DVD if you're interested in a video-- it's a fascinating and amazing production, and I highly recommend it. 

 So, with all this new information, I hope you find the perfect "Lucia di Lammermoor," and I hope you enjoy the opera when you give it a try. Until next time,


Your friend and fellow opera-lover,


~Ruth

Of Masks and Maria

Augh! I've skipped two weeks!! Someone draw me up an indulgence, please!

This week, I would like to discuss something that's really been irking me: Maria Callas. For those of you who don't know, once you enter the opera world, half of the ravings you'll hear are about Callas, Callas, Callas. Everybody loves her. They can't get enough of her. Well, I'm going to reiterate my honest opinion on Callas-- I find it painful to listen to her sing. This isn't just because I want to be rebellious and not like Callas just for the sake of being different. It's just that she ruined Amelia of "Un Ballo in Maschera" for me. I think the problem is that people seem to think that if a singer is good for one thing, he/she must be good for everything. Maria Callas had a terrific chest voice and a nice vibrato. Her Carmen was fabulous! But soprano roles like Norma and Amelia were not really good for her (at least, in my opinion). It literally sounds like every time she had to sing a high note, she went "Oh, crud" in her head, and the note is shrill and stressed and literally painful. As a singer, I often find myself shifting my vocal chords, etc. in anticipation of singing the notes I hear, and when I listen to Callas, I can feel the pain she must have had in her throat when she sang those notes. I cringe. My throat goes, "Don't do it! For sweet, Italian Vivaldi's sake, DON'T DO IT!!!" But she does it. It hurts. Why, Maria, why?? Why did you do it??

Which brings me to my review of this EMI Classics recording of Verdi's "Un Ballo in Macschera." Well, not really. That was a weird segue. But let's start on that anyway.

 Now, about a year ago, an online friend introduced me to the world of Dmitri Hvorostovsky. Naturally, one of the first Youtube videos I found of him was his performance of "Alzatti...Eri tu" at the Cardiff Singer of the World Competition in 1989. It made me cry. I love Verdi, and after hearing that song, I knew I'd want to own the whole opera. So, I picked this one out for Christmas. At the time, it was one of the least expensive copies I could get, and even so, I think it was $20 or over. I hadn't heard any recordings of Maria Callas yet, but I figured, "Oh, everybody loves her. Let's give her a try!" And I did. But there are some funny things going on with this set.

From the "How well was this object made" standpoint: The CDs and booklet and slip cover came beautifully intact. However, the back of the CD case has the singer and time duration information for a similarly cast recording of Verdi's "Aida." This isn't very helpful, considering I neither own nor have heard "Aida," and the contents of the CD case are "Un Ballo in Maschera." Someone in manufacturing  made a boo-boo...

But anyway, that was just a small detail I thought I'd let you know of-- other EMI sets from the Maria Callas series might have similar problems. But let's get on with the opera, shall we?

I think "Maschera" is an incredible opera. It has a great prelude, very unique and distinguishable individual tunes, and the overall quality of the music is memorable, dramatic, and superb. Antonino Votto did a great job conducting and the chorus and orchestra of Milan were splendid. Tito Gobbi, who I enjoy very much, Fedora Barbieri, and Eugenia Ratti were excellent casting choices. Gobbi gave a warm, empathetic performance as Renato, Barbieri was a deliciously dark and mysterious Ulrica, and Ratti was delightfully charming as Oscar. She makes me want to sing Oscar someday. However, I'm afraid I can't say as much for Maria Callas and Giuseppe di Stefano, our Amelia and Riccardo. Aforesaid, Callas's performance makes my ears and my throat hurt, and Stefano's rendition of Riccardo is just too cold. Because of these two, my opinions of the characters are skewed. I think of Amelia as an overly dramatic, screechy woman who isn't really an important character and has kind of boring arias. I think of Riccardo as a cold, heartless, selfish, and haughty little man who can't see how other people feel past his own desires. Riccardo, to me, is the epitome of the tenor-whelp. He started the whole durn mess because he didn't have enough common sense to leave Amelia be, seeing as she was trying to save her marriage and actually be a good person. Stupid Count. Thinks he should just have everything he wants. It makes me mad every time I hear him go, "Ah, l'ho segnato il sacrifizio mio!" It's like, "Oh, I'm in love with this woman who's married to my best friend and I emotionally tortured her until she confessed she loved me too. I got her in a boatload of trouble. But I'm gonna send her and her hubby back to England to make it all better. Oh, my sacrifice! Boo-hoo-hoo! I don't get to have the chick who's already taken!" What a blockhead. What a whelp! And the only times Stefano uses any kind of emotional expression in his voice are during the scene at Urlica's cave and for "Oh qual soave brivido." That's it! No wonder I dislike Riccardo. 

So this is my overall opinion: I do not recommend this copy of "Un Ball in Maschera." Callas and Stefano are enough to ruin the main character for anyone new to the opera. However, if you are bent on trying Maria Callas's Amelia and want to hear the greatness of Gobbi, Barbieri, and Ratti, then go ahead. But-- and I can't put too fine a point on this-- familiarize yourself with a different version first!!! 

Until next time,

Your friend and fellow opera-lover,

~R.M.     

Faust, what were you thinking?

I mean, calling on the Devil? Selling him your soul?

Hiya! I've been having this craving to talk about Gonoud's "Faust" since the third week I accidentally never wrote. Oops. Well, there's a long, funny story that goes with my experience of "Faust." 

Long, long ago, when I was not yet an opera fan, I was obsessed with "The Phantom of the Opera." I saw the 2004 movie and got hooked. Subsequently, I saw a live production, learned all the songs, read the book by Gaston Leroux, and saw the silent 1928 film starring Lon Chaney. I couldn't get enough of the Phantom. But, I was a bit confused by all the musical references in the book, and I was particularly curious about those regarding "Faust." Many years later, my mother and I were parousing the opera section of a used music store when I came across a copy of "Faust" starring Placido Domingo, Nicolai Ghiaurov, and Mirella Freni as Faust, Mephistophelés, and Marguerite, respectively.

I had already decided that I was Ghiaurov's biggest fan, so I got the CD set. I might well mention here that the case was sealed by several stickers which the employees of the store had applied. Five minutes later and much to my chagrin, I discovered that the CD set was missing the libretto. Stupid used music store, selling incomplete opera sets without letting the customers check them! But I wouldn't let my hopes up. I would listen to "Faust" and understand it if it meant it would take years. And it did take years. For a long time it sat on my desk, waiting to be heard. I listened to the overture and the opening numbers countless times and tried to find online French/English side-by-side libretti. All the ones I found were incomplete, so it waited longer. And longer. And longer. Eventually, I read a libretto that was an "English Version" and kept up based on which characters were singing at that particular moment. However, I only got as far as the end of the second act. But then, I had an epiphany! I realized, if I found a copy at a library and listened to it once, just once, while reading a proper libretto, I'd remember what was going on-- I have good memory-- and I would probably never need the libretto for it again (although it was disappointing not to be able to have one on hand). And that was exactly what I did.

At one of my very favorite libraries, I listened to this fabulous copy of "Faust":

It was incredible. It actually made me cry. And I finally understood what the references in "La Fantóme De L'Opéra" meant. Then I came home and listened to my copy. 

No matter who is performing it where or when, Charles Gonoud's "Faust" is a great opera. It's dramatic, it's romantic, it's touching, it's French, it's beautiful. The overture is akin to Mozart's overture to "Don Giovanni"-- repeated dark, shadowy chords, setting the tone for the action of the opera, are the first notes the listener hears. It's riveting! Faust's vague, angry, and semi-repentant character keeps the audience guessing. The loyalty of Valentin, Siebel's sweetness, Marguerite's true repentance, and Mephistophelés's despicable heinousness are too true and too deep for us to doubt. I will confess though, I'm surprised at how much of "Faust" I can sleep through and still remember what's going on... Don't give me that look! I was tired!  So now that you know the terribly long story of how I discovered  "Faust," the claws come out... and the review begins.

Version 1: I'm going to be brutally honest. The more I listen to Mirella Freni, the less I like her. I don't have anything against her as a person or as a performer-- She's very professional. But she's not my style. And I think, like with Sutherland and Callas, she got really famous when her voice really was good for roles like Marguerite, and people didn't get over it. As far as her recordings, she didn't move on to roles that suited her maturing voice. But that's my humble opinion. Domingo and Ghiaurov are fabulous. I can never get over how versatile the former is and how just plain terrific the latter is. Thomas Allen as Valentin, Michéle Command as Siebel, Marc Vento as Wagner, and Jocelyne Taillon as Dame Marthe are all splendid, as is Georges Pretre's conducting. This copy also includes the ballet music of "Faust." It's a great recording. Just make sure you get a libretto.

Version 2: I love this version!!!! I can't say that enough. Richard Leech was brilliant as Faust, although I'll confess I thought he had a little trouble getting up to one particular high note, but I don't blame him and it didn't take away from the overall recording at all. José Van Dam was an astounding Mephistophelés, and I particularly want to note how well he sustained his voice in "Le Veau D'Or". It just gets me. His mastery of dramatic and vocal technique is incredible. Cheryl Studer was a Marguerite I could adore-- such a lofty, shimmering voice! Listening to her was a pleasure. Thomas Hampson (what's with all the Thomases as Valentin?) sang Valentin so well, I cried during his death scene. No joke. And I'm not normally a weeper, either. Martine Mahé was an adroable, charming Siebel, Marc Barrard was a delightful Wagner, and Nadine Denize was a very good Dame Marthe. Michel Plasson conducted beautifully. I'd also like to mention that this EMI Classics copy has an addendum which includes not only the ballet music, but also several duets, trios, and an extra aria that are extremely interesting to listen to-- I really enjoyed it.

All-in-all, from a learner's perspective, I'd say that the Leech-Van Dam-Studer version would be the best first "Faust," and when you're ready to try a new version,  the Domingo-Ghiaurov-Freni recording is a good option.

Until next week, folks!

~R.M. 

Magic Flutes for Halloween

Hi there! I know, I've been such a bad girl, skipping for three whole weeks. I mean, I said I was human, but really? Three weeks? And the way I figure it, no one's reading this blog anyway, and even if they were, they would've been turned off by my formal writing style, so I'm just going to ditch my old habits and be casual. And yes, I do actually write in that formalish way from habit. So anyway, I believe the last time I wrote a blog, back in the days of stone tablets and chisels, I said the next one was going to be about "Die Zauberflöte."

"Die Zauberflöte" was the first opera I ever saw. It was magical. And I must say, if you ever want to convince someone that opera can actually be cool, "Zauberflöte" is one of the best operas for achieving that goal. It's funny, it has dazzling music, it has touches of drama here and there, and it's Mozart, for crying out loud! Nobody can say they don't like Mozart! Fun fact: "The Magic Flute" was actually the last opera Mozart ever completed before he died. On that note, I'll begin my review of this particular recording...

The cast is as follows:

Uwe Heilman (Tamino, Tenor)

Ruth Zeisak (Pamina, Soprano)

Michael Kraus (Papageno, Baritone)

Sumi Jo (The Queen of the Night, Soprano)

Kurt Moll (Sarastro, Bass)

Adrianne Piczonka, Anntte Kuettenbaum, and Jard van Nes (The Three Ladies, Sopranos and Mezzo-soprano)

Markus Leitner, Max Emanuel Cencic, and Michael Rausch (The Three Genies, Treble, Alto, and Mezzo-soprano)

Heinz Zednik (Monostatos, Tenor)

Lotte Leitner (Papagena, Soprano)


I'm just going to come straight out with it: I love Sumi Jo. She is amazing, and I desperately wanted to own a full opera that had her in it. When I thought about what I'd love to hear her sing, all I could think of was Die Königen der Nacht. Sumi was born to sing Die Königen. Her accuracy, pitch, agility, and grace are flawless. Naturally though, I sampled the other voices as well to make sure I was getting a good version, and they are all lovely. Uwe Heilman makes for a sympathetic, non-whelpish Tamino, a Tamino I find myself enjoying and rather than getting annoyed by (and believe me, I've heard some really annoying tenors!). Ruth Ziesak's voice is so delicate and lovely, you can't help but love her from the moment you first hear her sing. I'd also like to mention how fabulous the Three Genies and the Three Ladies are in this recording-- they're perfect! Their respective melodies and harmonies are so perfectly intertwined, and yet each voice stands out so clearly and uniquely. It's amazing. Lotte Leitner, I will add, makes a delightful and charming Papagena!


Now let's move on to the more negative comments, and mind, I am trying to be fair and not too harsh. Sir Georg Solti, the conductor, kind of rushes through the thing, which works on a lot of levels, but on other levels, it ruins the effect. For example, Pamina's aria "Ach, Ich fühl's" is very rushed, and as a singer who has tried "Ach ich fühl's," I know that the song is hard enough as it is without having to speed it up. If you take that aria too fast, it loses every bit of emotion, poignancy, and melancholy that Mozart wrote into it. Nonetheless, Ms. Ziesak carried it off beautifully, but I'm just saying, Mr. Solti could have given her some room to feel her way through the aria instead of making her push it. And another thing: Papageno is my favorite character in the whole show. For years, I listened to a copy of "Die Zauberflöte" in which a baritone by the name of Gottfried Hornik sang Papageno, and I still adore his performance. It was sweet, sentimental, and still hilarious, and his voice wasn't "comical." He was a regular, light baritone, and his acting was captivating just from the sound. Michael Kraus is more of what you'd call a "comic" baritone, but he is very funny, he sings his part very beautifully, and he delivers his spoken lines well. I have no issues with his pitch or accuracy-- he's a great singer! The other two male singers I haven't discussed yet are also wonderful performers. Kurt Moll is a great bass, but I think the reason I'm having a little trouble with his performance is that I'm not accustomed to his particular voice type. Like I said, I've been listening to a different version of this opera for a very long time, and to be honest, I only purchased this new version a couple of months ago. I think I just need to get used to his voice type, so I won't let that make me form a hasty, biased opinion and tell everybody out there "I don't like him" or something like that; that's not the case at all. Also, Heinz Zednik has a gorgeous tenor voice. I think my only issue there is that I can hear he wasn't acting when he sang Monostatos in this recording. Beautiful tone isn't all you need to be a great opera singer... You've got to have emotion, too. I say these things with the greatest respect for the performers and their efforts-- I know I couldn't do half of the things they can, and I sure as heck wasn't there during the recording session.


One more funny little thing: I think they brought in separate actors to be the "Speaking voices" of Die Königen der Nacht and Papagena, because the speaking Königen sounds nothing like Sumi Jo's speaking voice, and either they brought in an older lady to play Papagena in disguise, or Ms. Leitner is very good at manipulating her voice to sound old! 


Overall, this recording is truly magnificent, and I would highly recommend it. Some other time I'll talk about the other version of "Die Zauberflöte" that I used to listen to, but for now, if you want a really good copy of "The Magic Flute," this Decca Records recording is probably the one for you. So long!

~R.M.
 

A First Taste of Elixir

This week, I'd like to review a copy of Gaetano Donizetti's "L'Elisir D'Amore" that I recently purchased. It stars Ileana Cotrubas as Adina, Placido Domingo as Nemorino, Ingvar Wixell as Belcore, Sir Geraint Evans as Dulcamara, and Lillian Watson as Gianetta, with John Pritchard conducting at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden.


Let's start with Placido Domingo, the star of the show. I have heard Domingo sing many, many roles over my short five years of being an opera fan-- a sweet and slightly foppish Alfredo (in Verdi's "La Traviata), a manly and dashing Manrico (Verdi's "Il Trovatore"), a frustrated and bitter Faust (in Gonoud's "Faust"), and a broken-hearted yet vindictive Canio (in Leoncavallo's "Pagliacci"). He can manipulate his voice to such a great extent! I must say, after all of the roles I've heard him sing, it was refreshing and pleasantly surprising to hear him do Nemorino. He sounds so youthful, so credulous, so sympathetic! You just listen to him and think, "Aw, poor Nemorino! He's such a nice guy-- Adina should treat him better!" His acting is beautiful, and he hit notes verging on the falsetto range with ease. I've listened to clips of other tenors singing Nemorino, but, truth be told, Domingo is the most charming Nemorino I've yet heard, with Joseph Calléja following close in his footsteps.

Next, Ileana Cotrubas. I am a huge fan of hers! I love how full her voice is, and how delightfully she acts. She makes the perfect Violetta (Verdi's "La Traviata"), and her rendition of Tatyana in Tchaikovsky's "Eugene Onegin" is superb (I listened to her do the Letter Scene on Youtube). There is a youthful but very soulful quality to her voice, and it adds real depth to every character she sings. I really enjoy listening to her sing, and she did a great job with Adina, but I'll make a confession: The first couple of times I listened to "L'Elisir," I thought, "What's Violetta doing in this opera?" But that could be because I listened to her and Domingo in "La Traviata" for probably a year before I got my mitts on any other operas on CD. 

Let's hit the lower voices! You've probably guessed by now that I adore Ingvar Wixell, so that's a no-brainer. Getting to listen to him is a pleasure and an honor in itself. His introduction is very suave, and he's very playful and mischievous during the scene where he enlists Nemorino. Sir Geraint Evans is a side-splitting hilarious and puckishly charming Dulcamara! Hearing him go on about how he's known through the whole universe "and...and... and elsewhere, too!" and when he says "Musica, amaretto!" and "Si, Briconna?" makes me smile and sing along (which might be annoying or just plain weird to the people around me as I listen to my headphones, but so what?). These two are dead on in their roles!

I would also like to make note of Lillian Watson's excellence! Her voice is so sweet and pleasant, the listener is immediately whisked away to the pastoral locale of the opera, just from hearing her sing.

I have one qualm with this particular set, however: there is no physical libretto. The second disc of the set contains the libretto along with the second half of the opera. In other words, to read the words and translation, the listener must import both discs onto their computer, start the music, and open up the libretto from the second disc while it's still in the drive. I find this very frustrating, because I'm the kind of person who  figures out what's going on solely from reading the libretto, and also the kind who loves to look up the exact words of a certain aria at any given moment. Can't really do that if you're playing the opera from an ipod, boombox, or portable CD player. But, this is a really beautiful recording with a terrific cast, and I highly recommend it. 

Next week: "Die Zauberflöte" No. 1!

Until then, friends, I remain,

Yours truly,

~R.M.