Mercoledi Musicale

Maurel was a bit of a dandy and considered a
matinee idol by his adoring public.  Here he
as captured by Spy (Leslie Ward) for the
October 20, 1898 edition of Vanity Fair.

As I said in my previous post Verdi's Falstaff is on of my favourite operas and I hope to write about last Friday's performance by the COC with Gerald Finley.  But for today's Mercoledi Musicale I thought I'd reach back to 14 years after the work's premiere in 1893; in 1907 the great French baritone Victor Maurel who had created the role recorded a short excerpt from the opera.  (The record label in the video indicates 1904 but apparently this is an error in the reissue.)

And I do mean short.  "Quand'ero paggio" lasts all of 35 seconds and is one of those moments in a score full of melodies that come and go with the speed of quicksilver.  In fact to fill the side of the 78rpm disc Columbia had Maurel sing it not once, not twice but three times - twice in Italian and once in French for good measure.  It is rather delightfully encored at the insistence of at least three stout fellows in the studio with encouraging cries of "Bravo" and a clarion call for a "bis".  I'm not sure but one of those voices sounds suspiciously like the good artist himself.

I always loved the way this tiny vignette just pops up in response to Alice Ford's less than flattering remark about Falstaff "vulnerabil popla" - amble flesh.   He quickly assures her that things were different when he was a mere slip of a lad:

Quand'ero paggio del Duca di Norfolk ero sottile, sottile, sottile, ero un miraggio vago, leggiero, gentile. Quello era il tepo del mio verde aprile, quello era il tempo del mio lieto maggio. Tant'era smilzo, flessibile e snello che sarei guizzato attraverso un annello.

When I was page to the Duke of Norfolk I was so so slender, a mirage, light and fair, and very genteel. That was my verdant April season, the joyous Maytime of my life. Then I was so lean, so lithe, so slender, you could have slipped me through a ring.

Maurel was to sing the role of Falstaff in many major opera houses including the work's premieres in France and the United States.  At the Metropolitan alone he sang it 22 times.  In each city his portrayal was greeted with unstinting praise.   And how this debonair French man turned himself into Verdi and Boito's "mountain of fat" was a favourite news topic of the day.   In April 1894 an article showing the transformation appeared in one of the many illustrated magazine to coincide with the Paris premiere.  Obviously it was a good press piece and possibly Maurel carried it around with him as it showed up in periodicals in England and America.

Maurel was one of the preeminent singing actors of his day and Verdi was quoted as asking in admiration,  "Was there ever such a complete artist?"  After hearing him Wagner  cried, "Friends, come, salute a great artist".  But his vanity - and vain he was of both his appearance and his standing in the music world -    almost ruined his chances of creating the two roles that would guarantee him a place in the operatic Pantheon:  Iago and Falstaff.   After it became known in the mid-1880s that Verdi was working on an opera based on Shakespeare's Othello Maurel began to brag that Verdi was writing Iago for him.  Now the working title of the new opera, in deference to Rossini's Otello, was Iago, and Verdi had mentioned that he was writing the villainous character with Maurel in mind but did not want it voiced all over Europe.  It's said he almost sought another singer for the role but relented because he knew what the baritone could bring to the role.

In 1903 Maurel recorded Iago's aria "Era la notte" - by this time his voice, never known for its lyrical beauty, had diminished but his artistry was still at its peak.

In the case of Falstaff correspondence reveal that Maurel became increasingly demanding of La Scala and to a certain extent Verdi.  He believe that he had a right to sing the role and asked for larger than normal fee.  There was some unpleasantness but again the threat of being deprived of the role he so desperately wanted made him back away from his demands. 

Maurel was to retire in 1909,  two years after he made that little recording of "Quand'ero paggio" for Columbia.  He did not give up the stage completely and turned to designing - a production he did for the Met of Gounod's Mireille evoked the colours and landscape of his native Provence.  After several years in Paris he settled in New York City where he taught young singers until his death in 1923 at the age of 75.

October 8 - 1645:  Jeanne Mance opened the Hôtel-Dieu de Montréal, the first lay hospital in North America.

Mercoledi Musicale

I know that the commemoration of what would have been the 90th birthday of Maria Callas was two days ago but thought I'd wait a day or two as the internet was awash with tributes on December 2.

As a young opera queen goer I was not a big Callas fan - my taste ran more to (gasp!) Renata Tebaldi for Verdi-Puccini and Joan Sutherland for the bel canto.  I did have - and oft played - her Mad Scenes recording with its famous Anna Bolena finale.  That I had to admit was pretty damned exciting stuff.  She only made two appearances in Toronto during her career: once on October 21, 1958 when she performed in concert at the mammoth Maple Leaf Gardens hockey rink and again during her, sadly unsuccessful, farewell concert with Giuseppe di Stefano on February 21, 1974 at old Massey Hall.  

My appreciate of her came later in my opera-going life, long after she had retired from both singing and public life.  I came to realize that there is more to singing than beautiful sound - there is the ability to take a piece of music and with it create a vast array of emotions in the listener.  The sounds may not always please the ear but they touch the heart - and perhaps more to the point the gut.   I recently heard it explained that Callas was a "great artist" not necessarily a "great singer".  I think I know what the commentor was getting at - particularly as she ran into more and more vocal difficulties after 1958.

Though she sang Puccini and Verdi on stage, notably Tosca, La Traviata and Macbeth, she was best known for her bel canto roles - Anna Bolena, La Sonnambula, Norma, Il Pirata.  However in the recording studio she committed many of the Puccini and Verdi roles to disc.  Desdemona in Verdi's Otello was a role she never sang on stage and only recorded excerpts from in 1963.  By that time the voice was in decline - a decline that many claimed had started as early as 1955 - but that ability to take a piece of music and with it create a vast array of emotions was still there.  Some may not consider it great singing but no one can deny that it is great, and moving, artistry.

As her gentlewoman Emilia brushes her hair, Desdemona prepares for bed and she recalls a song that Barbara, a maid of her mother's sang after she had been deserted by her lover.  Frequently she breaks off to refer to the poor jilted mad girl; at one point the wind at the shutters frightens her; as Emilia leaves she is suddenly gripped with anguish and bids her not "good night" but "addio - farewell".   Turning to her prayers she says her Ave Maria - her voice fading away into troubled sleep as she repeats:

per noi, per noi tu prega, prega sempre e nell'ora della morte nostra, prega per noi, prega per noi, prega. Ave Maria. . . nell'ora della morte. Ave!. . .Amen!

for us, pray for us, pray now and at the hour of our death pray for us, pray for us, pray Ave Maria.... at the hour of our death. Ave! ....  Amen

While I was doing a Google search - they did a wonderful tribute to La Divina on December 2 - for an image I came across an Al Hirschfeld caricature that I had never seen before.  It is Callas as she appeared in the finale scene of La Sonnambula in Luchino Visconti's production at La Scala in 1955.  No longer Annina, the simple village maiden of Romani's libretto but a grand diva of the ottocento - bejeweled, grand and showing us the vocal technique at her command.   As he always did I think Hirschfeld caught the essence of the character and the singer - both as seen by Visconti and projected by Callas.

December 4 -1909: 1st Grey Cup game is played. The University of Toronto Varsity Blues defeat the Toronto Parkdale Canoe Club 26–6.

Esultate? - Yes and No!

Otello - Cassio and the chorus get drunk in Act 1.

I received an e-mail from a friend suggesting that after talking about anticipating the Muti Otello last week I had been remiss in posting anything about it. What's your problem he asked - or words to that effect. Well as I've said in the past if I were a critic I'd be better off working for a weekly or a monthly. Sometimes I just can't meet deadlines. But here goes.

Last week I wrote

After its summer break-in at Salzburg how will this first collaboration between Muti and the Teatro turn out? Certainly with the change of venue things will be different - the Grosse Festspeilhaus is such a bloody barn that voices can get lost and details in productions swamped by the mere size of the stage and auditorium. Will the more traditional opera house be kinder to the voices? Will the producer have rethought some of his ideas after the unkind reviews? How will Muti handle a chorus and orchestra that are a few steps below the forces he commanded in Salzburg?

Let me answer the last question first. Otello is one of those operas that can be spoken of in terms of tenors or conductors. I have seen or heard Vickers' Otello, Domingo's Otello, Del Monaco's Otello and MacCracken's Otello. I've also seen or heard Von Karajan's, Solti's and Toscanni's Otello. And on one occassion saw a Vickers-Von Karajan Otello. Ever since it was announced last December there was no mistaking what sort of Otello we were going to get here in Roma. The posters announced it, the press talked about it and frankly when my friend Parsi asked me who was singing I couldn't remember but I knew who would be conducting. This was going to be Riccardo Muti's Otello.

And so it was. And it had all of his familiar trademarks - dramatic push and tension as well of moments of incredible translucent beauty. There was no stopping for applause - though several moments cried out for it - nothing was allowed to interfere with Verdi's music and Boito's libretto. And on two occasions noisy members of the audience were treated to that glare that makes musicians' mouths turn dry and brows break out in a cold sweat. The Teatro orchestra responded to what ever magic he holds over his orchestras - pax La Scala - and played to an exceptional level. There were some incredibly beautiful sounds coming out of the pit and the brass had a golden edge to it that was entirely new. Andrea Giorgi's chorus can always be counted on to do a fine job but in full-throated cry as the opera began gave me chills.

And the singers? I can only believe that the more intimate acoustic of the Teatro made a great deal of difference. Though perhaps not meeting the standards of the Golden Age - that's my golden age - they worked well within the framework of Muti's musical vision of Otello. At this stage of his career Aleksandrs Antonenko simply doesn't have all the voice or the experience that is needed for the part of Otello - these days who does? His Esultate! was slightly underpowered but unlike at Salzburg, if reports are to be believed, he did not run out of steam before Act 4. His is a Slavic voice with the tendency that voice type has to turn slightly steely under pressure and he lacks the stage charisma that a Vickers or Domingo brought to the part.

Russian soprano Marina Poplavskaya (Desdemona) is one of those singers that divides opinion - I often wonder if the commenters have been to the same performance. Here she gave a lovely performance, again her's is a Slavic voice and finally lacks the creamy tones of a Tebaldi or Freni in the part. But it did give her Desdemona an edge: here was no Kewpie doll waiting to be murdered but a proud daughter of La Serinissima. The ultimate test of any Desdemona is the final scene and here the combination of Muti in the pit, Poplavskaya on stage and the staging itself - for the first time all evening possibly - came together to create moments of sadness, tension and heart-stopping drama. Barbara di Castri's Emilia came into its own at this point, lovingly attending to her mistress, her darker voice underscoring the drama. Huddled barefoot on the floor in front of a single candle Poplavskaya almost mummered the tale of poor mad Barabara in a chilling but beautiful half-voice. Her despairing cry after the departing Emilia was shattering and the Ave Maria sang in a half-whisper ending in a pianissimo Amen as she drifted into troubled sleep.

The most satisfying singing of the evening came from Giovanni Meoni's Iago. His was a subtle portrayal and he avoid that generalized Verdi baritone sound we get so often today. His Credo was strongly delivered and reeked of an almost Jesuitical cynicism. It was one of those moments that called out for applause but the Maestro was having none of that.

I find it difficult to say anything about Stephen Landgridge's production as a good deal of the action was not visible from our palco stage left. No doubt when we were able to see what was going on our friends at stage right had the same predicament. He had obviously not restaged with a traditional theatre in mind. George Souglides' dull unit set of metal walls and fracturing glass floors had been altered for width but not for depth and much of the upstage action was lost. Emma Ryott's costumes were fine in a generalized Renaissance style but with little variety in colour - Cyprus was a pretty dreary post if these designers are to be believed. As I mentioned Landgridge did stage the beginning of Act IV beautifully and the ending - Otello crawling towards the body of his dead wife, straining but failing to touch her before he dies, heightened the tragedy. Sadly, from what I could see, nothing in the rest of his direction was as dramatic.

Otello - The entrance of Lodovico, the Venetian envoy.

Which brings us back to Maestro Muti - most of the drama for the evening was being generated in the pit and that may be the way he wanted it. And we knew from the beginning that this was going to be a Muti Otello.

Production photos for the Teatro dell'Opera di Roma by Falsini.

19 dicembre - San Dario di Nicea

Anticipation

I've heard it said that anticipation is half the pleasure of any event but unfortunately it can lead to much of the disappointment. Tonight may prove that point of view.

Back in December last year I booked my subscription for the 2008 season at the Teatro dell'Opera Roma and aside from the convenience factor there was the BIG EVENT in December: Riccardo Muti conducting Verdi's Otello. It was going to be a hard ticket to get but back in December 2008 I knew that - god willing and the Tiber don't rise* - Laurent and I would be sitting in Ord. II, Box 6 on December 11, 2008 with our friends Linda and Nazareno.

Now as anyone who has read my Salzburg Whitsun Festival postings knows I worship, along with a damned fine crowd including my dear Opera Chic, at the shrine of Muti. However reports coming out of this summer's Salzburg Festival, where the production originated, where not all that encouraging. Apparently Muti achieved some great sounds form the Vienna Philharmonic and Statsoper chorus and conducted a driven, highly dramatic performance. About the soloists and production itself the word of mouth was decidedly mixed. Now mind you, as always, some of those words were being spoken or typed by people who had only heard or seen a broadcast or heard from others, but they certainly have added to the anticipation.

After its summer break-in at Salzburg how will this first collaboration between Muti and the Teatro turn out? Certainly with the change of venue things will be different - the Grosse Festspeilhaus is such a bloody barn that voices can get lost and details in productions swamped by the mere size of the stage and auditorium. Will the more traditional opera house be kinder to the voices? Will the producer have rethought some of his ideas after the unkind reviews? How will Muti handle a chorus and orchestra that are a few steps below the forces he commanded in Salzburg?

So here I sit, a few hours away from a performance I have been anticipating for a year with all sorts of questions running through my head. Answers should come, possibly, tomorrow.

*I had no sooner written this than the Mayor declared a city-wide "State of Calamity" - don't you love the wording, its so bloody operatic. The torrential rains of the past two days have left majors areas of the city flooded, at least one person dead and some roads impassable. And according to forecasters there is more to come. And the Tiber is indeed rising.

11 dicembre - San Damaso I

Extravagance ... and Optimism

In a gesture of extravagance and optimism I purchased a box for the Opera and Ballet for the coming year. Extravagance because a box is five seats and we are only two but this way we can invite friends or visitors to come out for the evening with us. And I'll never had this chance again - our own box (10D) at the opera! Damn the expense I say! Optimism because I am saying that on December 11, 2008 I'll be alive, well and able to attend Otello. But to be honest if I don't book subscriptions we will end up not going. Its happened so often in other places: Oh look the bus-truck production of the hit musical In Cold Blood is coming to town, we must get tickets. Oh damn that was last week.

Okay Roma isn't La Scala - hell I guess its not even La Fenice or San Carlo - but at least here you have a chance of getting a seat as most transactions still have to be done at the box office. There are a few other opera houses, that will remain nameless, were the only people who seem to have seats are the scalpers. The minute seats go on the Internet they are snatched up - and how exactly at 2 per customer do those totes outside the theatre end up with rolls of 10 to 12?? The big subscription booster this year is the Muti Otello scheduled to open December 6, 2008 - on the strength of that one production alone the subscription series appear to be sold out and all five performance will be standing room only. I guess I'm not alone in my optimism.

So we now have subscriptions to the Opera, the Ballet and the Accademia Ste Ceciela which guarantees that at least three times a month we'll turn off the fascinating Italian quiz shows, get off our asses and get out on the town. However friends and acquaintenances should note, we are still available the rest of the month for dinner parties, cinema and pizza forays.

06 decembre - San Nichola di Bari