ATTILA
Giuseppe Verdi (1813 - 1901)
Opera in a prologue and three acts in Italian
Libretto: Temistocle Solera
Premièr at Teatro la Fenice, Venice – 17 March 1846
Premièr at Teatro la Fenice, Venice – 17 March 1846
20† October 1972 (4 Performances)
Symphony Hall, Newark
Orchestra and Chorus of the Opera
Theatre New Jersey
Conductor: Alfredo SilipigniChorus master: Anthony Manno
Stage director: Hubert L.
Fessenden
Scene: Franco Gratale (and
costumes of Gencer and Hines)Costumes: Anthony Stivanello
Attila King of the Huns JEROME
HINES bass
Uldino a Breton slave of Attila’s THOMAS PERRI tenorOdabella daughter of the Lord of Aquileia LEYLA GENCER soprano [Role debut]
Ezio a Roman general CESARE BARDELLI baritone
Foresto a knight of Aquileia NICOLA MARTINUCCI tenor
Pope Leo I DANIEL BONILLA bass
Time: Fifth Century A.D.
Place: Italy
† Recording date
Photos © ERIKA DAVIDSON, New York
Photos © LOUIS PERES, New York
CONTRACT FOR THE PERFORMNCES
1972
A LETTER FROM RONERT J. LOMBARDO TO LEYLA GENCER
1972.02.07
A TELEGRAM FROM GENCER TO NEW JERSEY OPERA
1972.03.12
A TELEGRAM FROM LOMBARDI TO LEYLA GENCER
1972.05.10
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.04.30
THE ITEM OF MILBORNE AND SHORT HILLS
1972.05.04
THE CENTRAL NEW JERSEY HOME NEWS
1972.06.17
THE HERALD NEWS
1972.06.27
THE RECORD
1972.06.27
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.08.30
OPERA MAGAZINE
1972 September
THE RECORD
1972.09.17
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.09.17
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.09.24
LEVITTOWN COURIER
1972.09.28
THE HERALD NEWS
1972.09.29
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.10.01
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.10.03
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.10.11
THE HERALD NEWS
1972.10.13
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.10.15
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.10.17
ASHBURY PARK PRESS
1972.10.19
Verdi Opera to Open N.J. Season
Newark. The
dramatic music of Giuseppe Verdi that aroused 19th century Italy to the heights
of patriotic fervor launches the Opera Theatre of New Jersey season at 8 p.m.
tomorrow at Symphony Hall.
Backed by the company's 60-member orchestra and an
expanded opera theater chorus of 90, the opening night's production of
"Attila" starts with a festive precurtain opera party.
Featured in the opera, which has not had a major
production in the east for nearly 70 years, are famed La Scala soprano Leyla
Gencer in her New York area debut; Jerome Hines, renowned Metropolitan Opera
basso in the title role, and Cesare Bardelli, Metropolitan Opera baritone.
Alfredo Silipigni, director and conductor, will lead
the orchestra.
Verdi's opera, completed while the composer was bedridden
during a severe illness, is based on the victory of Rome over Attila the Hun,
who was called the Scourge of God.
Maestro Silipigni is recreating this stirring work about
the founding of Venice and the triumph of Rome. over the barbarians with
producer Hubert L. Fessenden using vivid illusions of fire. storm and water and
a special dream sequence in which Attila envisions a cross in the sky.
On stage camera projections through specially painted
slides and transparencies. projected on a backdrop, captured the massive
outdoor pictorial moods.
Cesare Bardelli, portraying Ezio, the Roman general,
in the 3.000-seat theater, is joined by Nicola Martinucci, the young tenor who
recently won acclaim in Florence when he substituted for the ailing Placido
Domingo in his role as Foresto. Tenor Thomas Perri of the Metropolitan Opera
Studio will play the Breton salve, Uldino. Leone, the Roman bishop. who becomes
Pope Leo, will be sung by Daniel Bonilla-Torres.
Like Attila, Mr. Hines will bring his renowned voice
and imposing physical appearance to his Attila, leader of the Hun and Ostrogoth
hordes. He starred in the successful Western Hemisphere revival of
"Attila." singing the title role at the Teatro Colon of Buenos Aires.
He has been acclaimed on the world's greatest musical
stages and has appeared at the leading opera houses of the Soviet Union.
Odabella, Attilla's vengeful bride-to-be, sworn to
kill him with his own sword, is only one of Madame Gencer's operatic heroines.
She portrayed Alcestis, Mary Stuart, Elizabeth 1, Anne
Boleyn. Lucrezia Borgia, Lady Macbeth and Norma.
Tickets are available at the Opera Theatre office,
1018 Broad St. The series includes "Cavalleria Rusticana," double-billed
with "Il Tabarro" on Jan. 21; "Madame Butterfly" starring
Dorothy Kirsten on Feb. 25 and "Otello," featuring Mary Costa and
Pier Miranda Ferraro on May 1.
Leading instrumentalists of the Metropolitan Opera
Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic form the Opera Theatre Orchestra.
RIDGEWOOD HERALDS NEWS
1972.10.19
THE ITEM OF MILBURN AND SHORT HILLS
1972.10.19
THE RECORD
1972.10.19
THE HERALD NEWS
1972.10.20
THE RECORD
1972.10.20
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.10.20
NEW YORK TIMES
1972.10.21
JOAN COOK
Gala Opera Evening in Newark
NEWARK, Oct. 20—In a glittering testimonial to culture
and a reaffirmation of faith in the inner city, 3,000 music‐lovers from as far
away as Texas and Milan, Italy, turned out for the Opera Theatre of New
Jersey's opening night production of Verdi's “Attila.”
It was the first major production of the opera on the
Eastern Seaboard in nearly 70 years. Leading roles were sung by the La Scala
soprano Leyla Gencer and the Metropolitan Opera basso Jerome Hines.
Preceding the performance, more than 100 guests from
government, musical and social circles in New York and New Jersey gathered in
the grand foyer of Symphony Hall to enjoy a pre‐curtain, black‐tie dinner that
began with champagne cocktails and worked its way through a four‐course dinner
that included filet mignon and strawberry tart.
“We're trying to restore some luster to an evening out
in downtown Newark,” Alfredo Silipigni, the company's artistic director and
conductor, said before the performance. “It's the first time we've started the
reverse flow culturally.”
Mr. Silipigni, who attended the party with his wife,
said the evening had a dual purpose—to provide good music and to offer a total
evening in Newark, from cocktails to a nightcap after the performance in the hall,
a former Masonic mosque.
Those attending the pre-opera festivities paid $100 a
couple, which included dinner, orchestra seats and champagne reception onstage
following the performance. The entire evening's proceeds were to benefit the
company's Young Artists program which gives aspiring singers the opportunity to
apprentice in a professional theater situation without having to go abroad for
their experience.
Among those attending were Mr. and Mrs. David Swanson
with a party of 20 guests, including Mr. and Mrs. William Enchmeir and Mr. and
Mrs. Ben Kwiat of Smoke Rise. Mr. Swanson is a vice president of S. B. Thomas,
Inc., a wholesale baking company; Mrs. Swanson was chairman of the benefit.
Mrs. Swanson, who was wearing a halter‐dress by Harold
Levine made entirely from shiny silver sequins, said she was looking forward
“to the most exciting night we've ever had.”
“It's the first time we've ever served a $100 dinner,
and getting people to come to Newark is a wonderful experience,” she said.
Some Other Guests
Other guests included Rand Araskog, vice president of
the International Telephone and Telegraph Company, and Mrs. Araskog; Edgar
Kneedler of Sol Hurok Enterprises; Cornelius Bodine Jr., Newark's Business
Administrator and Mrs. Bodine; Dr. Arnold Vorce, dean of Fine Performing Arts
at Glassboro State College; Samuel Miller, director of the Newark Museum; and
Byron R. Kelley executive director of the New Jersey. State Council on the
Arts.
Others were Mrs. Lewis Gulandi, chairman of the board
of the Newark Boys Chorus; Mr. and Mrs. Alvin E. Gershen (Mr. Gershen is an
urban planner and chairman of the New Jersey State Council on the Arts), and
Mr. Edward Brown, music consultant for the state's Department of Education.
While some opera‐lovers flew in from as far afield as
California, Texas and Milan, others came by bus from New York's Port Authority
terminal. A special parking lot has been set up across Broad Street from the
theater, and private policemen are hired for evenings when performances are
held.
60‐Piece Orchestra
Mr. Silipigni, who has brought such artists as Beverly
Sills, Licia Albanese and Roberta Peters to Newark audiences, conducted the
60‐member orchestra, most of whom are New Jersey residents and many of whom
play in such major ensembles as the New York Philharmonic and the Metropolitan
Opera Orchestra.
Opera Theater also takes its season to Trenton each
year and for the first time will appear in Glassboro later in the season, Mr.
Silipigni said.
The company, which operates on a $500,000 annual
budget augmented by grants, is in the European tradition of grand opera, particularly
Italian opera.
Looking ahead, Mr. Silipigni envisions complete nights
at the opera for all musiclovers, from dining at Symphony Hall to meeting the
performers after the performance.
“A man has to feed his wife,” he said philosophically.
“Night life in Newark has died, but we intend to revive it.”
NEW YORK TIMES
1972.10.22
RAYMOND ERICSON
Opera: Verdi’s “Attila” Returns to Life in Newark
“Attila,” Verdi's ninth opera, was a big success when it was given its premiere in Venice in 1846. Four years later, it crossed the Atlantic for an American premiere at Nibto's Garden here. It seems to have been forgotten after that. Even the post‐World War I interest in early Verdi did not extend to this particular opera, and the derogatory comments of Verdi scholars kept the score in the libraries. A concert performance in Venice in 1951 and staging in Florence in 1962 brought‐it renewed attention.
New Yorkers willing to journey to Newark on Friday night had a chance to see it produced at Symphony Hall by the ambitious Opera Theater of New Jersey. One could see why it was received so favorably at first. It has a gutsy, theatrical score, and if there had not been so many superior successors from Verdi's pen, It might have survived more easily.
The story is of no consequence except that the composer found it congenial for his purposes, The dramatic conflicts arise when Attila the Hun invades Italy and comes up against Ezio, ‘a deceptive Roman general, who is friendly at first, as well as Odabella, daughter of a lord Attila has slain, and Foresto, a knight from the Roman settlement of Aquileia. Odabella finally has her revenge and kills Attila.
There are seven scenes, structured conventionally in a series of slow arias, fast arias, occasional ensembles. In this respect, the opera looks forward to “II Trovatore.” but in the earlier score the segments do not form continuity. Strong musical effects follow one another without going anywhere.
Still, the effects are there and are often enjoyable. If they are on the crude side, they have dramatic vigor and color. They give the singers fine opportunities to show off, and Verdi's use of the orchestra, even with hurdygurdy rhythms, is striking.
The Opera Theater of New Jersey did itself proud with the production. To one who has endured many suburban performances sung in dilapidated sets, with a meager chorus and scratchy off‐pitch orchestra, this one came as a pleasant surprise. Adewyn Darroll's simple settings, carefully lighted by Martin Abramson, offered no embarrassments, Franco Gratale directed the principals and the large chorus sensibly, although the tiny ballet was expendable, and there was an excellent orchestra in the pit. Except for the long waits between scenes, the performance went smoothly.
Jerome Hines, who had sung Attila before, in Buenos Aires, took the role in. Newark. The tall American bass made an imposing figure, and was in better voice than he has been for some time, in this listener's experience. The voice was full and sonorous, with only the smallest evidence of a wobble on high tones.
Opposite him was Leyla Gencer, a Turkish‐born soprano, who had not previously sung in this area. She has appeared extensively in major opera houses abroad and is much admired in some circles. She is a handsome woman with an intense manner. Her largish voice, with a somewhat raw tone, was not to my taste, but she ploughed through her difficult fioriture with a force that aroused the audience to cheers. She sang the lovely aria “Oh, nel fuggente nuvolo” with a soft, covered tone that was quite affecting.
In the baritone role of Ezio, Cesare Bardelli sang with considerable beauty of tone. Nicola Martinucci, an Italian tenor new here, was strong Foresto, but he poured out his admirable voice too unstintingly. Thomas Perri and Daniel Bonilla filled smaller parts adequately.
Alfredo Silipigni, artistic director and conductor of the company, led a performance that was thoroughly prepared and he found the color and energy in the music. It was a fine job.
The Opera Theater of New Jersey must have one of the most enthusiastic audiences around, and the noisy reception for every aria and ensemble gave additional excitement to the evening.
THE RECORD
1972.10.22
THE SUNDAY NEWS
1972.10.22
THE CENTRAL NEW JERSEY NEWS
1972.10.23
THE STAR LEDGER
1972.10.23
AVANTI
1972.10.24
IL PICCOLO
1972.10.28
MİLLİYET ART MAGAZINE
1972.11.03
YENİ İSTANBUL DAILY NEWSPAPER
1972.11.04
BİZ YÜZÜNÜ GÖREMİYORUZ AMA
Photo: Soprano Leyla Gencer’in Çeşme başında çekilen bir resmi
Leyla Gencer
Amerika'yı yine fethetti
(Dış Haberler
Servisi New York)
Dünyanın her
köşesinde seyircilerin karşısına çıkmasına rağmen Ankara ve İstanbul Devlet
Operalarında hiç görünmeyen ünlü sopranomuz Leyla Gencer, şimdi de Amerika’yı
yeniden fethetmiştir.
Milletlerarası bir
kişiliğe kavuşan Leyla Gencer, New Jersey Opera Tiyatrosunda Verdi'nin Atilla
operasını söylemektedir. Leyla Gencer yıllardır bir opera grubuyla Verdi'nin
eski operalarını canlandırmak çabasına girişmiştir.
Meselâ «Atilla»
operası ilk kez 1846'da Venedik'te oynamış, dört yıl sonra Amerika'da söylenmiş
ve şimdi. 122 yıl sonra baş kadın rolünde Türk sopranosu olduğu halde yeniden
sahneye uygulanmaktadır.
New York Times’ın
Yorumu
Muteber New York
Times gazetesinin müzik yorumcusu Raymond Ericson, Leyla Gencer'i şöyle
eleştirmektedir:
« (Atilla) operasının
ünlü Amerikan Bas Jerome Hines karşısında Türk sopranosu Leyla Gencer
söylüyordu. Daha önce bu taraflarda sesini işittirmemiş olan Leyla Gencer,
dünyanın bütün büyük operalarında çok takdir toplamıştır. Bazı çevreler, ona
hayrandır. Güzel ve yetenekli bir kadın. Tonu olan zengin sesi, benim zevkime
uygun olmakla beraber, (Atilla) operasının en güç bölümlerini başarı ve dirayetle
söyledi ve seyircilere çılgınca alkışlattı kendini. Güzel (Oh, Nel fuggente
Nuvolo) aryasını kapalı bir yumuşak tonla ve hayli etkili bir biçimde söyledi.»
IDOHA STATE JOURNAL
1972.11.05
NEW YORK MAGAZINE
1972.11.06
Lunge Power
New York's opera crazies descended on Newark's Symphony Hall the other night, in such numbers that one might have wondered who was minding the store back home. The occasion was the local debut of Leyla Gencer, a Turkish soprano who is said to rule the roost in Italy these days. I had heard Gencer in San Francisco in the fifties, when she was quite a nice young rising singer, and have also heard her on pirated recordings where she gives out mightily. And so I went along, especially since the opera was Verdi's Attila in its first production hereabouts since 1850.
The noise about Miss Gencer is nothing compared to the noise of Miss Gencer herself. She sang her big, luscious role at top volume, lunging for the top notes so spectacularly that the evening had the aspect of an athletic as much as a musical event. Does it matter, under these circumstances, that she didn't always attain what she wanted? Yes, I'm sorry to report, it does. Miss Gencer, it would appear, is an unruly per former out to score points on sheer brutality, and Verdi's wonderful, rip roaring, often surprisingly subtle score deserves a great deal better.
The rest of the cast included Jerome Hines in the title role, and he was splendid, even in a get-up that made him look a little like an Oriental Frankenstein monster. Cesare Bardelli sang his usual capable, dry, large-sized performance. The tenor Nicola Martinucci, sounded as if he had learned his style from listening to Franco Corelli records, even down to the lips; this, of course, makes him a third-, rather than a second-hand singer. Moreover, his elevator boots made him look as if he were being pushed by heavy tailwinds.
The orchestra was conducted, sort of, by Alfredo Silipigni, and the chorus looked and sounded as if it had been recruited from Leisure Village. I really question the value of such affairs which, I am told, was above average for the Opera Theater (sic!) of New Jersey. There had been one rehearsal (in which the man responsible for the vagrant lighting had clearly not been included), and the job at hand seemed to be for all singers merely to come downstage and belt arias at their friends out front. Sure, it was fine to hear Attila, and I hope to do so again sometime, but this sort of thing just perpetuates the insanity of opera at the expense of sense. You could take it all as fun, I suppose, except that tickets sell for the same top price as at the Met.
OPERA MAGAZINE
1973 February
MILLIYET NEWSPAPER
1973.02.23
THE ORLANDO SENTINEL
1973.03.20
CITIZEN REGISTER
1980.01.27
THE DAILY ARGUS
1980.01.27
OUTWARD DIRECTION
The distinctly articulate Franco Gratale reflects the
nature of the operas he directs and the singers he coaches: Exaggerated and
colorfully flamboyant.
By Lou Cevetillo
Opera is hyperbole, an exaggeration of life, and those
involved in opera often assume larger-than- life presences that reflect their
stage personalities.
Franco Gratale, an operatic stage director and coach,
is the essence of hyperbole. Gratale is a hurricane who bursts onto a scene or
into a room with the frenzy of Manrico in the third act of Il Trovatore, the
power of Verdi's Otello and the disconcerting disbelief of Donizetti's comic,
Don Pasquale.
Even in his dress, Gratale is flagrantly overstated.
Bedecked in rings and chains, Gratale is a cross between Liberace and Sammy Davis
Jr. His self-described "uniform" is turtleneck, sport jacket and
slacks. But Gratale augments this simple garb with a minimum of six gold chains
(today worth a king's ransom), a ring on nearly every finger and gold bracelet
that could rival the shackles of a chain gang.
"I love jewelry. It's flamboyant and colorful.
I'm flamboyant and colorful... so why not? I dress this way most of the
time." He gestures in grand fashion as he jokingly defends his penchant
for pendants. "We have been taught to live in moderation. The Protestant
ethic and all that. And there are so many areas in life that necessitate moderation-but
personal appearance certainly is not one of them."
To direct in the theater, one must have the ability to
be theatrical-and Gratale is one of the most theatrical people around. Sitting
in his comfortable home in Hartsdale, surrounded by scores of autographed
photographs of those with whom he has worked, Gratale explains his directing
philosophy.
"The theater in general, and opera in particular,
is the portrayal of life. The artist must communicate the feelings, emotions,
thoughts of real life to an audience that may or may not be receptive to this
or that message. If the actor does not understand the moment in the opera, the
motivational force for his or her actions, it is the director who must try to
bring it out in the artist. That's the director's role.
Lou
Cevetillo writes about opera for
Gannett Westchester Newspapers.
Franco Gratale directs a 1976 rehearsal
with Alfredo Silipigni at the piano
Photo: © Erika Davidson
Photo: © Erika Davidson
"This is doubly difficult in opera, because opera is an exaggeration of the emotions of life. However, if it is to be believable and not simply. camp, this exaggeration must be portrayed with a semblance of credibility, or the work becomes farce. Therefore, the director must have the propensity to feel, to have experienced life to the fullest. And then, he must have the communicative skills to transfer his experience to the artist."
Gratale has a reputation of being a patient teacher and amicable colleague. In a backbiting business filled with intrigues, vendettas and factions, Gratale stands apart. Knowlegeable, concerned, honest, and supportive of young talent, Gratale is a welcome addition to the multitude of operatic coaches currently instructing the singing world of New York.
Franco Gratale feels that art is an extension of real life.
"I live in Hartsdale with my wife and four children. Through the medium of opera, I can be transported to any time and any place, but the emotions are the same. They are human emotions that span time and place and are universal. A father in the 16th century didn't love his daughter any less or differently than a father today. The dress is different, and the stage sets are foreign to the artist, but he can emote the same feelings and touch the audience by exaggerating the pain, love, hate or lust. By this exaggeration the audience gets the message."
The ever-resent hyperbole that is so much a part of Gratale is also a part of his art, his work, his love. "My method of directing is contingent upon my intensity of feeling. If I can transmit the enormity of my feelings to a singer for a particular scene in rehearsal, he may be able to deliver that feeling or communicate that emotion to the audience. Certainly, I realize that the percentage of my initial direction will be lost. But if I exaggerate and the singer tries to translate the expression, the audience may receive most of the message-and that usually is enough."
Gratale had his start in West New York, N.J., where his father owned a trucking firm: "We were middle class and most of my life was planned for me. I was the dutiful son who went to Rutgers University to pursue a career in law, but I actually preferred to sketch. After two years of studies, I decided to leave and make my fortune in New York City. A friend introduced me to Hattie Carnegie, the fashion designer, who saw my work and hired me the same day. That was the beginning. I worked with her until I was drafted into the Army for two years, just following the Korean conflict.
"When I left the service, I went to work as a decorator for B. Altman in Manhattan. While there my affiliation with opera became intimate. Up to that point opera was just a passion, not a profession. My earliest memory of opera was listening to my grandmother's old 78s on the Victrola. She had Caruso, Galli-Curci and Farrar recordings that simply captivated me. At the age of 10, I thought that the sextet from Lucia was the greatest music I had ever heard.
"In the early '60s I became affiliated with Armand Boyjagin, the conductor and coach who had begun an opera workshop in Paterson, N.J. He was the first to recognize my directorial skills. I met him through a mutual friend who was impressed with my costume designs. From designing costumes to helping at rehearsals I got my baptism by fire in this business and spent nine years with the Paterson Lyric Opera as an apprentice. It was here that I learned the art and had the opportunity to work with very young artists, some of whom went on to careers at the Metropolitan Opera, the New York City Opera, or abroad-including Paul Plishka, Harry Theyard, Marisa Galvany, Gwynn Cornell and Samuel Ramey.
"It was in Paterson that they learned their trade-and I along with them. Happily all of those stars are known for their acting ability and have been critically acclaimed for such. It gives me some gratification to know that I was part of their developing years as singing actors and actresses."
Gratale got his first professional break in New Jersey's foremost opera company, the State Opera in Newark. Alfredo Silipigni, principal, conductor and musical director, brought Gratale in to direct many operas during the early and mid-'70s. Rigoletto was his professional directorial debut. The cast included Vern Shinall, currently with the Met in the title role; Eugenio Fernandi, tenor of the Met and La Scala, and soprano Arlene Randazzo. Following a successful Rigoletto, Gratale was given the opportunity to direct many other productions including Tosca, Adriana Lecouvreur and Fedora with the famous Italian soprano, Magda Olivero; Norma with Beverly Sills, La Giaconda with Grace Bumbry and Richard Tucker and Attila with Jerome Hines and Leyla Gencer.
"One of my fondest memories is the affiliation I had with Magda Olivero. (Mme. Olivero is the last of a breed of singers that flourished in Italy during the first half of this century. Her acting style comes from the early verismo school, a genre that began at the end of the 19th century and dealt with "real-life" situations by calling for an acting style then considered natural and credible but today considered affected and stilted.)
"Only Magda could get away with her style of acting onstage. If someone tried to copy her, they would be ridiculed. It worked for Magda because she believed it and therefore the audience believed it, too. It takes a sensitive director to make allowances for a style like Mme. Olivero's and to tailor the other singers around her. It wasn't easy, but the benefits and the critical acclaim made it all worthwhile."
When Francesco Cilea heard Magda Olivero's interpretation of the title role in his opera, Adriana Lecouvreur, he told her she was his choice for that role. A more impressive recommendation cannot be had.
"It was that Adriana in Newark that marked Magda's last performance of this role. She was joined by Placido Domingo in that production and with such a duo of exciting singers, the audience went crazy.
The nights of a stage director before a new production are nightmarish at best. One of the recurring horrors in a director's dreams is one of the stars failing midway through a performance. This nightmare became a reality for Franco Gratale in a performance of Aida in Newark a few years ago, an evening he remembers as "one of the most frightful and-in retrospect-one of the most hilarious I have ever spent backstage.
Photo: © Erika Davidson
"Alfredo Silipigni was in the pit taking the orchestra and the tenor through the opening moments of the score. The theater was full to capacity, nearly 3,000, for the comeback of Blanche Thebom, who was appearing as Amneris that evening. The tenor was laboring his way through the famous aria, "Celeste Aida," and he came to the final phrase 'un trono vicino al sol,' with the intended high B flat, and stopped singing.
"In perfect brilliant Italian that Radames stepped forward to the footlights and said, 'Scusatemi, Maestro, non posso cantare stasera' ('Excuse me, Maestro, I can't sing tonight'). And with that he turned and walked off the stage toward me in the wings, intending to leave the theater."
"The audience was deafeningly quiet, and Silipigni stood on the podium with one of the blankest expressions... The tenor arrived in front of me... I turned him around and pushed him back onstage. I signaled to Maestro Silipigni to continue, Blanche Thebom made her entrance as Amneris and the tenor sang through the rest of the performance. However, I had to reassure him that everything was going all right during each intermission. I had to say that. We didn't have a cover for the part of the tenor, and if he decided to quit the performance would have to be halted. I still shiver with fright when I think of that near disaster.
"I thought that we would be crucified by the press and the public for it. Instead, the audience cheered and stamped their feet for the entire cast, even for our reluctant Radames."
But not only the inadequacies of singers have touched Gratale; his career has been helped several times by the inadequacies of directors.
"I made my Italian debut in Trieste because the director went mad," Gratale jests. (He walked out of the production just three days before the performance.) "The cast included American soprano Joan Diener, who starred as the original Dulcinea in the first cast of Man of La Mancha, Carlo Cossutta and Aldo Protti. My manager got the call, and I jumped on the first flight to Italy and got there in time for just three intensive rehearsals. We pulled together and all enjoyed a great success. The reviews were great, and I had great fun in the confusion."
Another such directorial assignment came in Puerto Rico.
"I had directed and designed the gowns for Renata Scotto in Puerto Rico for the company, Opera Di Puerto Rico in San Juan. We did the entire production in white and black with Renata wearing one of my creations in black feathers. It was fabulous. The reviews were stupendous, and all were pleased.
It was Scotto Traviata that brought Gratale back to Puerto Rico for a performance of Verdi's Otello, which almost turned out to be the disaster of his career.
A new opera company was making its debut in Puerto Rico. APTEL (Agrupacion Puertorriquena de Teatro Lirico Inc.) was to have been an entirely native company, with only Puerto Rican artists and technicians in its ranks. Its first endeavor was to produce Otello with a very fine dramatic tenor from the Island, Jesus Quinones-Ledesma (who subsequently changed his name to Ricardo Ledesman), in the title role.
"The cast was for the most part inexperienced by any standard, and to put on the most dramatic work of the repertory was insane. Quinones-Ledesman had been trained in Italy and had had a career years prior, but the rest were simply a mess. Mayhem was the order of the day at those rehearsals. Then it happened. Someone remembered Gratale from the previous season with the international opera company of Puerto Rico, Opera de Puerto Rico.
"I was called in New York and caught the first plane to San Juan. Otello is my favorite opera and a chance to direct it does not come often, with the shortage of tenors who can sing the title role without croaking. Little did I know then that the Puerto Rican factions were enraged at my employ and planned to sabotage the performances with hisses and catcalls.
"In a minimum of time we rehearsed and were barely ready for opening night. The curtain rose with the threatening chord of the storm sequence and the boos were already audible. This was quickly hushed by less chauvinistic listeners who had come to hear the opera-not a demonstration. The rest of the performance went on without even an anemic hiss.
But there were still curtain calls. For the singers the bravos were thunderous. Now it was my turn to face the crowd. The claque hissed and booed... The stage was strewn with roses thrown at the soprano... I didn't know what to do so I did the unexpected-I began to blow kisses and bent down and threw a rose out to the audience. I should mention that not all of the audience was booing my call. But when they saw my antics with kisses and roses, it brought the house down. The boos stopped and the audience rose to its feet and cheered me and my work."
Since that memorable production, Gratale has been engaged annually by APTEL, and has become Puerto Rico's favorite "imported" director.
"I direct by showing. To merely explain a moment to a prima donna or a primo tenor is not usually enough. Let's face it, their lot is so precarious, with their concern for their voices, their diaphragms, their makeup, their costume... they can't always intellectualize what they're supposed to be feeling. They have to be shown. This is most true with tenors.
For me, most tenors fall into two basic categories. There are those who are intelligent but unfortunately aren't terribly exciting to watch or hear. And there are those who go out there with a fabulous voice but the acting ability of a potato. There are exceptions-Placido Domingo, for one. However, tenors for the most part are the most difficult to work with, because they have-undeniably the most difficult voice to produce.
"Sopranos are not much different, although they are not nearly as crazed as their male counterparts. I get along well with most singers, but sopranos are my most congenial voices."
"Attending the Met I heard so many great voices; of prima donnas three stand out as being great singing actresses-Callas, Olivero and Scotto. Renata Tebaldi certainly had a beautiful voice, great stature and presence, but for me the other three ladies had it over her as singing actresses.
"Among the tenors I have heard, Vinay, Melchior (a lousy actor but unequalled in Tannhauser and Tristan to my mind), and Del Monaco were the most memorable. The brassiness of Del Monaco's sound and the abandon with which he sang created an event-something I fear will never be heard again in our lifetime.
"Above all however, there are three who transcend all the others: Birgit Nilsson, Franco Corelli and Joan Sutherland. At their peaks they were beyond anyone before or after them. The Nilsson- Corelli Turandots or the Sutherland Lucias were moments in operatic history which could never be duplicated or relieved. It was my joy to have heard them, yet my sorrow to know that they are gone forever."
Asked which he would choose, if he had his choice of any opera and any cast to direct, he answered:
"Otello, with Ramon Vinay in the title role. He certainly did not have the powerhouse voice of some of the other interpreters, but he was a great actor. Joined by Leonard Warren and Licia Albanese, that would be my favorite all-time cast of that work. Now, if you'd ask me who I would like to direct today in Otello, I will have to say Franco Corelli in the title role, Renata Scotto as Desdemona and Piero Cappuccilli as Iago. Riccardo Muti would be my choice in the pit."
Gratale recently opened a studio to coach young singers, and he sees a need for his approach. "Too often American singers spend years in the bend of a piano in front of a voice teacher learning singing technique. What they are not getting is practical interpretation training. They may or may not learn to use their voices, but the use of their bodies as part of their tools of communication simply goes untended. The quickest way to discover the insecurities of a singer is to watch his or her feet and hands.
"A career in opera demands more than just a pleasant voice. A signer must have at his command his entire body. Knowing what he is singing is only the first step. He must be able to communicate the composer's meaning with his voice, face, and body.
"Alfredo Silipigni was in the pit taking the orchestra and the tenor through the opening moments of the score. The theater was full to capacity, nearly 3,000, for the comeback of Blanche Thebom, who was appearing as Amneris that evening. The tenor was laboring his way through the famous aria, "Celeste Aida," and he came to the final phrase 'un trono vicino al sol,' with the intended high B flat, and stopped singing.
"In perfect brilliant Italian that Radames stepped forward to the footlights and said, 'Scusatemi, Maestro, non posso cantare stasera' ('Excuse me, Maestro, I can't sing tonight'). And with that he turned and walked off the stage toward me in the wings, intending to leave the theater."
"The audience was deafeningly quiet, and Silipigni stood on the podium with one of the blankest expressions... The tenor arrived in front of me... I turned him around and pushed him back onstage. I signaled to Maestro Silipigni to continue, Blanche Thebom made her entrance as Amneris and the tenor sang through the rest of the performance. However, I had to reassure him that everything was going all right during each intermission. I had to say that. We didn't have a cover for the part of the tenor, and if he decided to quit the performance would have to be halted. I still shiver with fright when I think of that near disaster.
"I thought that we would be crucified by the press and the public for it. Instead, the audience cheered and stamped their feet for the entire cast, even for our reluctant Radames."
But not only the inadequacies of singers have touched Gratale; his career has been helped several times by the inadequacies of directors.
"I made my Italian debut in Trieste because the director went mad," Gratale jests. (He walked out of the production just three days before the performance.) "The cast included American soprano Joan Diener, who starred as the original Dulcinea in the first cast of Man of La Mancha, Carlo Cossutta and Aldo Protti. My manager got the call, and I jumped on the first flight to Italy and got there in time for just three intensive rehearsals. We pulled together and all enjoyed a great success. The reviews were great, and I had great fun in the confusion."
Another such directorial assignment came in Puerto Rico.
"I had directed and designed the gowns for Renata Scotto in Puerto Rico for the company, Opera Di Puerto Rico in San Juan. We did the entire production in white and black with Renata wearing one of my creations in black feathers. It was fabulous. The reviews were stupendous, and all were pleased.
It was Scotto Traviata that brought Gratale back to Puerto Rico for a performance of Verdi's Otello, which almost turned out to be the disaster of his career.
A new opera company was making its debut in Puerto Rico. APTEL (Agrupacion Puertorriquena de Teatro Lirico Inc.) was to have been an entirely native company, with only Puerto Rican artists and technicians in its ranks. Its first endeavor was to produce Otello with a very fine dramatic tenor from the Island, Jesus Quinones-Ledesma (who subsequently changed his name to Ricardo Ledesman), in the title role.
"The cast was for the most part inexperienced by any standard, and to put on the most dramatic work of the repertory was insane. Quinones-Ledesman had been trained in Italy and had had a career years prior, but the rest were simply a mess. Mayhem was the order of the day at those rehearsals. Then it happened. Someone remembered Gratale from the previous season with the international opera company of Puerto Rico, Opera de Puerto Rico.
"I was called in New York and caught the first plane to San Juan. Otello is my favorite opera and a chance to direct it does not come often, with the shortage of tenors who can sing the title role without croaking. Little did I know then that the Puerto Rican factions were enraged at my employ and planned to sabotage the performances with hisses and catcalls.
"In a minimum of time we rehearsed and were barely ready for opening night. The curtain rose with the threatening chord of the storm sequence and the boos were already audible. This was quickly hushed by less chauvinistic listeners who had come to hear the opera-not a demonstration. The rest of the performance went on without even an anemic hiss.
But there were still curtain calls. For the singers the bravos were thunderous. Now it was my turn to face the crowd. The claque hissed and booed... The stage was strewn with roses thrown at the soprano... I didn't know what to do so I did the unexpected-I began to blow kisses and bent down and threw a rose out to the audience. I should mention that not all of the audience was booing my call. But when they saw my antics with kisses and roses, it brought the house down. The boos stopped and the audience rose to its feet and cheered me and my work."
Since that memorable production, Gratale has been engaged annually by APTEL, and has become Puerto Rico's favorite "imported" director.
"I direct by showing. To merely explain a moment to a prima donna or a primo tenor is not usually enough. Let's face it, their lot is so precarious, with their concern for their voices, their diaphragms, their makeup, their costume... they can't always intellectualize what they're supposed to be feeling. They have to be shown. This is most true with tenors.
For me, most tenors fall into two basic categories. There are those who are intelligent but unfortunately aren't terribly exciting to watch or hear. And there are those who go out there with a fabulous voice but the acting ability of a potato. There are exceptions-Placido Domingo, for one. However, tenors for the most part are the most difficult to work with, because they have-undeniably the most difficult voice to produce.
"Sopranos are not much different, although they are not nearly as crazed as their male counterparts. I get along well with most singers, but sopranos are my most congenial voices."
"Attending the Met I heard so many great voices; of prima donnas three stand out as being great singing actresses-Callas, Olivero and Scotto. Renata Tebaldi certainly had a beautiful voice, great stature and presence, but for me the other three ladies had it over her as singing actresses.
"Among the tenors I have heard, Vinay, Melchior (a lousy actor but unequalled in Tannhauser and Tristan to my mind), and Del Monaco were the most memorable. The brassiness of Del Monaco's sound and the abandon with which he sang created an event-something I fear will never be heard again in our lifetime.
"Above all however, there are three who transcend all the others: Birgit Nilsson, Franco Corelli and Joan Sutherland. At their peaks they were beyond anyone before or after them. The Nilsson- Corelli Turandots or the Sutherland Lucias were moments in operatic history which could never be duplicated or relieved. It was my joy to have heard them, yet my sorrow to know that they are gone forever."
Asked which he would choose, if he had his choice of any opera and any cast to direct, he answered:
"Otello, with Ramon Vinay in the title role. He certainly did not have the powerhouse voice of some of the other interpreters, but he was a great actor. Joined by Leonard Warren and Licia Albanese, that would be my favorite all-time cast of that work. Now, if you'd ask me who I would like to direct today in Otello, I will have to say Franco Corelli in the title role, Renata Scotto as Desdemona and Piero Cappuccilli as Iago. Riccardo Muti would be my choice in the pit."
Gratale recently opened a studio to coach young singers, and he sees a need for his approach. "Too often American singers spend years in the bend of a piano in front of a voice teacher learning singing technique. What they are not getting is practical interpretation training. They may or may not learn to use their voices, but the use of their bodies as part of their tools of communication simply goes untended. The quickest way to discover the insecurities of a singer is to watch his or her feet and hands.
"A career in opera demands more than just a pleasant voice. A signer must have at his command his entire body. Knowing what he is singing is only the first step. He must be able to communicate the composer's meaning with his voice, face, and body.
Photo: © Erika Davidson
"In my coaching sessions, I teach the young singers one of the most important lessons in beginning a career: how to sing an audition. The pressure is unbearable at times when one is called to perform for the judgment of a potential employer. How to choose an appropriate aria... How to deliver the music in a professional way... How to relate to the listener at the audition a self-confidence and air of security. Nothing is more unnerving than a singer who telecasts his insecurities to an audience, whether he is onstage or in the studio.
"There is one more thing that has me concerned about the new crop of American singers. We are not training a number of our younger voices to become comprimario singers. It seems that everyone currently studying for an operatic career has his sights set on becoming a principal singer. No one seems to be interested in the supporting roles of the character genre. This is quite foolish, because there is much to be made in a career as a comprimario. Usually, they work more often, and currently the demand for outreaches the supply.
"What is primary in a career as a comprimario is the singer's ability to act, to convey the drama. He does not usually have an aria to sing, so he must make his mark with his dramatic style. Currently we have only a few accomplished comprimarios, even in the major houses. At the Met we have Andrea Velis, Robert Schmorr, Paul Franke and Charles Anthony in the forefront.
"It is more difficult to study these supporting roles and likewise to teach them, but they are the backbone of any major opera company. The art of the comprimario is something I will attempt to to keep alive with my work."
CLARION MAGAZINE
1983 May
COURIER-POST
2006.03.31
VERDI IN AMERICA
2011.09.01
GEORGE W. MARTIN
ATTILA
[……] performance in
Symphony Hall, Newark, on October 20, 1972. The company's approach to the opera
was quite different. Sets and costumes were minimal, and as one reviewer
observed, "suggested economy rather than artistic purpose." Further,
they were not helped "by a dreary series of projections and some bizarrely
miscalculated lighting effects." Yet a critic for the New York Times
thought the company had done "itself proud with the production." My own
memory of the storm, sunrise, and founding of Venice, usually the most disappointing
of the scenic spectacles, was of a little steamy mist and grey colouring to the
back of the stage while the singers, as if to stay dry, hugged the front. Most
of the company's money, it seemed, had gone into rehearsing the orchestra and
lesser singers, who played and sang well, and into casting two international
stars in the roles of Attila and Odabella, the Metropolitan bass Jerome Hines
and the Turkish Italian soprano Leyla Gencer. Their fans greeted them with
rapture, and since no commercial recording of the full opera was yet available
in the United States, throughout the audience tape recorders whirred.
Gencer, who was famous for her ability to sustain a soft line with floating pianissimos, not surprisingly made a tour de force out of Odabella's romanza "Oh, nel fuggente nuvolo" (Oh, in the fleeting cloud), which she sings alone onstage to open act 1. By then an honoured guest in Attila's camp, she soliloquizes in a wood at night, by a stream streaked with moonlight, and in a fleeting cloud sees her dead father's face, which transforms into that of her lover Foresto, whom she believes dead. Haunted by her memories, she appeals to breeze and stream to cease their murmurs so that she may hear the voices of her ghosts. Verdi's accompaniment, featuring flute, English horn, cello, and harp, creates amid the somewhat brassy opera a moment of quiet beauty.
Hines, athletically proportioned and standing six foot six, was physically a stupendous "legendary world terror," though the historic Attila, as described by one who saw him, was "short and squat, broad-chested, a huge beady eyed head, a wisp of beard, flat nosed, swarthy complexioned." Hines also had a remarkably fine bass voice, full and sonorous, and even though on this night he may not have been at his best," throughout, the performance was musically exciting, and the audience cheered every number.
Before Newark, Hines had sung Attila only in Buenos Aires (1966), and reportedly in the decade after Newark he told American impresarios that he would go anywhere to sing the role. And so, he did, notably to Philadelphia (1978), Edmonton (Canadian premiere, 1978), Memphis (1979), and Chicago (1980). In Philadelphia the critic for the Inquirer welcomed the opera as "a reminder of how much intriguing music lies outside the usual operatic choices." In particular, he was impressed by Verdi's orchestral touches not only for Odabella's romanza but more generally for the "storm music, sea sounds, and forest murmurs." At Edmonton, a critic for the Albertan, was less enthusiastic, concluding that to hear the opera "once was a pleasure and a privilege; more is unnecessary." And after the Chicago premiere a local critic
Gencer, who was famous for her ability to sustain a soft line with floating pianissimos, not surprisingly made a tour de force out of Odabella's romanza "Oh, nel fuggente nuvolo" (Oh, in the fleeting cloud), which she sings alone onstage to open act 1. By then an honoured guest in Attila's camp, she soliloquizes in a wood at night, by a stream streaked with moonlight, and in a fleeting cloud sees her dead father's face, which transforms into that of her lover Foresto, whom she believes dead. Haunted by her memories, she appeals to breeze and stream to cease their murmurs so that she may hear the voices of her ghosts. Verdi's accompaniment, featuring flute, English horn, cello, and harp, creates amid the somewhat brassy opera a moment of quiet beauty.
Hines, athletically proportioned and standing six foot six, was physically a stupendous "legendary world terror," though the historic Attila, as described by one who saw him, was "short and squat, broad-chested, a huge beady eyed head, a wisp of beard, flat nosed, swarthy complexioned." Hines also had a remarkably fine bass voice, full and sonorous, and even though on this night he may not have been at his best," throughout, the performance was musically exciting, and the audience cheered every number.
Before Newark, Hines had sung Attila only in Buenos Aires (1966), and reportedly in the decade after Newark he told American impresarios that he would go anywhere to sing the role. And so, he did, notably to Philadelphia (1978), Edmonton (Canadian premiere, 1978), Memphis (1979), and Chicago (1980). In Philadelphia the critic for the Inquirer welcomed the opera as "a reminder of how much intriguing music lies outside the usual operatic choices." In particular, he was impressed by Verdi's orchestral touches not only for Odabella's romanza but more generally for the "storm music, sea sounds, and forest murmurs." At Edmonton, a critic for the Albertan, was less enthusiastic, concluding that to hear the opera "once was a pleasure and a privilege; more is unnecessary." And after the Chicago premiere a local critic
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COMPLETE RECORDING
1972.10.20
Recording Excerpts [1972.10.20]
Santo’di patri Prologue Scene III
Liberamente or piangi Act I Scene I
Qual suon di passi Act I Scene II
