1 9 8 5
IL PICCOLO
1985.01.24
STAMPA SERA
1985.09.25
1 9 8 6
L'OPERA
1986
LA STAMPA
1986.01.13
COURIER-POST
1986.03.14
BAY AREA REPORTER [Vol.16 - No.21]
1986.05.22
IL PICCOLO
1986.08.07
1 9 8 7
QUOTATIONS FROM THE BOOK
MARIA CALLAS
1987
Parlare di Maria Callas è pur sempre un grosso problema.
La sua vita è stata raccontata molte volte, in modi
diversi secondo gli autori e non sempre in sincronia con la verità. Ciò che a
noi più interessa in questa sede è ricordarne l'arte insuperabile.
Quando lei entrava in scena nel primo atto di Anna Bolena, sostenuta dalle ancelle, era una regina distrutta che sentiva in Giovanna Seymour (Giulietta Simionato) una temibile rivale sia come amante di Enrico VIII che come tigre di palcoscenico. Nessuno potrà mai sapere cosa pensasse la Callas in quel momento prima di iniziare il recitativo. Il pubblico aspettava col fiato sospeso, poi si sentiva il debole sospiro cui seguivano le prime parole "Si taciturna e mesta mai non vidi assemblea". Automaticamente un brivido percorreva il teatro e veniva la pelle d'oca. Quasi quattro ore dopo arrivava, difficile e tremenda, la cabaletta, grande pezzo di bravura della "Coppia iniqua" e il teatro esplodeva. Così tutte le sere, con qualsiasi opera, anche nei tempi peggiori.
Cos'era la voce della Callas? Le "beghine" del loggione hanno discusso per anni, senza arrivare ad un accordo. E poi la Callas cantava tutto, da Norma a Sonnambula, da Aida trionfante a Città del Messico con un incredibile sopracuto nel finale secondo, alla più sofferta Fedora.
Mancò un paio di stagioni e al suo ritorno per il Poliuto entrò in scena a piccoli passi fra grandiose rovine, spostando appena con la mano il lembo del mantello di Paolina. Bastò quel piccolo gesto. Il teatro impazzì tanto che sembrava uno stadio. Lei era tornata e non era questione di divismo o di voce, ormai usurata, ma amore allo stato puro. Lei lo sapeva, lo sapevano tutti e fu una serata indimenticabile. Non ricordiamo chi ha scritto che la Callas era sublime nel bene e nel male. Poteva avere note siderali e acuti terrificanti, stridenti. Ma erano note sue e in ogni ruolo sapeva trovare quelle giuste, pur cambiando scelte nel tempo. La sua prima Medea era selvaggia e brutale, l'ultima, dopo molti anni, quasi intimista. Cambiò anche di figura. Era una opulenta matrona, ma nessuno ci badava quando era in scena, perché tutto spariva nel vortice della sua interpretazione. Poi divenne magra, divenne elegante, sofisticata, conscia della regalità del suo ruolo sulla scena e fuori. Il volto si affilò; gli occhi sembrarono più grandi e intensi, dominanti
come quelli dei ritratti del Fayum.
Cosa fosse la sua voce nelle prime recite di Atene non lo sappiamo. La prima registrazione nota è del 1949, nella Turandot a Buenos Aires con Mario Del Monaco. L'ultimo disco è dell'11 novembre 1974, in Giappone, per un concerto con Giuseppe Di Stefano.
Cosa restava all'epoca della Callas? Era il suo fantasma, ma un fantasma ancora vivace che in talune frasi dava ancora brivido e tensione.
Da questo disco si può capire perché la Callas fosse inaffondabile, come lo era sulla scena a rischio di fare pasticci.
Esiste una registrazione televisiva del secondo atto di Tosca con Tito Gobbi che ne dà la prova. Alla fine dell'atto, ammazzato il truce barone Scarpia, non si capiva perché Tosca continuasse a vagare per la scena mentre avrebbe dovuto uscire. Si sa che senza occhiali la Callas non vedeva nulla.
La scena aveva tre porte, due dipinte e una praticabile, ma lei non ricordava quale fosse la giusta. L'incredibile andò allora a rimirarsi ancora una volta il cadavere e in dialetto veronese chiese lumi al Gobbi morto. Lo stecchito rispose e lei uscì giusto in tempo.
Questa è becera aneddotica, ma la Callas era così. Non parliamo poi delle affettuose pacche che dava sulla schiena dei colleghi. Ne conobbe diverse la Simionato, che una sera, prima di Anna Bolena, rispose con una sberla altrettanto forte ed istintiva. Per poco non saltò tutto, ma poi ci risero sopra e tutto fini in gloria. Oggi in teatro manca di queste cose. La regia domina sulla musica e gli artisti sono "menomati" da direttori e registi.
Anche i sommi artisti, non sono più quelli di una volta. Molti sono famosi, fanno i divi, ma non lo sono, hanno un'ottima organizzazione commerciale e propagandistica. Ma il sacro fuoco sembra spento. La Callas è invece, e sarà sempre, un punto sicuro di riferimento.
Certe sue interpretazioni restano uniche. Forse solo la grande signora, Leyla Gencer, sapeva dare lo stesso carisma ai ruoli, ritagliandoli sulla sua voce, ma con la stessa altissima classe. Oggi come oggi la cantante che osasse affrontare tutto ciò che fece la Callas si brucerebbe in poche stagioni. Lei poteva alternare Isotta e Puritani.
Poi c'erano le sue mani, che cantavano in accordo con la voce, mobili o statiche, aggressive o ieratiche, sempre da seguire con gli occhi. Diceva Tullio Serafin che
Mariano Stabile, quando era giù di voce, cantava con le mani e ricordava l'aria del sogno di Cassio nell'Otello.
La Callas aveva voce e mani, ed erano un sogno unico. Fedele al suo ruolo di grande tragica, quando si senti intorno il vuoto, fece come un orgoglioso felino. La tigre si nascose, si isolò, mori sola come forse era stata per tutta la vita, anche se seguita da molte persone direttamente e dal mondo intero indirettamente. Scomparsa lei, è rimasto il mito.
Quando lei entrava in scena nel primo atto di Anna Bolena, sostenuta dalle ancelle, era una regina distrutta che sentiva in Giovanna Seymour (Giulietta Simionato) una temibile rivale sia come amante di Enrico VIII che come tigre di palcoscenico. Nessuno potrà mai sapere cosa pensasse la Callas in quel momento prima di iniziare il recitativo. Il pubblico aspettava col fiato sospeso, poi si sentiva il debole sospiro cui seguivano le prime parole "Si taciturna e mesta mai non vidi assemblea". Automaticamente un brivido percorreva il teatro e veniva la pelle d'oca. Quasi quattro ore dopo arrivava, difficile e tremenda, la cabaletta, grande pezzo di bravura della "Coppia iniqua" e il teatro esplodeva. Così tutte le sere, con qualsiasi opera, anche nei tempi peggiori.
Cos'era la voce della Callas? Le "beghine" del loggione hanno discusso per anni, senza arrivare ad un accordo. E poi la Callas cantava tutto, da Norma a Sonnambula, da Aida trionfante a Città del Messico con un incredibile sopracuto nel finale secondo, alla più sofferta Fedora.
Mancò un paio di stagioni e al suo ritorno per il Poliuto entrò in scena a piccoli passi fra grandiose rovine, spostando appena con la mano il lembo del mantello di Paolina. Bastò quel piccolo gesto. Il teatro impazzì tanto che sembrava uno stadio. Lei era tornata e non era questione di divismo o di voce, ormai usurata, ma amore allo stato puro. Lei lo sapeva, lo sapevano tutti e fu una serata indimenticabile. Non ricordiamo chi ha scritto che la Callas era sublime nel bene e nel male. Poteva avere note siderali e acuti terrificanti, stridenti. Ma erano note sue e in ogni ruolo sapeva trovare quelle giuste, pur cambiando scelte nel tempo. La sua prima Medea era selvaggia e brutale, l'ultima, dopo molti anni, quasi intimista. Cambiò anche di figura. Era una opulenta matrona, ma nessuno ci badava quando era in scena, perché tutto spariva nel vortice della sua interpretazione. Poi divenne magra, divenne elegante, sofisticata, conscia della regalità del suo ruolo sulla scena e fuori. Il volto si affilò; gli occhi sembrarono più grandi e intensi, dominanti
come quelli dei ritratti del Fayum.
Cosa fosse la sua voce nelle prime recite di Atene non lo sappiamo. La prima registrazione nota è del 1949, nella Turandot a Buenos Aires con Mario Del Monaco. L'ultimo disco è dell'11 novembre 1974, in Giappone, per un concerto con Giuseppe Di Stefano.
Cosa restava all'epoca della Callas? Era il suo fantasma, ma un fantasma ancora vivace che in talune frasi dava ancora brivido e tensione.
Da questo disco si può capire perché la Callas fosse inaffondabile, come lo era sulla scena a rischio di fare pasticci.
Esiste una registrazione televisiva del secondo atto di Tosca con Tito Gobbi che ne dà la prova. Alla fine dell'atto, ammazzato il truce barone Scarpia, non si capiva perché Tosca continuasse a vagare per la scena mentre avrebbe dovuto uscire. Si sa che senza occhiali la Callas non vedeva nulla.
La scena aveva tre porte, due dipinte e una praticabile, ma lei non ricordava quale fosse la giusta. L'incredibile andò allora a rimirarsi ancora una volta il cadavere e in dialetto veronese chiese lumi al Gobbi morto. Lo stecchito rispose e lei uscì giusto in tempo.
Questa è becera aneddotica, ma la Callas era così. Non parliamo poi delle affettuose pacche che dava sulla schiena dei colleghi. Ne conobbe diverse la Simionato, che una sera, prima di Anna Bolena, rispose con una sberla altrettanto forte ed istintiva. Per poco non saltò tutto, ma poi ci risero sopra e tutto fini in gloria. Oggi in teatro manca di queste cose. La regia domina sulla musica e gli artisti sono "menomati" da direttori e registi.
Anche i sommi artisti, non sono più quelli di una volta. Molti sono famosi, fanno i divi, ma non lo sono, hanno un'ottima organizzazione commerciale e propagandistica. Ma il sacro fuoco sembra spento. La Callas è invece, e sarà sempre, un punto sicuro di riferimento.
Certe sue interpretazioni restano uniche. Forse solo la grande signora, Leyla Gencer, sapeva dare lo stesso carisma ai ruoli, ritagliandoli sulla sua voce, ma con la stessa altissima classe. Oggi come oggi la cantante che osasse affrontare tutto ciò che fece la Callas si brucerebbe in poche stagioni. Lei poteva alternare Isotta e Puritani.
Poi c'erano le sue mani, che cantavano in accordo con la voce, mobili o statiche, aggressive o ieratiche, sempre da seguire con gli occhi. Diceva Tullio Serafin che
Mariano Stabile, quando era giù di voce, cantava con le mani e ricordava l'aria del sogno di Cassio nell'Otello.
La Callas aveva voce e mani, ed erano un sogno unico. Fedele al suo ruolo di grande tragica, quando si senti intorno il vuoto, fece come un orgoglioso felino. La tigre si nascose, si isolò, mori sola come forse era stata per tutta la vita, anche se seguita da molte persone direttamente e dal mondo intero indirettamente. Scomparsa lei, è rimasto il mito.
Insuperable art
Maria Callas always represents a problem for a writer. Her life has been described many times, in differing
ways by the various authors and not always with absolute truth. However, we are
here primarily interested in her insuperable artistic talent. When she entered
on stage in the first Act of Anne Boleyn, helped by her servants, she was a
queen, destroyed in spirit, who recognized in Jane Seymour a terrible rival as
the lover of Henry VIII. This operatic rivalry also had its counterpart in real
life: Giulietta Simionato, playing Jane Seymour, was something of an adversary
as a tigress of the stage, and so what Callas must have felt in the moments
before beginning the recitative can barely be imagined. The audience held their
breath and waited, hearing a faint sigh before the first words "Si
taciturna e mesta mai non vidi assemblea".
A thrill ran through the theatre, and one sensed a
shiver of gooseflesh. Almost four hours later Callas reached the tremendously
difficult cabaletta "Coppia iniqua", a passage of great virtuosity,
and the theatre erupted. Many analogous scenes could be described, because Callas performed superlatively evening after
evening, whatever the opera, even during the most troubled times.
What was so characteristic of Maria Callas' voice?
This was the subject of the whispers in the gallery for five years and no
conclusion was reached. Callas sang everything, from Norma to Sonnambula, from
the triumphal Aida in the City of Mexico with an incredible high note in the
second finale, to the less easily weathered Fedora.
After an absence of two seasons, she returned to La
Scala for Poliuto, and entered on stage as Paolina, taking short steps amongst
grandiose ruins, and with a barely noticeable gesture, slightly drew aside the
edge of her cape. The movement was enough to ignite the theatre, making it seem
more like a football stadium than an opera house. She was back, and it was not
a question of stardom, or voice (by now worn), but pure love. She knew it, as
did everyone, and it was an unforgettable evening. It has been written (we do
not recall who by) that Callas was sublime both in good and bad. She could
produce heavenly notes, and others that were strident and shocking, but in
every part, she selected the right ones, though her choice changed over the
years. Her first Medea was savage and brutal, the last, many years later, was
almost intimate.
Her figure changed as well: at first, she was wide and
matronly, though this went unnoticed by a listener enthralled by her
interpretation. Later she slimmed and became elegant and sophisticated,
conscious of her role both on the stage and outside it. Her face thinned,
making her eyes appear larger and more intense, dominant like those in Fayum's
portraits.
We can only guess at what her voice was like during
the first Athens performances. The first known recording dates from 1949, in
Turandot at Buenos Aires with Mario Del Monaco. The last record was made on
11th November 1974, in Japan, during a concert with Giuseppe Di Stefano. By
then, only a whisper remained, but a whisper that was still capable of
provoking thrills and tension in certain phrases. This record helps to
understand Callas' indestructibility, a characteristic that she also had on
stage when she risked mistakes and muddles. There is a television recording of
the second Act of Tosca with Tito Gobbi that perfectly demonstrates the point.
At the end of the Act, the cruel Baron Scarpia lying dead, Tosca inexplicably
continued to wander around the stage when she should have already made her
exit. Maria Callas saw very little without glasses, and the scenery had three
doors, two that were merely painted and one that was in fact an exit: Callas
could not remember which one was the real door. The resourceful heroine
therefore went to gaze once more upon the body, and speaking in Veronese
dialect, asked enlightenment from the dead Gobbi. He answered and so she
managed to leave the stage, just in time.
This may not be the most complimentary of anecdotes,
but it provides a true description of Callas. Another trait was that of giving
affectionate slaps on the back of her colleagues. Giulietta Simionato suffered
many, and one evening, before Anne Boleyn, replied with a blow just as strong
and instinctive. It very nearly put an end to the opera, but they finally
laughed it off and all finished gloriously. These events seem not to occur in
opera today: direction predominates over the music, and the singers are
apparently rigidly controlled by conductor and director. Even the greatest
performers do not reach the standard attained by those of past years. Many are
famous, and even reach stardom, but in reality, they are well-commercialized
and publicized and seem to lack the essential "inner flame". Maria
Callas will always be a fundamental point of reference: some of her
performances remain absolutely unique. Perhaps only the great Leyla Gencer
was able to instil such charisma into her parts, trimming them to suit her
voice, but maintaining the same high standard. A singer of today attempting to
face all that Callas performed would last only very few seasons: her
alternation of operas as different as Tristan and Isolde and Puritani in
astonishing in itself.
Her hands were another source of expression,
performing in harmony with her voice, whether moving or still, aggressive or
hieratic, always capturing the eye. Tullio Serafin said that when Mariano
Stabile's voice was of colour, he sang with his hands, managing to bring to the
listener's mind the aria in question - Cassio's dream in Othello. Callas,
having both voice and hands, was a dream come true. Tragic till the last, she
behaved like a proud feline when she sensed the emptiness of life around her.
Like a dying tiger, she hid herself away in isolation and died, alone, as
perhaps she had been all her life, even though followed by many people and
watched by the whole world. Though she has gone, the legend lives on.
THE HONOLULU
1987.01.03
THE GREENVILLE NEWS
1987.01.04
LA REPUBBLICA
1987.03.07
ANGELO FULETTO
Grande successo per Muti e per sua protagonista
Chiedeva un nuovo ascolto, Riccardo Muti. Il pubblico
scaligero s' è adeguato di buon grado, visto che la proposta di Alceste aveva
come unità di misura l' eccellenza. Soltanto uno sparuto gruppetto di
"vedovelli" e di loggionisti (o claque?) di un livello che si pensava
felicemente estinto, non ha resistito a tentazioni nostalgiche e non
potendosela prendere con Gluck, s' è scagliato contro alcuni cantanti con
incivile e ingiustificato accanimento. L' attesissima prima di Alceste è così
rimasta un trionfo soltanto annunciato; il resto degli spettatori è rimasto
talmente sorpreso da non aver nemmeno la forza di reagire alle provocazioni.
Cronaca nera a parte, la serata gluckiana alla Scala, giovedì, s' è imposta per
una sbalorditiva tenuta esecutiva e teatrale. Come i responsabili dello
spettacolo avevano anticipato, Alceste, nella primigenia versione viennese del
1767 (quella secondo il libretto italiano di De Calzabigi), è stata finalmente
svelata nella splendente totalità. Nessun taglio, nemmeno nei numeri limitati
all' orchestra e destinati alle (spartane) danze. Eppure mai una musica
dimostrativa e granitica è parsa così naturale e fluida. Muti crede a Alceste,
quasi sorvolando su tutto ciò che di provocatorio questa preziosa partitura si
porta incancellabilmente dietro. Scontata la fedeltà assoluta alla lettera e
condivisa l' impostazione "riformata" d' autore, il direttore ha
interpretato Alceste utilizzando come straordinario denominatore comune la
concisione linguistica. Per quasi tre ore di musica, l' orchestra scaligera,
pur tenuta entro sfumature dinamiche elettrice e cangianti, non ha mai
oltrepassato la soglia del forte dando una prova di concentrazione esecutiva
superlativa, da mettere sullo stesso piano di quella del coro preparato da
Giulio Bertola. Muti sembrava voler dimostrare una volta per tutte come le
novità gluckiane, al di là delle osservate premesse teoriche, fossero compresse
soprattutto nell' originalissima scrittura strumentale, unica a autorizzare il
drenaggio radicale realizzato sul piano della vocalità barocca e della
dispersione teatrale "meravigliosa" legata a quel modo di concepire
l' opera musicale. Una dimostrazione schiacciante. Un punto di partenza
ineludibile, d' ora in poi, per ripensare criticamente e esecutivamente il
significato filosofico e spettacolare di questo autore, a duecento anni dalla
morte ancora soffocato dalle adozioni estetiche di vario segno. Il Gluck di
Orfeo ed Euridice e di Alceste è musica; è strepitoso dominio dei mezzi
orchestrali, armonici, timbrici e sentimentali dell' epoca. Inutile cercare
lontano: la partitura, ricondotta alla squisita analisi stilistica e
espressiva, offre tutte le giustificazioni. Basta lavorarla in profondità come
ha fatto Muti, portando l' orchestra a una temperatura emozionante per docilità
di fraseggi e facoltà di colorare anche i passaggi meno sagaci di recitativo
accompagnato con intenzioni vertiginose. C' è un passo del primo atto, durante
l' ultimo duetto tra Evandro e Alceste, che ha fornito la chiave di
comprensione dell' intera lettura gluckiana di Muti. Già compresa nella
decisione fatale ma ancora confusa Alceste interviene con parole smarrite due
volte: per due volte il recitativo s' innanza con una semplicissima
sottolineatura degli archi mentre la didascalia librettistica annota "come
fuori di sè" e "con maestà e risolutezza": per due attimi che
parevano incontenibili l' orchestra di Muti ha creato in un' arcana tensione la
definizione musicale e umana più lampante della protagonista. Certo, non sono
poi mancate le altre grandi occasioni, in particolare nelle monumentali
"scene" con coro dell' atto seguente: ma l' eroina di Euripide con
pochissime misure era indelebilmente tratteggiata. Tutto è avvenuto al calor
bianco d' una traduzione direttoriale che travalicava il puro dato sonoro,
portando l' attenzione degli spettatori a uno stato di partecipazione quasi
ipnotica, a tratti faticosa da sopportare, come nella superba scena conclusiva
del secondo atto. E qui entrava in gioco l' ammirevole statura interpretativa
di Rosalind Plowright, un' Alceste misurata, quasi impassibile di fronte all'
inevitabile scelta dettata alla missione coniugale, ma calata nel canto con
accenti di commozione autentica e impeccabile definizione vocale. Chi all'
inizio non poteva togliersi dalla memoria i precedenti scaligeri (Maria Callas
nel 1954 e Leyla Gencer nel 1972), è stato costretto a piegarsi alla toccante
definizione della Plowright, che ha saputo trarre vantaggio dalla condotta
interpretativa tendenzialmente distaccata, offrendosi tenerissima e quasi
indifesa di fronte al rituale impietoso delle parti più geniali della tragedia.
Tragedia di configurazione individuale: gli altri personaggi agiscono comunque
da comprimari; da testimoni, come il coro. Anche se Gluck non risparmia
difficoltà vocali e aperture musicali sublimi, tutte ben risolte. William
Matteuzzi (Evandro) e Giuseppe Morino (Admeto) hanno gareggiato tenorilmente
scavando con una dizione eccellente e prestanza adeguata. Di spicco l' Ismene
di Anne Sofie von Otter; Alberto Noli e Ernesto Gavazzi hanno figurato
benissimo, con Aldo Bramante, Giancarlo Boldrini e i due bambini Giuseppe
Imperato e Giuseppe Cogliani. Alla restituzione memorabile di questo Alceste ha
contribuito esemplarmente il lavoro scenico di Pier Luigi Pizzi. Lineare,
neoclassica nell' architettura e nella lattiginosa definizione luminosa, la
scena unica ma flessibile ha rivelato spaziature misteriose e allusive. La
costruzione circolare, labirintica nel movimento delle pareti, trasfigurava la
pura definizione ambientale per fotografare gli smemorati sentimentali della
protagonista con una nettezza d' immagine e di suggestione complementare alla
fluidità inappagata dell' articolazione musicale. Posizioni, gestualità e
movimenti di massa calibratissimi accrescevano la sensazione d' un racconto
teatrale colmo di pathos e soffuso di poesia.
THE STAR LEDGER
1987.03.22
MANCHETE
1987.10.03
1 9 8 8
CORRIERE DELLA SERA
1988.01.27
LA STAMPA
1988.01.27
THE SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER
1988.02.10
FONO FORUM
1988 October
LA VANGUARDIA
1988.11.27
1 9 8 9
GIANNA PEDERZINI
1989
DANIELE RUBBOLI
THE LISBON TRAVIATA
1989
A PLAY BY TERRENCE McNALLY
LA STAMPA
1989.05.30
OPERNWELT
1989 June
1 9 9 0
FRANCO CORELLI
1990
MARINA BOAGNO
MUSICA MAGAZINE
1990 February
LA STAMPA
1990.03.10
CLASSIC CD
1990 May
MICHAEL TANNER
The most disturbing and surprising fact in the music business today is: Very important, famous singers never work in the recording industry. Two of the most striking examples are: Astrid Varnay and Leyla Gencer.
It’s even more astonishing that the record labels turned their backs on Gencer. Yes, Callas overshadowed Gencer, that’s true. But Gencer’s repertoire was much vaster than Callas’ and she sang more roles. Gencer sang Mozart operas and modern pieces; a repertoire that Callas always avoided. And Gencer was so popular that she had more pirate recordings than any artist in the world. Because she sang operas that nobody else sang and she also had a striking voice. She can only be compared to Callas with her uniqueness and her interpretative skills which are sensitive and intense.
As they should have done with Varnay, the main goal of the record labels is to record the operas with the best performer, not to record again and again with singers who shouldn’t even set their foot on the studio!
How could this collaboration and thievery be explained? Some record label owners claim that the mentioned artists are very hard to work with, they never spare time and clear their schedules for recording etc. It might as well be true. But however, I think that the quality of the music, artists and the voices don’t have much efficiency in the recording industry but it’s the publicists, agencies and impresarios who decide and impose which recordings and who we shall listen to.
1 9 9 1
RADIOCORRIERE.TV
1991.01.27
IL PICCOLO
1991.08.23
LA STAMPA
1991.11.17
LA STAMPA
1991.11.19
1 9 9 2
GIANNI RAIMONDI
1992
DANIELE RUBBOLI
LES STARS de l'OPERA
1992
GLOSSAIRE
Abbellimenti (agréments). Ornement d'une mélodie. Les ornements sont étroitement liés à l'improvisation autant par les chanteurs que par les instrumentistes. Il existe deux types d'abbellimenti: les improvisés ou italiens, dérivant de l'usage de la diminution médiévale (et qui ne sont donc pas indiqués sur la partition), confiés au goût et à la fantaisie de l'interprète, et les agréments fondamentaux ou français, représentés par des symboles situés à des endroits précis de la ligne mélodique et respectant la tonalité et le rythme.
Parmi les principaux agréments fondamentaux rappelons l'acciaccatura, l'appoggiatura, l'arpège, la double cadence ou gruppetto, le mordente, le tremolo, le trille ou le vibrato.
Bel canto. Terme généralement associe à un style de chant datant de la naissance du mélodrame, aux environs des trente premières années du XIXème siècle, c'est-à-dire quand on commença à délaisser l'abstraction purement musicale, au profit du réalisme dramatique. Le bel canto ou belcantisme est continuellement sujet d'équivoques, le premier étant d'ailleurs celui qui consiste à le considérer comme une marque de fabrication typiquement italienne et pratiquement un produit d'exportation au même titre que le spaghetti, les tomates, le vin, l'huile. Ceci surtout dans les pays anglo-saxons, en particulier en Allemagne et en Autriche où l'agilité de la vocalise, le goût de la variation, l'utilisation du fausset, autrement dit les bases du bel canto, sont considérés comme des oripeaux inutiles et four- voyants, éloignés de la définition du "vérisme" dramatique.
Cependant, ces dernières années un énorme intérêt s'est manifesté pour le belcanto et ses représentants, favorisé par des éditions critiques, des propositions discographiques, des reprises théâtrales, des publications ainsi que l'apparition d'un important groupe de chanteurs spécialisés (Horne, Sutherland, Gencer, Caballé, Sills, Ramey).
Il faut également rappeler que le belcantisme reste une règle fondamentale pour n'importe quelle voix: s'exercer dans les vocalises, le placement parfait des sons dans le masque, l'allègement, le trille et les quartolets rapides, est utile pour la longévité même de la voix, pour l'acquisition de la puissance, de l'élasticité, de l'éclat, caractéristiques qui valent tant pour le répertoire purement belcantiste, que pour Puccini, Mascagni, Wagner ou Bussotti: il est important de "bien chanter" toujours, en toutes circonstances, que ce soit un opéra de Haendel ou de Cilea.
L'usage est très ancien et remonte à Néron qui en usa largement. Au XVIème siècle les premiers théâtres publics furent ouverts à Venise et les aristocrates, organisateurs des spectacles avaient l'habitude de payer les gondoliers pour remplir le parterre (à l'époque destiné aux pauvres) et applaudir les chanteurs : ceux-ci acceptaient volontiers, non seulement en raison du "pourboire" mais surtout pour admirer de plus près, et souvent commenter à haute voix, la beauté des primedonne.
Les nobles vénitiens se comportaient de la même manière à en croire Saint Didier (La ville et la république de Venise, 1680), Gaspare Gozzi (Gazzetta Veneta n. 86) et Giuseppe Baretti (Les Italiens ou us et coutumes d'Italie, 1768-69) qui nous rapportent que sur les scènes des théâtres de Venise pleuvaient crachats, objets, déchets en tout genre, suscitant des cris et des insultes de la part des victimes.
Claques favorables ou contraires toujours en faveur de tel ou tel artiste ou contre lui, au point de créer des rivalités et des querelles célèbres (Banti - Morichello, Cuzzoni - Durasanti, au XVIllème siècle, Callas- Tebaldi, Caballé - Gencer Domingo - Pavarotti de nos jours). Berlioz nous a légué un essai immortel sur la claque dans lequel il décrit les personnages, les façons d'applaudir ou de siffler, pénétrant la psychologie de cette catégorie particulière de musicomanes.
Presque tous les théâtres ont désormais aboli la claque (la Scala avait jusqu'il y a quelques années un groupe de quelques 30-40 claqueurs) exception faite de l'Opéra de Rome qui continue opiniâtrement à "payer" de grands virtuoses du "Bravo !" ou bien du "Beuh".
Ceux qu'ont appelé les "veufs" appartiennent à une catégorie à part, les nostalgiques de la Callas, prêts à siffler sans pitié quiconque ose revêtir les costumes sacrés de la diva. Dernier genre de souteneurs, partisans à titre rigoureusement personnel, celui des disciples des prime donne (Caballé, Kabaivanska, Gencer, Te Kanawa, Gruberova) : ils se reflètent et se reconnaissent dans la voix de la diva, s'exaltant dans les roulades, les aigus, le phrasé.
Un sous-groupe du classique claqueur, celui que Giorgio Gualerzi identifie comme "plauditores" de certaines horreurs théâtrales de ces dernières années, et qui comprend non seulement celui qui frappe des mains parce qu'il est payé, mais aussi, ce qui est plus grave encore, toute une série de critiques et de journalistes obséquieusement prostrés devant un théâtre ou un chef d'orchestre plus ou moins prestigieux. Ces claqueurs exercent leur profession humiliante sur les colonnes élogiâtes de leurs quotidiens ou dans d'autres lieux analogues et dédaignent les réactions spontanées du public.
Couac. Terme familier qui désigne de manière générale l'accident vocal, l'erreur du chanteur, la fausse note, la note rauque, brisée, sanglotée, hurlée, mais aussi tout simplement mangée c'est-à-dire non exécutée. Très célèbre celle du ténor Gayarre dans Les Pécheurs de perles exécutés le 8 décembre 1899 à Madrid : après une première erreur sur l'aigu de l'air Mi par d'udire ancor », il répéta le morceau à la fin de l'opéra sans réussir à éviter le deuxième couac. Il s'adressa alors au public et dire : « Esto se acabol (Je suis fini !) ; il mourut peu de temps après.
L'autre aspect de la question concerne l'absurdité des enregistrements officiels en studio, désormais réduits à une sorte de terrifiante vivisection de l'opéra, divisés en lambeaux, recousus, ajustés, retouchés aux endroits douteux pour ensuite étre confectionnés pour le client. Les chanteurs se prêtent à ce jeu et se complaisent d'ailleurs avec l'aide des techniciens des enregistrements: nous défions quiconque à entendre en public José Carreras produire un si bémol in crescendo plein et éclatant, comme celui exécuté dans l'Aida de la version discographique dirigée par von Karajan; dans Lucia de Lammermoor dirigée par Lopez-Cobos, en édition philologique, Carreras atteint aisément un mi bémol suraigu; mémé chose pour Domingo, qui déployé sur disque un ar de poitrine digne de compétition. Dans certains milieux bien informés on parle de l'existence d'une véritable banque des aigus : en toute tranquillité les phrases les plus difficiles sont enregistrées, mises de côté et utilisées ensuite au moment opportun : l'aigu "précuit" sera inséré dans l'enregistrement de l'opéra dans sa version complète, et...le tour est joué.
Abbellimenti (agréments). Ornement d'une mélodie. Les ornements sont étroitement liés à l'improvisation autant par les chanteurs que par les instrumentistes. Il existe deux types d'abbellimenti: les improvisés ou italiens, dérivant de l'usage de la diminution médiévale (et qui ne sont donc pas indiqués sur la partition), confiés au goût et à la fantaisie de l'interprète, et les agréments fondamentaux ou français, représentés par des symboles situés à des endroits précis de la ligne mélodique et respectant la tonalité et le rythme.
Parmi les principaux agréments fondamentaux rappelons l'acciaccatura, l'appoggiatura, l'arpège, la double cadence ou gruppetto, le mordente, le tremolo, le trille ou le vibrato.
Bel canto. Terme généralement associe à un style de chant datant de la naissance du mélodrame, aux environs des trente premières années du XIXème siècle, c'est-à-dire quand on commença à délaisser l'abstraction purement musicale, au profit du réalisme dramatique. Le bel canto ou belcantisme est continuellement sujet d'équivoques, le premier étant d'ailleurs celui qui consiste à le considérer comme une marque de fabrication typiquement italienne et pratiquement un produit d'exportation au même titre que le spaghetti, les tomates, le vin, l'huile. Ceci surtout dans les pays anglo-saxons, en particulier en Allemagne et en Autriche où l'agilité de la vocalise, le goût de la variation, l'utilisation du fausset, autrement dit les bases du bel canto, sont considérés comme des oripeaux inutiles et four- voyants, éloignés de la définition du "vérisme" dramatique.
Cependant, ces dernières années un énorme intérêt s'est manifesté pour le belcanto et ses représentants, favorisé par des éditions critiques, des propositions discographiques, des reprises théâtrales, des publications ainsi que l'apparition d'un important groupe de chanteurs spécialisés (Horne, Sutherland, Gencer, Caballé, Sills, Ramey).
Il faut également rappeler que le belcantisme reste une règle fondamentale pour n'importe quelle voix: s'exercer dans les vocalises, le placement parfait des sons dans le masque, l'allègement, le trille et les quartolets rapides, est utile pour la longévité même de la voix, pour l'acquisition de la puissance, de l'élasticité, de l'éclat, caractéristiques qui valent tant pour le répertoire purement belcantiste, que pour Puccini, Mascagni, Wagner ou Bussotti: il est important de "bien chanter" toujours, en toutes circonstances, que ce soit un opéra de Haendel ou de Cilea.
L'usage est très ancien et remonte à Néron qui en usa largement. Au XVIème siècle les premiers théâtres publics furent ouverts à Venise et les aristocrates, organisateurs des spectacles avaient l'habitude de payer les gondoliers pour remplir le parterre (à l'époque destiné aux pauvres) et applaudir les chanteurs : ceux-ci acceptaient volontiers, non seulement en raison du "pourboire" mais surtout pour admirer de plus près, et souvent commenter à haute voix, la beauté des primedonne.
Les nobles vénitiens se comportaient de la même manière à en croire Saint Didier (La ville et la république de Venise, 1680), Gaspare Gozzi (Gazzetta Veneta n. 86) et Giuseppe Baretti (Les Italiens ou us et coutumes d'Italie, 1768-69) qui nous rapportent que sur les scènes des théâtres de Venise pleuvaient crachats, objets, déchets en tout genre, suscitant des cris et des insultes de la part des victimes.
Claques favorables ou contraires toujours en faveur de tel ou tel artiste ou contre lui, au point de créer des rivalités et des querelles célèbres (Banti - Morichello, Cuzzoni - Durasanti, au XVIllème siècle, Callas- Tebaldi, Caballé - Gencer Domingo - Pavarotti de nos jours). Berlioz nous a légué un essai immortel sur la claque dans lequel il décrit les personnages, les façons d'applaudir ou de siffler, pénétrant la psychologie de cette catégorie particulière de musicomanes.
Presque tous les théâtres ont désormais aboli la claque (la Scala avait jusqu'il y a quelques années un groupe de quelques 30-40 claqueurs) exception faite de l'Opéra de Rome qui continue opiniâtrement à "payer" de grands virtuoses du "Bravo !" ou bien du "Beuh".
Ceux qu'ont appelé les "veufs" appartiennent à une catégorie à part, les nostalgiques de la Callas, prêts à siffler sans pitié quiconque ose revêtir les costumes sacrés de la diva. Dernier genre de souteneurs, partisans à titre rigoureusement personnel, celui des disciples des prime donne (Caballé, Kabaivanska, Gencer, Te Kanawa, Gruberova) : ils se reflètent et se reconnaissent dans la voix de la diva, s'exaltant dans les roulades, les aigus, le phrasé.
Un sous-groupe du classique claqueur, celui que Giorgio Gualerzi identifie comme "plauditores" de certaines horreurs théâtrales de ces dernières années, et qui comprend non seulement celui qui frappe des mains parce qu'il est payé, mais aussi, ce qui est plus grave encore, toute une série de critiques et de journalistes obséquieusement prostrés devant un théâtre ou un chef d'orchestre plus ou moins prestigieux. Ces claqueurs exercent leur profession humiliante sur les colonnes élogiâtes de leurs quotidiens ou dans d'autres lieux analogues et dédaignent les réactions spontanées du public.
Couac. Terme familier qui désigne de manière générale l'accident vocal, l'erreur du chanteur, la fausse note, la note rauque, brisée, sanglotée, hurlée, mais aussi tout simplement mangée c'est-à-dire non exécutée. Très célèbre celle du ténor Gayarre dans Les Pécheurs de perles exécutés le 8 décembre 1899 à Madrid : après une première erreur sur l'aigu de l'air Mi par d'udire ancor », il répéta le morceau à la fin de l'opéra sans réussir à éviter le deuxième couac. Il s'adressa alors au public et dire : « Esto se acabol (Je suis fini !) ; il mourut peu de temps après.
L'autre aspect de la question concerne l'absurdité des enregistrements officiels en studio, désormais réduits à une sorte de terrifiante vivisection de l'opéra, divisés en lambeaux, recousus, ajustés, retouchés aux endroits douteux pour ensuite étre confectionnés pour le client. Les chanteurs se prêtent à ce jeu et se complaisent d'ailleurs avec l'aide des techniciens des enregistrements: nous défions quiconque à entendre en public José Carreras produire un si bémol in crescendo plein et éclatant, comme celui exécuté dans l'Aida de la version discographique dirigée par von Karajan; dans Lucia de Lammermoor dirigée par Lopez-Cobos, en édition philologique, Carreras atteint aisément un mi bémol suraigu; mémé chose pour Domingo, qui déployé sur disque un ar de poitrine digne de compétition. Dans certains milieux bien informés on parle de l'existence d'une véritable banque des aigus : en toute tranquillité les phrases les plus difficiles sont enregistrées, mises de côté et utilisées ensuite au moment opportun : l'aigu "précuit" sera inséré dans l'enregistrement de l'opéra dans sa version complète, et...le tour est joué.
MY FRIEND PAVAROTTI
1992
THE GREAT OPERA SINGERS
1992
STARS OF
THE OPERA
THE GREAT
OPERA SINGERS
Opera was born with the
singers. It was not by chance that the first composers were also the first
interpreters of their works. And it is to the singers, to the Divas, to the
great voices of the vivid and fascinating story of opera, that this original and
interesting book, so rich in precious information, is dedicated. Illustrated
with exceptional photographs, this book is divided into categories: tenors,
sopranos, mezzo- sopranos, baritones and basses seem to compete in these pages,
as on the stage, for the attention and interest of the reader. The author has
placed them under a spot-light, as he examines all the greatest names of the
lyric theatre in this century. The book discusses the career, the vocal
characteristics and repertoire, of each singer (chosen according to his type of
vocality - tenor lirico, lirico spinto, drammatico, etc.) and includes
surprising anecdotes and points of special interest in the life of the artist.
The photographs show the most varied and significant aspects of these singers:
from the physical beauty of Ricciarelli, Kabaivanska, and Corelli to the
magnetism of Callas, Shaliapin and Gencer; from the warm openness of Gigli or
Pavarotti to the elegance of Sobinov and Kraus. And they often reveal the full
dramatic involvement of the interpreter, caught by the lens at a moment of
intense emotion during a performance: intimate glimpses at Gobbi, Christoff,
Taddei and Horne and many more. The photographs, both black and white and
colour, are the result of a long search in the archives of the world's most
important lyric theatres, in Rome, New York, Florence, Brussels, Tokyo, Milan,
Naples, Sydney, Nice, Palermo, Leningrad, to name a few. The book is also
enriched by a valuable "Singing Lesson", faithfully transcribed, from
a Master Class held by the great tenor, Alfredo. Kraus, in Rome in 1990.
A historical introduction,
chronological tables and a glossary contribute to this detailed and complete
presentation of the shining firmament of "Opera Stars" - those stars
who are our most famous heroes, and perhaps also our most spoilt. Certainly,
they are the most beloved stars who ever trod a stage, these singers who have
created opera, which Charles Burney described as "the most luxurious
entertainment which Man has ever been able to imagine".
↓ Below photo: Leyla Gencer looking extremely elegant in her costume for the opera Prova di un'Opera Seria by Gnecco, performed at La Fenice in Venice together with the tenor Luis Alva. It was her last operatic appearance. It is an opera well-suited to Gencer, an artist both ironic and intelligent, ever ready to criticize her fellow singers, even the most famous. (Historic Archives of La Fenice Theatre, Venice).
Queen Leyla
Leyla Gencer (Istanbul 1928) was another bel-canto specialist, interpreting many
important Donizetti operas (Roberto Devereux, Caterina Cornaro, Maria Stuarda,
Belisario, and Les Martyrs); she had a wide repertoire, including Gilda, Lucia,
Violetta, Elvira, Lucrezia in I Due Foscari, Aida, Leonora (Trovatore and Forza
del Destino), Elisabetta (by Rossini), Liù, Suor Angelica. Odabella, Donna
Anna, and many, many others, including her satanic Lady Macbeth.
↑ Above photo: "Or tutti sorgete, ministri infernali". A demonic Lady Macbeth, Leyla Gencer has represented
the difficult Verdi character better than any other soprano since Callas. The
photo comes from a performance on 8 April 1969 at the Rome Opera, with Bruno
Bartoletti conducting and De Lullo directing; scenes by Pizzi. (Historic Archives
of the Rome Opera Theatre).
↑ Above photo: A memorable performance of 1 Due Foscari (Verdi) given at La Fenice Theatre of Venice on December 26th, 1957, the leading performers were Giangiacomo Guelfi (Doge), left in the photo; at the centre is Maestro Serafin, and to the right Leyla Gencer
(Lucrezia) and Mirto Picchi (Jacopo Foscari). The evening was a triumph, thanks
to vibrant performances. (Historic Archives of La Fenice Theatre of Venice.
Photo: Giacomelli).
THE NEW GROVE
1992
1 9 9 3
RADIOCORRIERE.TV
1993.03.07
THE GUARDIAN
1993.10.28
L'UNITA
1993.12.06
1 9 9 4
FROM THE BOOK "THE BEL CANTO OPERAS"
BY CHARLES OSBORNE
1994
INTRODUCTION
The Italian term 'bel canto' can have a number of
meanings. Literally 'beautiful song' or 'beautiful singing', it is applied to a
method of singing taught by the Italian masters of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries in which smooth emission of tone, beauty of timbre and
elegance of phrasing are among the most important elements. Although Rossini is
said to have exclaimed, in a conversation which took place in Paris in 1858,
'Alas for us, we have lost our bel canto', the expression did not begin to be
generally used in this sense until the late nineteenth century, at a time when
the kind of opera to which the bel canto style of performance was most suited
had been superseded by the music dramas of Wagner and the operas of the Italian
school of verismo or realism.
Today, the term is used mainly to describe the
predominant style of Italian opera in the first half of the nineteenth century,
from Paisiello, for example, to middle-period Verdi. The composers of this
era include Cherubini, Mayr, Spontini, Federico Ricci, Luigi Ricci, Pacini,
Mercadante, and a host of lesser names. such as Federici, Generali, Carafa,
Coppola, Fioravanti, Paer and Morlacchi.
However, the three great composers of the bel canto
era were Rossini, Donizetti and Bellini, and it is the oeuvre of these giants
of Italian opera in the first half of the nineteenth century that I examine and
describe in this volume. Somewhat, though never completely, out of favour in
the earlier years of the twentieth century, the operas of these three composers
began to be performed again in the 1950s and subsequently, to a large extent
because of the emergence of several sopranos and mezzo-sopranos with the style,
technique, range and beauty of voice to perform their leading roles in the
manner in which they were meant to be heard. Pre-eminent among these artists
were Joan Sutherland, Maria Callas, Leyla Gencer, Beverly Sills,
Montserrat Caballé, Giulietta Simionato and Marilyn Horne. They have
fortunately been succeeded by a number of exciting younger singers, just as
Nicolai Gedda and Alfredo Kraus have been followed by several younger tenors,
most of them American, able to cope with the high-lying tessitura frequently
required of the bel canto tenor.
To the average operagoer in the first half of the
twentieth century, Rossini meant Il Barbiere di Siviglia, Donizetti Lucia di
Lammermoor and Bellini Norma. But now, at least a dozen other operas by Rossini
are quite frequently to be encountered, along with many more by Donizetti, and
even four or five by the less prolific, shorter-lived Bellini. And more are
being offered from year to year. I hope this volume may prove a useful guide to
these composers' operas, some of them more imposing works than others, but all
of them springing from a genre whose intention was to move, to delight, but
never to depress its audience. I have included not merely the major operas of
these three composers, but all of their operas: Bellini's ten, Rossini's
thirty-nine, and Donizetti's sixty-five. My thanks are due to Mr John Carter
for his help in compiling the Discography. C.O.
CASTA DIVA
1994 January
1962-1965:
Finding Fulfilment
Page: 97
…… by the des Grieux of her husband. There was also another recital record to be made for Vergara, this time a miscellany of opera arias with the Orquesta Sinfónica de Barcelona, conducted by a Liceo regular, Carlo Felice Cillario.
In her absence, both Carlos (as her personal manager) and Bernard Lefort (as a freelance agent) had been successfully reaping the rewards of Montserrat's steadily burgeoning reputation. She had been invited to make her début some eighteen months hence in Philadelphia singing Maddalena in Andrea Chénier, with Franco Corelli in the title-role, Glyndebourne had, as usual, stolen a march on everybody and arranged for her first performances in England as part of the 1965 summer festival. Most importantly of all, the Civic Opera in Dallas had offered her a series of Violettas in November 1965, which would mark her all- important North American stage début. These two American offers constituted Caballe's breakthrough into the big time: both were highly prestigious propositions and had been processed through the offices of Columbia Artists, which had been alerted to Caballe's qualities by Giuseppe di Stefano. Slowly at first, but now with gathering momentum, it was all beginning to happen.
The Liceo Manon Lescauts in December 1964 were well received: one critic referred to the opera as the 'ideal vehicle for such an accomplished soprano, During and shortly after these Liceo performances, she recorded her first operatic recital for Vergara. The LP was scheduled to consist of entire scenes from Otello (the 'Willow Song' and 'Ave Maria") and Un ballo in maschera (the gallows scene), as well as arias from Torca and Charpentier's Louise. But this left the second side short, and discussions were still taking place concerning an additional item as the sessions began. Montserrat was in favour of some more verismo: perhaps Butterfly's Act II aria or something from Bohème. Maestro Cillario, however, had a completely different and very unexpected suggestion: why not tackle a bel canto aria instead? This struck Caballé as a quite extraordinary proposition. Of course, she had been taught the historical rudiments of that repertory as part of her Conservatorio training and was perfectly well aware of the trail-blazing efforts of both Maria Callas and, more recently, Leyla Gencer on its behalf. She had also briefly studied the role of Lucia but had never sung it and indeed regarded all such generic works as fundamentally unsuited to her voice. Cillario more or less bullied Montserrat into looking at the score of Donizetti's Anna Bolena and had a messianic line of argument to get his own way. 'In years to come you will remember what I am telling you now. Your voice is a born bel canto instrument.' Reluctantly, she agreed to sing the aria as a test-piece in the recording studio on 30 December 1964 with ……
1965-1966: A Trip to Stardom
Page: 103
…… no longer a partner to the world's great sopranos, but a rival. Weeks beforehand, the house was completely sold out, and anticipation was beginning to mount steadily towards fever-pitch.
At which point Marilyn Horne cancelled. By mid-March 1965 she was entering the seventh month of a complicated pregnancy and felt disinclined to take any risks. Oxenburg was panic-stricken and uncertain of how to proceed since it was obvious that no one was likely to know a role so far removed from the standard repertory. His only hope seemed to rest with the bare handful of bel canto exponents who might be prepared to learn it in the time remaining. Calls for help were speedily despatched: Sutherland was one obvious candidate, but she was immersed in rehearsals at Covent Garden for forthcoming Lucias and Sonnambulas; Leyla Gencer was another possibility, but she was likewise unavailable. It is a measure of how little real progress the bel canto revival had made at this point that, having eliminated these two possibilities, there was virtually no one left to whom Oxenburg could turn. In situations like these agents can often prove very useful, particularly if one is familiar with them and can trust their judgement. Oxenburg outlined his problem to several of them, including Bernard Lefort. Lefort had a suggestion: he had worked for a couple of years on behalf of an unknown Spanish soprano who had recently sung a fabulous Figaro at the Lausanne Festival, and who he was sure could do the role justice. Her name was Montserrat Caballé.
Montserrat was at home in Barcelona contemplating her next scheduled role- the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier which she was due to begin rehearsing at Glyndebourne in mid-April - when at the end of March she received a telegram from Lefort. The essence of this was simple: drop everything, come to New York and sing Lucrezia Borgia. The offer was one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities which fuels every young hopeful's day-dreams. Even so, Montserrat proceeded cautiously, going so far as to reply that she did not think that she was well suited to this kind of material even though she was fully aware of the significance of the offer: I thought to myself, 'Aha! This is good, but... Carlos said to me, "No "buts". Big chances like this in your life may only come once. You're going to do it." "But I don't know the part and I am not at all sure I can do it." He said to me, 'Nonsense! You are going to do this role and it is going to make your reputation."
She contacted Carlo Felice Cillario who had conducted her recent performances of Manon Lescaut and was still working in Barcelona, to obtain specific musical advice about the score. His response was ……
Page: 154
'RITORNA VINCITOR!"
…… Norma. By way of demonstration, both sang a passage from the trio finale to Act I. They listened intently to each other, and Callas went on to observe that the Spanish soprano in singing the line had strictly observed the letter of the score. She went on to echo exactly what Caballé had already been told by Joan Sutherland a couple of years earlier. "You are exactly the right voice type for this role and for you much the best thing to do is simply to follow Bellini's line. You find your own way to the musical heart of the drama, just as I do, but through your own unique vocal qualities."
Following a further round of recitals, with which Caballé increasingly interspersed her principal stage engagements, she returned to Rome in early July, together with her husband, to begin a series of intensive rehearsals with Gianandrea Gavazzeni in preparation for EMI's première recording of Il pirata, with the forces of RAI Rome. These sessions, which took place in the newly built Auditorium Foro Italico, were spread over an entire fortnight and proved a focal point for both Roman and visiting high society. Queen Frederika attended them, together with the Spanish Infanta Beatriz (King Juan Carlos's aunt), whilst another distinguished visitor was the eminent Turkish soprano, Leyla Gencer, who came partly out of interest in the work and partly because of her regard for the performers. The recording studio, though functionally ugly in the modern manner, at least had the benefit of air-conditioning which was found to be vitally necessary in the sweltering Roman summer. Tempers inevitably became frayed from time to time, not least given the orchestra's characteristically unruly behaviour. Gavazzeni, very much a gentleman of the old school, found this difficult to deal with. At one session, with everybody in attendance, the orchestra refused to stop eating ice-creams and reading newspapers, despite the maestro's repeated calls to attention. The atmosphere was becoming extremely tense and unpleasant, and the singers - minus Montserrat who was sitting out in the auditorium with the royal visitors - looked on with mounting alarm. One of the male singers had already been noted for having an insouciant habit of 'adjusting' his groin periodically: in the current fraught situation, this had become incessant. Queen Frederika, meanwhile, was observing the whole proceedings avidly through her opera glasses. Suddenly, Gavazzeni, who was wearing a high- buttoned summer jacket, ripped at it with a yell of frustration, sending a shower of buttons into the orchestra. The tension, as the delinquent players stared on in disbelief, was palpable. Queen Frederika turned to Gencer and Caballé had in fact first become acquainted during the summer of 1965 when both were working at Glyndebourne. ……
Page: 162
'RITORNA VINCITOR!"
…… returned to Barcelona so that she could spend some time with her infant son. Fortunately, Bernabé was not engaged to perform at this time either, so that, until Caballe's journey to Milan in early April, she had the rare and welcome opportunity of living en famille. The return to La Scala was for a much-heralded new production of Maria Stuarda, mounted, like the previous year's Lucrezia, specifically for the soprano. And again, the stage director was Margherita Wallmann, this time working with designs by La Scala's resident scenic magician, Nicola Benois. The opera had in fact been premièred at La Scala in 1835. having been banned the previous year in Naples where, according to legend, the two prime donne - Anna del Serre and Giuseppina Ronzi-de Begnis - had brawled violently during the scene where Mary Stuart forcibly reminds Elisabeth of her illegitimacy (figlia impura di Bolena', etc.). No such controversy surrounded this production, though looking at the picture taken backstage (see illustrations) one might be forgiven for wondering if history was not about to repeat itself. Again, one of these performances has survived on pirate disc, but in sound so distant and murky that it is hard to draw positive conclusions. Even so, the great confrontation scene between the two queens - surely the reason for this otherwise unremarkable work's return to the repertory - seems relatively underpowered, for all Caballe's evident attempts to bolster her tone and intensify her declamation. One has only to turn to either of her two slightly later concert performances in London and Paris to hear the authentic frisson missing in Milan. Even so, the Callas authority. Stelios Galatopoulos, evidently thought highly of the occasion:
In moments of noble humility, tenderness and melancholy, she has an extraordinary sensitivity that never fails to touch the listener's heart. It is because of this that I feel that Maria Stuarda is Caballe's best Donizetti role... It was in the confession scene (at the close of the opera] that Caballé became incomparable. Her voice had all its purity all the time, and never for a moment became merely a beautiful voice in isolation, as it sometimes does. Here Caballé achieved with her own means what as a rule only genius can do."
It is all the sadder, therefore, that in the on-going saga of bad faith exhibited by EMI, Caballé never recorded this, one of her greatest roles, and that in the same year the recording company again preferred, at no
Or indeed to continue listening to the fill-up included as a comparison on the discs, in which a clearly axe-mad Leyla Gencer so vehemently demolishes her Elisabeth that the audience breaks into spontaneous applause mid-sentence. ……
1973-1976: Triumphs, Troubles and Transition
Page: 185
The 1973-4 season at the Gran Teatro del Liceo opened on 8 November with a new production of the last opera which Donizetti saw staged in his own lifetime, Caterina Cormaro. This work, which deals with the troublesome affairs of the eponymous and real-life, fifteenth-century Queen of Cyprus, had remained unperformed between 1845 (only its second-ever production, in Parma) and 1972, when it was revived at the San Carlo in Naples with Leyla Gencer in the title-role. Montserrat rapidly espoused Caterina's cause and had, in fact, already sung the work in concert in London: indeed, as soon as the four performances at the Liceo were over, she was due in Paris to undertake a further concert performance at the Salle Pleyel, with the forces of ORTF (Orchestre de la Radio et Télévision Française), which effectively ensured that the work, in being set down for subsequent transmission, thereby received its first professional recording. The stage performances at the Licco-in a rough-and-ready amalgam of anonymous sets-were the usual tumultuous success with the Barcelonese audience.
Immediately after this she flew to Rome where, once again for the local forces of RAI, she was to take part in a recording/broadcast performance, this time of Strauss's Arabella. As so often when dealing with Wagner or Strauss performances given in the Latin countries, the opera was cast to the teeth: Siegmund Nimsgern sang Mandryka, René Kollo Matteo, with no less than Kurt Moll as Count Waldner. One can only salute the enterprise of RAI at this period under the direction of Francesco Siciliani, who showed themselves endlessly prepared to mount performances of rare (at least for Italy) repertory. † Nevertheless, it is a pity that this particular revival was not mounted some years earlier: Caballé's voice is now unmistakably that of a mature woman which no amount of ethereal pianissimo can disguise. When this Arabella lets fly, it is quite clear that we are listening to a Medea in the making.
Perhaps something of the same problem affected Caballé's next scheduled appearances. She was due to sing the first of four Violettas at the Liceo, commencing on 6 December, with José Carreras as Alfredo.
It is a pity that no one at the time thought to escort Caballé just across the Thames to the National Gallery, where Titian's portrait of Caterina Cornaro hangs. In this authentic painting- unlike the egregious fake in the Uffizi - the resemblance between Queen and diva is very striking.
In addition to the Agnese di Hehenstaufen and La donna del lago in 1970, RAI had also mounted for Montserrat a broadcast performance of Strauss's Saleme in 1971. with Nimsgern as Jokanaan, conducted by Zubin Mehta. Unfortunately, this latter performance- which by all accounts was sensational- is the only one of Caballe's quarter of RAI operas from this period never to have materialized on pirate disc. ……
1976-1979: Heavyweight Contender
Page: 215
…… whose forbearance and indulgence one admires the more following the débâcle just seven months previously: Caballe's towards the theatre, or La Scala's towards her. In any event, the recital on to January found her in high holiday humour: in one of the numerous encores-Obradors' 'El vito-the soprano became so caught up in the infectious rhythm that she volunteered some fancy footwork as an additional accompaniment. Unfortunately, she also became caught up in the hem of her floor-length gown and, following a moment's awkward equipoise, she fell over in mid-aria with a loud crash. She ended up singing the rest of the aria squatting on the false stage which covers the orchestra pit at such functions without so much as batting an eyelid or missing a note. The audience erupted in delighted applause and, though prone, Caballé was doubtless left to reflect on the power of her personality and presence to get her through any situation, no matter how potentially embarrassing. and to turn it to her advantage. With a mischievous smile and an infectious giggle, Montserrat has achieved more throughout her career than most divas normally do by resorting to the traditional methods of snarls, threats and tantrums. And it is noticeable that whilst it has been the lot of practically everyone else at La Scala to be booed as a result of actually performing, the only real booing Montserrat ever received there was for her non-appearances, unfairly vented in absentia on her replacements. The revival of Norma opened on 18 January and was televised live throughout Europe. On the opening night the need to pad out the interval with some relevant material for the live television relay audience provided the opportunity for a decorously phrased cat-fight between two divas past and present. The sight of Gina Cigna and Leyla Gencer upstaging each other with regal condescension was probably the visual highlight of the entire evening." After the fourth performance, on the 28th, Montserrat flew to London in order to give what was fast becoming one of her regular annual recitals at the Royal Opera House, which this time involved a real novelty for the London audience. Unfortunately, it also proved to be the parting of the ways as far as its more pofaced members were concerned. After a brilliantly executed first half of Handel and Schubert, she concluded her customary Spanish second half with a group of zarzuela arias for the performance of which she had enlisted the help of a noted Spanish dancer and virtuoso castanetist, José de Udacta. While the lean, bronzed performer preened himself in According to Cigna's own testimony in Lanfranco Rasponi's The Last Prima Donnas, Gencer made the fatal mistake, just before going on camera, of casually asking whether Cigna had ever sung the role of Norma. Cigna's frosty response was, 'Yes, Madame-only over 500 times." ……
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'QUE LA VOCE SUA SOAVE
…… in the title-role of this recording. On the LP set's first release in the UK in September 1977 Gramophone found her hard-toned and dull, whilst Records and Recording reported that she gave one of her best performances on disc. The CD reissue in 1990 found the same Gramophone critic in revisionist mood, "hugely enjoying the set,' whilst the Editor of Opéra International informed us all that Caballé was incapable of singing this repertory, written as it was for a "dramatico d'agiltà". In fact, the role was written for Fanny Persiani (née Tacchinardi) and premièred at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples in 1835. Donizetti's score, and the repertories of the majority of other sopranos who have undertaken the work, make it quite clear that the role was intended for a high soprano with plenty of flexibility: in other words, a coloratura. (Persiani's other big roles were Amina in La somnambule and Linda di Chamounix: she was famous for her brilliant coloratura in alt, having a voice which extended effortlessly to high F). And for those many decades when this was the only serious Donizetti opera to survive in the repertory, it was the coloraturas who kept it there. Only in the post-war period has it fallen to much heavier, darker and - in terms of musical dramaturgy- unsuitable voices such as Maria Callas, Renata Scotto and Leyla Gencer. Lucia is, after all, an innocent, 'other-worldly" girl given to the Romantic vapours who goes mad when she is prevented by the political dictates of her brother from marrying the man she loves. If the voice is too obviously that of a woman, such credibility as the piece evinces simply collapses. So, in theory at least, the decision of Jesús López-Cobos (the conductor of this set) to revert to Donizetti's original higher keys for Lucia's music should make perfect sense in terms of presenting the character in its most girlish, virginal light. The mystery, then, is why Caballé was chosen to sing it, for the net result of the conductor's Urtext tinkering’s is to put the tessitura out of the soprano's comfortable range, with a punishing insistence upon high Bs, Cs and even Dss. Doubtless Caballé could have encompassed this at the outset of her career with no particular difficulty: but for a woman who had, by this time, embarked upon a wholly different and much weightier spinte repertory, the problems are audibly acute.
She starts well: both 'Regnava nel silenzio' and its preceding recitative are imaginatively sung, evoking Lucia's nervous uncertainty, and with some fabulous examples of her long, unbroken phrasing. But the trills are no more than approximations and those which pepper the cabaletta "Quando, rapito in estasi go seriously astray (the one on 'corre' doesn't even resolve on to the next note). We get both verses but perversely the soprano is tied to a literal repeat of the notes - wholly inauthentic performance practice- except for an ill-advised stab at singing the otherwise legato high Cs and Bs on 'il ciel per me' as pianissimi staccati. And if the other high Cs and Bs are screamy, on the three Dvs in the final bars of this cabaletta one can practically hear the voice bleed.
This is more or less the pattern throughout: something utterly treasurable, such as her first verse of the love duet 'Verrano a te' with Carreras (who is superb throughout), is followed by some very shrieky sounds in alt. The crowning glory of any Lacia is usually, of course, the mad scene. On this set we are spared the spurious cat-and-mouse cadenza for flute and soprano which seems to be so much a part of this opera's fundamentally trivial appeal. Caballé ……
'Zu Neuen Taten'
1983-1985: The Undiscovered Country
…… Caballe's career had made a decisive shift into a new phase with the opening on 26 December 1982 of La vestale. The opera, a considerable rarity, had originally been written by Gasparo Spontini in 1807 almost as a gift for Napoleon's Empress, Joséphine. It had of course been composed to a French libretto, which no less a figure than Beethoven had considered ideal. But such circulation as the work had ever achieved in the twentieth century, at a time when this and similar late-classical, pre-Romantic operas had fallen into oblivion, was in the form of an Italian translation, whereby the eponymous heroine Julia became Giulia. In this guise the work had been revived for Rosa Ponselle at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1925 under the direction of Tullio Serafin. With Ponselle's precipitate retirement, the work again disappeared from the repertory until it was given a sumptuous production by Luchino Visconti at La Scala in 1954, with Maria Callas in the title-role. Latterly, as so often was the case in the immediate post-Callas generation, Leyla Gencer had been the first to take on the challenge, so that once again Caballé became the latest in the royal line of succession. ……
Critical Discography
Page: 385
Roberto Devereux
(1) New York, pirate, 16.xii.65: MRF LP (MRF 83-5 (3)); extracts on Legato CD (SRO-1-3)
(2) Aix-en-Provence, pirate, vill. 1977: Legato CD (SRO-510-3), reissued on (HRE 1004-3); highlights on Legato CD (LCD 18-1)
The fortunes of the three works that comprise Donizetti's "Tudor Ring-Anna Bolena (1830). Maria Stuarda (1834) and Roberto Devereux (1837) - have fared pretty well in modern times. Maria Callas reawakened interest in Anna Bolena in 1957 and in so doing spearheaded a general revival of interest in the composer's serious operas. Leyla Gencer then took up the challenge with a determination that led to several of them being put on in theatres throughout Italy. From 1965, however, it was Caballé who did most to rehabilitate many of Donizetti's serious works, playing a central part in the restoration of ten of his operas (including the three of the Tudor Ring') throughout Europe and the United States.
Interestingly, her association with the Tudor works was conducted in reverse order of their composition, singing Anna Bolena for the first time in 1982 after having debuted as Maria Stuarda in 1967 and Elisabetta in Roberto Devereux in 1965. This is perhaps surprising given that the role of Elisabetta is generally regarded as being the most arduous, its demands equating in many respects with those of the title role in Bellini's Norma. And of all Donizetti's Queens, this Elizabeth is by far the most complex and fully rounded, forced as she is to deal with the betrayal of the man who, in historical reality, came closest to denying her the sobriquet of 'the Virgin Queen'. The plot tells of the conflict between love and duty caused by Elizabeth's love for Robert, Earl of Essex (the Roberto Devereux of the opera's title). When his emotional treachery is revealed, she orders his arrest but is devastated by the chain of events that leads to his execution. In the closing scene, haunted by images of the blood- stained block on which Essex has been beheaded, she tears the ring of regal authority from her finger and announces her abdication.
The two available pirate recordings of Roberto Devereux date from December 1965 and July 1977. The earlier recording is, in fact, an American Opera Society concert performance in which Caballé marked her return to Carnegie Hall as an indisputable star, eight months after her sensational North American début in Lucrezia Borgia. From the moment she starts to sing, there seems to be a confidence, the radiation of a real personality-perhaps derived from an awareness of self-worth - that is reflected in the command with which she invests the music of Elizabeth. We deduce from the recitative preceding her opening aria this character's emotional turmoil, for Donizetti sets the words "la mia vendetta" on an up-and-down scale that ranges from A above the stave to C below it, and Caballé expertly conveys the volatility that this flourish is meant to express. In the aria and cabaletta, the voice has a firmness and flexibility that equip it to deal almost effortlessly with the considerable demands of Donizetti's score. The upward leaps and the rapid alterations between the cantilena in which Elisabetta inwardly expresses her tender thoughts and the coruscating explosions of rage call for a singer with absolute security at both ends of her vocal range and who ideally is not forced to make awkward gear-changes in ……
Page: 386
'QUI LA VOCE SUA SOAVE'
the middle. This is precisely what makes Caballé so impressive in 1965. The only deficiency is the generalized treatment of coloratura. In the cabalettas especially and this is an opera littered with them - Caballé has yet fully to develop the necessary skills with which to invest ornamented passage-work with dramatic meaning. This is something which, at their best, both Beverly Salls (on the only commercial studio recording [HMV, SLS 787 (3)]) and Leyla Gencer were able to do when portraying the anguished Queen.
By 1977, when Caballé sang the role at the Aix-en-Provence Festival (from which the second pirate recording is taken), the supreme security at the top of the voice had temporarily deserted her. Right at the beginning, that same phrase la mia vendetta' which had been so effective in 1965 is compromised by an ungainly squall on the top A. And occasionally there are problems of equaliz ation between the different vocal registers. But, for all this, even during the first Act where these problems are most apparent, Caballé achieves a grandeur that is entirely apposite to the matter in hand. A dark hue and suffocated tone pervades the voice during the large passage of the second Act trio, "Alma infida', which helps to convey Elizabeth's agonies. Here Donizetti's writing comes close to depicting the kind of naked fury expressed by Norma in the trio that closes the first Act of Bellini's opera. In the third Act, Caballé achieves the kind of full command that eluded her at the beginning of the performance. In the aria "Vivi ingrato', she manages the breadth of phrasing and softness of voice that have always been a hallmark of her contabile singing, and the final cabaletta, 'Quel sangue versato', is thrilling in its power. Here the high notes (touching several times on high B) give no cause for complaint. Although throughout the performance there are several instances of misplaced and cracked notes, these rarely distract from the general impression of total dramatic commitment. The Aix performance also survives as a pirate video of the television broadcast by Antenne 2. On the evidence of this Caballé gives what, in terms of dramatic voltage at least, is as fine a performance as was her Norma from Orange.
Maria Stuarda
(1) New York, pirate, 6.xi.67: MRF LP (MRF 13 5)
(2) Milan, pirate, 20.iv.71: Myto CD (MCD 911-37)
(3) Paris, pirate, 26.72: (a) Foyer CD (3-CF 2093); (b) Legato CD (LCD-123-2): (c) Memories CD (HR 4417/18)
…… This middle work of the Tudor trilogy is the one with which Caballé was most frequently associated, having sung it first in New York in December 1967 and thereafter on numerous occasions both in concert and on stage. It is surprising that, as yet, no CD transfer has been made of her New York début in the role and unfortunately it has been impossible to obtain the LPs released on MRF many years ago. Snippets of the American Opera Society concert have, however, found their way to various compilation pirate CDs, and these reveal - as with the 1965 Roberto Devereux-just how well suited to Donizetti's Queens Caballe's talents were. Possessed of an inherent nobility of tone, she also had the technical foundations to cope with the mixture of showy coloratura and seamless cantilena that the composer used to give voice to the fiery and poignant aspects of these tragic characters. The role of Mary, Queen of Scots, calls for ……
Page: 97
…… by the des Grieux of her husband. There was also another recital record to be made for Vergara, this time a miscellany of opera arias with the Orquesta Sinfónica de Barcelona, conducted by a Liceo regular, Carlo Felice Cillario.
In her absence, both Carlos (as her personal manager) and Bernard Lefort (as a freelance agent) had been successfully reaping the rewards of Montserrat's steadily burgeoning reputation. She had been invited to make her début some eighteen months hence in Philadelphia singing Maddalena in Andrea Chénier, with Franco Corelli in the title-role, Glyndebourne had, as usual, stolen a march on everybody and arranged for her first performances in England as part of the 1965 summer festival. Most importantly of all, the Civic Opera in Dallas had offered her a series of Violettas in November 1965, which would mark her all- important North American stage début. These two American offers constituted Caballe's breakthrough into the big time: both were highly prestigious propositions and had been processed through the offices of Columbia Artists, which had been alerted to Caballe's qualities by Giuseppe di Stefano. Slowly at first, but now with gathering momentum, it was all beginning to happen.
The Liceo Manon Lescauts in December 1964 were well received: one critic referred to the opera as the 'ideal vehicle for such an accomplished soprano, During and shortly after these Liceo performances, she recorded her first operatic recital for Vergara. The LP was scheduled to consist of entire scenes from Otello (the 'Willow Song' and 'Ave Maria") and Un ballo in maschera (the gallows scene), as well as arias from Torca and Charpentier's Louise. But this left the second side short, and discussions were still taking place concerning an additional item as the sessions began. Montserrat was in favour of some more verismo: perhaps Butterfly's Act II aria or something from Bohème. Maestro Cillario, however, had a completely different and very unexpected suggestion: why not tackle a bel canto aria instead? This struck Caballé as a quite extraordinary proposition. Of course, she had been taught the historical rudiments of that repertory as part of her Conservatorio training and was perfectly well aware of the trail-blazing efforts of both Maria Callas and, more recently, Leyla Gencer on its behalf. She had also briefly studied the role of Lucia but had never sung it and indeed regarded all such generic works as fundamentally unsuited to her voice. Cillario more or less bullied Montserrat into looking at the score of Donizetti's Anna Bolena and had a messianic line of argument to get his own way. 'In years to come you will remember what I am telling you now. Your voice is a born bel canto instrument.' Reluctantly, she agreed to sing the aria as a test-piece in the recording studio on 30 December 1964 with ……
1965-1966: A Trip to Stardom
Page: 103
…… no longer a partner to the world's great sopranos, but a rival. Weeks beforehand, the house was completely sold out, and anticipation was beginning to mount steadily towards fever-pitch.
At which point Marilyn Horne cancelled. By mid-March 1965 she was entering the seventh month of a complicated pregnancy and felt disinclined to take any risks. Oxenburg was panic-stricken and uncertain of how to proceed since it was obvious that no one was likely to know a role so far removed from the standard repertory. His only hope seemed to rest with the bare handful of bel canto exponents who might be prepared to learn it in the time remaining. Calls for help were speedily despatched: Sutherland was one obvious candidate, but she was immersed in rehearsals at Covent Garden for forthcoming Lucias and Sonnambulas; Leyla Gencer was another possibility, but she was likewise unavailable. It is a measure of how little real progress the bel canto revival had made at this point that, having eliminated these two possibilities, there was virtually no one left to whom Oxenburg could turn. In situations like these agents can often prove very useful, particularly if one is familiar with them and can trust their judgement. Oxenburg outlined his problem to several of them, including Bernard Lefort. Lefort had a suggestion: he had worked for a couple of years on behalf of an unknown Spanish soprano who had recently sung a fabulous Figaro at the Lausanne Festival, and who he was sure could do the role justice. Her name was Montserrat Caballé.
Montserrat was at home in Barcelona contemplating her next scheduled role- the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier which she was due to begin rehearsing at Glyndebourne in mid-April - when at the end of March she received a telegram from Lefort. The essence of this was simple: drop everything, come to New York and sing Lucrezia Borgia. The offer was one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities which fuels every young hopeful's day-dreams. Even so, Montserrat proceeded cautiously, going so far as to reply that she did not think that she was well suited to this kind of material even though she was fully aware of the significance of the offer: I thought to myself, 'Aha! This is good, but... Carlos said to me, "No "buts". Big chances like this in your life may only come once. You're going to do it." "But I don't know the part and I am not at all sure I can do it." He said to me, 'Nonsense! You are going to do this role and it is going to make your reputation."
She contacted Carlo Felice Cillario who had conducted her recent performances of Manon Lescaut and was still working in Barcelona, to obtain specific musical advice about the score. His response was ……
Page: 154
'RITORNA VINCITOR!"
…… Norma. By way of demonstration, both sang a passage from the trio finale to Act I. They listened intently to each other, and Callas went on to observe that the Spanish soprano in singing the line had strictly observed the letter of the score. She went on to echo exactly what Caballé had already been told by Joan Sutherland a couple of years earlier. "You are exactly the right voice type for this role and for you much the best thing to do is simply to follow Bellini's line. You find your own way to the musical heart of the drama, just as I do, but through your own unique vocal qualities."
Following a further round of recitals, with which Caballé increasingly interspersed her principal stage engagements, she returned to Rome in early July, together with her husband, to begin a series of intensive rehearsals with Gianandrea Gavazzeni in preparation for EMI's première recording of Il pirata, with the forces of RAI Rome. These sessions, which took place in the newly built Auditorium Foro Italico, were spread over an entire fortnight and proved a focal point for both Roman and visiting high society. Queen Frederika attended them, together with the Spanish Infanta Beatriz (King Juan Carlos's aunt), whilst another distinguished visitor was the eminent Turkish soprano, Leyla Gencer, who came partly out of interest in the work and partly because of her regard for the performers. The recording studio, though functionally ugly in the modern manner, at least had the benefit of air-conditioning which was found to be vitally necessary in the sweltering Roman summer. Tempers inevitably became frayed from time to time, not least given the orchestra's characteristically unruly behaviour. Gavazzeni, very much a gentleman of the old school, found this difficult to deal with. At one session, with everybody in attendance, the orchestra refused to stop eating ice-creams and reading newspapers, despite the maestro's repeated calls to attention. The atmosphere was becoming extremely tense and unpleasant, and the singers - minus Montserrat who was sitting out in the auditorium with the royal visitors - looked on with mounting alarm. One of the male singers had already been noted for having an insouciant habit of 'adjusting' his groin periodically: in the current fraught situation, this had become incessant. Queen Frederika, meanwhile, was observing the whole proceedings avidly through her opera glasses. Suddenly, Gavazzeni, who was wearing a high- buttoned summer jacket, ripped at it with a yell of frustration, sending a shower of buttons into the orchestra. The tension, as the delinquent players stared on in disbelief, was palpable. Queen Frederika turned to Gencer and Caballé had in fact first become acquainted during the summer of 1965 when both were working at Glyndebourne. ……
Page: 162
'RITORNA VINCITOR!"
…… returned to Barcelona so that she could spend some time with her infant son. Fortunately, Bernabé was not engaged to perform at this time either, so that, until Caballe's journey to Milan in early April, she had the rare and welcome opportunity of living en famille. The return to La Scala was for a much-heralded new production of Maria Stuarda, mounted, like the previous year's Lucrezia, specifically for the soprano. And again, the stage director was Margherita Wallmann, this time working with designs by La Scala's resident scenic magician, Nicola Benois. The opera had in fact been premièred at La Scala in 1835. having been banned the previous year in Naples where, according to legend, the two prime donne - Anna del Serre and Giuseppina Ronzi-de Begnis - had brawled violently during the scene where Mary Stuart forcibly reminds Elisabeth of her illegitimacy (figlia impura di Bolena', etc.). No such controversy surrounded this production, though looking at the picture taken backstage (see illustrations) one might be forgiven for wondering if history was not about to repeat itself. Again, one of these performances has survived on pirate disc, but in sound so distant and murky that it is hard to draw positive conclusions. Even so, the great confrontation scene between the two queens - surely the reason for this otherwise unremarkable work's return to the repertory - seems relatively underpowered, for all Caballe's evident attempts to bolster her tone and intensify her declamation. One has only to turn to either of her two slightly later concert performances in London and Paris to hear the authentic frisson missing in Milan. Even so, the Callas authority. Stelios Galatopoulos, evidently thought highly of the occasion:
In moments of noble humility, tenderness and melancholy, she has an extraordinary sensitivity that never fails to touch the listener's heart. It is because of this that I feel that Maria Stuarda is Caballe's best Donizetti role... It was in the confession scene (at the close of the opera] that Caballé became incomparable. Her voice had all its purity all the time, and never for a moment became merely a beautiful voice in isolation, as it sometimes does. Here Caballé achieved with her own means what as a rule only genius can do."
It is all the sadder, therefore, that in the on-going saga of bad faith exhibited by EMI, Caballé never recorded this, one of her greatest roles, and that in the same year the recording company again preferred, at no
Or indeed to continue listening to the fill-up included as a comparison on the discs, in which a clearly axe-mad Leyla Gencer so vehemently demolishes her Elisabeth that the audience breaks into spontaneous applause mid-sentence. ……
1973-1976: Triumphs, Troubles and Transition
Page: 185
The 1973-4 season at the Gran Teatro del Liceo opened on 8 November with a new production of the last opera which Donizetti saw staged in his own lifetime, Caterina Cormaro. This work, which deals with the troublesome affairs of the eponymous and real-life, fifteenth-century Queen of Cyprus, had remained unperformed between 1845 (only its second-ever production, in Parma) and 1972, when it was revived at the San Carlo in Naples with Leyla Gencer in the title-role. Montserrat rapidly espoused Caterina's cause and had, in fact, already sung the work in concert in London: indeed, as soon as the four performances at the Liceo were over, she was due in Paris to undertake a further concert performance at the Salle Pleyel, with the forces of ORTF (Orchestre de la Radio et Télévision Française), which effectively ensured that the work, in being set down for subsequent transmission, thereby received its first professional recording. The stage performances at the Licco-in a rough-and-ready amalgam of anonymous sets-were the usual tumultuous success with the Barcelonese audience.
Immediately after this she flew to Rome where, once again for the local forces of RAI, she was to take part in a recording/broadcast performance, this time of Strauss's Arabella. As so often when dealing with Wagner or Strauss performances given in the Latin countries, the opera was cast to the teeth: Siegmund Nimsgern sang Mandryka, René Kollo Matteo, with no less than Kurt Moll as Count Waldner. One can only salute the enterprise of RAI at this period under the direction of Francesco Siciliani, who showed themselves endlessly prepared to mount performances of rare (at least for Italy) repertory. † Nevertheless, it is a pity that this particular revival was not mounted some years earlier: Caballé's voice is now unmistakably that of a mature woman which no amount of ethereal pianissimo can disguise. When this Arabella lets fly, it is quite clear that we are listening to a Medea in the making.
Perhaps something of the same problem affected Caballé's next scheduled appearances. She was due to sing the first of four Violettas at the Liceo, commencing on 6 December, with José Carreras as Alfredo.
It is a pity that no one at the time thought to escort Caballé just across the Thames to the National Gallery, where Titian's portrait of Caterina Cornaro hangs. In this authentic painting- unlike the egregious fake in the Uffizi - the resemblance between Queen and diva is very striking.
In addition to the Agnese di Hehenstaufen and La donna del lago in 1970, RAI had also mounted for Montserrat a broadcast performance of Strauss's Saleme in 1971. with Nimsgern as Jokanaan, conducted by Zubin Mehta. Unfortunately, this latter performance- which by all accounts was sensational- is the only one of Caballe's quarter of RAI operas from this period never to have materialized on pirate disc. ……
1976-1979: Heavyweight Contender
Page: 215
…… whose forbearance and indulgence one admires the more following the débâcle just seven months previously: Caballe's towards the theatre, or La Scala's towards her. In any event, the recital on to January found her in high holiday humour: in one of the numerous encores-Obradors' 'El vito-the soprano became so caught up in the infectious rhythm that she volunteered some fancy footwork as an additional accompaniment. Unfortunately, she also became caught up in the hem of her floor-length gown and, following a moment's awkward equipoise, she fell over in mid-aria with a loud crash. She ended up singing the rest of the aria squatting on the false stage which covers the orchestra pit at such functions without so much as batting an eyelid or missing a note. The audience erupted in delighted applause and, though prone, Caballé was doubtless left to reflect on the power of her personality and presence to get her through any situation, no matter how potentially embarrassing. and to turn it to her advantage. With a mischievous smile and an infectious giggle, Montserrat has achieved more throughout her career than most divas normally do by resorting to the traditional methods of snarls, threats and tantrums. And it is noticeable that whilst it has been the lot of practically everyone else at La Scala to be booed as a result of actually performing, the only real booing Montserrat ever received there was for her non-appearances, unfairly vented in absentia on her replacements. The revival of Norma opened on 18 January and was televised live throughout Europe. On the opening night the need to pad out the interval with some relevant material for the live television relay audience provided the opportunity for a decorously phrased cat-fight between two divas past and present. The sight of Gina Cigna and Leyla Gencer upstaging each other with regal condescension was probably the visual highlight of the entire evening." After the fourth performance, on the 28th, Montserrat flew to London in order to give what was fast becoming one of her regular annual recitals at the Royal Opera House, which this time involved a real novelty for the London audience. Unfortunately, it also proved to be the parting of the ways as far as its more pofaced members were concerned. After a brilliantly executed first half of Handel and Schubert, she concluded her customary Spanish second half with a group of zarzuela arias for the performance of which she had enlisted the help of a noted Spanish dancer and virtuoso castanetist, José de Udacta. While the lean, bronzed performer preened himself in According to Cigna's own testimony in Lanfranco Rasponi's The Last Prima Donnas, Gencer made the fatal mistake, just before going on camera, of casually asking whether Cigna had ever sung the role of Norma. Cigna's frosty response was, 'Yes, Madame-only over 500 times." ……
Page: 390
'QUE LA VOCE SUA SOAVE
…… in the title-role of this recording. On the LP set's first release in the UK in September 1977 Gramophone found her hard-toned and dull, whilst Records and Recording reported that she gave one of her best performances on disc. The CD reissue in 1990 found the same Gramophone critic in revisionist mood, "hugely enjoying the set,' whilst the Editor of Opéra International informed us all that Caballé was incapable of singing this repertory, written as it was for a "dramatico d'agiltà". In fact, the role was written for Fanny Persiani (née Tacchinardi) and premièred at the Teatro San Carlo in Naples in 1835. Donizetti's score, and the repertories of the majority of other sopranos who have undertaken the work, make it quite clear that the role was intended for a high soprano with plenty of flexibility: in other words, a coloratura. (Persiani's other big roles were Amina in La somnambule and Linda di Chamounix: she was famous for her brilliant coloratura in alt, having a voice which extended effortlessly to high F). And for those many decades when this was the only serious Donizetti opera to survive in the repertory, it was the coloraturas who kept it there. Only in the post-war period has it fallen to much heavier, darker and - in terms of musical dramaturgy- unsuitable voices such as Maria Callas, Renata Scotto and Leyla Gencer. Lucia is, after all, an innocent, 'other-worldly" girl given to the Romantic vapours who goes mad when she is prevented by the political dictates of her brother from marrying the man she loves. If the voice is too obviously that of a woman, such credibility as the piece evinces simply collapses. So, in theory at least, the decision of Jesús López-Cobos (the conductor of this set) to revert to Donizetti's original higher keys for Lucia's music should make perfect sense in terms of presenting the character in its most girlish, virginal light. The mystery, then, is why Caballé was chosen to sing it, for the net result of the conductor's Urtext tinkering’s is to put the tessitura out of the soprano's comfortable range, with a punishing insistence upon high Bs, Cs and even Dss. Doubtless Caballé could have encompassed this at the outset of her career with no particular difficulty: but for a woman who had, by this time, embarked upon a wholly different and much weightier spinte repertory, the problems are audibly acute.
She starts well: both 'Regnava nel silenzio' and its preceding recitative are imaginatively sung, evoking Lucia's nervous uncertainty, and with some fabulous examples of her long, unbroken phrasing. But the trills are no more than approximations and those which pepper the cabaletta "Quando, rapito in estasi go seriously astray (the one on 'corre' doesn't even resolve on to the next note). We get both verses but perversely the soprano is tied to a literal repeat of the notes - wholly inauthentic performance practice- except for an ill-advised stab at singing the otherwise legato high Cs and Bs on 'il ciel per me' as pianissimi staccati. And if the other high Cs and Bs are screamy, on the three Dvs in the final bars of this cabaletta one can practically hear the voice bleed.
This is more or less the pattern throughout: something utterly treasurable, such as her first verse of the love duet 'Verrano a te' with Carreras (who is superb throughout), is followed by some very shrieky sounds in alt. The crowning glory of any Lacia is usually, of course, the mad scene. On this set we are spared the spurious cat-and-mouse cadenza for flute and soprano which seems to be so much a part of this opera's fundamentally trivial appeal. Caballé ……
'Zu Neuen Taten'
1983-1985: The Undiscovered Country
…… Caballe's career had made a decisive shift into a new phase with the opening on 26 December 1982 of La vestale. The opera, a considerable rarity, had originally been written by Gasparo Spontini in 1807 almost as a gift for Napoleon's Empress, Joséphine. It had of course been composed to a French libretto, which no less a figure than Beethoven had considered ideal. But such circulation as the work had ever achieved in the twentieth century, at a time when this and similar late-classical, pre-Romantic operas had fallen into oblivion, was in the form of an Italian translation, whereby the eponymous heroine Julia became Giulia. In this guise the work had been revived for Rosa Ponselle at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1925 under the direction of Tullio Serafin. With Ponselle's precipitate retirement, the work again disappeared from the repertory until it was given a sumptuous production by Luchino Visconti at La Scala in 1954, with Maria Callas in the title-role. Latterly, as so often was the case in the immediate post-Callas generation, Leyla Gencer had been the first to take on the challenge, so that once again Caballé became the latest in the royal line of succession. ……
Critical Discography
Page: 385
Roberto Devereux
(1) New York, pirate, 16.xii.65: MRF LP (MRF 83-5 (3)); extracts on Legato CD (SRO-1-3)
(2) Aix-en-Provence, pirate, vill. 1977: Legato CD (SRO-510-3), reissued on (HRE 1004-3); highlights on Legato CD (LCD 18-1)
The fortunes of the three works that comprise Donizetti's "Tudor Ring-Anna Bolena (1830). Maria Stuarda (1834) and Roberto Devereux (1837) - have fared pretty well in modern times. Maria Callas reawakened interest in Anna Bolena in 1957 and in so doing spearheaded a general revival of interest in the composer's serious operas. Leyla Gencer then took up the challenge with a determination that led to several of them being put on in theatres throughout Italy. From 1965, however, it was Caballé who did most to rehabilitate many of Donizetti's serious works, playing a central part in the restoration of ten of his operas (including the three of the Tudor Ring') throughout Europe and the United States.
Interestingly, her association with the Tudor works was conducted in reverse order of their composition, singing Anna Bolena for the first time in 1982 after having debuted as Maria Stuarda in 1967 and Elisabetta in Roberto Devereux in 1965. This is perhaps surprising given that the role of Elisabetta is generally regarded as being the most arduous, its demands equating in many respects with those of the title role in Bellini's Norma. And of all Donizetti's Queens, this Elizabeth is by far the most complex and fully rounded, forced as she is to deal with the betrayal of the man who, in historical reality, came closest to denying her the sobriquet of 'the Virgin Queen'. The plot tells of the conflict between love and duty caused by Elizabeth's love for Robert, Earl of Essex (the Roberto Devereux of the opera's title). When his emotional treachery is revealed, she orders his arrest but is devastated by the chain of events that leads to his execution. In the closing scene, haunted by images of the blood- stained block on which Essex has been beheaded, she tears the ring of regal authority from her finger and announces her abdication.
The two available pirate recordings of Roberto Devereux date from December 1965 and July 1977. The earlier recording is, in fact, an American Opera Society concert performance in which Caballé marked her return to Carnegie Hall as an indisputable star, eight months after her sensational North American début in Lucrezia Borgia. From the moment she starts to sing, there seems to be a confidence, the radiation of a real personality-perhaps derived from an awareness of self-worth - that is reflected in the command with which she invests the music of Elizabeth. We deduce from the recitative preceding her opening aria this character's emotional turmoil, for Donizetti sets the words "la mia vendetta" on an up-and-down scale that ranges from A above the stave to C below it, and Caballé expertly conveys the volatility that this flourish is meant to express. In the aria and cabaletta, the voice has a firmness and flexibility that equip it to deal almost effortlessly with the considerable demands of Donizetti's score. The upward leaps and the rapid alterations between the cantilena in which Elisabetta inwardly expresses her tender thoughts and the coruscating explosions of rage call for a singer with absolute security at both ends of her vocal range and who ideally is not forced to make awkward gear-changes in ……
Page: 386
'QUI LA VOCE SUA SOAVE'
the middle. This is precisely what makes Caballé so impressive in 1965. The only deficiency is the generalized treatment of coloratura. In the cabalettas especially and this is an opera littered with them - Caballé has yet fully to develop the necessary skills with which to invest ornamented passage-work with dramatic meaning. This is something which, at their best, both Beverly Salls (on the only commercial studio recording [HMV, SLS 787 (3)]) and Leyla Gencer were able to do when portraying the anguished Queen.
By 1977, when Caballé sang the role at the Aix-en-Provence Festival (from which the second pirate recording is taken), the supreme security at the top of the voice had temporarily deserted her. Right at the beginning, that same phrase la mia vendetta' which had been so effective in 1965 is compromised by an ungainly squall on the top A. And occasionally there are problems of equaliz ation between the different vocal registers. But, for all this, even during the first Act where these problems are most apparent, Caballé achieves a grandeur that is entirely apposite to the matter in hand. A dark hue and suffocated tone pervades the voice during the large passage of the second Act trio, "Alma infida', which helps to convey Elizabeth's agonies. Here Donizetti's writing comes close to depicting the kind of naked fury expressed by Norma in the trio that closes the first Act of Bellini's opera. In the third Act, Caballé achieves the kind of full command that eluded her at the beginning of the performance. In the aria "Vivi ingrato', she manages the breadth of phrasing and softness of voice that have always been a hallmark of her contabile singing, and the final cabaletta, 'Quel sangue versato', is thrilling in its power. Here the high notes (touching several times on high B) give no cause for complaint. Although throughout the performance there are several instances of misplaced and cracked notes, these rarely distract from the general impression of total dramatic commitment. The Aix performance also survives as a pirate video of the television broadcast by Antenne 2. On the evidence of this Caballé gives what, in terms of dramatic voltage at least, is as fine a performance as was her Norma from Orange.
Maria Stuarda
(1) New York, pirate, 6.xi.67: MRF LP (MRF 13 5)
(2) Milan, pirate, 20.iv.71: Myto CD (MCD 911-37)
(3) Paris, pirate, 26.72: (a) Foyer CD (3-CF 2093); (b) Legato CD (LCD-123-2): (c) Memories CD (HR 4417/18)
…… This middle work of the Tudor trilogy is the one with which Caballé was most frequently associated, having sung it first in New York in December 1967 and thereafter on numerous occasions both in concert and on stage. It is surprising that, as yet, no CD transfer has been made of her New York début in the role and unfortunately it has been impossible to obtain the LPs released on MRF many years ago. Snippets of the American Opera Society concert have, however, found their way to various compilation pirate CDs, and these reveal - as with the 1965 Roberto Devereux-just how well suited to Donizetti's Queens Caballe's talents were. Possessed of an inherent nobility of tone, she also had the technical foundations to cope with the mixture of showy coloratura and seamless cantilena that the composer used to give voice to the fiery and poignant aspects of these tragic characters. The role of Mary, Queen of Scots, calls for ……
COURIER-POST
1994.01.30
LYRICA
1994 March
LA STAMPA
1994.04.20
DAGENS NYHETER
1994.11.10
MUSIK: Tidskriften Musikdramatik har utsett årets
Birgitpristagare, barytonen Olle Persson. Närmast kan han höras i Kurt Weills
"Berliner Requeim" som spelas i Motala (9/11), Linköping (10/11) och
Norrköping (11/11) i Östgöta blåsarsymfonikernas regi. I senaste numret av
Musikdramatik skriver även Richard Wagners sonsonson om en resa till
koncentrationslägren Theresienstadt och Terezin i Tjeckien, inte så långt
belägna från Richard Wagners festspelsstad Bayreuth, och det blev ett mycket
smärtsamt möte för Gottfried Wagner. Dessutom finns återblickar på årets
sommarfestivaler, ett porträtt av sångerskan Leyla Gencer med mera.
