Wednesday, April 7, 2010

D-D-D-Don Giovanni on Disc.

Is the Don tired and worn-out, or are we still trying to catch up? Many twentieth/twenty-first century interpretations have left this opera buffa rather humorless, as demonstrated by Marthe Keller's disastrously boring production at the Met in 2009. Am I crazy, or is this opera constantly re-writing itself, remaining oddly unfinished? The second act feels like a clumsy Choose-Your-Own-Adventure tale-- at every twisted turn I wonder if Leporello really will take Giovanni's cloak or if Ottavio will say, "Hey, cruel one, get over it!" Where is the ghostly puppetmaster hand of Lorenzo da Ponte leading these frantic, foolish and deeply flawed characters? They struggle, but what do they sacrifice? Consequently, what do they achieve? I'm asking a lot of questions. Is the answer already before me? If so, it's in the music. Because the music is the thing. Maybe I've never actually seen Don Giovanni, but I'm pretty sure I've heard it.

**WORK IN PROGRESS**

Superior Studio Efforts (in Italian)

Roger Norrington's 1993 [VIRGIN VERITAS]: As an academic resource it is invaluable, here presenting the standard Prague version first and then adding Vienna supplements on its third disc; as a performance, however, it is by no means generic, stale or unengaging. Particularly surprising are the performances of Amanda Halgrimson as Anna and Lynne Dawson as Elvira, but the entire cast is outstanding. Ensemble work (the heart of any Mozart opera) is stunning, and Norrington's pacing errs appropriately on the brisk side.

Daniel Barenboim's 1992 [ERATO]: Ferruccio Furlanetto actually pulls off the "Great Mozart Switcheroo", which is impressive, but I like him better as Leporello. Uwe Heilmann did some brilliant work in the early '90s, and his Ottavio here is a mini-miracle: in terms of studio performances he is rivaled only by Alva for Giulini, which is all the more impressive when one considers his superb Tamino (Solti's Decca Flute) and Belmonte (Hogwood's delicious Abduction). There's a painfully misguided notion that Tamino has to be Arthurian and heroic while Ottavio sits aside as some Hamlet-esque "repressed homosexual" -- which is preposterous, of course, but if anything it's the opposite. Heilmann brings a three-dimensional, "princely" nobility to both, without sacrificing the events of the drama. Otherwise, a merely adequate recording.

Herbert von Karajan's 1986 [DG]: This set inspires a lot of vitriol from Karajan bashers, perhaps deservedly, but I'll never understand how it could be "over-hyped." Possibly because Karajan used (almost) the same cast -- though with Vienna's Philharmonic, not Berlin's -- for the July 1987 Salzburg Festival version. Nobody with a brain would claim that he had more success with this opera than he did with his EMI Mozart sets in the early '50s, nearly forty years before this one. The difference between young and old Herbie can be summed up in one word: spontaneity. This Don sounds as if it should be playing at mid-volume in an empty museum. From the neck up, the singing is quite beautiful, but totally lacking guts or loins.

Carlo Maria Giulini's 1961 [EMI]: Be wary of naysayers! This remarkable studio recording has drama, passion, sex -- the whole experience we dream of (and perhaps never acquire?) in the opera house. If you were to own one and only one recording of the Don, then I suppose it should be this one. This was one of Walter Legge's finest achievements, a testament to Giulini's musical and dramatic prowess, with the most consistently satisfying cast on records: Schwarzkopf's signature Elvira, Alva's alluring Ottavio (still the best studio performance), Taddei's funny and noble Leporello, Sutherland's stunning debut as Anna (was she ever more exciting?), Cappuccilli's definitive Masetto, and Waechter's criminally underrated Don, whose "Fin ch'han dal vino" alone is a top-ten moment of recorded opera. Seriously, folks: a masterpiece.

Ferenc Fricsay 's 1959 [DG]: Anybody who believes Harding (below) to be a daring iconoclast should rediscover Fricsay, whose Don is simply lethal. Just listen to "Don Ottavio, son morta!" in the first act -- at break-neck speed! -- and you'll hear what I mean. The cast, though excellent, sounds distractingly Teutonic most of the time (e.g., "qvesto!"), immediately relegating this endlessly insightful effort to Silver, or even Bronze, status. But for real Don collectors, this set's a must, not just because it features some of the best (if not the best) orchestral playing on any Mozart opera recording: under Fricsay, the late-'50s Radio-Symphonie-Orchester Berlin produce gorgeous sounds, especially in the delicate passages (the woodwinds in "Ah! taci, ingiusto core!" make me weak). The singing, too, is highly musical and at times wonderfully theatrical. Sometimes I'm not sure what to think of Fischer-Dieskau's Don; certainly he was the major attraction to the set when it was first issued, and it's a nicely sung, if completely one-dimensional, portrayal. One may argue, though, that Don Giovanni is the most static character in the drama, so the singing is all that matters. Anyway, it's the set I keep coming back to -- and if you love it, as I do, check out Fricsay's Flute with the same orchestra. Exemplary and underrated.

Josef Krips's 1954 [DECCA]: For Krips's outstanding leadership of the Vienna Philharmonic, this recording is an indispensable document; for its woefully uneven cast, less so. Hilde Gueden is occasionally too refined as Zerlina, but her singing is radiantly beautiful (the best on disc?), particularly in the famous "Là ci darem la mano," truly everything Molly Bloom would've ever wanted. That said, the major event of the duet (i.e. the wooing) doesn't really happen. Three major players on this recording, Lisa della Casa (Elvira), Cesare Siepi (Don), and Fernando Corena (Leporello), sang with much more insight at Salzburg (below), but are still very attractive on this set; Corena, in fact, is more reserved in the studio and does not resort to Tajo-esque antics. Lots of people seem to think Danco is the jewel of the set, which I've always found head-scratching. She sings beautifully and accurately (as always) without adding much insight. Her Ottavio is Anton Dermota, whose journey in the role, at least as preserved on records, is tenuous: his voice was in good shape for Karajan's 1950 studio Flute (an unforgettable performance), then began to decline; he sang adequately at the 1953 Salzburg festival, passably the year after, and rather pitifully here in the studio. He sang Ottavio a lot and must have liked the role, but he never had the breath to get through "Il mio tesoro," so he wasn't even suited for the Prague version of this opera. Dermota was a brilliant singer and distinctly Viennese, and it is unfortunate that he did not leave us a satisfactory Ottavio on records.

Hans Swarowsky's 1950 [PREISER]: This is one of the strangest opera recordings ever made. Though enormously insightful, it is far from a pleasant listening experience. Mariano Stabile was one of the most celebrated singer-actors of his day and by all accounts a charming Don, but his performance here is marred by wretched technique (the intrusive H's are h-h-horrid!). The rest of the famous cast is a nightmarish experiment: Grob-Prandl's big female spider towers over Handt's (slightly more respectable) male spider -- the singing is even worse than what this image conjures up -- and Konetzni and Poell remain two of the most overrated singers who ever conquered the great houses of Europe. Still, whenever I need a good chuckle I turn to the Metropolitan Opera Guide's description of Hedda Heusser: the "boy soprano" Zerlina. How perfectly drole!

The Liveliest Live Recordings (Ever?)

The output of live recordings (they were all bootlegs!) remastered from various sources should be the gems of any opera collector's display cabinet.

Daniel Harding's 1999 [VIRGIN] @ Aix-en-Provence: True, this recording only hints at the wonder of the performance-- directed by Peter Brook-- but the music makes a powerful statement. Harding breaks down barriers, dusts off old Salzburger cobwebs and reveals a lot of youthful energy inherent in Mozart's music. The cast is uneven, especially Remigio and Larsson, but everyone's totally alert and absorbed in the musical moment. So it's probably the fourth -- fifth -- sixth choice, but who cares? For connoisseurs, it's a must. Inimitible details astound throughout: just listen to the way Harding & Co. conclude the wooing scene: loose and a little silly, with a swift, surprising conclusion reminiscent of the old Raisa-Rimini records. You can hear an exclamation point in the music; really infectious! And Peter Mattei -- dare I say he is my favorite Don ever? Schrott may look good shirtless, but his singing lacks Mattei's spirit -- and loins. Mattei's voice is open and responsive, and his acting is simply ferocious. Harding is the perfect partner-in-crime. Like many young musicians, though, they pull off several mini-miracles here and there, but the big picture isn't really in focus. Still, this was their Don, not someone else's, and music is an imperfect art on record. It is the mysterious third dimension -- inside the theatre-- that can never be captured or reproduced.

Dmitri Mitropoulos's 1956 [SONY] @ The Salzburg Festival: If you want crisp stereo sound, look elsewhere; if you want the best Mozart singing of opera's Golden Age, the buck stops here! July 23, 1956 was a magical summer night at Salzburg, here preserved as my favorite live recording of anything ever made. The performance lives and breathes -- for anyone who loves opera, an in-the-moment, electric listening experience that is in a class by itself. Contrary to what many (idiotic!) reviewers will tell you, this cast is actually very different from Furtwängler's 1953 (below) and the 1954, and much, much better. As mentioned above, three of its great stars, Siepi, della Casa and Corena, are much better on stage than in the studio (at least in this opera). Corena does a lot more acting (and singing) off his voice than in Krips's set (above), which can be irritating, but it has a most delightful effect with the audience -- as a comedian here probably the equal of Baccaloni, though without his seemingly endless vocal resources. Elisabeth Grümmer, the greatest lyric soprano of her generation, is featured here in one of her signature roles at the height of its dramatic potency. Unlike Furty, Mitropoulos does not subject her Anna to uncomfortably slow tempi, offering more spontaneity in her vocalism and consequently more refinement in her acting. Amazing. Streich's Zerlina is spot-on -- somewhere in between Gueden's regal perfection and Mildmay's Provencial daftness. A pleasure. Leopold Simoneau's Don Ottavio, though, is the gold star performance. If I may borrow adjectives from Sviatoslav Richter's description of Callas: "[He's] movement itself, imperious and peremptory." Oh, to have been there! Truly, the audience knew they were witnessing something special, and they may be my favorite aspect of the performance: as another character in the drama, they applaud so precisely, so rhythmically, with such sensitivity to the score, that the musical journey -- the legato, if you will -- is kept intact. The time, the place, the people--the moment! By no means your only Don or even the first choice, but who's keeping score? It is beyond comparison and therefore beyond rating or ranking.

Wilhelm Furtwängler's 1953 [ORFEO, et al.] @ The Salzburg Festival: Not terribly giocoso, but oh so dramatic -- surging with dark spirit and Romantic splendor. The cast, however, is incredibly uneven. Otto Edelmann is plainly awful as Leporello. Erna Berger, too, is clearly past her prime (but a real trooper). Siepi's Don is a little more polished for Krips and Mitropoulos, but who cares? He gives the same satisfactory performance every time. Similarly, I prefer Schwarzkopf's brilliant studio effort to this Elvira. Elisabeth Grümmer glimmers as Anna despite Furty's lethally slow tempi. She compensates by delivering a gut-wrenching "Don Ottavio, son morta" and a thrilling finish on "Non mi dir" (what else is Anna good for?). Once more we encounter the Dermota Dilemma: lovely and nuanced, of course, but in the end just adequate. The gold star belongs to Arie's Commendatore, who truly inhabits Furty's dark and dingy Seville. The best "Don Giovanni, a Cenar Teco M'invitasi" I've ever heard. The entire performance seems under a veil: one supposes that Furty & Co. had to get WWII -- the most devastating event in human history -- out of their system, so this remains the essential bottom-heavy interpretation of the Don. At the end of the day I prefer this 1953 to the 1954 for many reasons: sound-wise it is generally better, particularly on this re-release.

Hans Rosbaud's 1950 [GOLDEN MELODRAM - "Connaisseur"] @ Aix-en-Provence: The surprising joy and spontaneity of this production shines through the wretched sound, random noise (was the set being built as they sang?), and somewhat incoherent conducting. There's a marvelous sense of amateurism that is refreshing in Mozart, especially when one compares it to the Swarowsky from virtually the same year (above). The pathetic fallacy, too, has an effect: the month of July, with its warm, summery, vibrant feel of Spanish amor and mojo. Emmy Loose is an ideal soubrette, as she is in any of the Mozarts (Cosi, Flute, etc.). Renato Capecchi is a surprisingly charming Don, and Suzanne Danco's turn as Elvira (she was Anna for Krips) is most effective. Marcello Cortis is exceedingly buffoonish and occasionally delightful as Leporello. His histrionics venture somewhat into Marx Brothers territory (his reveal in the sextet is outlandish even by Commedia standards), but his singing isn't bad. In fact, it reminds me of how influenced I've been by Teutonic diction (e.g., his extra syllable in "mille-e-tre" adds a certain flair and personality). Arie, my favorite Commendatore, is glorious, though timid compared to his 1953 Salzburg performance. This recording also features Leopold Simoneau near the beginning of his journey as Don Ottavio, which alone merits serious attention. His "Dalla sua pace" is a little better than "Il mio tesoro"; he crafts both to perfection, of course, in the '56 Salzburg (above). Words escape me here. There is a special quality about his singing, a comfortable, straightfoward ease that makes his Mozart unique. Very French (via Canada, of course). Once again it is most interesting to note the audience noise captured in these old festival recordings: in Salzburg, they were considerate musicians; here, in Aix, it's as if they've never heard opera before, because a few enthusiastic members yell out inappropriately. Another instance of the delight and ever-so-slightly amateurish quality of the performance.

Fritz Busch 's 1936 [NAXOS] - technically not "live" at all, but recorded on stage @ Glyndebourne: In many ways this remains the best conducted Don in the gramophone, and certainly the most influential. And what a cast! Baccaloni's "Catalogue" may be the most sublimely perfect reading of a Mozart aria I've ever heard, and his singing in the second act is unapproached on records. It is important to note that the phonics at Glyndebourne were absurdly advanced for the time (anyone who has ever tried to enjoy La Scala performances from the late '50s -- which sound as if they were recorded by Playskool-- know what I mean). All the better for Mozart lovers. Brownlee, Helletsgruber and von Pataky also give benchmark performances. Unrivaled for almost twenty years before Krips and Mitropoulos, and still a mighty Don. The NAXOS edition features some other vintage Mozart singing from as far back as 1926, a treasure trove of great singing in the old style (read: with COMEDY). For real fans, a must.