Verdi's Ernani on DVD and CD

"Ernani", Verdi's fifth opera (1844), is based on Victor Hugo's "Hernani", and it's a work that's been described as fustian, a kind of Robin Hood-esque farrago of unlikely situations and improbable characters. I wouldn't disagree with that view, but it doesn't prevent me from enjoying it hugely. This is because Verdi (1813-1901) pours out memorable melodies with a kind of hectic profligacy, creating non-stop opportunities for his four principals. They are Ernani, the disenfranchised nobleman Don Giovanni d'Arragona, masquerading as a bandit (a tenor of course); his would-be wife Elvira (soprano); Elvira's repeatedly spurned suitor, King Carlo V of Castille (baritone), and Elvira's guardian, the elderly nobleman Silva (basso), who being in charge of the lady is poised at the beginning of the opera to marry her and settle things before they get underway. But no.

This is an opera that was considered kind of old-fashioned within 20 years of its premiere, along with pretty much all of Verdi's works up to his break-through trilogy, "Rigoletto"(1851), "il Trovatore" (1853), and "la Traviata" ( 1853). These were Verdi's 16th, 17th and 18th operas. A quick look at the numbers yields the startling fact that between his first opera, "Oberto", premiered in 1839, and "Rigoletto" in 1851, Verdi composed, prepared and saw staged 16 full-length operas--in 15 years. He referred to that time as his "years in the galley", and he had in mind a trireme rowed by slaves, not a kitchen. Unlike Rossini (1792-1868), who produced operas at an even faster pace, Verdi re-used virtually no material. Verdi's early works are propulsive, energetic and often frankly crude. Every one is a completely sincere work of art, but they are not (with some arguable exceptions, especially "Macbeth", written in 1846-47 and revised extensively 1864-65) masterpieces, in the sense in which that term is usually understood. They are, like some of Shakespeare's lesser plays, often a bit of a mess. Many of these works are plagued by miserable libretti, but every one of them is stuffed full of tunes. If you like tunes (serious composers really weren't allowed to write tunes after a certain point in the 20th century) you may like these operas. If your idea of a good time is Arnold Schoenberg's (1874-1951) "Moses und Aaron" (1930-32, unfinished) you may not. An ability to enjoy Robin Hood is a big help, too.

These works were written for an audience that wanted, above all, to hear singing. They wanted to hear new works, not revivals. Paris was the undisputed capital of the opera world, and French works were enjoyed in translation, but the Italian audience would remain bewildered if not openly hostile to Wagner until the composer was dead. These works are very much of their time and place, and many of them are thinly-veiled calls to revolution, because the Italian Peninsula was largely under Austrian rule; in fact, there was no "Italy" yet, and there wouldn't be for decades. The rulers of fragmented Italy were very careful about what they allowed on the stage. Nationalism was sweeping across Europe, and censorship was an inescapable fact of operatic life. Venetians and Milanese, Neapolitans and Romans and everyone else were feeling passionate about the idea of "Italy," but this passion could not be openly expressed. But the audience was well aware that when Verdi set a magnificent ensemble for rebellious nobles in Act III, it wasn't only "the lion of Castille" that was aroused, it was their own nationalistic aspirations. Most of these early works include a chorus that became part of the rising tide that would become the Risorgimento; the most famous is "Va pensiero" from "Nabucco", Verdi's first great success. Verdi's name itself became a rallying cry: Patriots scrawled "Viva Verdi" across walls throughout the Peninsula. It was understood to mean "Viva Vittorio Emmanuele, Re d'Italia."

A modern audience may be aware of this background, and appreciate "Ernani" more for that, but there's no getting around the fact that the motivations of the characters are mostly unbelievable to us. Silva wants to marry Elvira, who wants to marry Ernani. The king wants to marry Elvira, but wants to be made Holy Roman Emperor more. The King and Silva want to kill Ernani because, well, he's supposedly a bandit. Ernamni wants to avenge his father's death and marry Elvira, but these objectives are mutually exclusive. When Ernani and Elvira finally overcome all these obstacles and get married, Silva blows a hunting horn and Ernani is obliged to kill himself, which, in front of the much put-upon Elvira, he does. OK, this is not an easy sell, depending as it does on our understanding and accepting the Code of Honor of a feudal civilization seen through the filter of some pretty pissed-off Italians. It seems frankly incredible to people today. So, why would anyone want to hear this work anymore? Unless you really like Robin Hood a lot, it's all for the singing.

A performance under Riccardo Muti (b. 1941) is available on DVD. The production, by Luca Ronconi (b. 1933) opened the 1982/83 La Scala season; it stars Placido Domingo (b. 1941), Mirella Freni (b. 1935), Renato Bruson (b. 1936) and Nicolai Ghiaurov 1929-2004). The production is traditional, if not realistic, and Ronconi is at pains to tell the story. Contemporary Regietheater often is not concerned with that, so this is a production that many will consider old-fashioned. The first scene places Ernani on a plinth to sing his entirely conventional first aria and cabaletta. Choristers and supers dressed as audience members watch the action from upstage in several scenes. This puts us at a distance from the work from the start, and for me this works well: we're invited to see "Ernani" as a theatrical object, and relieved of the need to engage the plot directly, which, as I've indicated, is close to impossible. Let's just go to the opera, shall we?

The costumes, in the main, appear to be from about Verdi's own time, or at least what people in his era would have expected "accurate" historical costumes to look like. None of the singers is required to appear in a costume or wig that's intentionally unflattering, which is refreshing (a recent "Ring" production has Brunnehilde wearing what appears to be a picket fence). Muti is among the outstanding Verdi conductors of the post-war period, and everything is scrupulously "come scritto" (as written). Because Silva's cabaletta following "Infelice, e tu credevi" was not part of Verdi's original (he added it for a subsequent production to please the basso) he omits it here. Ghiaurov (who married Freni in 1978), was one of the greatest bass singers of his time, but he is a little rusty here, so losing the cabaletta is not so bad. He suffers only in comparison to his own earlier recordings, though, and he is a commanding presence throughout. Nobody is a match for Christoff, that lion, and Siepi, in both the Del Monaco performances (see below) is close to ideal, in his absolute prime and singing in his native language. And nobody was taking that cabaletta away from either of those artists. For old Silva on records, then, an embarrassment of riches.

Domingo, still singing principal parts at 68, long ago earned a place among the greatest tenors in the history of opera. I believe he is unique in the breadth of his repertoire and in his vocal longevity, leaving aside his great accomplishments as a conductor and administrator. The man is a giant. He sings a very fine Ernani, marred only slightly by the relative tightness of his highest notes and the fact that his committed, imaginative acting can feel a little generalized. These are small quibbles. The finest Ernani's on disc (both in live performances) are Franco Corelli in a 1965 Met broadcast with Leontyne Price (b.1927), Mario Sereni (b. 1928) and Cesare Siepi (b. 1923) under Thomas Schippers (1930-1977) ; and Mario del Monaco (1915-1982) in one from the 1957 Maggio Musicale Fiorentino with Anita Cerquetti (b. 1931), Ettore Bastianini (1922-1967) and Boris Christoff (1914-1993) under Dimitri Mitropoulos (1896-1960). Both are dramatic tenors, with headlong, impassioned singing styles that suit this volatile, larger-than-life character. A friend of mine used to call del Monaco "Mario del Maniac". Another Mitropoulos performance, from the Met, in '56, teams the tenor with Zinka Milanov (1906-1989), Leonard Warren (1911-1960), and Siepi. Carlo Bergonzi is a fine Ernani in the RCA set with Price; Pavarotti sang the part late in his career; the commercial set with Sutherland (b. 1926) was not released for several years after it was recorded, and it's not hard to see why: it is a dull affair, with Sutherland in particularly unsteady voice, and Pavarotti sounding his by-then advanced age. "Ernani" is a lot of things, but dull should never be one of them.

Freni sings a lovely performance in a role that requires, ideally, a larger voice than hers. Always a fine singer and a resourceful artist, she gives an extended lesson in safely negotiating an assignment too heavy for an essentially lyric voice, much as she does in complete recordings of "Aida" and "Don Carlos", among others. Italian dramatic sopranos have vanished, and if the works are to be performed, lighter voices must serve. The many low-lying passages are deftly handled and her singing is never less than lovely. Price is preferable, although her lower register is obviously produced differently from the rest of the voice, and it turns husky and "smoky," an effect which grew more pronounced over time. Cerquetti, a unique artist whose meteoric career left only a few commercial recordings, is very fine, and her vocal weight is appropriate to Elvira's demanding music.

The role of Carlo, the King of Castille, is one of Verdi's long line of great baritone roles, beginning with Nabucco and following through all the way to Falstaff. Carlo has several demanding arias, and Bruson meets the challenge with something like complete success. The voice is in excellent condition, and barring an occasional gruff high note, he commands the long line and the myriad expressive markings with real authority and considerable grandeur. He is worthy to stand next to the great Leonard Warren, which is about as high a compliment as a baritone can be paid, and since he's singing his own language, in that respect his Carlo might even be thought preferable. He has not so long a line as Cappucilli (in a live '72 performance from Verona, in rather poor sound), but his voice has much more character and individuality. All Bruson's singing in this role is magisterial, and it's his performance that most ideally serves the composer's demands.

All in all, creaky old "Ernani" is well-served by this DVD, and even better by some of the CD versions available. If you like Robin Hood, you may have fun with "Ernani".

Jess Thomas vs. Siegfried

I heard the American Heldentenor Thomas three times in the opera house, as Tristan opposite Birgit Nilsson in '72, a year or two later as Siegfried, and finally at his farewell as Parsifal in 1982. As Tristan and Siegfried I had found Thomas vocally unsatisfying, very rough and with a badly compromised upper voice. In fact, I thought he was in such trouble that he might not make it through the first act. Obviously I was wrong--he sang for another ten years--but it was widely believed at the time that this great Parsifal and Lohengrin had done himself irreparable damage moving into the heaviest Wagner repertoire. Since he'd been singing the young Siegfried at Salzburg and recording the part under Karajan, the latter received much of the blame for destroying yet another voice by luring a hapless singer into a role beyond his ability. Karajan had a preference for lighter voices in traditionally dramatic roles, and the title role of "Siegfried" (as well as the role of Tristan) is a notorious voice-killer. Siegfried is onstage for the entire first act except for the 20 minutes or so during which Wotan, disguised as "the Wanderer", interrogates Mime; it ends with the very long, heavy scene in which the title character forges the broken shards of his father's sword, Nothung. He has plenty to do in Act 2 besides just kill a dragon; and in Act 3 he has a very strenuous duet with Wotan (his grandfather). Then he plunges, still singing, through the wall of Magic Fire to wake up Brunnhilde, who's had nothing to do all night except wait for their final, roof-raising duet. She's fresh and rested, he's been working as hard as a tenor can work for four hours; seems almost unfair in a way. A tenor needs amazing strength and stamina just to get through the role, never mind sounding like a young Ubermensch, and most Wagner tenors leave it alone. If a tenor does sing it, he gets to come back a couple of nights later to throw himself against the "other" Siegfried, in the even-longer "Die Gotterdammerung". Casting this part is almost impossible. Jess Thomas had chosen to enter the lists and become the world's leading exponent of the role, but like many before him, he found himself in over his head. Like more than a few other Wagner roles, Siegfried is at the very edge of what's humanly possible.

After recording "Siegfried" under Karajan, Thomas had withdrawn from the "Gotterdammerung" recording, replaced by Helge Brilioth, whose own Heldentenor career was a very brief one. (I heard Brilioth at the Met as Parsifal in 1970, opposite Christa Ludwig, in an interesting cast that included Cesare Siepi as Gurnemanz and Ezio Flagello as Klingsor. Wagner wrecked Brilioth in no time, and he was back in Sweden singing comprimario parts after just a few memorable years. He sounded fine the night I heard his Parsifal, an interesting, resinous-sounding tenor, and not small.) Although Thomas sang until 1982—another decade—he made only one other commercial recording, singing Duke Waldemar in Schoenberg's "Gurre-Lieder" under Boulez, recorded in December, 1974. But he made several in the 60's that are justly famous, especially a complete "Lohengrin", and until that cynical siren Herbert von Karajan lured him deep into the Rhine, the voice was a very good one. Even after his vocal crisis, he was an intelligent artist who acted effectively, and his physical presence suited heroic roles well. He was musical, his intonation was very dependable, the voice was large enough to be heard over the heaviest orchestration, and he was a trooper. Without Jess Thomas, many performances of Wagner would just not have been possible. Somebody has to sing Siegfried, and it's often a thankless task. In retrospect he was much better than I thought at the time. Only a few tenors have sung the role as well since, and many have sung it much worse.