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When the hype mills are not
stuffing the likes of Andrea Bocelli or Charlotte Church down our
throats but turn to higher art, Angela Gheorghiu and Roberto Alagna
are often among the chosen subjects, along with several other of the
performers covered in this review. Roberto Alagna's career is just
over ten years old, a lyric tenor in that early period and now
branching out into the spinto repertoire-whether or not wisely
is another topic of discussion. In those early days, he sang often
with Leontina Vaduva with whom he formed an ideal stage partnership,
the two striking sparks off one another. Since his encounter with
Angela Gheorghiu after her sensational Traviata at Covent
Garden and their decision to be an on as well as offstage couple, the
results have too often been disappointing for audiences as their
performing styles do not truly mesh: he is impulsive and she carefully
studied, whether in the comedy of Elisir d'Amore or the drama
of Traviata.
Alagna's second recording of La Bohème
(the first was made for EMI with Vaduva) finishes off Gheorghiu's
contract with Decca so that both artists can now record for EMI,
evidently in a repertoire of their choice. Puccini's drama is here
very much conductor Riccardo Chailly's show, rivalling Toscanini for
rapidity but at the same time sufficiently expansive where required.
It is difficult to hear most of the Degrada revision of the score
(largely minor corrections in the orchestra), but the conductor's
interpretative options have their basis in a 1954 publication by Luigi
Ricci on Puccini's performance practices. The cast is with Chailly all
the way, Gheorghiu perhaps too tragic, but Alagna all ardour. The
remaining Bohemians are ideal, but whose idea was it to cast
Elisabetta Scana as the least sensual Musetta in recorded history.
It
was inevitable for Alagna to record Werther, and it is to
EMI's credit that the subsidiary roles have all been well-cast, from
the tortured Albert of Thomas Hampson to the perky Sophie of Patricia
Petibon. Alagna captures the tortured quality of the character, more
overt than Alfredo Kraus or Ramón Vargas, and with more voice
to his credit than the two rivals. One might question the casting of
Gheorghiu as Charlotte, a role she has not (yet) sung on stage and
which is almost exclusively taken by mezzo sopranos. Mme Alagna's
smoky tones occasionally mask her difficulties at the bottom of her
range, while the absence of tension at the other extreme makes it all
sound too easy, thereby at cross-purposes with the composer's
intentions. Antonio Pappano's conducting is traditional, correct, but
if you want a sense of discovery you will have to listen to Vladimir
Jurowski on the new RCA recording. The young Russian conductor brings
an unbridled passion to the score that some may feel a bit excessive,
but it is a reading that deserves to be heard. Ramón Vargas in
the title role benefits from his stage appearances, but it is all a
bit careful if beautifully executed. The same is true for Vesselina
Kasarova's Charlotte, both readings at odds with the conductor. Alas,
the remainder of the cast includes not a single Francophone, with Dawn
Kotoski as an over-bright imitation of a soubrette.
José
Cura's new recital album in which he not only sings but conducts is
devoted to verismo opera, with a great deal of unfamiliar
music: excerpts from Franchetti's Germania, Catalani's
Lorely, Giordano's Marcella, Mascagni's Lodoletta
and Guglielmo Ratcliff, alongside Leoncavallo's Pagliacci
(Prologue and "Vesti la giubba") and La Bohème,
Andrea Chenier, Fedora, Adriana Lecouvreur, Arlesiana and Cavalleria
Rusticana. The voice is exciting, but the conductor's occasional
penchant for slow tempi encourages the singer to exaggeration.
Nonetheless, one can be grateful to Cura for his exploration of a
repertoire that has been neglected for much of the 20th century
whatever reservations we may entertain as to its ultimate stature.
Cecilia
& Bryn combines two of today's most communicative singers in a
selection that shows them both off to advantage, with one minor
exception. Both are experienced Mozartians, and to hear them as Figaro
or the Count & Susanna, Giovanni & Zerlina, Guglielmo &
Dorabella or Papageno & Papagena is a treat, while in the duet of
Dulcamara and Adina from Elisir d'Amore Bartoli shows more
slyness than does Angela Gheorghiu in the complete recording. Terfel
dispatches the patter of his role with ease, as he does in the duet
from Rossini's Italiana in Algeria, coming momentarily to
grief when he tries to cope with Figaro's coloratura in his duet with
Rosina. Some of this material can also be seen these days on
television and presumably soon on DVD in Cecilia & Bryn at
Glyndebourne. In both the recording and the concert, Myung-Whun
Chung displays cameleon skills in the agile support he offers.
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OperaNet: Reviews
