La Gioconda (review) William Ashbrook

The Opera Quarterly, Volume 18, Number 1, Winter 2002, pp. 128-129 (Review)

Published by Oxford University Press

For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/25455

[ This content has been declared free to read by the pubisher during the COVID-19 pandemic. ] 128 recordings

La Gioconda. Amilcare Ponchielli

La Gioconda: Giannina Arangi-Lombardi Isepo/Singer: Giuseppe Nessi Laura: Ebe Stignani Zuane/Singer: Aristide Baracchi La Cieca: Camilla Rota Orchestra and Chorus of La Scala, Milan Enzo Grimaldo: Alessandro Granda Lorenzo Molajoli, conductor Barnaba: Gaetano Viviani Naxos Historical 8.110112–14 (3 CDs) Alvise Badoero: Corrado Zambelli

This is the complete Gioconda from 1931, recorded by Italian Columbia, but never issued in the United States during the 78 r.p.m. era. Here it is, vividly remastered by Ward Marston, with bonus tracks consisting of eight arias and two duets featuring the soprano Giannina Arangi-Lombardi, whom Max de Schauensee always referred to as “the Ponselle of Italy.” I have a special aVection for La Gioconda, as it was my first opera, seen when I was seven. Three things made an unforgettable impression on me. Hearing big voices live had quite an impact, since before then I had heard opera only on acoustic records (I still think that Julia Claussen, the Laura of that occasion, could sing louder than anyone I have heard since); although the plot made no sense to me, the Dance of the Hours seemed perfectly logical; and I got cold chills from the moment the big ensemble was launched at the end of act 3. I have seen Ponchielli’s opera quite a few times since, always with the feeling of meeting an old friend. It is easy to make fun of the implausible coincidences and overblown rhetoric of Gioconda, but to do so is to ignore its derivation, freely adapted from Victor Hugo’s play Angélo, tyran de Padoue and cast in the highly charged style of the Scapigliatura movement that set out to shock Milan in the 1870s. The libret- tist—Arrigo Boito, hiding under the anagram of Tobia Gorrio—was one of the leading spirits of that group. This wonderfully Marston-ized Gioconda is a most welcome addition to the catalog and, in some ways, a performance superior to that of any later complete version. Arangi-Lombardi was a true soprano, technically proficient, and a clas- sically cool rather than a verismo type of singer, but there is plenty of deep feel- ing in her projection of the demanding title role. The time restrictions of 78 r.p.m. recordings did not allow her to sustain the high B-flat on “Enzo adorato, ah, come t’amo!” on disc, but I have been told that in the theater she could hold it shining like a beacon as she crossed from one side of the stage to the other. Her tones are full at any dynamic level, as in the crescendo she employs to intro- duce “Ah! o cuor, dono funesto” near the close of act 1. Nor do the gruppetti give her any trouble as she seeks to enchant Barnaba in the final duet. She is wonderfully eloquent in her act 3 outburst, “O madre mia,” after she has sub- stituted a narcotic for the poison Alvise intended for Laura. Ebe Stignani’s Laura makes a worthy partner to Arangi-Lombardi’s Gio- conda. She gives a telling performance of the aria “Stella del marinar,” which used to be cut on occasion at the Metropolitan. The rivals’ jealous outbursts in r ecordings 129 their act 2 duet are grandiose. Camilla Rota is an eYcient Cieca, but if her voice had lost its bloom, that is not an insurmountable obstacle for the part of an old blind woman. Although the Peruvian tenor Alessandro Granda did not possess a first-class voice, it is agreeable enough and he can fill out his phrases, buoyed by the expertise of the conductor Lorenzo Molajoli. Baritone Gaetano Viviani is an incisive Barnaba, especially eVective in the barcarolle early in act 2. Viviani, as some may remember, wound up his career singing around New York under the aegis of Salmaggi. Corrado Zambelli, the Alvise, possesses plenty of men- ace and could be counted on as a reliable routinier. The Scala chorus and orchestra are very much on their home turf with Gio- conda, and they participate with enthusiasm and conviction. The true hero of this performance is Molajoli, whose leadership is nonpareil. I don’t think I ever heard a more stirring Dance of the Hours than the version in this set. The bonus selection of arias and duets featuring Arangi-Lombardi is an added incentive to acquire this release. The two duets are a 1927 “Mira, o Norma” (with Stignani) and a 1929 recording of Ernani’s “Da qual dì” (with baritone Enrico Molinari). The arias are from Guglielmo Tell, Norma, Lucrezia Borgia, I Lombardi, and Forza. There are an exquisitely shaded “Casta diva” and a thrilling “Madre, pietosa Vergine,” but my favorite is the 1933 “M’odi, ah! m’odi” from the last scene of Lucrezia Borgia, sung in the more elaborate version that Donizetti tailored for Erminia Frezzolini (introduced at the 1840 Scala revival). Arangi-Lombardi’s dead-on attack on a descending scale from high C-sharp is evidence of how beautifully regulated this ample voice was. As you may already have guessed, I enthusiastically recommend this set to anyone who loves good singing. William Ashbrook

Eugene Onegin. Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Eugene Onegin: George London Zaretsky: Ljubomir Pantscheff Tatyana: Leonie Rysanek Vienna State Opera Orchestra and Chorus Lenski: Anton Dermota Berislav Klobucar, conductor Prince Gremin: Gottlob Frick Sung in German, live performance, Theater Olga: Mira Kalin an der Wien, 1955 Larina: Polly Batic Myto (distriubted by Qualiton Imports) Filippyevna: Hilde Rössel Majdan 2 MCD 0005.233 (2 CDs) Triquet: Peter Klein

The singer partnerships we cherish in opera are generally soprano-tenor, soprano-mezzo, or tenor-baritone. In recalling a soprano-baritone pair, however, especially one whose performances attained legendary status, only one couple comes to mind: Leonie Rysanek and George London. In the years between London’s death and her own, Rysanek spoke many times about the connec-