A Singer’s Life Pt25
What’s your favourite Opera, Brian?
You can imagine how many times I have been asked this question over the last 40 years by well-meaning and naturally curious friends and acquaintances. To each inquiry, I have inevitably said that I couldn’t possibly commit to one opera and that, anyway, my view would change from one day to another. However, since I have the opportunity here to write at more length on this subject, I thought I could list a number of my favourite operas (both performed by me and not) in no particular order.
The easiest way to do this would be chronologically, but hey, why take the easy route?
I shall start with ‘Falstaff’, the miraculous swansong of Giuseppe Verdi, written in his 80th year, to a libretto by Arrigo Boito based on Shakespeare’s Fat Knight. It was premiered at La Scala, Milan on 9th February 1893 and was his first comedy since 1840, and gosh what a miracle it is! The scoring is completely different from anything Verdi had written before, and for that reason it is not so popular with the public, but I think it is his masterpiece. It flows and bubbles and sparkles along, and yet there is deep empathy and understanding for the characters. For this we must thank both Verdi and Boito (a composer himself of note), who somehow constructed an Italian comedy from such an English origin. They had collaborated on ‘Otello’ 6 years before and had shown the world that it was almost possible to enrich the legacy of Shakespeare himself, albeit with an Italian accent. I have sung in ‘Falstaff’ for many years, originally as the much put-upon Pistol, and then as the Fat Knight himself, and never cease to be amazed at the miraculous way Verdi has transposed this quintessentially English play into a delicious Italian operatic comedy.
My second choice is Debussy’s ‘Pelléas et Mélisande’ which premiered in 1902 at the Opéra-Comique in Paris, using the play of Maurice Maeterlinck (1893) as libretto. It was already famously obscure, a weird mediaeval tale about a strange girl found in a forest, married to King Arkel’s grandson Golaud but who falls in love with his half-brother Pelléas with fatal consequences. Maeterlinck hated it at first, and only came round to it after Debussy’s death. I first saw the opera in the Scottish Opera production in the early 70s, not knowing anything about it, and fell in love instantly. At Guildhall, I sang the bass baritone role of Golaud in scenes from the opera, but after studying the role of Arkel, the blind 90 year old patriarch, at Aldeburgh (see ASL passim), I proceeded to return to it, on average, every ten years (Opéra du Rhin, Strasbourg, Holland Park Opera and Garsington Opera). It remains my favourite opera, probably (?!?)
‘L’Incoronazione di Poppea’ by Claudio Monteverdi, was premiered in Venice in 1643 and is, in my opinion, the first truly great opera. It tells the historical story of Emperor Nero’s passion for his mistress Poppea and her rise to be his consort. I say historical, but the libretto of the opera by Giovanni Busenello makes light of actual history to create a splendid tale of jealousy, lust and megalomania, set to the most beautiful music imaginable. As I have said in previous articles, tastes and orchestrations have changed over the years in the performance of early opera, but Monteverdi’s grasp of harmony and, particularly, interweaving vocal parts was exquisite. I sang Seneca (the historical philosopher) when I was at the Guildhall School, in a splendid production by Tom Hawkes, which was much praised at the time in the national press. Later, I understudied Seneca and sang the roles of Mercurio, Littore and courtier in the Spitalfields Festival and on Richard Hickox’s brilliant CD.
Wagner’s ‘Tristan und Isolde’ is my next choice and might be my favourite opera (?) He wrote it in the long hiatus of 12 years between Acts 2 and 3 of Siegfried, during which he also composed ‘The Mastersingers of Nuremberg’. When it was first heard in 1865 in Munich, it astonished the world. Even hearing it now, its originality and harmonic imagination strike the listener like a hammer blow. Inspired by the mediaeval legend of Tristan and Iseult, the philosophy of Schopenhauer and Wagner’s infatuation at the time with Mathilde Wesendonck, it stands as a beacon even in the extraordinary oeuvre of this composer. It is perhaps the most sensual music ever written, which is fortunate, as virtually nothing happens externally. Inside, both the heart and soul are stirred and moved beyond measure. I always hoped to sing the role of King Mark, as I felt it suited me perfectly, but the opportunity never arose. Ah well, you can’t have everything!
I am now torn between 3 Britten operas, all of which make my top 20. I think I must decide on ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, which could be my favourite opera (?) Today! Premiered in 1960 (in my lifetime!) in Aldeburgh, it was adapted from Shakespeare’s play by Britten and Pears, and what a triumph it was! They cut and trimmed and altered but added only “compelling thee to marry with Demetrius” which allowed them to cut Act 1! They made much of the wood and the fairies and their stroke of genius was to cast Oberon as a counter tenor in combat with a coloratura soprano as Tytania. The fairies are sung by boys and Britten conjures miracles of sound from the orchestra to depict the magic wood. The opera was pretty well received at the time and has been fortunate in the many productions since 1960 which have on the whole served it well. Many critics have compared it favourably with the original, and I must say that I find it totally wonderful. I have been involved in numerous productions over the years, singing Theseus, Snug and Bottom, and I never tire of it. You can buy my recording of it if you like, on Philips, with Sir Colin Davis!
I also have a dilemma in choosing a Richard Strauss opera. I love ‘Capriccio’, that extraordinary creation of the 78 year old composer, premiered in Munich in the middle of the Second World War; a delicious caprice dealing with the question of the importance of words or music in art, and, by deciding that opera was the ideal fusion of the two, turning the debate into an opera itself! I have had some success with the wonderful role of La Roche, the Theatre Director, based loosely on Max Reinhardt, and it remains one of my favourite operas, but, if I have to choose one Strauss, it must be ‘Der Rosenkavalier’.
Premiered in Dresden in 1911, directed by the self-same Max Reinhardt, it is one of the most astonishing pieces in the repertoire. I choose it not because I have sung the role of Baron Ochs a couple of times. It suits my voice perfectly and is great fun to sing, although now I find his character overbearing and annoying. It is difficult to play someone who is sort of funny and sort of horrendous and sort of heroic. The opera is also far too long if uncut, which thankfully it usually is!
However, there are long passages of the most beautiful music ever written for the voice, primarily women’s voices, and for this, it must be in the top10. The Marschallin’s Act 1 monologue on the tribulations of growing old, the Presentation of the Rose in Act 2 and, particularly, the trio in Act 3, are high points in all opera, and never fail to move me.
Where is Mozart, you cry? Well, don’t despair. Again though, I have a dilemma : Cosi – sublime music, horrid plot; Don Giovanni – fantastic music, great story, something missing for me; Figaro – sublime music, great story, fabulous roles; Magic Flute – unbelievable music, great roles, utterly useless plot. I think today, I must go for Flute, maybe not tomorrow.
Premiered in 1791 in Vienna, it was written for Emanuel Schikaneder’s theatre, with a libretto by Schikaneder and the role of Papageno was played by Schikaneder. This accounts for the funny bits, which are moderately amusing in the right hands, but Mozart’s music takes us to another world altogether. His masonic connections allowed him to portray Sarastro’s realm as an enlightened and modern world, fighting against the evil all around, and indeed some of the most moving music ever written comes in the temple scenes. There is no getting away from the fact, though, that the plot falls over itself in the course of the opera, as what was good at the beginning becomes evil at the end, and vice versa. I have only ever seen one truly satisfactory production, that of Jonathan Miller at Scottish Opera in the early 80s when I sang a priest, an armed man and then the Speaker. He set it in a sort of masonic library at the beginning of the 19th century, and it remained fundamentally serious throughout. The only way it could work was if Papageno took upon himself all the fun and humour in the piece, and we were fortunate indeed to have the wonderful Cornish baritone, Ben Luxon, to sing the role, who was superb. He was also fantastic in giving his time and advice to me, then a young and inexperienced performer, and showing me just how to play a part with skill and modesty. It was a tragedy that his hearing deserted him far too early, bringing a great career to an untimely end. I sang Sarastro in a production in Nantes several years later, by Nouma Sadoul, bizarrely a world expert on Tintin! This promised to be very interesting, matching Sarastro and the Queen of the Night as sort of partners, which involved very close cooperation between the two singers. Unfortunately, the soprano booked to sing the Queen was pregnant, and complications arose that meant she had to leave the production early in the rehearsals. Sadly, her replacement could sing the notes but had no idea about acting (what is it about me and crazy Queens of the Night? See Part 9), and the director’s concept floundered. I also have bad memories of that production (what is it about me and Nantes? See Part 3) because, on the day of the first performance, the designer decided, after several weeks in a long wig, that I should be given a bald cap. This totally changed my look and feel for the role and caused no end of hassle. He had no idea!
Verdi’s ‘Otello’ is my next choice. Premiered in 1887 at La Scala, this was thought by most people to be Verdi’s last opera, before the miracle that is ‘Falstaff’ six years later, also to a libretto by Boito. The composer was intrigued by Shakespeare and had set Macbeth many years before, although in his early style. The mature composer was able to bring together all the skills he had acquired over the decades for this marvellous tragedy. The roles of Otello, Iago and Desdemona are full of rich rewards for the interpreters, although there is no really interesting bass part, and I have never been in a production. However, the work fascinated me from an early age, and incredibly, I sang Iago’s ‘Credo’ (Boito’s fantastic invention of an aria where Iago reveals his inner thoughts) at a school literary evening, aged 16. Heaven knows how awful it must have been, but I was determined! I had recently seen a magnificent Scottish Opera production in Edinburgh with Charles Craig, Peter Glossop and a very young Kiri Te Kanawa (in one of her earliest appearances outside New Zealand) and had fallen in love with the opera. I got to know it through the fantastic Jon Vickers recording conducted by Tullio Serafin from 1960 and saw Placido Domingo’s first essay in the role at Covent Garden. More recently, I saw the Latvian tenor Aleksandrs Antonenko, also at Covent Garden, and was later lucky enough to sing in ‘Samson et Dalilah’ with him in Geneva. It is a great role for a dramatic tenor, and the opera is one of my favourites.
So, these are my top 8 favourites, in no particular order. In the next article, I will expand the list to 10 and then give you my Desert Island Discs.
