A Singer’s Life: Milan
When I was in my early teens and just discovering opera, my parents bought me a double album entitled: ‘The Enjoyment of Opera, Parts One and Two’. On the cover of both of these LPs was the auditorium of the Teatro alla Scala, Milan, one of the most famous theatres in the world, and the location for numerous world premieres of great operas, notably ‘Madama Butterfly’, ‘Falstaff’, ‘Andrea Chenier’, ‘La Gioconda’, ‘Otello’, ‘Il Turco in Italia’, ‘Dialogues des Carmélites’, ‘Nabucco’ and ‘Turandot’. Little did I know that 25 years later I would be singing on that very stage, near to the spot which Maria Callas had made her own, and looking out at that magnificent 18th century auditorium, restored and renovated, but still essentially the same as the photo on my LP. This article will attempt to convey something of the extraordinary experience I had there in the spring of 1996 and will look at the city that holds a place in my heart.
It was in the autumn of 1994, one year after singing the Ghost of Hector in a concert version of Berlioz’ monumental opera, ‘Les Troyens’ (The Trojans), in London’s Barbican Hall, with Sir Colin Davis and the London Symphony Orchestra, that my agent phoned me to say that he had received an enquiry from La Scala, Milan, asking if I was available to sing the same role in a fully staged performance of ‘Les Troyens’. The conductor would again be Colin Davis, and there would be several performances, beginning on 6th April 1996, in a production originally directed by Luca Ronconi, with sets by Ezio Frigerio and costumes by Karl Lagerfeld. Well, my dear, as soon as I heard the costumes were by darling Karl, I just had to accept!
Actually, this was the second time I had been costumed by a famous designer, in a show conducted by Sir Colin Davis, as, in December 1995, I sang Theseus in Britten’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, again at the Barbican, in a semi-staged performance with costumes, 1950’s style, by Hardy Amies, who held a Royal Warrant as the Queen’s Dressmaker and Designer, from his 50th Anniversary Couture Collection (I kid you not!). The ensuing CD Set was released in November 1996 and is well worth listening to.
Back to Milan, and one of my favourite funny facts: both Colin Davis and I made our La Scala debuts on the same day, he at 70 and me at 40! Of course, he was much more famous, previously holding the post of Musical Director at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden from 1971 to 1986, and indeed he presided over the Royal Opera when Fran and I first lived in London in the late 1970s and would buy cheap seats in the Upper Slips to watch the cream of the world’s singers. It seemed amazing to me that he had never conducted at La Scala before, but better late than never. He was acknowledged worldwide as the pre-eminent Berlioz conductor of his time, and it was wonderful to watch him closely, as he conjured magical sounds out of the La Scala orchestra. He had the ability to make Berlioz’ music shimmer in a magical translucence which was unique to Colin. I have no idea how he did it, but it was quite different from any other conductor, except, surprisingly, Sir Alexander Gibson. The surprise comes from the utterly opposing stick techniques of these two great conductors – Colin, clear and precise with his longer than usual baton, and Alec, jerky and jumpy in his completely individual style. Somehow, though, they managed to bring out the Frenchness of Berlioz, one of music’s most extraordinary creators.
One of my memories of La Scala was that, in comparison to the glorious front of house and auditorium, backstage facilities were sparse, with small dressing rooms and not much space in general. Apparently, since I was there, the whole place has been lavishly restored and improved, and it is now much better for the artists. This brings to mind other comparisons. Whereas the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden has been magnificently refurbished front and especially back, the London Coliseum is still terribly poky backstage. The New York Metropolitan Opera (opened 1966) is magnificent for the audience, with huge foyers and sweeping staircases and of course, the huge Chagall murals, but backstage it is really scruffy. One finds oneself wandering down narrow corridors with wiring loose and pipes at head height. The canteen is very old fashioned and gets full very easily. Mind you, it can offer surprises. I was in a lift when the doors opened and in walked Dustin Hoffman. I was dumbfounded (he was meeting someone in the theatre) and tongue-tied. However, some of the stage crew were in the lift too, and, with that wonderful New York insouciance, they yelled out - “Hey, Dustin man, how’s it going?”- like to some long-lost friend! The Theatre de la Monnaie in Brussels was similarly old fashioned when I first sang there, but by the beginning of the 2000s, they had acquired several buildings opposite the theatre, and now suitably linked, they had almost twice as much space.
The Paris Opera has two sites, the original Palais Garnier, the magnificent creation of Charles Garnier, opened in 1875, and the modern Opéra Bastille, opened in 1989. I have sung in both these famous theatres in Paris, and although the backstage facilities at the Garnier are somewhat old-fashioned, it is a magnificent building, right in the heart of the Grands Boulevards of Paris. I first went there on my honeymoon in April 1979, when Fran and I saw ‘La Boheme’, which was fabulous, and then, in 1991, with Trevor Pinnock and the English Concert, I sang there in a concert performance of Purcell’s ‘King Arthur’. What an occasion that was, singing to a packed audience of 2000 people! Appearing with one of the world’s best baroque orchestras, with a dedicated recording contract with Deutsche Grammophon, one is suddenly catapulted into elite status, and a whole different world of excellence. I remember that same tour, we played ‘King Arthur’ again, at the Salzburg Festival, and it was amazing wandering the streets of that famous old Austrian city, seeing photos of Trevor everywhere, and our concert advertised at each corner.
Returning to Paris, a few years after the Garnier concert, I sang in ‘Tosca’ at the Bastille Opera, the huge modern edifice off the Place de la Bastille. This couldn’t be more different from the Garnier, a vast ‘Grand Travail’ created as part of President Mitterand’s legacy and opened in 1989. Seating almost 3000 people, it sprawls over a huge area with multiple levels, both above and below street level. Each seat has an uninhibited view and is identical to all the others, with no boxes. The acoustic, unusual for a modern building, is pretty dry, and the whole place is rather unlovely. However, singing with Placido Domingo, Carol Vaness and Jean-Philippe Lafont, among others, had its compensations! I returned a few years later still to record ‘Messiah’ with Marc Minkowski for DG and we were stuck at Level Minus 6, if memory serves me correctly, in an airless utterly dry room. That I managed to sing the fastest ‘Why do the Nations?’ on record was a minor miracle!
I am reminding myself that I need to get back to the original point of this article, namely to write about Milan and La Scala. After a diversion into theatre comparisons let’s have a look at the great city of Milan.
Right in the middle of Lombardy, and unusually for Italy quite far from the sea, Milan dominates the northern part of the country, and actually feels less Italian than most other cities. Indeed, one gets the feeling from the Milanese I met that they consider themselves far superior to the rest of the country, especially those vulgar fellows from Rome and Naples! The architecture is less bright and airy, the streets resound with the clatter of trams, old and new, and there is something of an alpine nature around. In fact, within an hour, you can reach Lake Maggiore and the lower slopes of the Italian Alps - it’s actually well worth taking a day out from Milan to go to Lago Maggiore (the greater lake). Stresa is the biggest town on the lower part of the lake, and from there you can visit the wonderful Borromean islands, with their sumptuous vegetation and glorious 17th and 18th century architecture.
This northern feel of Milan probably originates with the Sforza family who ruled here for centuries and dominated the north of Italy. We must remember that, until the later 19th century, the concept of a state called Italy from the Alps down to Sicily was non-existent. It was a ramshackle mixture of city states, some of them republics, and small dukedoms, ruled by generations of inbred aristocrats, who spent most of their lives fighting their neighbours. The Sforzas controlled much of Lombardy, operating out of their fiercely defended Castello Sforzesco in the centre of the city, dating back to the 15th century. Not since the time of the Romans had any one power controlled the Italian peninsula, and with the Alps as a major barrier to the north Milan developed as the dominant city in Lombardy.
The amazing Duomo (cathedral), started in 1386, and finally completed in 1965, is the centre from which Milan extends, both with radiating streets and outer circles, and is one of the great buildings of Italy. It is the biggest church in the country (St Peter’s is in the Vatican City, not Italy!), and although said to resemble a huge white cake is a masterpiece of Gothic architecture, topped off with Renaissance spires and towers. It now sits in the centre of town, but the great 19th century development of the city allows it to nestle against the magnificent Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, with its central octagon served by radiating galleries. The Galleria links the Piazza del Duomo with the Piazza della Scala, where the theatre is situated, so the three strands of Milan’s fame are interconnected, Religion, Commerce and Art.
Commerce is very important, and Milan is a very rich city. Many streets are lined with fashion outlets and jewellery stores, and people flock to the city to buy expensive goods. Indeed when I went back to Milan in the early 2000s, our little family split in two, with the ladies hitting the boutiques and fashion emporia, and the two boys heading to the San Siro Stadium, the home of both Milanese football teams, Inter Milan and AC Milan (Internazionale and Associazione Calcio, Italian for Association Football). AC was founded in 1899 and Inter 10 years later. The stadium is Italy’s largest, seating 80,000, opened in 1926, but crumbling somewhat now. Hosting two teams, the concept of home and away dressing rooms is redundant, and so there are two dressing rooms, identical in size, but actually quite distinct from each other for each team. The tour is fascinating.
As for Art, apart from La Scala, there are plenty of Art Galleries in Milan, but the prize for outstanding work of art, in Milan or anywhere else, frankly, is Leonardo da Vinci’s astonishing ‘Last Supper’ (Ultima Cena) in the Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie. Created as part of the restoration work in the convent authorised by Ludovico Sforza in 1495/6, Leonardo created one of the most brilliant and famous paintings of all time. Unfortunately, his thirst for innovation led him to use the wrong materials for his work, and it is simply miraculous that this great mural is still extant and viewable, although much altered from its original look. It started to deteriorate almost from the beginning and has undergone numerous clumsy and less clumsy restorations. It has been subjected to flood, vandalism, neglect and bombing (in 1943), and, finally, from 1978 – 1999, a major scientific restoration which can now be seen, in 15-minute visits in a completely controlled atmosphere. What a work it is! Representing the moment in the New Testament when Jesus tells his disciples that one of them will betray him, it reveals an emotional and artistic skill beyond belief, and demonstrates the total genius of Leonardo da Vinci, in terms of composition, character and emotional integrity. Our modern notion of continual progress through the ages is somewhat contradicted by the evidence, particularly of the artists of the Italian Renaissance (Leonardo, Michelangelo, Titian, Mantegna, Botticelli et al), who produced, centuries before computers, mobile phones and space travel, works of perfect genius and flawless beauty.
Milan certainly made a great impression on me, and it is one of the great blessings of an operatic career that I could live and work in a place of such elevated style and grandeur, could sing in one of the world’s greatest theatres, could spend time visiting unbelievable works of art and areas of natural beauty, and receive a fee at the end. Mind you, the downside of working in Italy, particularly at the end of the 20th century, was the worry that each performance was balanced on a knife edge of doubt, as almost every section of the theatre, from orchestra, to stage crew, to administration could, at the drop of a hat, decide to call a strike and cancel a show. Every day there were rumours that we would not even start the opera, but somehow we got there, and delivered the correct number of performances, and were even paid for it! Eventually!
