Premiering to great success in 1825, the Naples based composer Nicola Vaccaj's Giulietta e Romeo (Romeo and Juliet) enjoyed a brief period of being actively performed before fading from active repertoire at least in it's entirety, arguably being overtaken by the better known Vicenzo Bellini's version. Interestingly enough, Bellini's score was based on a modified version of the same libretto used by Vaccaj but Bellini's greater public profile ensured that it would be his version that would become known. Oddly, as the years went by Vaccaj's version never left the memory of the best singers and a mongrelized version that borrowed from his score was added to Bellini's version, something that would otherwise happen rarely. This 1996 live concert performance recording that resurrects the entire intact version of Vaccaj's opera. With the Orchestra Filarmonica Marchigiana and Coro Lirio Marchigiano conducted by Tiziano Severini this restoring of the full opera as vaccaj had conceived it provides us a means to compare the various existing versions of this classic story

In his 1979 biography of the composer John Clapham says; "[Dvorák] wrote his Alfred on quasi-Wagnerian lines between 26 May and 19 October 1870, and having completed it he stowed it away, out of sight, realising it was a hopeless failure". Given that this performance - a recording of a live concert - is the world premiere of the complete work in its original German-language form and only the second performance ever - the first was in Czech translation in 1938 - perhaps Clapham can be forgiven for taking a punt as to the quality of this work. Hopeless failure it most singularly is not.

In 1870 Dvorák was some years into his post as viola player in the Provisional Theatre in Prague. Smetana was the principal conductor and was laying the foundations for a Czech national opera. Given his direct involvement with works as diverse as William Tell, Fidelio, Faust and La Traviata it is no surprise that Dvorák should want to try his hand at operatic form. Even today, with only Rusalka of Dvorák's eleven operas in the international repertoire it is easy to forget that he wrote more stage works than the 'father' of Czech opera, Smetana. Alfred was his first operatic essay and the only one he wrote using a German libretto. The reason for this is most probably pragmatic and financial. The libretto by Karl Theodor Körner was already over fifty years old and had the benefits of being both dramatically apt and better still, free for him to use. At the time of its composition Dvorák was somewhat in the thrall of Wagner. This resulted in him using leitmotifs to delineate characters and there is an undoubted Germanic flavour to the work. Indeed, the shadow of Wagner hangs heavy over the work. Not that Dvorák was alone in having such an influence early in his compositional career. It could easily be argued that Strauss' Guntram is even more so. Which does lead me to wonder if Dvorák's 'shelving' of this work was more political - small and large 'p' - expediency than artistic critique. With extended passages of dramatic recitative and a consciously heroic style there is little of the Bohemian character that would become so typical of his greatest works. Aside from the Act I ballet which even though set in southern England is a proto-Slavonic dance, I am not sure anyone listening with an 'innocent ear' would be able to identify the composer.

At the same time there is so much to admire here. The work is well paced; three well balanced acts that do not outstay their welcome. Undoubtedly the characters are rather 'stock' and the work lacks a central villain to introduce any sense of danger but conversely they are considerably less generic than many similar works. A couple of other observations; the eponymous hero Alfred does not appear at all until the second Act and his imperilled betrothed - Alvina - is the only significant solo female role in the work. Dvorák gives the bulk of the duets to Harald and Alvina, The greatest weakness is the sense of dramatic stasis - the work feels more like a series of tableaux - indeed more than once the work reminded me of cantatas such as Elgar's King Olaf or Caractacus rather than opera proper. That said, this is work in progress so it seems unduly harsh - as indeed Dvorák was himself on the work - to consign it to the waste-bin of history.

Which is where this important and valuable world premiere recording comes in. The good news is that it is really very good. The performance was given as part of the International Dvorák Festival in Prague as recently as September 2014. There seem to have been two performances on consecutive days and these discs are the result. The absence of any applause between Acts or at the end of the Overture implies that some rehearsal/patching sessions were involved as well. Very occasionally there is an audible audience cough but nothing to seriously disrupt the performance. Applause is left in at the very end of the work which seems slightly anachronistic. Further good news in that the Arco Diva production team have caught the performers in extremely good sound in the Dvorák Hall of the Rudolfinum. The balance between orchestra, chorus and soloists is very good. Although essentially a static concert performance the voices have been well separated. Certainly the brass particularly of the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra have been especially well caught; likewise the wind are given an appealing bloom. No surprise, given the bardic nature of several scenes, Dvorák wrote a prominent harp part which is pleasingly audible throughout. As is the Czech Philharmonic Choir Brno. If one was being picky you would have to say that they sound a fraction small to represent a hoard of ravening Vikings but what they lack in number is made up for by a characteristically fine focused and well-balanced tone. There are occasions when the upper strings struggle for absolute unanimity with Dvorák's tricky writing but again nothing to disappoint overly.

Conductor Heiko Mathias Förster paces the work very well. The use of predominantly German-speaking solo singers ensures idiomatic pronunciation of the text too. The only relatively familiar part of the work is the Overture. Dvorák rescued it from oblivion, revised it and renamed it as the Tragic Overture although he never heard that performed either and it was ultimately published as an Op. Posth. In this form it has been recorded on Marco Polo with Libor Pešek conducting the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra. It is not absolutely clear if the revised Tragic Overture and the original operatic version are essentially identical. Assuming they are, Pešek takes a full two minutes off Förster's interpretation which is probably to the benefit of the work. The Slovak orchestra's playing is just that little bit more incisive too - both of the opening slashing chords played with absolute precision whereas the Prague orchestra live suffer from fractional lack of ensemble. After a lusty opening chorus there are a series of scenes in which the principal Danish protagonists are introduced. Especially impressive is the ringing tenor of Ferdinand von Bothmer as Harald - the invading prince. Dvorák's writing for this tenor role and that of Alvina is both extended and demanding. Petra Froese as Alvina is more tested by the writing and does not sound altogether comfortable. Indeed during the complexities of the Act II finale it sounds as though she is struggling to maintain her pitching in the thick textures. Conversely the baritone of Felix Rumpf singing the eponymous Alfred is very good indeed - youthful and virile with a very attractive voice. He makes a good foil for von Bothmer.

Another impressive aspect of the work is Dvorák's handling of the big set-pieces. Act I closes with Alvina spurning Harald's advances with the chorus in full-flight singing "Now new turmoil awaits us, we are ready to fight". The dramatic highpoint of the entire work is the end of Act II. In true 'rescue opera' mode Alfred has secretly entered Harald's stronghold disguised as a Minstrel to rescue the imprisoned Alvina. Before doing so he sings a ballad: "Man can stand a lot before the final restraint breaks, then he must risk everything, Thunder and hell will not stop him. Therefore tremble, you Danes! Bravely will the Briton stand." Not the least attention-seeking way of avoiding capture but in best operatic tradition with a single bound he is free, sweeping Alvina away to freedom and leaving confusion in his wake. Once the conventions of such scenes are accepted it makes for an exciting and actually rather impressive sequence. Dvorák had already written his first two symphonies before he essayed this opera so it should not come as a total surprise that his handling of the orchestral parts if not always refined is certainly confident.

It is not just the large ensembles that impress - Alfred makes his delayed entrance in Act II scene 1 with an extended soliloquy where he ponders the recent battle against the Danes that he has lost. This is an overtly Wagnerian passage but still an impressive one. Once again Förster proves himself masterly at pacing the scene so that it progresses from reflection to determination and ultimately to action when Alfred's loyal servant Sieward - sung by the ever-excellent bass Peter Mikuláš - enters to tell him of Alvina's capture and Alfred vows revenge. Having rescued Alvina at the end of Act II she rather carelessly manages to get herself captured again early in Act III. If nothing else this allows for more ardent wooing from Harald and equally vehement rejection by Alvina. In a separate, and again rather Wagnerian scene, Alfred and his army pray for victory in the coming battle. During the ensuing fight, Alfred defeats the Danes and Harald is captured. Alfred offers mercy but Harald chooses to die by his own hand. The opera ends with Alfred and Alvina reunited and the obligatory general rejoicing. By some degree this is the least impressive end of an act in the work.

Even allowing for that relative weakness, I think it is important to reiterate that this is a wholly enjoyable work. No, it is not a lost masterpiece; Dvorák would go onto greater things, but at the same time it is far from being the total failure the text books would tell you it is. I cannot imagine there being many other complete recordings coming along any time soon to challenge this one which makes this set's overall quality all the more valuable. The set does not come with a printed libretto but rather unusually it is embedded on both CDs as a pdf file. This is easy to save to a computer and is clearly printed in the original German with Czech and English translations. Having any libretto is better than none although personally I would prefer a traditional printed booklet. The liner is in Czech and English and includes a useful essay, opera synopsis and historical background as well as the usual artist's biographies and some pictures from the concerts. One entertaining typo says: "... the overture was performed under the title Dramatic (or Tragic) after Dvorák's death in 1905 and 1912 respectively." He wasn't dead, he was just sleeping - no that's King Arthur not Alfred (or Dvorák).

Czech opera, apart from The Bartered Bride, Rusalka and the major works by Janá?ek, struggles for any kind of toehold in the international repertoire. That being the case it is hard to imagine Alfred being preferred for revival before other finer works. However for those interested in Dvorák's development as a composer this is both fascinating and vital in appreciating his genius - it is important to remember that this was by far the most substantial composition Dvorák had attempted at the date of its composition. Taking that fact into account the successes of the work far outweigh the shortcomings. Exactly the same can be said of this performance - the minor flaws of execution that come with a live concert count for little compared to the confident, committed and dramatic sweep of the performance. A set all admirers of the composer should hear.

- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

BELLINI La sonnambula • Maurizio Benini, cond; Eglise Gutiérrez (Amina); Antonio Siragusa (Elvino); Simone Alaimo (Count Rodolfo); Sandra Pastrana (Lisa); Gabriella Colecchia (Teresa); Gabriele Nani (Alessio); Teatro Lirico di Cagliari O & Ch • DYNAMIC 55616 (Blu-ray: 141:00) Live: Cagliari 2008

For those of you who may hold the opinion that Vincenzo Bellini was rather a minor composer, you need to see and hear this opera, La Sonnambula (The Sleepwalker), particularly the last 15 minutes or so. The music transcends the heavens, it surpasses anything written by Rossini, Donizetti, or even Verdi. Okay, I guess my enthusiasm is showing a bit, but I truly love this music, however it stacks up in the pantheon of consummate 19th-century Italian composers. The story is simple. The betrothed young village girl, Amina, is discovered in the bed of the local Count in his room at the village inn, he returning to his native environs for the first time in many years. Everyone is shocked, horrified, including the prospective groom, Elvino. Lisa, the young mistress of the inn, also smitten with Elvino, takes advantage to whisk the tenor hero away from his now disgraced intended. It turns out Amina sleepwalks, which the townsfolk and Elvino eventually discover, and after a ravishing double aria for the leading lady in the finale of act 2, all is set well again. The simple tale is charming and if you enjoy bel canto, it doesn’t get any better than this.

I was pleased to get this disc for review because I have been hearing the praises sung for young Cuban American coloratura Eglise Gutiérrez for a few years now, and have not had much opportunity to see or hear her. (She was the fairy godmother in Massenet’s Cendrillon, which I enjoyed, but that opera is hardly prime bel canto land.) I am here to report Gutiérrez is the real deal. Vocally she harkens back to the days of the true Bellini divas, to Giuditta Pasta and Maria Malibran. The young singer’s top range is incredible and solidly in place, everything is precisely on key, sung easily and cleanly. Vocal agility is excellent: Gutiérrez has not the slightest problem with Bellini’s pyrotechnics and she ornaments tastefully and often, like the best of bel canto songbirds. If her acting and stage presence are at times rather ordinary in this 2006 rendering, we should remember that La Sonnambula does not require the histrionics of a Tosca. The young soprano’s portrayal is very charming here, certainly a plus for the production.

Sets are kept simple and traditional, with rustic pastoral settings evoked by a grassy forestage and colorful painted backdrops. It is lovely to watch and far outshines its more famous Metropolitan Opera counterpart (to be seen again this April with Diana Damrau). The costumes, if anything, seem a bit too lavish and colorful for peasant wear, but sumptuous to the eye; I am not complaining. Staging is strictly traditional, as this little charmer of an opera almost necessarily requires. The visual realm is almost completely in service to the music here, and when La Sonnambula is performed in this fashion cannot fail to please even the most jaded opera goers.

Warning: now comes the caveat! Unfortunately, the tenor Elvino is disappointing. Antonio Siragusa sings well and with excellent pitch control, but has an annoying nasal vocal tone, especially when he pushes the voice, that quite spoils his part in the proceedings. It is something you can get used to when he sings alone, but next to the ravishing voice of Gutiérrez and the other fine voices on this set in duets and ensembles, it is continually noticeable and jarring. The Count Rodolfo is sung by veteran Simone Alaimo, who still brings plenty of rich baritone beauty to the role and just the right touch of innocent paternal concern for the beleaguered Amina. Another standout vocally is young Sandra Pastrana as Lisa, who also handles Bellini’s fioratura with delightful expertise and is a big asset to this production. Smaller roles are likewise filled with quite good singers, and the orchestra from the Teatro Lirico Cagliari gives us an impressive rendition of Bellini’s wonderful score. The chorus, a particularly integral part of La Sonnambula, also turns in a first-class performance. It really seems a shame to me that Gutiérrez could not have been paired with a tenor who could at least have gotten out of her way here, let alone the hopeless wish for a Juan Diego Flórez or Lawrence Brownlee in the role. If that had happened this would be a La Sonnambula for the ages; as it is, it’s still very good.

As is to be expected these days, the Dynamic Blu-ray is quite sharply detailed and in exceptionally vivid colors, with state of the art audio formats providing excellent sound. The only current Blu-ray competitor is a recent release to be found on the C Major label. I have not seen it, but soprano Jessica Pratt is also a rising young coloratura star and from what I have heard on YouTube, is very, very good as Amina. The tenor is also promising. Also worth your attention is the VAI DVD issue with Anna Moffo from 1956. Moffo doesn’t have a clue about bel canto style but her young voice is ravishing, the production charming, and she is very lovely to watch, even before her famous nose job. Check out what all the furor was about! The Mary Zimmerman-directed production from the Met has a great cast, but archly ridicules the original story while failing to make much sense itself. As for this disc, it could have been a world beater, but if you can get used to the nasal tenor, it is still very enjoyable. Recommended.

FANFARE: Bill White

There is much to enjoy in this forgotten (save for an aria or two), late (1878) Gounod opera. Essentially the same story as Donizetti's Poliuto, its title character is a convert to Christianity under the Romans, and his wife Pauline tries to protect him. The Emperor's envoy, Sévère, still loves Pauline, to whom he was once betrothed--but despite his hatred of Christians, Sévère is noble and tries to save Polyeucte. But the latter insists on making a public scene denouncing idols, and at the end, along with Pauline "who has been converted by the grace of God", goes to his death in the public arena. Aside from a sappy baptism scene the likes of which would make the Massenet of Thaïs blush with shame, the opera is tuneful, with exciting arias and duets and an ensemble or two, although none of it remains very long in the memory.

This performance, taped live at the Martina Franca Festival in 2004, is strong. Best is Luca Grassi as Sévère, who despite his name sounds like a French baritone. His voice is supple but a bit tight on top, and he throws himself into his sympathetic role with passion. Pauline is sung by soprano Nadia Vezzu, who's quite tentative at first but gains in stature as the opera goes on. Tenor Giorgio Casciarri offers a virile, secure sound as Polyeucte, and he shines in his emotion-filled outburst in the Roman Temple in Act 3 and in his fine fourth-act aria. It's a long role and he rises to the occasion. In the pastoral setting for the baptism, Gounod throws in a nice little aria for a minor character named Sextus, extolling the non-Christian gods; it is prettily sung by tenor Nicolo Amodio.

Conductor Manilo Benzi leads his forces well, and ensemble work is admirable; Gounod's scoring is quite handsome and Benzi makes whatever points he can. There's a bit too much that is pageant/oratorio-like in this work, but there's also some juicy operatic singing that pleases. Recommended particularly for French opera enthusiasts.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com
Reviewing original release of this recording

AUBER La Muette de Portici • Antony Hermus, cond; Diego Torre ( Masaniello ); Oscar de la Torre ( Alphonse ); Angelina Ruzzafante ( Elvire ); Wiard Witholt ( Pietro ); Anhaltische PO & Op Ch • CPO 777694 (2 CDs: 135:09 & French only) Live: Dessau 5/24–26/2011


Hard for us to believe nowadays, but in its time Daniel-François-Esprit Auber’s opera La Muette de Portici (The Mute Girl of Portici) was to the Belgian fight for independence what Verdi’s Nabucco was to become a dozen years later for Italy—possibly even more so, since its Brussels premiere led directly to a public revolution on the very night the opera was given. The rebel leader tossed his red Jacobin cap into the air at the sight and sound of every appearance of the rebel Masaniello and his followers onstage; immediately after the performance, huge, unexpected mobs formed in the streets and marched into the office of the government newspaper Le National, smashing windows. All night long the victorious rebels loudly sang the passage from the opera declaring that nothing is more glorious than dying for one’s fatherland. Talk about a wildly successful premiere!


Very briefly, the plot concerns Alphonse, son of the Spanish Viceroy of Naples. He is in love with the mute girl Fenella, sister of a fisherman named Masaniello who becomes the leader of the peasants’ revolt (this is based on real events of 1647), but his father coerces him into marrying the more socially acceptable Elvire. Yet Fenella, imprisoned by Alphonse’s father, manages to escape and begs Elvire to help her. Fenella witnesses Alphonse’s marriage and is stunned to discover that Elvire is the bride, but the latter keeps her promise to help her and Alphonse, still in love with Fenella, also helps her escape. Masaniello and his fishermen plan for the revolution; when Alphonse and Elvire are captured, she begs the rebel leader to help them escape, and he does so before learning who they really are. When his actions are discovered, Masaniello is considered a traitor by the rebels and poisoned by his rival leader, Pietro; but this must be a rather odd, weak, and slow-acting poison, because Masaniello doesn’t die but just goes mad. Oddly enough, the peasants still trust him to lead them into battle, which he does. Fleeing from him this time, Elvire tries to convince Fenella to escape with her, but the mute girl learns that her brother was killed by his own men when he tried once again to protect Elvire and takes her own life.


Listening to the opera, especially as well and tautly conducted as it is by Antony Hermus, one is continually struck by the impressive and original music with which Auber graced this plot. Unlike so many Auber opera arias I’ve heard (think of “L’eclat de rire” from his Manon Lescaut ), this music demands that rare combination of vocal agility and flexibility with dramatic declamation. And let me tell you, this music is hard to sing: just listen to Elvire’s act 1 aria, “O moment enchanteur,” and you’ll hear what I mean. Angelina Ruzzafante, like so many of her soprano sisters nowadays (think of Barbara Frittoli or Patricia Racette), has a good enough technique to cope with the music’s difficulties and acts very well with the voice (a real necessity in this opera), yet has an inconsistent and sometimes acidic tone in the upper register (which does improve tonally as the performance goes on). This, however, is not entirely a detriment to a role which, like the opera itself, calls for drama over sheer vocalism, and the almost relentless drive of Auber’s music, in this opera at least, is a major factor in determining the prescribed style in which it is to be performed.


Tenor Oscar de la Torre, as Alphonse, has slightly tight voice production but superb phrasing, excellent declamation, and high notes in abundance—and he needs every last one of them, as they are written into the score and not optional. The other tenor, Diego Torre as Masaniello, has a similarly light, bright voice, and to my ears a more even tone production. Both are excellent in what they do. In fact, the only really poor voice in the cast is that of Masaniello’s rival, Pietro, sung by baritone Wiard Witholt.


The only other complete commercial recording of this opera that I could track down was the one made in September 1996 (EMI) with a considerably over-the-hill Alfredo Kraus and, though she was much younger, an already over-the-hill June Anderson (who also had, in my estimation, ZERO excitement as an interpreter); this is therefore clearly the better of the two recordings. (Since Kraus wanted to sing Masaniello’s famous aria, “Du pauvre seul ami fidèle,” he took that role, giving the equally cruel tessitura of Alphonse to a good but not great tenor, John Aler.)


There are two negatives, only one of which really affects us as listeners: 1) the stage production seems to have been updated to represent a gang war, as Masaniello is wearing a do-rag and a sleeveless T-shirt with “FSBN Bulldogs” proudly printed on it, and 2) the libretto is in French only. Other than that, this recording is a must-get for any lovers of truly dramatic opera of the ottocento period. This music is so great as to almost beggar belief, driving forward with an impulse that is sheerly visceral and practically irresistible. After hearing it, I almost wanted to go out and smash a government newspaper window myself! Go for it!


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Simply unmissable for any fans of this opera, Anglophone or not, Mackerras balances the songful and the sinister with absolute sureness. There is not a weak link in the cast, with Rebecca Evans in particular showing how her voice has bloomed in recent years. Jane Henschel is a frighteningly credible witch: she could be your smiling next-door neighbour.

-- Gramophone [9/2007]


This new Opera-in-English set of Engelbert Humperdinck's wonderful Hansel and Gretel goes straight to the top of the list of recorded performances, along with the Schwarzkopf/Karajan. Charles Mackerras leads a most beautiful reading, fully aware of Humperdinck's debt to and love for Wagner but with a warmth that makes the glorious orchestrations and easy, lovely, folksy melodies flow naturally and gracefully. This is not to say that there isn't excitement--the "Witch's Ride" is thrillingly lumpy and aggressive. Mackerras offers a terrific piece of storytelling in music, and the big burst when the Witch is pushed into the oven is a fine cataclysm, handsomely captured by Chandos' engineers.

David Pountney's translation is always comfortable and mostly understandable, and the cast is blessed with natural actors. Jennifer Larmore at times has been faulted for her hard-edged tone; here, as Hansel--sure of himself, boyish, and charming--she's just right. Rebecca Evans sounds nothing like Larmore and portrays a Gretel both spunky and spooked out. If the children's Evening Prayer ever has been sung more beautifully I certainly don't remember it; absolute obedience to dynamics and an ideal blend of voices make it a few moments of sheer bliss. Jane Henschel's Witch is the tour de force this role had better be, and while she may not be the absolute best on CD (that honor goes to Christa Ludwig on an old RCA recording, a set marred only by Anna Moffo's weird Hansel), she's a master of altering her tone, from cajoling to menacing to utter loathing.

I prefer a lighter-toned Sandman, but Diana Montague cannot be faulted vocally or for her gentle singing, and Sarah Tynan's Dew Fairy is lovely. Rosalind Plowright's Mother is strong (she might have made a good Witch) and Robert Hayward sings the Father's music brightly (Mackerras leads his entrance "Tra-la-la-las" nice and quickly). Orchestra and chorus are superb. This set is a pleasure--the ideal Hansel in English, and perhaps in any language.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com