OPERA
Mini don
JOHN HIGGINS
Speculation on how much more effective certain performances would be if heard in
a small house has become a pretty routine pastime. Usually any discussion on the sub- ject is pure wishful aesthetics, opera econ- omics being what they are. With two or three of the world's sopranos charging appearance money of around £2,000, any General Administrator has got to be able to count at least an equivalent number of heads in the auditorium unless he is pre- pared to go rushing off cap in hand to 105 Piccadilly. However, during the current Glyndebourne Don Giovanni the specula- tion was reversed: wouldn't the whole even- ing have been much more impressive had it been given room to breathe?
When this Enriquez/Luzzati Don was first seen in 1967 surely it did not take such a dinky path to hell? Surely the singers did not dwarf each dappled green and black doorway through which they stepped heads bent? (The colour combinations Luzzati used so effectively in Die Zatiberfliite appear oddly out of place here.) Surely the Grave- yard Scene was not so lacking in menace? Surely it did not look as though it were set in the family library rather than the family vault?
Part of the answer, maybe, was that then individual performances were scaled down to size. Two of the most successful inter- pretations in the present revival come from Sheila Armstrong and Leonardo Monreale, who were Zerlina and Masetto back in 1967. Both are small boned and nimble and both know the house well enough to fit their voices to it.
But the new Don, Rugger() Raimondi. is quite a different proposition. Raimondi first impressed vv ith his Monterone in the Mac-
neil Grist Gedda RigOietio EMI brought out a couple of years ago, and he has done noth-
ing to dispel the belief that here is one of the best young basses in the world. The voice is ample and the chest is constructed on simi-
lar lines: the shoulders and forearms look as though they would come in useful during any physical argument. Not surprisingly. Raimondi in this Don Giovanni gives the impression of an adult called in by mis- take to officiate at a dolls' tea party.
The voice is not ideal for the Don, being more bass than baritone. The Serenade appeared to lie uncomfortably high. and its arid stretches were quite uncharacteristic of the full, Guinness-coloured tone of the lower register. But 'Finclehan dal vino' went with superb brio, despite some bizarre stag- ing. and the last twenty minutes of the opera had, thanks to Raimondi, the right touch of vocal daemon. even if there was not very much about to chill the eye.
Paolo Montarsolo, repeating his Lepor- ello, was clearly out to prevent Raimondi taking all the honours. 'Madaminti was given the full treatment—effective, but once again out of scale with the house. There- after every opportunity for stage business was seized, including some quite literal horseplay for 'Finelehan dal vino', which Don Giovanni sings astride his Leporello! Part of the intention of Franco Enriquez, as 1 understand it. is to show Leporello as the alter ego of Don Giovanni; what emerged all too often was a tactical struggle between two international bass-baritones.
The revival included three other new- comers to their roles in this country. Wies- law Ochman was a dapper, provincial gentleman of an Ottavio. who showed a very proper distaste at his first encounter with mad Elvira in one of Seville's better streets. Irmgard Stadler. as that unfortun- ate lady, looked as though she could both attract men and suffer at their hands; she also displayed a most excellent sense of Mozart line. Phyllis Curtin's Anna was dis- mal. Nor were the un). who have had such an excellent Glyndebourne season so far, at their best under Reinhard Peters.
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