Opera
Lost opportunity
Rodney Milnes
he Royal Opera deserves due recogni-
tion and praise for being the first major European opera house within living memory to perform Don Carlos in the language in which it was written. There is no need to add my voice to those of people who know better, but language is impor- tant; as Andrew Porter has persuasively argued, the French libretto that Verdi set in 1867 and revised in 1883 is infinitely superior in every way to the indifferent Italian translation to which we have per- force grown accustomed. It also changes the whole character of the music. As Robert Lloyd (Philippe) put it in Opera magazine recently, French vowels turn his voice from a trombone into a 'cello; furthermore, this run of performances and the last, offered, I suppose, the best possible Italian and French Posas in Renato Bruson and Thomas Allen: one might almost have been listening to two different characters in two different operas.
Different, not better or worse: one a French grand opera, the other a mature Verdi Italian 'music drama' as the Germans would have it, spare, muscular, stripped of all musical inessentials however beautiful. Which is where the problems begin at the Garden. Having very responsibly decided to perform basically the 1867 French Carlos, including a wealth of Porteriana (material cut by Verdi before the Paris premiere), the management then chose to use the 1883 ver- sion of the crucial Philippe/Posa duet. Yes, yes, we all know this is 'better', but that is not the point. Alongside the 'worse' Pari- sian passages given at the Garden Elisabeth's rejoinder to the accusation of adultery, the 'Requiem' ensemble in the prison scene, and so on — it sticks out like a sore thumb. The 1867 version of the duet, very grandly operatic, isn't at all bad and acts as a logical counterbalance to the prison ensemble; it hasn't been heard on stage here, and I find this dotty decision as inexplicable as it is indefensible.
Many Parisian passages have been heard variously at the Coliseum — the introduc- tion to the Fontainebleau act, the mask- changing 3/8 in Act III — and they are now essential to any Carlos edition. Others heard here for the first time were revalua- tions, especially `J'ai tout comprise', the duet for Elisabeth and Eboli in the study scene before the latter's confession, a passage of luminous musical beauty and ex- tremely effective in stage terms, and Elisabeth's 1867 rejoinder to Philippe, which although arguably less strong dramatically than the 1883 revision is nevertheless melodically one of Verdi's most tender in- spirations. I should hate never to hear it again. This performance demonstrated ever more clearly that there are two distinct operas called Don Carlos, 1867 and 1884, both by Verdi, both in their own separate ways superb, and best not mixed. The Garden's decision not to let us have 1867 tout court was a lost opportunity assuming near-tragic proportions.
So, given the auspiciousness of the occa- sion, was some of the casting. It was no use booing the unfortunate tenor for being unable to sing the title-role. If someone were foolish enough to ask me to sing it at the Garden, I would accept with alacrity, take the money and run. But whoever did engage the poor man should have been booed out of the building. The Eboli might as well have been singing in Swahili for all she made of the text, and parts of the Veil song sounded as though sung by a cuckoo with a grave intestinal complaint. The Heavenly Voice was an incitement to pro- ceedings under the Trade Descriptions Act.
But Thomas Allen's Posa was sung with the utmost refinement in clear, unexcep- tionable French — a complete triumph. Robert Lloyd's Philippe, though marginally less idiomatic linguistically and musically (some misjudged portamentos), will surely develop into a notable portrayal as different as it is possible to be from Christoff. It was sad that he chose to bellow 'Femme adultere' and `Tais-toi, pretre', just as Mr Allen shouted 'La paix due cimetiere' such things have no part in French opera. Joseph Rouleau, in excellent voice, was a marvellous Inquisitor: one felt the perfor- mance finally got going in his scene with the king. Stefka Evstatieva (Elisabeth) was ex- tremely frustrating. She is prodigiously gifted vocally and thus much in demand world-wide, too much so, I suppose, to have time to study the role with a first-rate coach for a month or two: in amongst in- distinct French and some bumpy phrasing there were many moments when one could glimpse a potentially great interpretation.
There, in a word, was the difference be- tween this Carlos and the previous even- ing's Forza at the Coliseum: preparation. Bernard Haitink drew beautifully shaped, Gallically elegant playing from the Garden orchestra but seemed little concerned with what was happening vocally. How much work had he done with the singers? Had he just given up with half of them? (The chorus, incidentally, was an absolute dis- grace). But at the Coliseum you felt that ar- tists with less clout were performing to the very best of their capability, save for Ken- neth Collins's relentlessly stentorian Al- varo. The Garden has potentially every- thing at its disposal and then squanders it; the Coliseum husbands and coaxes the best from what it can get. The Forza production is showing its age and not all the singers were truly up to Verdi's demands, but this totally honest performance, stirringly con- ducted by John Mauceri, moved me deeply.
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