ROSSINI: Il Turco in Italia

Bartoli, Polverelli; Pertusi, Vargas, Piccoli, Corbelli; La Scala, Chailly. Libretto & translation. London 458924 (2)

Cecilia Bartoli is ever confident, not just in her singing but in her portrayals. That quality diminishes her recent disc Cenerentola (a Cinderella who's neither victim nor vulnerable is only half a Cinderella), but it's essential to Fiorilla, the flirtatious shrew in Il Turco in Italia.

Rossini wrote the opera at twenty-two, following up on his wildly successful L'Italiana in Algeri (1813). Unlike its zany predecessor, Il Turco was never as popular as it deserves to be. With ensembles favored over solos, uncommonly rich musical invention and characters who cast a longer shadow than in any of his previous comedies, this wasn't what Rossini's audiences were expecting.

Director Luchino Visconti and conductor Gianandrea Gavazzeni resurrected Il Turco in 1950 with Maria Callas. Its success caused EMI to give the work a disc premiere in 1954; this set (56313) has remained unchallenged, despite two later recordings from Philips and Sony. Though EMI's version continues to give pleasure with its delightful portrayals, London's should be the current choice. London, opting for the critical edition prepared by Margaret Bent for the Rossini Foundation of Pesaro, offers more music: the EMI performance is drastically cut. London also has more stylish singers, their voices and training better suited to Rossini's demands. And Riccardo Chailly outpoints the fine Gavazzeni, inspiring his ensemble to a buoyant, impassioned, funny performance.

Then there's Bartoli, bright and firm and agile as ever. Her entrance solo and scene with Selim (well sung and characterized by Michele Pertusi, an appropriately rich-voiced baritone with surprising suppleness) is light-hearted and deliciously seductive. Bartoli also proves mistress of pathetic accent later in the opera, responding to her apparent loss of husband, love and dignity. Alessandro Corbelli, tops among today's Rossinian buffos, is imaginative and resourceful as Fiorilla's long-suffering husband, finding the right tone for bright patter, injured pride and perseverance. Tenor Ramón Vargas is a treat in the relatively minor role of Narciso, one of the young woman's admirers. Roberto de Candia plays the Poet, who looks to his characters for the plot of the libretto he has to write. The La Scala ensemble is wonderfully responsive, London's engineering lucid and pleasant.

C. J. LUTEN