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Opera News
December 1998 MOZART: Don Giovanni
DG's new Don Giovanni is a musical, conscientiously prepared account that elucidates fresh aspects of a work all too easily taken for granted. Claudio Abbado paces his conventionally structured and proportioned reading to maintain a consistent dramatic continuity and flow. Time and again, a secco recitative's cadence will lead directly into the start of an aria or ensemble, after which the recitative resumes with no interruption. (Sometimes these transitions are a bit too hurried, as at "Non ti fidar, o misera," where neither Elvira's first note nor the preceding rest is held for the prescribed length.) Where tempos depart from custom, they are generally quicker and lighter -- as with "Ah taci, ingiusto core" and the earlier, comic portions of the supper scene -- thus keeping the action moving. Expressively applied appoggiaturas in the set pieces as well as the recitatives, and discreet embellishments in the tripartite arias, make for musical as well as dramatic variety. By selecting relative unknowns for the female leads and conspicuously holding down the singers' volume at many points in the concertante passages, Abbado stresses the ensemble nature of this work to a significant degree. This incidentally throws the dramatic focus more sharply onto Don Giovanni, and, to some extent, Leporello. Fortunately, the inhabitants of these roles can withstand the scrutiny. In the title role, Simon Keenlyside makes a strong impression with his firm, compact baritone and alert, responsive inflections. His youthfully vigorous Giovanni conveys the character's sheer hedonistic relish: his "Viva la liberté!" in the first finale is not just proclamatory but proudly narcissistic. His ebullience recalls Eberhard Wächter's for Giulini (EMI); if Wächter brought a firmer, more honeyed mezza-voce to the seductive, insinuating moments, Keenlyside conversely avoids his predecessor's occasional lapses into loutishness. Among recent Dons, Keenlyside's is more strongly profiled than Hampson's strangely neutral one (Harnoncourt/Teldec) and offers a more fully detailed portrayal than does Bryn Terfel (Solti/London). Terfel's move here into the servant's quarters is a marked success. His patter lacks the naturally Italianate inflection of Taddei's (Giulini/EMI), but his Leporello is spirited and flavorful, marred only by a handful of overdone snarls and a stagy yell of "Dite di no!" in the second finale. Terfel's voice is sufficiently rounder and darker than Keenlyside's to make them readily distinguishable in their scenes together; their bantering recitatives, the best on record, are lively and amusing, with quick, mercurial shifts of tone conveying the vividness of a stage performance. Carmela Remigio brings an attractive, round, soft-grained lyric timbre to Anna's music. She fails to seize focus in "Fuggi, crudele," but she delivers a gripping narrative to Ottavio and sings the set pieces with authority. Though the passagework in "Non mi dir" gives her no problems, the lower tones in the sextet sound insubstantial. Soile Isokoski, with a distinctive, somewhat peculiar timbre, limns an agitated, driven, but never hysterical Elvira. Some may find her portrayal too restrained, but the character emerges as more single-minded, less schizophrenic than usual. Both ladies, presumably at the conductor's behest, frequently glance at the peak notes of phrases rather than singing into them. Patrizia Pace's forthright Zerlina is especially winning in the recitatives, where she and her Masetto, Ildebrando d'Arcangelo, capture some of the same spontaneous give-and-take as do Keenlyside and Terfel; in the arias, her crystalline tone is apt to go white and vibratoless. D'Arcangelo, underplaying his role's more grotesque bumpkinisms, provides quite simply the best-sung Masetto on records. As in the Solti set, the Ottavio is the weak link, with Uwe Heilmann's
mushy, underenergized singing an active liability. The lack of a solid
tonal core and the incipient bleat on sustained tones make the arias something
of a trial and render the character more than usually ineffectual. Abbado's
steady, graduated buildup brings Matti Salminen's Commendatore into his
own with an imposing yet dignified impact. The chorus sounds unusually
good in its brief contributions.
The Abbado Don Giovanni undoubtedly will not be to all tastes, nor will it necessarily achieve the classic status of such recordings as Colin Davis' (Philips), Giulini's (EMI) or Krips' (London); but for shedding light on aspects of the piece that ordinarily remain neglected or underplayed, this set commands attention. -STEPHEN FRANCIS VASTA
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