Author : Jos Hermans
All his life, Pietro Mascagni thought his four-act Guglielmo Ratcliffe was his best work for the music theater. But it is with Cavalleria Rusticana that he will establish his lasting fame. When he got wind of a competition for one-act operas launched by the Milanese publisher Sonzogno, he remembered Giovanni Verga's novella. Puccini had turned it down. So did Riccordi. He wrote the work in a few weeks, on a tremendous creative surge. Overwhelmed by doubts about the quality of the opera, he prepared to submit the fourth act of Guglielmo Ratcliffe. Legend has it that it was his wife who secretly sent in the score of Cavalleria. The premiere takes place in Rome (1890) before a half-empty auditorium. Mascagni wins and 2 years later he can look back on the fact that his successful opera, the lyrical manifesto of verismo, has already been performed in 290 theaters around the world.
The jury in Rome had taken a whole year to evaluate the 73 operas submitted. In a sort of intermediate round, Mascagni was allowed to present his new work on the piano to the music professors in Rome. It was very well received, but he was advised to shorten the work. Only then could he count on a prize. In April 1890, rehearsals under the direction of conductor Leopoldo Mugnone began for the three operas that had reached the final of the competition. He, too, recommended that Mascagni shorten the work. The Santuzza on duty, Gemma Bellincioni, and the tenor Roberto Stagno wanted transpositions down, and to make matters worse, the chorus proved unable to cope with the immense demands of its role. Although Mascagni himself conducted the final rehearsals, the chorus remained the weak point in the otherwise highly successful premiere. Mascagni appears to have resigned himself to this reality.
As a composition, Cavalleria Rusticana does not have a single weak moment. Everything sounds equally inspired to me, even if the harmonies are rather conventional and the orchestration no more than solid. The strengths of Cavalleria are the strengths of all traditional Italian operas: great bursts of melody, searing passion, high drama. To list highlights is impossible. The primal version presented by Thomas Hengelbrock at the fall festival "La Grande Gare" in Baden-Baden, and which may be the subject of a CD recording, will result in a new critical edition next year at Bärenreiter conducted by musicologist Andreas Giger. The restoration essentially means that the church music sounds a whole tone higher, that Santuzza becomes a part for a soprano and that the cuts in the choral part (250 bars in all) are restored, mainly during "Il cavallo scalpita" and during the drinking song.
The Balthaser Neumann Choir & Orchestra is Thomas Hengelbrock's life's work. It is highly disciplined musicianship that the orchestra demonstrates here on gut strings and period instruments. It almost naturally leads to euphony, balance and authenticity. Indeed, this concert was of such a maddening perfection that I don't know where to begin. If Hengelbrock's stunt proves anything, it is that there will always be a place for concert opera. I can even imagine a countermovement from conductors who are simply fed up with the dilettantism of some stage directors. Not that I want to pin Thomas Hengelbrock down on that.
All parts of the score flowed organically into one another (with Puccini's credo from the Messa di Gloria added as a prologue) as if this were not a number opera. And you forgive the orchestra if halfway through they have to briefly adjust their tuning before entering the intermezzo. Of course the colors in the orchestra are darkened and the brass sounds less brilliant but did this ever bother me during this performance? Not at all. The Sicilian sun did not hide between the staves but flowed lavishly into the auditorium. Dynamically this was very differentiated and in the big orchestral climaxes definitely loud enough and always transparent. The balance was always perfect, both between the instrumental groups and between the women's and men's chorus. The chorus could sound well-behaved and angelic in the religious moments, thrilling in the drinking song. In the dance like sections, the orchestra developed real southern charm with rhythmic punch. The low strings, bearers of fate, manifested themselves with all the required sense of drama. Tempi were always appropriate and never dragging. There was also no orchestra pit to throw a spanner in the works acoustically. Everything could be heard in minute detail, from the tiniest vibration of the harp to the whipping of carter Alfio's urgings on his horses. The mysterious tension following the confrontation between Alfio and Turiddu sounded as modern as if it were Shostakovich.
Carolina López Moreno was the sensation of the evening. Here is a real diva in the making with fine looks and a fabulous technique. The dramatic notes of the high middle register suit her particularly well. Consequently, she blows them with hurricane force 7 in the auditorium. Never does she sound forced. Register transitions she takes smoothly and she knows how to take the voice back and descend into gossamer pianissimi. Not only "Voi lo sapete, o mamma" but her entire delivery was grandiose, the love duel with Turiddu included. Still, her recital felt somewhat strange. I dare not say that I prefer this version for soprano to the usual version, sung with the color of a mezzo. Time will tell. Of the usual cuts in the choral part, I can say with certainty that it is a loss.
Giorgio Berrugi also did not disappoint with his radiant tenor and Italian sense of style. "O Lola ch'ai di latti la camisa" he sings from the wings as usual. In the duet with Alfio, he was able to elicit genuine sympathy. Domen Križaj sang Alfio with a slightly Slavic timbre. Of course we very much like to hear that but in the context of a verist opera it is not optimal. But what he sang was otherwise perfect and exciting. Eva Zaïcik sang a fine Lola. The ailing Elisabetta Fiorillo was replaced by Cheryl Studer's Mama Lucia.