The Salzburg Whitsun Festival, dedicated this year to the myth of Orpheus, revives a rarely performed opera by Joseph Haydn, composed in 1791 for the King’s Theatre in London. Due to political entanglements (the King’s Theatre was under the patronage of the Prince of Wales, who was in conflict with the ruling king, his father George III, patron of the competing Pantheon) the opera was cancelled, and it wouldn’t be performed on stage until 1951, in a production featuring no less than Maria Callas and Boris Christoff, conducted by Erich Kleiber.
It is heart-warming to witness such a prestigious Festival giving due recognition to an opera by Haydn, his vocal works having been unjustly neglected for so long. L’anima del filosofo is probably unfinished, due to the difficulties of that cancelled premiere, (the libretto by Carlo Francesco Badini is lost) and the story has several inconsistencies, but the music is an absolute masterpiece, and the concert form chosen in Salzburg hides the thin dramaturgy.
Of the three versions of Orpheus presented in this festival (Gluck and Monteverdi), this is the most typically illuminist in its setting: a sybil, and not the god of Love, guides Orpheus in the underworld; the title itself refers to the “spirit of the philosopher”, who must remain in control of his emotions, unless he will be lost forever.
Conductor Gianluca Capuano and Les Musicien du Prince did justice to the sophisticated, rich orchestration, with great attention to detail and keeping the tension alive. The orchestra managed a rich sound, unusual in historically informed performances, where the drama came through with strength, but always with respect to the singers. Il Canto di Orfeo was reinforced by elements of the Salzburg Bach Choir; their performance was exceptionally detailed, with a phrasing and an elegance hard to find in any choral ensemble.
Orfeo was Rolando Villazón, who approached the role with amazing panache, completely fearless. He tended to overact, and at times his shenanigans became a bit excessive, venturing into tacky territory. The part presents some difficult coloratura, which did not always come out as crisply as necessary, the voice at times far from elegant. Despite these drawbacks, his attitude was hard to resist, which led to a reasonably successful performance.
Cecilia Bartoli, artistic director and undisputed queen of the Pfingstfestspiele, sang Euridice with her customarily extraordinary coloratura and phrasing. Euridice's death aria was a perfect heart-breaking moment: her voice softer and softer, the words slower and slower, the orchestra reduced to a whisper. Magical.
Creonte, Euridice’s father, was Thomas Hampson; his elegance and expertise supported a voice that has seen better years. He gave a committed performance, convincingly enraged and authoritative in calling his men to battle at the end of the second act.
Mélissa Petit sang the sybil with sparkling coloratura and beautiful high notes, adding a Queen of the Night passage to her cadenza; particularly appropriate, as The Magic Flute was composed in the same year.
