New Così fan tutte from Salzburg

Because of the revision of the commented discography in operadiscographies.com, I have been listening (and also watching) to basically nothing but Così fan tutte for the two last months. Salzburg is obviously a reference in the discography – we have the Böhm DG with Gundula Janowitz and Peter Schreier, the Muti EMI with Margaret Marshall and Francisco Araiza, the Honeck with Ana María Martínez and Sophie Koch, the Eschenbach with Malin Hartelius and Gerald Finley. I found it surprising to see it in pandemic circumstances, but then I realized it had been edited to fit safety standards. I have never dreamed of hearing numbers taken as models of perfection shortened to fit the egg-timer, but, well, let’s blame “new normal”. I have to say every time director Christof Loy spent one or two minutes with unfunny gags, I couldn’t help “this time could have been used to keep È la fede delle femine”. I cannot see how a conductor could agree to this. For me, it would have been like answering to the question “which finger would you like to have amputated?”. Why not staging something that would fit the time limit? Entführung aus dem Serail?

Back to Così. I understand that, probably to limit the number of stagehands, the performance is reduced to a single set without costume changes, chorus on stage or props. I wonder if the elevated stage was also a safety requirement; it amplified steps in a disturbing way – and the director had singers kicking the floor with a passion during the finale to act 1. I found it distressing. But that is not what I truly disliked about this performance. Così fan tutte is the single “major” Mozart opera set in Italy (Tito’s Rome is not Italy). More than that: it is staged in Naples. This is not psychological drama à la Ingmar Bergman – this story take place in sunny verandas with view to the Mediterranean. To this day, the special ingredient of Italian stories on stage or in the movies is: comedies always have a touch of drama and drama always have a touch of comedy. Let’s not forget a movie like Umberto D, a story that should be unbearably depressing in any other country is told by Vittorio de Sica with a sympathetic smile. That is why I could not warm to this joyless staging, lazy in its circumvention of all the notorious difficulties in it for the director, especially if updated to modern times. Here Fiordiligi and Dorabella are basically too chic to behave coy, even Despina is too chic. All dialogues (what remained of them at least) are, however, delivered with an intensity that goes against these people’s prevailing depression. It is all blunt, emphatic and unenlightening. I was going to write that I learned nothing new about Così watching this telecast, but that is not true. The psycho Don Alfonso is an interesting twist that could have been explored in the context of a three-dimensional production. Of course, Don Alfonso is manipulating the young people around him, nothing new there, but the nuance in having him jealous of their youth, of a barely hidden interest in the girls – that was well observed and is the single feature I’ll keep from the theatrical side of this performance.

By the bold accents in the overture, I thought that Joana Mallwitz would offer a vital, energetic account of the score. As a matter of fact, she generally kept things moving forward, but it seldom felt that way. First – and it seems that I am repeating myself – articulation was beyond the optimal level for Mozart. This is not an option in this repertoire – and the Vienna Philharmonic has proved capable of delivering the goods since Karl Böhm’s 1955 LPs to  Christoph Eschenbach’s 2013 DVDs. So I’ll defend their honor and say that they are not to blame here. Second, although the performance generally avoids slow tempi, there is a lack of ebullience, of propulsion, of purpose in phrasing that makes it all seems stodgy. Although it is a shortened score, I confess I couldn’t wait for it to finish. In Rosbaud’s performance from Aix-en-Provence, everything goes wrong – the orchestra is subpar, the chorus goes AWOL, singers are a bit free with everything, but, God, it’s fun! Third, there is an enthusiastic fortepiano playing continuo and otras cositas más.

The cast, however, is good, mostly in comparison with what we’ve been hearing in Mozart these days. All three sopranos come from France, and this must be a first in Salzburg. I am surprised by Elsa Dreisig’s Fiordiligi. I’ve heard her only in small roles and had mentally saved her in the “pretty voice” file. Here she proves she is more than that. She keeps Mozartian lines adeptly and handles the low tessitura with aplomb. There are intonation problems when things go high and fast – and when she has to hold a high note mezza voce for too long. But under the right circumstances she could be ideal. I have never been disappointed by Marianne Crebassa – and I haven’t – but I am afraid Dorabella is not her best role. Her voice sounds a bit grainy here and she looks and sounds bored most of the time. It is difficult to be playful and sexy in a dreary production such as this one (and under a conducting that has nothing sensuous or vivacious about it), but I’ll remember an È amore un ladroncello in which her voice blended perfectly with the woodwind. I was not really fond of the awkward ornamentation, though. Actually, I think Léa Desandre would have more fun as Dorabella (and her voice is brighter and lighter than Crebassa’s too). She does not have a Despina in her and looked embarrassed trying to look naughty. Vocally, her singing was stylish, but – for someone who speaks Italian fluently – the text lacked crispness and her mezzo (which increasingly sounds soprano-ish in sound) could do with a brighter edge to pierce better through ensembles. The part of Ferrando usually is the one conductors most gladly cut, so no surprises here, but – even with what remained of it – I could say that Bogdan Volkov came close to being ideally cast. His tenor lacks a softer sound around the passaggio (unlike the most famous exponents of this role), but he knows it and never fails to compensate that. He has very easy and firm high notes, is attentive to the score as few tenors these days and has very long breath. I would be curious to hear him as Tamino and maybe Belmonte. Andrè Schuen too is a rich-voiced Guglielmo whose response to conducting and direction prevented him from offering something more sensuous and seductive. (I have to say that the stage direction in the finale to act 1 made me ask myself if these people’s idea of “seduction” involved abusing the girls almost to the limits of assault.) As in the DVDs from London, Johannes Martin Kränzle is the real deal as Don Alfonso – both in terms of singing and acting.

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