Magda the Magnificent. A Tribute to Magda Olivero

Like some of my favorite singers I've only heard on recordings, Magda Olivero, is one of those singers whose name alone can light up my
face. People ask where are singers like her today, and I suppose the simplest fact is that they simply don't exist. The fact is they barely existed in their own day. When someone complains "There's no Tebaldi today" they are, of course, right, but there was only ever ONE Tebaldi and she (like Callas, like Gencer, and Rysanek . . . ) are ALL sui generis. The world we live in has changed and so, necessarily, has the way we have to live in it. There was, and only ever will be, one Oliver, and how very lucky we were to have had her.

While lovers of conventionally pretty voice may not appreciate what she brought to the table, that is their great loss. Olivero was not just another singer, but an exceptional musician. For sheer diversity of the styles and types of roles she undertook I can think of few singers who can match her.


Of course, what else would one expect from a singer whose professional debut was as Mary Magdalene in Nino Cattozzo's wildly popular 'I Misteri Dolorosi" (kidding about the popular part). She was only 22, but the odd roles kept coming her way: Parodi's "Cleopatra" - Barbieri's "Alcassino e Nicoletta" - Rossellin's "La Guerra" - Carvalho's "Penelope" - the Rome premiere of Poulenc's "Dialogues of the Carmelites", an opera she would sing throughout much of her career, and in a variety of roles, - Langella's "Assunta Spina" - Gentilucci's "Don Ciccio." Quite simply just the names of these works make my ears prick up making me long for an era when there was a lot more going on in the major houses than standard rep and - hailed or failed - new works were prolific and singers such as Olivero singing as many of them as she could.



Magda was singing Monteverdi back when his works, as was most of the baroque repertoire, barely known to most opera lovers. She sang not only Poppea, but also in productions of the madrigal operas "Il Combattimento" and "Ballo delle Ingrate." In addition to her work in baroque music, Olivero frequently was singing music of her own time, by composers both known and (now, sadly) forgotten; Menotti, Wolf-Ferrari, Costagutta, Giordano, Mangiagalli, Honegger, Zandonai, to name but a few.

She clearly adored the music of often maligned Alfano appearing in four of his operas. "Cyrano Di Bergerac", "La Leggenda di Sakuntala," "Risurrezione," and "L'Ultimo Lord." "Sakuntala" found Olivero in both the title role and, nearer the end of the career, one of Sakuntala's maids. What I would have give to hear her in the title role of this beautiful (and rarely performed) opera. I think we can get some idea of it from her live recording of Katiusha in "Risurrezione," where she is simply remarkable - hair raising and heartbreaking.

Even Olivero's standard repertoire roles shows a wild diversity: Elsa, Poppea, both Manons, Gilda, Butterfly, Marguerites by Boito & Gounod, Violetta, Mimi, Zerlina, Nanetta, Liu, Maria in Mazzepa, Adriana, Minnie, all 3 Trittico heroines, La Voix Humaine . . . the list goes on. The very notion of Olivero as "That Brabant Girl" shivers me timbers.

While sung in Italian, snippets of her Manon reveals a voice most perfectly suited to Massenet's heroine, and imagining what her Manon must have been like in the theatre sends me into a swoon, which is a state I'd imagine those lucky to have experienced her in it were sent into.

Where would we be without amazing artists who gave their all, as did Madame Olivero? Or their legacies and the contribution and continuation of our beloved the lyric art? How fortunate we are to never have to find out.

Thank you, bless you and may you rest in peace, dear, great lady.

Alagna and Alfano's "Cyrano": Panache!

A most remarkable DVD. Just about every aspect of this production from Montpellier Opera is flawless, making as strong a case for a revival of this opera as possible. First off, there is the Cyrano of Roberto Alagna. We first see him before the opera starts darting down the stairs of the opera house and running through the lobby. Once the opera begins, he makes a sensational entrance from the back of the house, moving among the audience, before hopping up on the stage. Second, the production by the Alagna Brothers is a sumptuous, visual feast full of color, marvelous stage effects and, when called for, theatrical simplicity.

There is no way to describe Alagna's Cyrano as anything less than sensational. In excellent voice, with thrilling top notes and his natural French the text is sung with elegance and plenty of panache. Whether running, strutting like a peacock, swashbuckling or hiding from view, Alagna's every move is executed with the elegant grace of a dancer. It is a joy watching someone have this much fun in a role. He executes some fine sword fighting and even as diminutive as he is, makes this character larger than life. His arioso "Oh! Paris!," which ends the first scene begins so hauntingly, beautiful building to a crashing, thrilling conclusion. The call to arms for the Cadets of Gascony (I don't know what it's properly called) is as rousing as one could hope for. If Alagna's Cyrano had called, I'd have rushed to join the Muskateers, too!

Richard Troxell strikes all the right balances as Christian. The duet between he and Cyrano pledging their allegiance to become "one man" develops beautifully, and rushes into an breathless finish. Anyone who criticizes Alfano's gifts as a composer needs only hear this duet to be proven wrong.

The music opening Act II is the equal to Massenet in Manon at conveying both musically, and eloquently, a sense of a specific time and place without actually resorting to composing 18th century style music.

What a gem is the Roxane of Nathalie Manfrino. Physically and vocally she could be the twin of Christiane Oelze - nowhere more so then in the final act where, with Alfano's so very French music she recalls Oelze as Melisande. Manfrino is a genuine beauty and the voice, a lovely lyric with some wonderful bloom to the top notes, constantly impresses. Like Alagna (and Troxell) her acting felt genuine, one believed her Roxane at every turn. There were times I was a little angry with her shallowness and cruelty towards Christiane, but it all works out.

The physical production by the tenor's brothers David and Frederico, along with costumes by Christian Gasc make this a visual feast. I don't know how long they all worked on this, but the flow of this Cyrano, the quality and naturalness of the acting (particularly Alagna's title character) is as fine as one could hope to see from any opera video.

There were plenty of gorgeous musical highlights; the amazing Balcony Duet, with everybody firing on all cylinders; the wordless chorus sung by the soldiers . . . , so many others.

It is, however, the final act that absolutely destroys me. Alfano's heavy use of woodwinds, descending scales on flute, a vibrant buzz of reeds, and with swirling strings, it could easily be mistaken for Debussy (especially with the uniformly excellent French coming from this cast). Alagna's transformation of Cyrano, from cocky showman to now a tired and frail man, (but no less proud) is a heart breaker. As soon as he arrives at the convent, it is evident the tenor is giving one of the best performances of his life. As death approaches, the score grows more and more delicate, with unaccompanied passages sung by Roxane (also reminiscent of Debussy's Melisande), but branded with Alfano's own original stamp (which I'm getting to know better and better). As Cyrano reads the final letter to Roxane, the clarinet takes up the soaring melody and it shoots right to the heart in music that is nearly overwhelmingly poignant.

The efforts of all involved pay off in a wonderfully theatrical and musically exquisite performance. For the longest time I believed Alagna could do nothing better than his performance in that amazing Bond prodeuction of Don Carlos from the Chatelet, but this Cyrano truly is a creature that touched me as profoundly as any I can think of.

Highly recommended.

Alfan's "Sakuntala" Finally

(From my review previously posted February/2006)

For years I’ve heard snippets (some long, some not so) of the work, and looked for a complete recording in vain. No more.

There is so much Debussy and Strauss influence in the score it’s almost not “Italian” sounding! Quite simply, Alfano’s instrumentation and use of color is nothing less than remarkable and gorgeous - exotic. One definitely can hear where Puccini got some of his ideas for Turandot here. (Similarly, part of the long first act duet between the King and
Sakuntala is strongly reminiscent of what Alfano would do in Turandot’s finale). That first act duet between the lovers is nearly Tristan length and Alfano never seems to run out of ideas.

There’s a moment or two toward the beginning of Act II which sounds like where Philip Glass seems to have gotten his best ideas, as well!

In the second act Sakuntala has an enormous, 9 minute voice busting aria that is just breathtaking as it segues into the next scene. Holy Moley, this is a BIG sing.

Alfano’s vocal writing here is far different than Puccini’s - longer phrases, more Wagnerian-style parlando (but not Wagnerian sounding - at all).

A dance/ballet opens the final act that (very) strongly recall’s Strauss.

(Side note: I believe those who’ve enjoyed Enescu’s Oedipe will find much to enjoy here.)

This performance was from 1979. The principal roles are sung by:

Sakuntala - Celestina Casapietra
The King - Michele Molese (anyone remember him from City Opera?!)
Kanva - Aurio Tomicich
with the RAI Symphony and Chorus conducted by Ottavio Ziino.

Casapietra is unknown to me. I would have liked a juicier, firmer voice but she handles the difficult high music quite well and sings with a lot of feeling. The lower voice can be a bit shaky (often) with a hollow quality that isn’t particularly lovely. The third act goes much better for her with the top notes opening up in a way they hadn’t earlier and that is quite thrilling (except for one squally high C, unfortunately on the word “orror!). Again, her commitment shows and that’s an important thing in this work.

Molese starts off just a wee bit thin, but within minutes the voice takes on a rich bloom and his voice past the passagio is often thrilling. Like Casapietra he sings the music with conviction and the two of them almost seem to get carried away by Alfano’s sumptuous outpourings.

The final scene looks so much to the final bars to what he composed for Turandot that no doubt can be left who’s ideas closed that opera.

Though the sound is not flawless (there appears to be some bleed through in spots which I’m guessing stem from the original tape source) it is more than good enough to convey the sense of wonder Alfano infuses through much of the work.

I really couldn’t be more pleased to have discovered this, and as ever: Bravo, Alfano!

Alfano: Long Lost Sakuntala - At Last!

Some nights ago I pulled out a treasure of fairly recent discovery – a work I’d long known of, but recordings of which seemed impossible to find until several years ago when a live one – the only one I’m aware of, came my way: Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting Alfano’s “Sakuntala.”

There is, as one might expect from any “lesser” composer of the time, much influence of Debussy and Strauss throughout the score. To that end it is almost not quite “Italian” sounding. Quite simply, Alfano’s instrumentation and use of color is nothing less than remarkable and gorgeous - exotic. I had often read that Puccini himself had been influenced by the younger composer and that the writing we find so captivating in Turandot (and rather different from most of Puccini’s other work) came from his having read Alfano’s score. Finally getting a listen-to of Sakuntala, one can definitely hear where Puccini got some of his Turandot ideas.

Interestingly, part of the long first act duet between the King and Sakuntala is strongly reminiscent of what Alfano would write in Turandot’s finale – a finale that used Puccini’s own musical shorthand – already “borrowed” from Alfano! This first act duet between the lovers, more than do most other Italian operatic duets, approaches a near Tristan length and Alfano never seems to run out of ideas. Stunning is not too strong a word to describe it.

Later, there’s a moment - toward the beginning of Act II – which sounds like the font from which Philip Glass seems to drunk to have gotten some of his best ideas.

In the second act our heroine is given an enormous aria – a 10 minutes voice buster which (almost literally) breathtakingly segues into the next scene. This is a truly huge sing for the soprano.

Alfano’s vocal writing here turns seems to turn away from Italian tradition and is far different than what we get from Puccini in this same period. Alfano seems more here by Wagner than does Puccini. Phrases are much longer with a sort of pseudo- Wagnerian- parlando, yet without sounding particularly Wagnerian. It’s really lovely – and rather original.

A dance/ballet opens the final act that strongly recall’s Strauss. This is not particularly great music, but (like Strauss’s Veil Dance) atmospheric and never less than enjoyable. That is no small compliment in and of itself. In all likelihood, the dance stands a better chance of being performed than the rest of this beautiful work.

In many respects I find a musical/spiritual connection between this work and Enescu’s Oedipe and those who have recently discovered the joys of that other obscure opera are certain to find plenty to enjoy here.

This recording was taken from a 1979 performance. The principal roles are sung by:

Sakuntala - Celestina Casapietra
The King - Michele Molese
Kanva - Aurio Tomicich

with the RAI Symphony and Chorus conducted by Ottavio Ziino.

Ms. Casapietra was entirely unknown to me. While I would have liked a juicier, firmer voice she does manage the difficult high music quite well and sings with a great (impressive actually) amount of emotion, such that one senses she really “feels” this music. The lower voice can be a bit shaky (actually, fairly often) with a hollow quality that is never particularly lovely. The third act goes much better for her, the top notes opening up in a way they hadn’t earlier and the effect is (save for one squally High C – ironically on the word “Orror!”) and her singing here turns quite thrilling, her commitment paying off and that in and of itself is an important thing in getting this work to come across to those unfamiliar with this work. (which is pretty much everyone).

New York City Opera stalwart, Michele Molese starts off just a wee bit thin, but within minutes the voice takes on a rich bloom and his sound - past the passagio - is generally thrilling. Like Casapietra he sings the music with conviction, the pair of them almost
seeming to get carried completely away by Alfano’s sumptuous outpourings.

The final scene looks so forward to the final bars composed for Turandot that there simply can be no doubt left as to who’s ideas closed that opera.

Though the sound is not flawless (there appears to be some bleed through in spots which I’m guessing stem from the original tape source) it is more than good enough to convey the sense of wonder Alfano infuses through so much of this strange and beautiful work.

I really couldn’t be more pleased with this release.

Bravo, Alfano!

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