The story of Cinderella made into an opera is different from the story as told by the French Mother Goose, not even by Disney, whose version practically every kid in the planet knows by heart. La Cenerentola, composed in 1817 by Gioacchino Antonio Rossini, after an Italian libretto by Jacopo Ferretti, contains no glass slippers, no fairy godmother, and no wicked stepmom. There is a handsome prince, a selfish, conniving stepdad, two evil stepsisters (Clorinda and Thisbe) and of course, pretty Cenerentola herself, who goes by the name of Angelina.
Had this opera been written in recent times, all the delightful tricks of the tale, such as a pumpkin changing into a coach (a fat mouse transforming into a stocky coachman is stretching it too far, sort of a kafka-esque Gregor Samsa in reverse!) might have been included.
Along with Il Barbiere di Siviglia and L’Italiana in Algeri, Cenerentola is part of the standard repertoire of every opera house in the world. But this has not always been the case. Rossini, along with the other bel canto composers Bellini and Donizetti, went out of style during the first half of the 20th century. The full-throated singing style of the verismo school pioneered by Mascagni and exploited with consummate artistry by Puccini, as well as the Wagnerian idea of a music drama based on leitmotifs were all the rage then. It was Maria Callas who revived and popularized bel canto. Today, even the previously neglected Rossini works, like La Donna de Lago, Le Comte Ory and Semiramide, are increasingly being mounted in all the major opera houses.
The 1981 La Scala production by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle and conducted by Claudio Abbado, featured the German mezzo-soprano Frederika von Stade as Cenerentola and tenor Francisco Araiza as Don Ramiro. Von Stade gave a competent performance, although hardly a memorable one. She has a light voice, agile and supple enough to negotiate the complicated coloratura runs, roulades and scales with élan. She hit the right notes, but very cautiously, careful not to trip on the complicated phrases. There was neither much contrast, nor excitement in her vocal rendition. Because of this, the vocal acrobatics and fireworks expected for a Rossini were subdued. Von Stade also failed to imbue a sense of drama to her character. I found her interpretation tepid. I simply did not feel any sympathy towards her.
In contrast, Cecilia Bartoli’s performance with the Houston Grand Opera was electrifying and convincing, both vocally and dramatically. Bartoli’s voice is difficult to appreciate at times. The quality of her tone and timbre is akin to caviar, it is an acquired taste. Her virtuosity, however, is beyond reproach. It is astonishing and she clearly revels in it.
Araiza as the Prince, is in top form vocally. His arias in the second act, with all that high C’s, were pretty solid and impressive. No wobbling. No hesitation. No gasping of air after an extremely difficult number. His rapid vocalization and coloratura runs seemed effortless and leaves you breathless. He delivered a lucid interpretation to his florid lines.
The sisters gave overacting performances, reducing their acts to vulgar romps. Clorinda’s soprano voice was helplessly shrill, especially during the ensemble numbers. The bass numbers of Alidoro (the Prince’s tutor), and Don Magnifico (the stepdad) were well-executed, with deep resonance and rich textures. Also, I have never heard of a basso buffo sing the lyrics that fast before, it’s even faster than the Largo al factotum in Il Barbiere.
Dandini, as played by Claudio Desderi, disappointed big time. His character is supposed to provide much of the comic element. It’s just not there, unlike in the Houston production where Dandini, essayed by the incomparable Alessandro Corbelli, almost stole the show. He was obviously forcing his voice to perform the scales and runs, which he simply huffed and puffed throughout the tricky phrases. Trying to be funny while negotiating the difficult phrases, and catching his breath while spewing rapid-fire syllables at the same time, were clearly too much to ask from him.
The sets were spectacular, hands down. Teatro alla Scala di Milano spared no expense to mount this production. La Scala is the world’s most popular opera house, and among the oldest. It has a rich history. A lot of the world’s greatest operas were first mounted here. In the overture, the film takes the audience to a tour of the opera house: the magnificent architecture, the rich tapestry, the gold-gilded stairways (I think), and the imposing life-sized statues and busts of Italian composers.
Abbado is a Rossinian. He champions the work of Rossini and was instrumental in reviving Cenerentola, using the critical edition prepared by another Rossini revivalist Alberto Zedda. His conducting was precise, energetic although a bit mechanical and dull. This is, however, an all-too-common pitfall among Rossini conductors. The voices take precedence above all else, such that not much sparkle and color are generated from the orchestras, except perhaps, the clashing trombones and crashing cymbals, as the music hurtles to the familiar Rossini specialty, the ensemble crescendo.
Overall, this is a satisfying Cenerentola, although it could have done better with more dramatic and comic acting, as well as more assured and exciting bel canto singing.
Had this opera been written in recent times, all the delightful tricks of the tale, such as a pumpkin changing into a coach (a fat mouse transforming into a stocky coachman is stretching it too far, sort of a kafka-esque Gregor Samsa in reverse!) might have been included.
Along with Il Barbiere di Siviglia and L’Italiana in Algeri, Cenerentola is part of the standard repertoire of every opera house in the world. But this has not always been the case. Rossini, along with the other bel canto composers Bellini and Donizetti, went out of style during the first half of the 20th century. The full-throated singing style of the verismo school pioneered by Mascagni and exploited with consummate artistry by Puccini, as well as the Wagnerian idea of a music drama based on leitmotifs were all the rage then. It was Maria Callas who revived and popularized bel canto. Today, even the previously neglected Rossini works, like La Donna de Lago, Le Comte Ory and Semiramide, are increasingly being mounted in all the major opera houses.
The 1981 La Scala production by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle and conducted by Claudio Abbado, featured the German mezzo-soprano Frederika von Stade as Cenerentola and tenor Francisco Araiza as Don Ramiro. Von Stade gave a competent performance, although hardly a memorable one. She has a light voice, agile and supple enough to negotiate the complicated coloratura runs, roulades and scales with élan. She hit the right notes, but very cautiously, careful not to trip on the complicated phrases. There was neither much contrast, nor excitement in her vocal rendition. Because of this, the vocal acrobatics and fireworks expected for a Rossini were subdued. Von Stade also failed to imbue a sense of drama to her character. I found her interpretation tepid. I simply did not feel any sympathy towards her.
In contrast, Cecilia Bartoli’s performance with the Houston Grand Opera was electrifying and convincing, both vocally and dramatically. Bartoli’s voice is difficult to appreciate at times. The quality of her tone and timbre is akin to caviar, it is an acquired taste. Her virtuosity, however, is beyond reproach. It is astonishing and she clearly revels in it.
Araiza as the Prince, is in top form vocally. His arias in the second act, with all that high C’s, were pretty solid and impressive. No wobbling. No hesitation. No gasping of air after an extremely difficult number. His rapid vocalization and coloratura runs seemed effortless and leaves you breathless. He delivered a lucid interpretation to his florid lines.
The sisters gave overacting performances, reducing their acts to vulgar romps. Clorinda’s soprano voice was helplessly shrill, especially during the ensemble numbers. The bass numbers of Alidoro (the Prince’s tutor), and Don Magnifico (the stepdad) were well-executed, with deep resonance and rich textures. Also, I have never heard of a basso buffo sing the lyrics that fast before, it’s even faster than the Largo al factotum in Il Barbiere.
Dandini, as played by Claudio Desderi, disappointed big time. His character is supposed to provide much of the comic element. It’s just not there, unlike in the Houston production where Dandini, essayed by the incomparable Alessandro Corbelli, almost stole the show. He was obviously forcing his voice to perform the scales and runs, which he simply huffed and puffed throughout the tricky phrases. Trying to be funny while negotiating the difficult phrases, and catching his breath while spewing rapid-fire syllables at the same time, were clearly too much to ask from him.
The sets were spectacular, hands down. Teatro alla Scala di Milano spared no expense to mount this production. La Scala is the world’s most popular opera house, and among the oldest. It has a rich history. A lot of the world’s greatest operas were first mounted here. In the overture, the film takes the audience to a tour of the opera house: the magnificent architecture, the rich tapestry, the gold-gilded stairways (I think), and the imposing life-sized statues and busts of Italian composers.
Abbado is a Rossinian. He champions the work of Rossini and was instrumental in reviving Cenerentola, using the critical edition prepared by another Rossini revivalist Alberto Zedda. His conducting was precise, energetic although a bit mechanical and dull. This is, however, an all-too-common pitfall among Rossini conductors. The voices take precedence above all else, such that not much sparkle and color are generated from the orchestras, except perhaps, the clashing trombones and crashing cymbals, as the music hurtles to the familiar Rossini specialty, the ensemble crescendo.
Overall, this is a satisfying Cenerentola, although it could have done better with more dramatic and comic acting, as well as more assured and exciting bel canto singing.
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