I never cared about opera before. Growing up in Bukidnon, I played the piano, so naturally I gravitated towards classical piano music. But when I picked up a copy of La Scala’s production under Ricardo Muti of Giacomo Puccini’s Tosca in, of all places, a roadside stall in Quiapo, I got hooked. First-rate acting, superb sets (this is Italy, after all), wonderful singing and suspenseful and crackling orchestration- what more can you ask for. I didn’t even mind that it took almost three hours to watch the entire opera.
Since then, I returned for more and I got introduced to the great Italian bel canto masters, the composers of the verismo school and the valiant efforts of the Russians (successful) and the English (not quite) to make their own mark and not get overwhelmed by the Italians, French and Germans. I became keenly aware of the rivalry between Wagner and Verdi, their differences in musical outlook and compositional styles.
I love bel canto (which means “beautiful singing” in Italian). Rossini, Donizetti and Bellini during the early part of the 1800’s, developed florid singing to its highest level and elevated it to an art-form. Strongly melodic with a highly-marked legato line, these composers began to stretch the limits of the voice when they wrote some of the most difficult coloratura passages ever, matched only earlier by Mozart and Handel. The style requires the voice to mimic a musical instrument like a pianoforte via fast vocalization techniques like half-tone scales, trills and mordents. They also required the leading singers to send their final notes to the stratosphere.
Maria Callas, probably the most famous soprano in the 20th century, led the revival of bel canto in the early 50’s. Her most famous role, Norma by Vincenzo Bellini, comes from this period. When Callas made her Metropolitan debut in New York, she was asked to take on the Queen of the Night role in Mozart’s Magic Flute. This opera has the highest notes for the soprano in all opera, hitting two F’s above high C, in a terrific but terrifyingly difficult revenge aria.
Callas wisely chose to open with Norma instead, allowing her to dramatize a whole gamut of emotions amid spectacular singing, reviving this extremely difficult and demanding opera and contributing to its popularity. I recently watched the entire opera of the Parma production featuring June Anderson, and I must say, the long arias filled with scales and trills, as well as the exceedingly beautiful but technically challenging duet with Adaglisa are a must for any opera fanatic.
Rossini
Gioacchino Rossini’s style is loud and partial to military rhythms. After all, this was the period when Napoleon marched into Europe like wildfire. The clashing cymbals sometimes make me want to cover my ears (e.g., Le Comte Ory), and the exceedingly fast vocalization becomes absurd if not performed properly (think of “Largo al factotum...” in the Barber of Seville, his most famous and enduring work). As if this were not enough, he requires his singers, especially the tenors, to hit several high Cs!
Semiramide, a three-hour extravaganza with the most unbelievable and preposterous libretto but exceedingly difficult arias and duets, remains a favorite of mine. The duets in the Barber of Seville are precious, too. Nothing quite like it, even Beethoven liked it.
Rossini has been enjoying a renaissance of sorts recently, thanks to the efforts of Rossini specialists (Callas, Horne, Berganza, Sutherland, Abaddo) who tirelessly promoted the music of the master despite the onslaught of Wagner, Verdi and Puccini.
Donizetti
Gaetano Donizetti’s coloratura passages are not as rapid as Rossini’s, but some of his operas remain less frequently performed because of the strenuous vocal demands. Beverly Sills once claimed singing Roberto Devereux, Maria Stuarda and Anna Bolena took ten years off her career. I’ve watched the first two—it requires full-volume singing in the upper range of the voice, and almost always, the soprano’s arias always end up in the stratosphere. She sounds like she’s always launching comets into space.
The famous Lucia di Lamermoor, with its mad scene IS a gold standard for all aspiring sopranos. Joan Sutherland became famous with this role, and it’s easy to see why. The soprano is not only required to act like she’s gone crazy, she has to convey her state of mind through vocal acrobatics and fireworks, which provided Donizetti a great excuse to write mind-boggling coloratura passages. I saw a DVD feature on the great soprano Joan Sutherland interpreting this role. She had a showdown with a solo flute, note-for-note, scale-for-scale, trill-for-trill. It was amazing. You have to watch it to believe me.
In addition, Pavarotti got well-known, not by L’Elisir d’Amore, with its beautiful Una furtive lagrima aria, but by the nine, yes nine, high C’s in a single aria in Un Fille du Regiment (Daughter of the Regiment). I haven’t found a copy yet, but it is easy to see why. It must have taken him a week to recover his voice.
Bellini
Aaah, Vincenzo Bellini. Unlike Rossini, this composer composed elegant lines. (In fact, Chopin loved his music. The Pole must have gotten his melodic ideas from the Italian). He doesn’t favor Rossini’s crescendos and rapid-fire vocalization. His orchestration is deliberately simpler and doesn’t overwhelm the singer. He likes his arias to be slow and languid, and puts the highly florid ornamentation in between those long drawn-out notes. He likes to slowly send his singers to the upper reaches of the voice, and leaves them there, hanging and twisting in the wind (e.g., Casta Diva in Norma).
Norma is among the most difficult opera for the lead soprano, and I Puritani is clearly without equal as the most terrifying for a tenor, requiring him to hit an F and two D’s above high C. I watched the less-known and less-performed Beatrice di Tenda, and I can’t understand the neglect. The music is ravishing, and the soprano sends out comets into outer space several times.
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