Mozart’s last two operas, Die Zauberflöte and La Clemenza di Tito, were first performed in September 1791, the year of the composer’s death. In fact the composition of the latter interrupted that of the former in order to meet a commission for the coronation of Emperor Leopold II as King of Bohemia. The commission was prescribed to be an opera seria written to a text by Metastasio adapted by Mazzolá. It was the late flowering of the genre and one of the greatest. Opera seria, usually devoted to classical or mythological themes, dominated operatic composition throughout the eighteenth century until the innovations of Gluck led on to the new forms of the nineteenth century. It is characterised by rather static action set to given texts mainly in a series of recitatives and da capo arias composed to show off the talents of particular stars of the operatic stage, of whom castrati were among the leaders. This leads to problems in casting modern productions to obtain an authentic vocal balance. As I have remarked before, counter-tenors who often see themselves as the successors of the castrato rarely have the lung capacity or the stage-presence to compete with the more formidable lady mezzos in the modern opera house.
The NY Metropolitan Opera’s production under review dates from 1984 and is due to Jean-Pierre Ponelle. Many times revived, it retains, at least for the cinema audience, the freshness of a new production (at least freshly painted). It has provided the Met debuts of two trans-Atlantic stars. Ann Murray, originally engaged to perform Annio, sang the principal role of Sesto (originally castrato) as substitute in 1984 and Sarah Connolly was Annio in 2005. This year, our beloved Lucy Crowe (last seen as the cunning vixen at Glyndebourne) made a sensational Met debut as Servilia.
There are six singing roles. Sesto, close friend of the Emperor Tito, is infatuated by Vitellia who wishes to claim Toto’s throne. Tito is engaged to Berenice but for political reasons he decides instead to marry Sesto’s sister Servilia, even though she is promised to Sesto’s friend Annio. A series of failed plots against Tito ensue, instigated by Vitellia and carried out by Sesto. He eventually confesses and begs for mercy. All are forgiven by Tito, wishing to preserve his posthumous reputation, against the advice of his Captain of the Guard Publio. Each character has the opportunity to explain their motivation and actions in a series of extended recitatives and arias. The two ladies Vitellia and Servilia were played respectively by Barbara Frittoli and Lucy Crowe. Both sang their solos superbly well but I had difficulty with Frittoli, who, whether intended or not, appeared to send-up the role of baddie. Crowe totally inhabited her character; even when not singing but on camera. Buddies Sesto and Addio were performed by Elena Garanča and Kate Lindsey as trouser roles. Garanča was magnificent in the most difficult and demanding role. Giuseppe Filianoti was Tito and Oren Gradus, Publio, the only male singers in relatively minor roles (often a convention in naming 18th-century operas). They both made the most of their opportunities.
The conductor was Harry Bicket, who brought a genuine eighteenth-century sound to the performance, adjusting to the size of the auditorium by doubling the wind but with notable solos for clarinettist Anthony McGill and James Ognibene on basset horn. (We eagerly await Bicket’s interpretation of Handel’s Radamisto now under preparation with The English Concert, on which we shall report from Birmingham on 8 February.)
For the cinema audience this was a real treat. For the second time we could forget we were viewing transmission from an opera house and enjoy what I called a true ‘ciné-operatic’ experience after last season’s Rodelinda. An advantage is that the moving camera can give added visual interest to an essentially static genre, through long- and close-up shots. On this occasion there was no problem with sweaty faces; perhaps the singers were wearing stronger anti-perspirant.
In the hands of a dedicated producer, opera seria could have a great future as ciné-opera. On this occasion the TV Director was Barbara Willis Sweete. Once more I have to deplore that she was not credited in the cinema hand-out. On the other hand, it was easy to forget this was a vicarious experience dependent on the adrenalin of a live performance. The next chance to judge will be Handel’s Giulio Cesare on 30 April.