Monteverdi Choir, English Baroque Soloists, directed by John Eliot Gardiner
185:50 (3 CDs)
SDG 730
Those looking for a HIP recording – and I assume that would apply to most readers on this site – of this marvellous product of Monteverdi’s old age should be warned this is not it. In a long and to me at times pretentious note John Eliot Gardiner makes clear that he views Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria not as an up-to-date opera in mid-17th century Venetian style, but as a continuation of that encountered in his earlier operas and works. This surely contradicts not only practicalities, but also the changed ethos of opera. Monteverdi cannot have been unaware of developments that had taken place, particularly since the advent of public opera in Venice three years before Il ritorno was first produced in 1640. Moreover the libretto, based on Homer’s Odyssey, with which Giacomo Badoaro had tempted him to the public theatre presented a totally different approach to the operas of the early years of the century. It is, for example, quite unthinkable to image the comic glutton Iro in Orfeo or any other opera of the first decades of the century.
Gardiner’s
contentious proposal enables him to do two things. Firstly, to
indulge in some tenuous comparisons with Shakespeare, who had not
only died a quarter of a century earlier, but belonged to a different
milieu and culture. Secondly, and more importantly, it allows him to
indulge his preference for inflated and unidiomatic performing
forces. So here, rather than the modest forces found in Venetian
opera houses, Gardiner unapologetically fields a sizable orchestra
including not only 6-4-1-1 strings but cornetti, recorders and
dulcian in addition to a sizable continuo group that includes four
archlutes (or guitars), harp, organ and harpsichord. Experienced
Monteverdians will thus at times find themselves thinking they are
listening to Orfeo rather than Il ritorno. This may to
some sound pedantic. In fact it is not, because the use of such
substantial forces tends to obstruct clear projection of text,
crucial in works of this kind. Neither is the non-continuo
contribution always restricted to ritornellos, as was customary in
17th century Venetian opera. Among a number of examples the worst is
the addition of a tasteless violin solo to the sensuous duet at the
conclusion of the delightful scene (act 1, sc 2) between the young
servant lovers Melanto and Eurimaco.
It’s an unnecessary
and vulgar intrusion that jars, especially as the scene is one of the
best performed episodes in the opera. Otherwise there is much to be
questioned, particularly in the treatment of the stile recitativo
that still dominates the opera. In his notes Eliot Gardiner makes
much of the work that was put into making sure both singers and
instrumentalists understood the fusion of the all-important text and
Monteverdi’s music. Yet to my mind much of the recitative is
delivered in far too deliberate a manner, with much fragmentation,
exaggeration of rhythmic flexibility and unnatural dynamic extremes.
The result is not only self-indulgent and mannered but paradoxically
also stilted and at times lugubrious.
The multi-national cast
assembled by Gardiner has both strengths and weaknesses. I have mixed
feelings about the Penelope of French mezzo Lucile Richardot. The
voice itself is disconcertingly unusual, with an almost masculine
quality in the chest register contrasting with pleasingly feminine
head notes, the break always too apparent. Yet she brings a strong
dramatic sense to the role and it is probably not her fault if the
great opening monologue at times sounds more like whinging than the
dignified distress of a queen. But she sings ornaments with greater
conviction than most of the cast and the final, long-delayed reunion
with her Ulisse is intensely moving, not least since Gardiner here
allows text and music a more natural flow, enabling the drama to
speak for itself. Her Ulisse is capably sung by the veteran baritone
Furio Zanasi, who brings authority and long-established understanding
of musical and textural syntax to the role. The voice may no longer
be free of the odd rough edge – he was superior in a performance
under Rinaldo Alessandrini given at the 2010 Beaunne Festival – but
overall this is an impressive assumption of the role. The outstanding
performance here is that of the Polish tenor Krystian Adam, whose
Telemaco is perhaps the finest I’ve heard. The youthful fervency he
brings to his relations with both his mother and father coupled with
excellent articulation of text is totally compelling. Mention has
already been made of the fine performances of the servants Melanto
and Eurimaco, sung with appealingly youthful vivacity by Anna Dennis
and Zachary Wilder. The remaining roles are filled with varying
degrees of success.
The recording was made at live performances given in 2017 in Wroclaw, Poland, coming at the end of an extensive and, as I understand, highly successful tour of Europe and the US, during which the three extant Monteverdi operas were given in semi-staged productions. I regret not being able to add my endorsement, but feel that, as with his continued refusal to countenance Bach performances that conform to those of Bach’s own day, Sir John simply has this wrong. My recommendation remains the considerably more idiomatic performance by La Venexiana (Glossa).
Brian Robins
