Loyal parterrian Jondrytay (not pictured) looked in on the Royal Opera’s Anna Nicole and shared this thoughts on his blog Not So Wunderbar.

Hello, Minnie!

The Romanian soprano is a special guest of honor at the event to receive the Marcello Giordani Lifetime Achievement award. On the musical portion of the program, the tenor (in between performances of La fanciulla del West here in NYC) will offer Neapolitan and Italian love songs from  his forthcoming CD, “Ti Voglio Tanto Bene” with conductor Steven Mercurio.

He will then join Met colleagues Lise Lindstrom, Stephen Costello and a group of young artists for selections from Romeo et Juliette, Un ballo in maschera, La bohème, Pagliacci, Turandot, Il barbiere di Siviglia and Andrea Chenier.

If you’re at all like La Cieca, listening to all that singing will stimulate your appetite, and so you will be delighted to hear that following the concert there will be a lavish gala dinner catered by “Fresco by Scotto.”

Proceeds from the gala are earmarked for the organization of the first Marcello Giordani International Vocal Competition, to be held in Italy the Spring of 2011.

It’s all tomorrow night, December 8, at St. Jean Baptiste Church, Lexington Avenue at 76th Street, and a few tickets for the whole affair (or for just the musical part of the entertainment) are still available through the Marcello Giordani Foundation.

And the mirror replied, “I’ll tell you right after the jump!”

What a week it’s been, cher public, and La Cieca (speaking on behalf of herself and Jay Caspian Kang) only hopes you’ve been enlightened by our little étude as much as we have found pleasure in bringing a little joy into your humdrum lives.

The scores have been tallied, and all that is left is to view the bubble graphs.

So, now that everything is settled, La Cieca is ready to entertain questions or to…. what’s that? You say the bubble graphs are less than clear in delineating a winner or winners? Oh, well, you’re right, of course, but aren’t all those colorful little bubbles lovely? How they remind La Cieca of the poster for the 1971 revival of No, No, Nanette!

Dear Loni Zoe Ackerman—whatever is she doing with herself these days? ….Oh, yes, of course: the diva rankings!

CLASSIC DIVAS

CONTEMPORARY DIVAS

So, what have we learned, cher public?

Well, to begin with: it’s easier to be an older diva than a younger diva. Age adds to the “legendary” quality.

Retirement from the hurly-burly of the operatic stage perhaps adds a luster of soft focus to a diva, glossing over flaws that may have been more apparent when witnessed in real time.

Emotional Journey counts for a lot. Kunst and Stimm are about equally important, but you’d better have a lot of one or the other, or you’re no diva.

And for heaven’s sake, don’t be stingy with the Scandale!

La Cieca now invites the cher public to discuss the rankings, about which she is sure you will all be in complete agreement.

(Photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera)

Jay Caspian Kang, who has delighted us so often at Free Darko, also may be heard tweeting at maxpower51.

Emotional Journey

Yes, there are (many) nights when she phones it in, but when Angela Gheorghiu decides to take the audience on an Emotional Journey, a queen could ask for no better tour guide.

Jay Caspian Kang: “From 6:42 on in this video, she really does morph into another being, someone who doesn’t quite follow the same laws of physics as the rest of us. Maybe a later version of these rankings could examine what exactly happens when the diva starts to get all incandescent and then starts fucking shit up? It’s like she just went up a level in Dungeons and Dragons.”

Stimm

At any given time during a golden era there are perhaps four or five truly great voices; in our own less generously endowed epoch, Dolora Zajick reigns supreme as exemplar of Stimm.

Kunst

A generation’s definitive Kundry is by definition also its supreme practitioner of Kunst:  Waltraud Meier. (Note that in the course of this study we have observed the Kunstdiva in two somewhat different stages of her metamorphosis: standing immobile next to a grand piano, and crawling in a frenzy across a mirrored stage floor. The only immutable aspect of the Kunstdiva is her caftan.)

Iconic Moment

JCK: “This should have been narrated by Scott Hamilton. It’s like watching Surya Bonaly do fifteen backflips in a row in Olympic competition, not giving a shit that the judges aren’t allowed to score them as legitimate jumps. On the last backflip, she catches a bit of an edge but holds…HOLDS! On! Also, 1:03 would’ve broken the scale for the pop divas hand gestures scale. Even Mariah would have run out of notes to point out!”

La Cieca replies, “Fan or no fan, you have to admit that Cecilia Bartoli has trademarked The Cenerentola Show. (La Cieca adores how the bootleg camera does its own merry jig in time to the diva’s “Sparkle, Neeley, sparkle!” body English.)

Cult Status

It’s still a bit early in Joyce DiDonato‘s career to grant her full Cult Status, though this performance may well mark the turning point. She’s singing no differently (i.e., with uniform excellence) than she did before breaking her leg, but now she’s That Girl with Spunk.

Mr. Kang, who has delighted us so often at Free Darko, also may be heard tweeting at maxpower51.

Cher Pube Remko Jas whispers:

Roberta Alexander‘s Dress, Hair and Make-Up Class was the unmissable event of the 48th International Vocal Competion that is taking place in ‘s-Hertogenbosch right now….

It came as no surpise, therefore, that Miss Alexander herself is a regular visitor to parterre.com. She asked her audience yesterday who read it – one hand up! – after which she warmly recommended the site to all the participants in the workshop, and to the audience.  She added a small warning that parterre can be brutal sometimes, but it was great to hear a style icon like Miss Alexander expressing her love for La Cieca and her site….

Miss Alexander is genuinely funny, with the talent of a stand-up comédienne. Since she is not afraid to laugh at herself, students feel at ease, and open up to her immediately. Their discussions on what must be a very difficult aspect of the profession were candid, funny, and highly informative.

Well, you all know that La Cieca is a sucker (suckress?) for makeover advice, so she’ll go on to quote a few brani scelti from Remko’s roundup.

Not every lump and bump on your body needs to be seen! So don’t wear clothes that are too tight, and always wear “shape wear”(TM) underneath, which will cover up, among other things, those little rolls on your back. Also, beware of any panty line, and undergarment patterns (always flowers) coming through.

Don’t wear anything spandex or very short skirts, unless you have great legs. Bare legs never look pulled together on stage. There is no need for Amish type, thick black stockings, but a hint of dark is nice to set off the dress and the shoes.

Think about the character you sing, and dress accordingly. If you sing pants roles a lot, it is hard, but do try to think a little about variation. Always a pair of black slacks is boring – try combining them with an a-symetrical top, or with a nice, long jacket.

If you sing a Mass, don’t wear a strapless dress. Strapless dresses are tricky anyhow, because even skinny arms can look flabby in it. You need really good shoulders for a strapless dress.

If the skirt is too long, never lift it, just let it drop and walk. Picking it up is only permitted when you have to climb and descend stairs.

What is the best length of dress if you are overweight? That depends on the material, but a skirt onto the floor without stripes at all is best. Vertical stripes will stretch, and look messy. Horizontal ones will make you look like the Michelin Man.

Never ever wear jeans to an audition.

Invest in a good pair of shoes. Bronze colored sandals are best, but gold or silver ones are great too. The thinner, the better. Never forget that most of the audience is at feet height.

One good piece of jewellery is better than a lot of less good ones. Less is more. Not too much stuff going on, please. Don’t use boas and stoles unless you are a real pro in working them.  Most singers just fiddlle with them, which won’t do.

Never go to a theatre with just one dress – you can always tear it while putting on your shoes, you really need another outfit for emergencies.

Hair: Miss Alexander once went to an audition with an Angela Davis afro, and afterwards, an agent came to her, squashed her hair back, and exclaimed: “There is your face! There is your face!”

Make-up: Lip gloss is very difficult when you are singing. Miss Alexander once put some on. The first line she had to sing on stage started with “Ma che.” but her lips got stuck. And always use plenty, plenty of mascara.

A few tips for the men: Don’t combine a black suit with brown shoes. The shoes become way too prominent on stage. Remeber that most of the audience, sits at about the same height where your shoes are. It is better to wear no jacket at all than a jacket that is too big, or a jacket with sleeves that are too long. A short jacket makes you look like you are waiting tables in an Italian restaurant.

Comportment: Start by asking yourself the question: “what would you think of yourself when you saw yourself walking onto a stage?” On stage you need self-love, but it must never be over the top. You have to be honest, there is nothing worse than fake. Remember that the first thing the audience sees is you – so no ambling. You always need to smile too.How do you take bows? Preferably nice, gracefully, and normal looking. Always acknowledge your accompanist first before taking your bow.

Lanky László Pálfi from Hungary (Roberta Alexander “your language goes into the mouth, right?”) gave an excellent bowing demonstration. After a little practice, the ladies in the audience all expressed their admiration over his newly learned bow, with one hand on the piano, instead of grabbing his thighs. Very elegant!

Never try to keep eye contact with the public during your bow – that just looks silly. Good demonstration of this by La Alexander. Grabbing the piano is ok, although  Alexander was trained by her mother never to do this. Don’t give it a death grip, though. Find the light! Some singers seem to move to the one spot on stage where there is no light.  Hand gestures? Annoying and meaningless ones are not admitted. If you start the gesture, you have to finish it. Lieder for a long time were considered holier than holy. Nobody moved at all while singing them. If you watch old clips on youtube it is almost as if you look at a ventriloquist. It is admissible now to be a little more free, and move. You can have a little fun while telling the story.

The divas are compared according to scores assigned by La Cieca’s panel of experts, then we see an example of the quality discussed. (Please note that the diva featured in the video clip is not always the one achieving the highest score on that criterion.)

Emotional Journey

As John Yohalem is reputed to have written at least once, “Saying Leonie sang sharp tonight is like saying Leonie sang Strauss tonight.” Imperfect in practically every way a singer can be imperfect, and yet an artist of overwhelming visceral power, Leonie Rysanek is the exemplar of the Emotional Journey.

Stimm

Oh, yes, they had voices then, no doubt about that, but as a paragon of sheer vocal glamour, Miss Price won unanimous laurels from the panel. Note in particular at 5:30 how she not only sits on but walks on that coruscant and interpolated high D-flat!

Kunst

Though Christa Ludwig is infinitely less mannered than certain divas whose names are generally snarled through clenched teeth (and whose singing was generally snarled through clenched teeth, come to think of it), our scientist/opera neophyte Jay Caspian Kang is fascinated by the “odd, cyborg-ish quality to her emoting.”  He adds, “Her face is so big and Muppet-y that any nuance will be amplified, clearly mapped out….  For a pop comparison, Mariah Carey has a Muppet face, but doesn’t utilize it properly. Celine’s wish in life has always been to have a Muppet face, but the God of Canada left out broad cheekbones on that one. It does seem, though, in Opera, where the face must be taken in from afar, this Muppet face would be even more vital to conveying nuance to the entirety of the audience.”

Iconic Moment

The iconic moment is (not to put too morbid a spin on it) the bit that will get played at the memorial service and on the CNN special report “The Passing of a Diva: America Remembers.” And this is exactly how we will remember our Jackie: five minutes of killer Rossini, followed by a nice relaxed kibitz with Johnny Carson and Shecky Green.

(Jay adds: “That dress… it’s like UPS designed a thong for their carriers, scaled it for a 200 foot giant, cut a hole in the center and then dropped it over Marilyn Horne’s head. How does one sound so confident while wearing that?” La Cieca guesses, “Maybe she was planning a brunch on her own behalf?”)

Cult Status

Lately Renée Fleming has taken to calling herself “The People’s Diva,” or perhaps it is more accurate to say that Fleming’s publicist has been calling her that, and Fleming hasn’t bothered to object yet.  But the point is: anyone can worship “The People’s Diva,” it’s like going out on a limb and saying your favorite breakfast is French toast. The mark of a true opera queen is finding and adoring someone who either drives her fans bats by not showing up for performances (yes, I am talking about you, Montse) or else is simply a little more out of the mainstream. Tatiana Troyanos had everything a diva could want (including great hair) but among the most sumptuous of her gifts was her Cult Appeal.

Be sure to join us tomorrow for part two of “The Quantification of the Diva,” in which we’ll find out if Grandezza and Drag Imitability are mutually exclusive.

Jay Caspian Kang is a frequent contributor to Free Darko.

Starting this afternoon we will determine the answer to this most consuming of all conundrums the only way art can ever properly be judged: scientifically. Specifically we will apply the Kang Method (patent pending) to two divisions of divas from the years 1980-2010.

Starting with a list of over 100 nominees submitted by you, the cher public, La Cieca winnowed the roster down to 25 semi-finalists each in “Classic” and “Contemporary” diva divisions.  Then you, the cher public, voted (early, and in some cases, often) for your favorites, tallying over 15,000  total ballots cast.

“Classic” divas (those who are no longer actively performing opera) include Hildegard Behrens, Montserrat Caballé, Régine Crespin, Mirella Freni, Marilyn Horne, Christa Ludwig, Jessye Norman, Leontyne Price, Leonie Rysanek, Renata Scotto, Joan Sutherland and Tatiana Troyanos. (Because of ties, there are 12 instead of the announced 10 divas in this category.)

“Contemporary” divas (i.e., those still on the boards) who topped the list of nominations are Cecilia Bartoli, Natalie Dessay, Joyce DiDonato, Renée Fleming, Angela Gheorghiu, Edita Gruberova, Karita Mattila, Waltraud Meier, Anna Netrebko and Dolora Zajick.

And now, La Cieca can hear you wondering, just what sort of criteria are to be applied to these divas to define “greatness.”  La Cieca is so happy you asked so intelligent a question. Your doyenne considered applying “four basic qualities that comprise stardom in opera” as defined by Ethan Mordden in his definitive “inside look” Demented, i.e. Voice, Musicianship, Temperament and Commitment (though E.M. himself suggests the addition of yet a fifth quality, Audacity, as so memorably exemplified in the story of Grace Moore‘s step-ins.)

She (La Cieca, not Grace Moore) conferred as well with the expert Mordden invented for the occasion, Lotte Heinotz, the “curiously unpopular singer of minor roles active in Vienna in the early 1900s” who authored the “classic pamphlet Der Weltsopranführer.” Frau Heinotz, you will recall, insisted that “All the world of the diva may be divided into five parts: voice, profile, costume, entrance, and death scene. But if you have the first part, the rest will take care of itself.”

In the end, La Cieca based her criteria on those  devised by Jay Caspian Kang (not coincidentally, inventor of the Kang Method) for his definitive study of pop divadom in The Awl.  Certain qualities were eliminated from the discussion of opera divas as being lost arts: for example, in opera no one does “stank” these days, more’s the pity. Anyway, after great deliberation, La Cieca settled upon 10 “Diva Criteria” to be applied on a weighted basis to determine (definitively, mind you!) the ultimate in diva distinction.

Emotional Journey (200 points possible)

• Does the singer create the “grand opera buzz?” Briefly, do you leave the theater a different person? And if not, why the hell not?

Stimm (150 points possible)
Kunst (150 points possible)

• Voice vs. art. “The Stimmdiva’s idea of preparing Gounod’s Marguerite involves learning her music and ordering her outfits. The Kunstdiva reads Goethe.”

Iconic Moment (100 points possible)

• A phrase, a gesture or a situation so closely associated with the diva as to become her trademark. The Iconic Moment could be Maria Callas snarling at the process server or Meg Ryan‘s “I’ll have what she’s having” scene.

Cult Status (100 points possible)

• Artistic, financial and popular success is nothing without insanely obsessive fans to share it with.

Grandezza (100 points possible)

• The grace, confidence and repose only a great lady can wield, toots.

Scandale (100 points possible)

• Cancellations, feuds, insane demands and other sundry drama. (Note: wig anecdotes are scored both here and in the following category.)

Hair and Headgear (50 points possible)

• A diva without a turban is like… wait, what were we talking about again?

Weight Fluctuations (50 points possible)

• “With my avoirdupois and my tra la la la la I would be the chief sensation of the age.”

Drag Imitability (50 points possible)

• The diva’s persona should be so boldly defined, on the very cusp of mannerism, that an imaginative impersonator need apply only a thin veneer of exaggeration. Or, to put it another way, if she can’t be “done,” then she’s not a diva.

Keep watching parterre.com beginning this afternoon for the first installment of “Quantification of the Diva!”

So here’s how it works. After much consideration, La Cieca came to the conclusion that what we really need here are two divisions: “classic” divas who continued to sing past 1980 but are now no longer on the boards; and “current” divas who are still (more or less) active.  A few artists seemed to straddle the categories, but your doyenne applied her usual Solomon-like judgment to ensure proper bifurcation.

Following are two polls. You may vote for up to ten (10) divas in each poll. The ten divas in each division with the highest number of popular votes will be submitted to the “Greatest Diva” study.

Okay, so here we go.

The polls will remain open through midnight on Wednesday, September 15.

First, we’ll need a list of nominees from which La Cieca’s blue-ribbon panel will select the ten divas to be quantified. You, then, are invited to nominate your favorite opera diva of this generation. For the purposes of this discussion, “of this generation” shall be defined to mean “actively performing opera at some point during the period between 1980 and 2010.” For example, Leontyne Price would be eligible, even though she is now retired, because she last performed opera in 1985.

You may nominate as many divas as you like, and La Cieca notes that a paragraph enumerating each selection’s diva qualifications might well weigh in her favor when the time comes to winnow down the list to finalists. And, as always here at parterre, YouTube can speak even louder than words.

A final reminder: we are looking for Diva here; shrinking violets need not apply!

But, this time at least, the diva’s not the cause of the scandale, more like an innocent bystander. And, in fact, her upcoming performance of Annie Get Your Gun is being used as a sort of olive branch for the shortchanged patrons of the Ravinia Festival. [Chicago Tribune]

[Interviewer] TS: Can you just explain what this World Economic Forum thing is?

AN: What?

TS: You’re an ambassador –

AN: I don’t know. They told me something, so I said, ‘Thank you, it’s great.’ I think it’s a great honour.

TS: But you don’t know what it is?

AN: I don’t even know what I have to do.

TS: I think there’s a conference in Dar es Salaam you have to go to.

AN: Me? Oh – I had no idea. Wow. I don’t know.

[pause]

TS: Is that a Chopard watch?

AN: Yes. These are diamonds that are sparkling. Chopard is beautiful, they make in such a beautiful style, but the jewellery I’m going to wear in Manon is not Chopard.

La Verrett is heard here in the second act of Il trovatore opposite Luciano Pavarotti in the fall of 1976.

First, Anna Magnani is, as La Cieca imagines, Floria Tosca backstage at a provincial gig.

And now, another view of the character from Catherine Malfitano, who is directing Tosca for the English National Opera.

The danger of perfection

One reason a soprano might not sing at the Met is that, when she does have an engagement there, she waits until 15 minutes before curtain time, already costumed and wigged, to announce that she has “pulled some neck muscles.”

But she doesn’t cancel right away, instead insisting on being allowed on the set as late at 8:00 to vocalize in order to decide whether she can go on. (Now, you understand, the audience is already in the house so they can hear the singing behind the curtain.)

Meanwhile, the cover has been summoned from the canteen at 7:50. But as of 8:10, the diva and her entourage still can’t make up their collective minds whether she is up to the task, so someone in Met management (they’re all there, and they’re all pissed) makes an executive decision.

A quick, sheepish announcement is made before the curtain and the performance finally begins. The soprano and her manager slink out the stage door, right about the time the cover — still being sewn into her costume — sings her entrance lines.

No management, no matter how patient, is willing to put up with this sort of tsuris for a second-cast repertory performance in the last weeks of the season — especially on a day when a star bass-baritone fell and injured himself at a dress rehearsal and had to be replaced for the final act.

And whether the story outlined above is correct in every detail or not, the fact that a Met insider was eager to share it with La Cieca first thing this morning means that major feathers have been ruffled.

And that’s why she doesn’t sing at the Met.

Image of via the indispensable Parsifal’s.

Apparently, she simply could not stand the thought she would never again sing any of her great Strauss roles on stage. The intimate and very pleasant Cologne Opera House was selected for the occasion. In the eighties, Te Kanawa had scored huge successes there as Donna Elvira, Nozze Countess, and Arabella, but had not been back since.

Günther Krämer’s Rosenkavalier from 2002 is relatively traditional, and by now looks it age. It also looks cheap: inspired by an exotic landscape by Henri Rousseau, accessorized with white plastic garden furniture. The Gürzenich Orchestra was conducted by Patrik Ringborg.

When the curtain opened, we saw a tableau of a fully dressed couple, standing up: Octavian (Kammersängerin Claudia Mahnke) holding the Marschallin in his arms. Te Kanawa looked gorgeous, in an enormous white dress, and with her own coiffure.

Vocally, she needed a a while to warm up, and then there were the inevitable nerves. As a result, most of what came before “mein lieber Hippolyte” sounded tentative, with phrases sometimes more mumbled than sung. The highly sympathetic and experienced Mahnke really helped her through these awkward moments, and soon Dame Kiri regained herself, and started to actually sing.

Act I ended gloriously, with an very touching monologue. Te Kanawa is a Marschallin who does not mess with the part. There is plenty of feeling, but no wallowing in self-pity. The interpretation has not deepened notably over the years – but it was obvious to all last night that singing it meant an awful lot to her. It was urgent and tender at the same time. In fact, this was the most beautiful version of the piece I have ever heard.

Sexy Bjarni Thor Kristinsson was a wonderful Ochs. I loved his pink briefs!  Mahnke’s Octavian was gorgeous, touching in acts one and two, and genuinely funny in act three. Jutta Böhnert’s Sophie could not have been better.

In act three, in which the previously referenced  Ochs undergarments appear, the Marschallin enters from the auditorium – a nice coup. The trio was heavenly. Not an ugly sound was heard, the familiar te Kanawa sound miraculously soaring above it all.

The thunderous applause and bravos lasted for at least eight curtain calls. Of course, an entire career was applauded too, this Marschallin Kiri Te Kanawa sang last night was exceptional enough to merit all the adulation by itself.

Even so, this performance was much more than a star vehicle with just one point of interest. It was a great performance of an opera for which the entire cast should be praised.

The last chance to see Kiri’s Marschallin is on Saturday, April 17, at 18:30. A recital with Julian Reynolds follows on Saturday April 24, at 19:30.

Magda Olivero in Recital

Donaudy:

• Spirate pur, spirate
• Vaghissima sembianze
• Sorgi il sol!
• O del mio amato ben

Tosti:

• Ideale
• Dopo
• Segreto
• Pour un baiser

Hahn:

• D’une prison
• Le plus beau present
• L’heure exquise
• Si mes vers avaient des ailes

Respighi:

• Navicata
• Pioggia
• Stornellatrice
• Nebbie

Encores:

• Tosti: Sogno
• Puccini: “Sola, perduta, abbandonata” (Manon Lescaut)

Oct. 27, 1979 in New York, Garrick Ohlsson, Piano.

• Bellini: O quante volte (I Capuleti e i Montecchi)

May 2, 1981 in Vienna, Roland Schneider, Piano.

• Puccini: “Vissi d’arte” (Tosca)
• Massenet: “Adieu, notre petite table” (Manon)

David Gockley

One can practically see Gockley’s eyes flashing through the press release:

“It pains me greatly to announce that Ms. Garanca has chosen not to appear in next season’s Werther as promised. She is a glamorous young star who has created a stir in Europe and at the Metropolitan Opera, and I was looking forward to presenting her West Coast debut. However, after extensive discussions with her management and having filed a grievance through the American Guild of Musical Artists (AGMA), I am satisfied that the financial settlement we have reached disposes of the matter.”

Alice Coote, who replaces Garanca, will likely want to buy a few copies of the papers where the following paragraph appears:

“I am very pleased to welcome back to the War Memorial Opera House stage Alice Coote, a highly accomplished and extraordinary artist who has had two very big successes with us beginning with Alcina in 2002 and with Idomeneo in 2008…. Her magnificent artistry has been acclaimed around the world for her repertory ranging from Charlotte, Sesto and Octavian, to her recent triumph as Hansel at the Met. We are very honored to feature her in our new production.”

My personal exposure to the art of Daniela Dessì dates back to 1981, when she was taking her first professional steps under the tutelage of Rodolfo Celletti, one of Italy’s foremost vocal experts and teachers. I remember her as Berta in Il barbiere di Siviglia at the Festival della Valle d’Itria, where she performed a highly decorated version of the old maid’s “aria del sorbetto”. In the first decade of her career the Genoese soprano made a name for herself principally in the 18th century repertoire (Pergolesi, Salieri, Traetta, Cimarosa etc.), Mozart and some belcanto. Her fiery temperament soon led her towards the “big stuff”. I remember an interview in 1990 where she declared that she felt she had truly sung opera only after performing Marguerite in Faust.

Ms. Dessì’s imminent return to the Metropolitan Opera as Tosca may explain the reason this DVD of La fanciulla del West is being released in the United States only now, five years after its Italian distribution. The DVD was filmed live at the Puccini Festival at Torre del Lago in 2005, marking Dessì’s debut in the role.

Minnie is arguably Puccini’s most arduous soprano part, a veritable “monstre” role, ranging from a low B to a high C sharp, with a high, jagged, taxing tessitura that has often tried and defeated many of her illustrious colleagues. It also requires a strong middle voice able to penetrate the particularly dense orchestration. Finally, the soprano must possess the naturalness and simplicity for the “canto di conversazione” that abounds in this score.

The success of this opera is contingent mostly upon Minnie and her ability to sing and act. A shy and restrained soprano will doom the opera to boredom. On the other hand, if Minnie is way over the top, she risks becoming a caricature. Daniela Dessì has found the right balance. With a blazing intensity that never gives in to vulgarity, she sounds completely spontaneous and genuine in the recitatives and arioso of the first act, abetted by a voice that is attractive, rich and creamy in her middle range. She knows how to caress the sound while at the same time making every word intelligible.

Truly remarkable is her ability to change color and accent with the same instantaneous rapidity of the orchestra, and her belcanto background is easily discernible in the way she handles the Allegretto “Oh, se sapeste”. Whenever the action becomes dramatic, Ms. Dessì reveals an imperious articulation of fraseggio, a “conditio sine qua non” for this role.

A certain metallic quality sneaks in on her extreme high notes, especially when she sings forte. Nevertheless, this is not so frequent and invasive as to be become distractive. Her top in this performance is generally reliable: the high C in “Laggiù nel Soledad” is steady and solid, and even the C sharp in the second act duet with Rance is plausible. The B natural on the phrase “Su, su come le stelle” in the first act duet with the tenor is splendid, long and firm, a true gem.

Dessì’s stage (and life) partner, Fabio Armiliato could be easily described as the artistic antithesis of the soprano. His Dick Johnson tends to be bombastic, reluctant to nuances and gradations, with a limited palette of colors. To Mr. Armiliato’s credit, his instrument is a healthy one, with a secure, sonorous top. Lending a sort of generic fervor and excitement to the role, Mr. Armiliato offers a solid, reliable performance, without bothering to dig deep down Dick Johnson’s personality. As they do not grow on trees these days, I guess I should be content with a spinto tenor capable of getting to the end of this opera with no signs of fatigue.

Lucio Gallo disappoints as Jack Rance. His baritone is too light for the role and sounds dried up and devoid of overtones.

One of this opera’s biggest problems is the large number of secondary roles: if these are not assigned to competent performers, the first and the third act are in serious danger of falling apart, a risk here averted by the generally good quality of the character singers. It certainly helps that they are all Italian native speakers.

Alberto Veronesi, director of the Puccini Festival and newly appointed musical director of the Opera Orchestra of New York, is an impressive conductor. It is not difficult to vividly perceive his fiery and theatrical rhythm; the conviction with which he leads the first act duet between soprano and tenor, to which he imparts tenderness and élan with no fear of sounding sentimental and syrupy; or the orchestra’s pulsations and their timbric variety during the poker game.

I would like to single out the blazing second act finale, expressive peak of Puccini’s orchestration. This piece is particularly arduous to carry out because of its structure of eclectic cohabitation among Schoenbergian Sprechstimme, lyrical fragments, orchestral timbres and rhythms, which spin around, modify and return in the space of just a few measures. Veronesi holds the reins of the entire scene without ever letting the tension drop.

Occasionally the Italian conductor exaggerates: for instance, in the second act, when Minnie and Dick Johnson finally kiss: it sounds like the Apocalypse, and even if they had reached an orgasm, it would be always useful to remember the immortal motto of Jacques Vallée Des Barreaux “Voila bien du bruit pour une omelette”.  Ditto the end of the opera, when Minnie comes to rescue Dick Johnson: you would think it is Brünnhilde trying to save Siegmund.

One minor disappointment is the customary cut of the sixteen bars of music Puccini added to the score for a 1922 Roman revival of the opera. Concluding with a high C in unison, these bars represent the climax of the second act love duet, and once you have heard them, you feel there is something missing if they are omitted. In truth, the added music is so punishing that even the 1922 protagonists refused to sing it, and Puccini was only able to hear it the following year when legendary diva Giulia Tess and tenor Carmelo Alabiso performed the opera in Viareggio. By all accounts, though he was fully aware of the difficulty of those new measures (in a letter he writes: “Ci vuole gola, però!), Puccini’s final wish was for this music to be integral part of his masterpiece.

Ivan Stefanutti‘s production, with sets and costumes by American artist Nell, is for the most part traditional looking, down to the “A home for the boys” sign on the Polka saloon. Its grandiosity is perhaps a tad out of place: Minnie’s dwelling, a huge space complete with elaborate lace curtains, looks less a humble “capanna” than a high-end brothel. Nell’s eccentricity comes to the limelight in the third act, where two tall human thighbones replace the libretto’s giant redwoods. The costumes are period appropriate, except for the one worn by Minnie in the last act, where, together with a Davy Crockett hat and fur epaulets, she dons a garish burgundy long gown with a long gold-striped mantle of the same color.

So as to burnish her credentials as one of the leading Puccini sopranos of our time, Daniela Dessì has also recorded a brand new CD (released by Decca) entirely devoted to the Tuscan composer. All of his operas, except for the Le Villi, Edgar and Il tabarro, are represented, and in the case of La Bohème and Turandot, the arias of both soprano roles are performed.

This CD confirms what I wrote earlier about Dessì’s appropriate sense of style in this repertoire and her thorough grasp of the requirements of the so-called “verismo” Italian opera. Examine for instance the opening aria, “In quelle trine morbide”: the attack on the B flat is perfectly centered and delicate; when singing the words “carezza voluttuosa” she executes an almost imperceptible portamento that sounds exactly like a sensual caress, and the rolled “r” of “labbra ardenti” is erotically charged. In a few words, we are in the presence of that elusive idiomatic style which has become “rara avis” in this age of homogenized international superstars.

Once more, Ms. Dessì shows her technical prowess, with floating high notes, long interminable breaths, and skilful messe di voce. I was impressed by the final B flat in “Un bel dì vedremo,” and especially the end of “Vissi d’arte”, where she executes the tricky passage B flat-A flat-G in perfect pitch and without running out of steam.

This said, it is undeniable that traces of metallic sound on some of the extreme high notes are present in this recording as well, perhaps a bit more frequently than in the Fanciulla DVD. After all, this is not an album introducing the soprano “du jour”, but the summary of a thirty-year long career, most of which spent performing some of the most onerous roles of the Italian repertoire, including nearly ninety performances of Tosca.

Obviously some arias are vocally more suited to her voice than others. Unsurprisingly, the less felicitous rendition is “In questa reggia”; if the first part aptly expresses Turandot’s psychological alienation, the final section reveals too much friction in the sudden ascents to the high register, and her Calaf (it goes without saying, Fabio Armiliato), not very gentlemanly drowns her high C. Let us hope that the soprano will not be tempted to tackle the icy princess’ role on stage.