La bohème is better in translation
There are Bohèmes and Bohèmes, and it is almost a joke word these days, but the French show us how it is properly done.
The tenor sounds headstrong, impetuous – about to fall in love, just as Frenchmen can – and the libretto sounds perfect in French, more playful and wistful than in Italian. For some inexplicable reason, the “Che gelida manina” reminds me the legions of callous yet beautiful Frenchmen we meet in Edmund White novels. Ninon Vallin has that slight lemon-tart timbre that saves her Mimì from being merely an ingenue, but isn’t quite as, well, *mature* as Tante Licia Albanese. In the “Donde lieta usci”, she isn’t as heart-melting as Stratas or Freni, or as creamy as Caballé, but she has the right amount of light irony in her tone, barely covering the heartbreak. She is smiling to hide her tears. All in all, this reminds me more forcibly of a Montmartre garret than the more celebrated recordings.
Ronnie Banerjee
Ronnie Banerjee is an opera-lover and a scientist. Their very first opera was a Salome at the Leipzig Staatsoper. They are a Canadian researcher with a PhD in nanobiomaterials from Saskatoon, where they worked at the Canadian Light Source (a synchrotron), and occasionally scared personnel there with bad renditions of the confrontation scene from Maria Stuarda. They are presently based in Colorado, and look forward to visiting the Met one day.
