1959 Opera SIGNED AUTOGRAH PROGRAM Verdi FALSTAFF Zeffirelli GIULINI Corena

  • DESCRIPTION : Up for auction is a UNIQUE MUSIC MEMORABILIA ITEM. It's a luxurious extensive PHOTO PROGRAM of the 1959 production ( Fully dated ) of the VERDI opera "FALSTAFF" by CARLO MARIA GIULINI and FRANCO ZEFFIRELLI which is HAND SIGNED - AUTOGRAPHED by the WHOLE ENSAMBLE , Including among others : GIULINI , Fernando Corena , Walter Monachsi, Mario Spina, Mario Calvin, Ilva Ligabue, Oralia Dominguez , Mariella Adani, Enrico Campi , Angelo Mercuriali and others. The PROGRAM is so NEATLY and BEAUTIFULY autographed that the double spread LEAF with all the SIGNED - AUTOGRAPHED PHOTOS can be easily FRAMED. Written in ENGLISH and HEBREW. Numerous articles regarding VERDI, FALSTAFF and the ENSAMBLE. Also the inevitable numerous PERIOD ADVERTISEMENTS. Original illustrated wrappers . Around 8.5 x 12 " . 32 unpaged chromo pp excluding the covers . Hebrew & English. Very good condition . ( Pls look at scan for accurate AS IS images ) Will be sent inside a protective rigid sealed packaging .PAYMENTS : Payment method accepted : Paypal .SHIPPMENT : SHIPP worldwide via registered airmail is $18 . Will be sent inside a protective packaging. Handling within 3-5 days after payment. Estimated Int'l duration around 14 days. Falstaff (Italian pronunciation: [ˈfalstaf]) is an opera in three acts by the Italian composer Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901). The libretto was adapted by Arrigo Boito from Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor and scenes from Henry IV, parts 1 and 2. The work premiered on 9 February 1893 at La Scala, Milan. Verdi wrote Falstaff, which was the last of his 28 operas, as he was approaching the age of 80. It was his second comedy, and his third work based on a Shakespeare play, following Macbeth and Otello. The plot revolves around the thwarted, sometimes farcical, efforts of the fat knight, Sir John Falstaff, to seduce two married women to gain access to their husbands' wealth. Verdi was concerned about working on a new opera at his advanced age, but he yearned to write a comic work and was pleased with Boito's draft libretto. It took the collaborators three years from mid-1889 to complete. Although the prospect of a new opera from Verdi aroused immense interest in Italy and around the world, Falstaff did not prove to be as popular as earlier works in the composer's canon. After the initial performances in Italy, other European countries and the US, the work was neglected until the conductor Arturo Toscanini insisted on its revival at La Scala and the Metropolitan Opera in New York from the late 1890s into the next century. Some felt that the piece suffered from a lack of the full-blooded melodies of the best of Verdi's previous operas, a view strongly contradicted by Toscanini. Conductors of the generation after Toscanini to champion the work included Herbert von Karajan, Georg Solti and Leonard Bernstein. The work is now part of the regular operatic repertory. Verdi made numerous changes to the music after the first performance, and editors have found difficulty in agreeing on a definitive score. The work was first recorded in 1932 and has subsequently received many studio and live recordings. Singers closely associated with the title role have included Victor Maurel (the first Falstaff), Mariano Stabile, Giuseppe Valdengo, Tito Gobbi, Geraint Evans and Bryn Terfel. Contents [hide] 1 Composition history 1.1 Conception 1.2 Composition 2 Performance history 2.1 Premieres 2.2 Neglect 2.3 Re-emergence 3 Roles 4 Synopsis 4.1 Act 1 4.2 Act 2 4.3 Act 3 5 Music and drama 6 Recordings 7 Notes, references and sources 8 Further reading 9 External links Composition history[edit] Conception[edit] By 1889 Verdi had been an opera composer for more than fifty years. He had written 27 operas, of which only one was a comedy, his second work, Un giorno di regno, staged unsuccessfully in 1840.[1] His fellow composer Rossini commented that he admired Verdi greatly, but thought him incapable of writing a comedy. Verdi disagreed and said that he longed to write another light-hearted opera, but nobody would give him the chance.[2] He had included moments of comedy even in his tragic operas, for example in Un ballo in maschera and La forza del destino.[3] Boito in 1893 For a comic subject Verdi considered Cervantes's Don Quixote and plays by Goldoni, Molière and Labiche, but found none of them wholly suitable.[2] The singer Victor Maurel sent him a French libretto based on Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. Verdi liked it, but replied that "to deal with it properly you need a Rossini or a Donizetti".[n 1] Following the success of Otello in 1887 he commented, "After having relentlessly massacred so many heroes and heroines, I have at last the right to laugh a little." He confided his ambition to the librettist of Otello, Arrigo Boito.[2] Boito said nothing at the time, but he secretly began work on a libretto based on The Merry Wives of Windsor with additional material taken from Henry IV, parts 1 and 2.[2] Many composers had set the play to music, with little success, among them Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf (1796), Antonio Salieri (1799), Michael William Balfe (1835) and Adolphe Adam(1856).[6] The first version to secure a place in the operatic repertoire was Otto Nicolai's The Merry Wives of Windsor in 1849, but its success was largely confined to German opera houses.[7] Boito was doubly pleased with The Merry Wives as a plot. Not only was it Shakespearian, it was based in part on Trecento Italian works – Il Pecorone by Ser Giovanni Fiorentino, and Boccaccio's Decameron. Boito adopted a deliberately archaic form of Italian to "lead Shakespeare's farce back to its clear Tuscan source", as he put it.[8] He trimmed the plot, halved the number of characters in the play,[n 2] and gave the character of Falstaff more depth by incorporating dozens of passages from Henry IV.[8][n 3] Verdi received the draft libretto a few weeks later, by early July 1889, at a time when his interest had been piqued by reading Shakespeare's play: "Benissimo! Benissimo! ... No one could have done better than you", he wrote back.[13] Like Boito, Verdi loved and revered Shakespeare. The composer did not speak English, but he owned and frequently re-read Shakespeare's plays in Italian translations by Carlo Rusconi and Giulio Carcano, which he kept by his bedside.[14][n 4] He had earlier set operatic adaptations of Shakespeare's Macbeth (in 1847) and Othello (in 1887) and had considered King Lear as a subject; Boito had suggested Antony and Cleopatra.[15] What a joy! To be able to say to the Audience: "WE ARE HERE AGAIN!! COME AND SEE US!!" “” Verdi to Boito, 8 July 1889[13] Verdi still had doubts, and on the next day sent another letter to Boito expressing his concerns. He wrote of "the large number of years" in his age, his health (which he admitted was still good) and his ability to complete the project: "if I were not to finish the music?" He said that the project could all be a waste of the younger man's time and distract Boito from completing his own new opera (which became Nerone).[13] Yet, as his biographer Mary Jane Phillips-Matz notes, "Verdi could not hide his delight at the idea of writing another opera". On 10 July 1889 he wrote again: Amen; so be it! So let's do Falstaff! For now, let's not think of obstacles, of age, of illnesses! I also want to keep the deepest secrecy: a word that I underline three times to you that no one must know anything about it! [He notes that his wife will know about it, but assures Boito that she can keep a secret.] Anyway, if you are in the mood, then start to write.[16] Composition[edit] Boito's original sketch is lost, but surviving correspondence shows that the finished opera is not greatly different from his first thoughts. The major differences were that an act 2 monologue for Ford was moved from scene 2 to scene 1, and that the last act originally ended with the marriage of the lovers rather than with the lively vocal and orchestral fugue, which was Verdi's idea.[17] He wrote to Boito in August 1889 telling him that he was writing a fugue: "Yes, Sir! A fugue ... and a buffafugue", which "could probably be fitted in".[18] Falstaff, by Charles Robert Leslie Verdi accepted the need to trim Shakespeare's plot to keep the opera within an acceptable length. He was sorry, nonetheless, to see the loss of Falstaff's second humiliation, dressed up as the Wise Woman of Brentford to escape from Ford.[n 5] He wrote of his desire to do justice to Shakespeare: "To sketch the characters in a few strokes, to weave the plot, to extract all the juice from that enormous Shakespearian orange".[20] Shortly after the premiere an English critic, R A Streatfeild, remarked on how Verdi succeeded: The leading note of [Falstaff]'s character is sublime self-conceit. If his belief in himself were shattered, he would be merely a vulgar sensualist and debauchee. As it is, he is a hero. For one terrible moment in the last act his self-satisfaction wavers. He looks round and sees every one laughing at him. Can it be that he has been made a fool of? But no, he puts the horrible suggestion from him, and in a flash is himself again. "Son io," he exclaims with a triumphant inspiration, "che vi fa scaltri. L'arguzia mia crea l'arguzia degli altri." ["I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men", a line from Henry IV part 2.] Verdi has caught this touch and indeed a hundred others throughout the opera with astonishing truth and delicacy.[21] In November Boito took the completed first act to Verdi at Sant'Agata, along with the second act, which was still under construction: "That act has the devil on its back; and when you touch it, it burns", Boito complained.[22] They worked on the opera for a week, then Verdi and his wife Giuseppina Strepponi went to Genoa. No more work was done for some time.[23] The writer Russ McDonald observes that a letter from Boito to Verdi touches on the musical techniques used in the opera – he wrote of how to portray the characters Nannetta and Fenton: "I can't quite explain it: I would like as one sprinkles sugar on a tart to sprinkle the whole comedy with that happy love without concentrating it at any one point."[24] The first act was completed by March 1890;[25] the rest of the opera was not composed in chronological order, as had been Verdi's usual practice. The musicologist Roger Parker comments that this piecemeal approach may have been "an indication of the relative independence of individual scenes".[26] Progress was slow, with composition "carried out in short bursts of activity interspersed with long fallow periods" partly caused by the composer's depression. Verdi was weighed down by the fear of being unable to complete the score, and also by the deaths and impending deaths of close friends, including the conductors Franco Faccio and Emanuele Muzio.[26] There was no pressure on the composer to hurry. As he observed at the time, he was not working on a commission from a particular opera house, as he had in the past, but was composing for his own pleasure: "in writing Falstaff, I haven't thought about either theatres or singers".[26] He reiterated this idea in December 1890, a time when his spirits were very low after Muzio's death that November: "Will I finish it [Falstaff]? Or will I not finish it? Who knows! I am writing without any aim, without a goal, just to pass a few hours of the day".[27] By early 1891 he was declaring that he could not finish the work that year, but in May he expressed some small optimism, which by mid-June, had turned into: The Big Belly ["pancione", the name given to the opera before the composition of Falstaff became public knowledge] is on the road to madness. There are some days when he does not move, he sleeps, and is in a bad humour. At other times he shouts, runs, jumps, and tears the place apart; I let him act up a bit, but if he goes on like this, I will put him in a muzzle and straitjacket.[28] Victor Maurel as Iago in Boito and Verdi's Otello Boito was overjoyed, and Verdi reported that he was still working on the opera. The two men met in October or November 1891,[29]after which the Verdis were in Genoa for the winter. They were both taken ill there, and two months of work were lost. By mid-April 1892 the scoring of the first act was complete and by June–July Verdi was considering potential singers for roles in Falstaff. For the title role he wanted Victor Maurel, the baritone who had sung Iago in Otello, but at first the singer sought contractual terms that Verdi found unacceptable: "His demands were so outrageous, exorbitant, [and] incredible that there was nothing else to do but stop the entire project".[30] Eventually they reached agreement and Maurel was cast.[n 6] By September Verdi had agreed in a letter to his publisher Casa Ricordi that La Scala could present the premiere during the 1892–93 season, but that he would retain control over every aspect of the production. An early February date was mentioned along with the demand that the house would be available exclusively after 2 January 1893 and that, even after the dress rehearsal, he could withdraw the opera: "I will leave the theatre, and [Ricordi] will have to take the score away".[32] The public learned of the new opera towards the end of 1892, and intense interest was aroused, increased rather than diminished by the secrecy with which Verdi surrounded the preparations; rehearsals were in private, and the press was kept at arm's length.[33] Apart from Verdi's outrage at the way that La Scala announced the season's programme on 7 December – "either a revival of Tannhäuser or Falstaff" – things went smoothly in January 1893 up to the premiere performance on 9 February.[34] Performance history[edit] Verdi directing the rehearsals of Falstaff Premieres[edit] The first performance of Falstaff was at La Scala in Milan on 9 February 1893, nearly six years after Verdi's previous premiere. For the first night, official ticket prices were thirty times greater than usual.[35][n 7] Royalty, aristocracy, critics and leading figures from the arts all over Europe were present.[35] The performance was a huge success under the baton of Edoardo Mascheroni; numbers were encored, and at the end the applause for Verdi and the cast lasted an hour.[n 8] That was followed by a tumultuous welcome when the composer, his wife and Boito arrived at the Grand Hotel de Milan.[35] Over the next two months the work was given twenty-two performances in Milan and then taken by the original company, led by Maurel, to Genoa, Rome, Venice, Trieste, Vienna and, without Maurel, to Berlin.[37] Verdi and his wife left Milan on 2 March; Ricordi encouraged the composer to go to the planned Rome performance of 14 April, to maintain the momentum and excitement that the opera had generated. The Verdis, along with Boito and Giulio Ricordi, attended together with King Umberto I and other major royal and political figures of the day. The king introduced Verdi to the audience from the Royal Box to great acclaim, "a national recognition and apotheosis of Verdi that had never been tendered him before", notes Phillips-Matz.[38] During these early performances Verdi made substantial changes to the score. For some of these he altered his manuscript, but for others musicologists have had to rely on the numerous full and piano scores put out by Ricordi.[39] Further changes were made for the Paris premiere in 1894, which are also inadequately documented. Ricordi attempted to keep up with the changes, issuing new edition after new edition, but the orchestral and piano scores were often mutually contradictory.[39] The Verdi scholar James Hepokoski considers that a definitive score of the opera is impossible, leaving companies and conductors to choose between a variety of options.[39] In a 2013 study Philip Gossett disagrees, believing that the autograph is essentially a reliable source, augmented by contemporary Ricordi editions for the few passages that Verdi omitted to amend in his own score.[40] Poster for original cast performance, Trieste, 1894 The first performances outside the Kingdom of Italy were in Trieste and Vienna, in May 1893.[41] The work was given in the Americas and across Europe. The Berlin premiere of 1893 so excited Ferruccio Busoni that he drafted a letter to Verdi, in which he addressed him as "Italy's leading composer" and "one of the noblest persons of our time", and in which he explained that "Falstaff provoked in me such a revolution of spirit that I can ... date [to the experience] the beginning of a new epoch in my artistic life."[42] Antonio Scottiplayed the title role in Buenos Aires in July 1893; Gustav Mahler conducted the opera in Hamburg in January 1894; a Russian translation was presented in St Petersburg in the same month.[43] Paris was regarded by many as the operatic capital of Europe, and for the production there in April 1894 Boito, who was fluent in French, made his own translation with the help of the Parisian poet Paul Solanges.[43] This translation, approved by Verdi, is quite free in its rendering of Boito's original Italian text. Boito was content to delegate the English and German translations to William Beatty Kingston and Max Kalbeck respectively.[43] The London premiere, sung in Italian, was at Covent Garden on 19 May 1894. The conductor was Mancinelli, and Zilli and Pini Corsi repeated their original roles. Falstaff was sung by Arturo Pessina; Maurel played the role at Covent Garden the following season.[44] On 4 February 1895 the work was first presented at the Metropolitan Opera, New York;[45] Mancinelli conducted and the cast included Maurel as Falstaff, Emma Eames as Alice, Zélie de Lussan as Nannetta and Sofia Scalchi as Mistress Quickly.[46] Neglect[edit] Bohumil Benoni as Falstaff, 1894 After the initial excitement, audiences quickly diminished. Operagoers were nonplussed by the absence of big traditional arias and choruses. A contemporary critic summed it up: "'Is this our Verdi?' they asked themselves. 'But where is the motive; where are the broad melodies ... where are the usual ensembles; the finales?'"[41] By the time of Verdi's death in 1901 the work had fallen out of the international repertoire. The rising young conductor Arturo Toscanini was a strong advocate of the work, and did much to save it from neglect. As musical director of La Scala (from 1898) and the Metropolitan Opera (from 1908), he programmed Falstaff from the start of his tenure. Richard Aldrich, music critic of The New York Times, wrote that Toscanini's revival "ought to be marked in red letters in the record of the season. Falstaff, which was first produced here on Feb. 4. 1895, has not been given since the following season, and was heard in these two seasons only half a dozen times in all."[47] Aldrich added that though the general public might have had difficulty with the work, "to connoisseurs it was an unending delight".[47] In Britain, as in continental Europe and the US, the work fell out of the repertoire. Sir Thomas Beecham revived it in 1919, and recalling in his memoirs that the public had stayed away he commented: I have often been asked why I think Falstaff is not more of a box-office attraction, and I do not think the answer is far to seek. Let it be admitted that there are fragments of melody as exquisite and haunting as anything that Verdi has written elsewhere, such as the duet of Nanetta and Fenton in the first act and the song of Fenton at the beginning of the final scene, which have something of the lingering beauty of an Indian summer. But in comparison with every other work of the composer, it is wanting in tunes of a broad and impressive character, and one or two of the type of "O Mia Regina", "Ritorna Vincitor", or "Ora per sempre addio" might have helped the situation.[48] Toscanini recognised that this was the view of many, but he believed the work to be Verdi's greatest opera; he said, "I believe it will take years and years before the general public understand this masterpiece, but when they really know it they will run to hear it like they do now for Rigoletto and La traviata."[49] Re-emergence[edit] The conductor Arturo Toscanini, who strove to return Falstaff to the regular repertory Toscanini returned to La Scala in 1921 and remained in charge there until 1929, presenting Falstaff in every season. He took the work to Germany and Austria in the late 1920s and the 1930s, conducting it in Vienna, Berlin and at three successive Salzburg Festivals. Among those inspired by Toscanini's performances were Herbert von Karajan and Georg Solti, who were among his répétiteurs at Salzburg. Toscanini's younger colleague Tullio Serafin continued to present the work in Germany and Austria after Toscanini refused to perform there because of his loathing of the Nazi regime.[50] When Karajan was in a position to do so he added Falstaff to the repertoire of his opera company at Aachen in 1941,[50] and he remained a proponent of the work for the rest of his career, presenting it frequently in Vienna, Salzburg and elsewhere, and making audio and video recordings of it.[51] Solti also became closely associated with Falstaff, as did Carlo Maria Giulini; they both conducted many performances of the work in mainland Europe, Britain and the US and made several recordings.[52] Leonard Bernstein conducted the work at the Met and the Vienna State Opera, and on record.[53] The advocacy of these and later conductors has given the work an assured place in the modern repertoire.[n 9] Among revivals in the 1950s and later, Hepokoski singles out as particularly notable the Glyndebourne productions with Fernando Corena and later Geraint Evans in the title role; three different stagings by Franco Zeffirelli, for the Holland Festival (1956), Covent Garden (1961) and the Metropolitan Opera (1964); and Luchino Visconti's 1966 version in Vienna.[55] A 1982 production by Ronald Eyre, more reflective and melancholy than usual, was staged in Los Angeles, London and Florence; Renato Bruson was Falstaff and Giulini conducted.[56] Among more recent players of the title role Bryn Terfel has taken the part at Covent Garden in 1999, in a production by Graham Vick, conducted by Bernard Haitink.[57] and at the Metropolitan Opera in a revival of the Zeffirelli production, conducted by James Levine in 2006.[58] Although Falstaff has become a regular repertoire work there nonetheless remains a view expressed by John von Rhein in The Chicago Tribune in 1985: "Falstaffprobably always will fall into the category of 'connoisseur's opera' rather than taking its place as a popular favorite on the order of La Traviata or Aida."[59] As noted by Operabase, during the 2012–13 season, the work appeared at number 32 of the 50 operas most often performed; in the 2009–10 season it ranked at number 24.[60] Roles[edit] Role Voice type Premiere cast, 9 February 1893[61] (Conductor: Edoardo Mascheroni)[62] Sir John Falstaff, a fat knight baritone Victor Maurel Ford, a wealthy man baritone Antonio Pini-Corsi Alice Ford, his wife soprano Emma Zilli Nannetta, their daughter soprano Adelina Stehle Meg Page mezzo-soprano Virginia Guerrini Mistress Quickly contralto Giuseppina Pasqua Fenton, one of Nannetta's suitors tenor Edoardo Garbin Dr Caius tenor Giovanni Paroli Bardolfo, a follower of Falstaff tenor Paolo Pelagalli-Rossetti Pistola, a follower of Falstaff bass Vittorio Arimondi Mine Host of the Garter Inn Silent Attilio Pulcini Robin, Falstaff's page Silent Chorus of townspeople, Ford's servants, and masqueraders dressed as fairies etc. Synopsis[edit] Time: The reign of Henry IV, 1399 to 1413[63] Place: Windsor, England Act 1[edit] A room at the Garter Inn Falstaff and his servants, Bardolfo and Pistola, are drinking at the inn. Dr Caius bursts in and accuses Falstaff of burgling his house and Bardolfo of picking his pocket. He is ejected. Falstaff hands a letter to each of his servants for delivery to Alice Ford and Meg Page, two wealthy married women. In these two identical letters, Falstaff professes his love for each of the women, although it is access to their husbands' money that he chiefly covets. Bardolfo and Pistola refuse, claiming that honour prevents them from obeying him. Falstaff dispatches his page, Robin, to deliver the letters. Falstaff delivers a tirade at his rebellious followers (L'onore! Ladri ... ! / "Honour! You rogues ... !") telling them that honour is a mere word and is of no practical value. He chases them out of his sight. Ford's garden Alice and Meg have received Falstaff's letters. They compare them, see that they are identical and, together with Mistress Quickly and Nannetta Ford, resolve to punish Falstaff. Meanwhile, Ford has been warned of the letters by Bardolfo and Pistola. All three are thirsty for revenge and are supported by Dr Caius and Fenton, a young gentleman. To Ford's disapproval, Fenton is in love with Nannetta. Finding a moment to be alone, the young lovers exchange banter. They are interrupted by the return of Alice, Meg and Mistress Quickly. The act ends with an ensemble in which the women and the men separately plan revenge on Falstaff. Act 2[edit] A room at the Garter Inn Falstaff is alone at the inn. Bardolfo and Pistola, now in the pay of Ford, enter and pretend to beg for forgiveness for past transgressions. They announce to their master the arrival of Mistress Quickly, who delivers an invitation to go to Alice's house that afternoon between the hours of two and three. She also delivers an answer from Meg Page and assures Falstaff that neither is aware of the other's letter. Falstaff celebrates his potential success ("Va, vecchio John" / "Go, old Jack, go your own way"). Ford arrives, masquerading as "Signor Fontana", supposedly an admirer of Alice; he offers money to the fat knight to seduce her. Falstaff is puzzled at the request, and "Fontana" explains that if Alice succumbs to Falstaff, it will then be easier for Fontana to overcome her virtuous scruples. Falstaff agrees with pleasure and reveals that he already has a rendezvous arranged with Alice for two o'clock – the hour when Ford is always absent from home. Falstaff goes off to change into his best clothes; Ford is consumed with jealousy (È sogno o realtà? / "Is it a dream or reality?"). When Falstaff returns in his finery, they leave together with elaborate displays of mutual courtesy. Engraving by Ettore Tito of act 2, scene 2, from the original production. Ford and the servants creep towards Fenton and Nannetta, who they think are Falstaff and Alice, behind the screen, while the women stifle Falstaff in the laundry basket. A room in Ford's house The three women plot their strategy ("Gaie Comari di Windsor" / "Merry wives of Windsor, the time has come!"). They are in high spirits, but Alice notices that Nannetta is not. This is because Ford plans to marry her to Dr Caius, a man old enough to be her grandfather; the women reassure her that they will prevent it. Mistress Quickly announces Falstaff's arrival, and Mistress Ford has a large laundry basket and a screen placed in readiness. Falstaff's attempts to seduce Alice with tales of his past glory ("Quand'ero paggio del Duca di Norfolk" / "When I was page to the Duke of Norfolk I was slender") are cut short, as Mistress Quickly reports the impending arrival of Ford with a retinue of henchmen to catch his wife's lover. Falstaff hides first behind the screen, and then the women hide him in the laundry basket. In the meantime Fenton and Nannetta hide behind the screen. The men hear the sound of a kiss behind it. They assume it is Falstaff with Alice, but instead they find the young lovers. Ford orders Fenton to leave. Inside the hamper Falstaff is almost suffocating. While the men resume the search of the house Alice orders her servants to throw the laundry basket through the window into the River Thames, where Falstaff endures the jeers of the crowd. Act 3[edit] Before the inn Falstaff glumly curses the sorry state of the world. Some mulled wine soon improves his mood. Mistress Quickly arrives and delivers another invitation to meet Alice. Falstaff at first wants nothing to do with it, but she persuades him. He is to meet Alice at midnight at Herne's Oak in Windsor Great Park dressed up as Herne the Hunter. He and Mistress Quickly go inside the inn. Ford has realised his error in suspecting his wife, and they and their allies have been watching secretly. They now concoct a plan for Falstaff's punishment: dressed as supernatural creatures, they will ambush and torment him at midnight. Ford privately proposes a separate plot to Caius: Nannetta will be disguised as Queen of the Fairies, Caius will wear a monk's costume, and Ford will join the two of them with a nuptial blessing. Mistress Quickly overhears and quietly vows to thwart Ford's scheme. Herne's Oak in Windsor Park on a moonlit midnight Fenton arrives at the oak tree and sings of his happiness ("Dal labbro il canto estasiato vola" / "From my lips, a song of ecstasy flies") ending with "Lips that are kissed lose none of their allure." Nannetta enters to finish the line with "Indeed, they renew it, like the moon." The women arrive and disguise Fenton as a monk, telling him that they have arranged to spoil Ford's and Caius's plans. Nannetta, as the Fairy Queen, instructs her helpers ("Sul fil d'un soffio etesio" / "On the breath of a fragrant breeze, fly, nimble spirits") before all the characters arrive on the scene. Falstaff's attempted love scene with Alice is interrupted by the announcement that witches are approaching, and the men, disguised as elves and fairies, soundly thrash Falstaff. At length he recognises Bardolfo in disguise. The joke is over, and Falstaff acknowledges that he has received his due. Ford announces that a wedding shall ensue. Caius and the Queen of the Fairies enter. A second couple, also in masquerade, ask Ford to deliver the same blessing for them as well. Ford conducts the double ceremony. Caius finds that instead of Nannetta, his bride is the disguised Bardolfo, and Ford has unwittingly blessed the marriage of Fenton and Nannetta. Ford accepts the fait accompli with good grace. Falstaff, pleased to find himself not the only dupe, proclaims in a fugue, which the entire company sings, that all the world is folly, and all are figures of fun (Tutto nel mondo è burla ... Tutti gabbati! / "Everything in the world is a jest ..."). Music and drama[edit] Verdi scored Falstaff for three flutes (third doubling piccolo), two oboes, English horn, two clarinets, bass clarinet, two bassoons, four horns, three trumpets, four trombones, timpani, percussion (triangle, cymbals, bass drum), harp, and strings. In addition, a guitar, natural horn, and bell are heard from offstage.[64] Unlike most of Verdi's earlier operatic scores, Falstaff is through-composed. No list of numbers is printed in the published full score.[64] The score differs from much of Verdi's earlier work by having no overture: there are seven bars for the orchestra before the first voice (Dr Caius) enters.[65] The critic Rodney Milnes comments that "enjoyment ... shines from every bar in its irresistible forward impulse, its effortless melody, its rhythmic vitality, and sureness of dramatic pace and construction."[66] In The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, Roger Parker writes that: the listener is bombarded by a stunning diversity of rhythms, orchestral textures, melodic motifs and harmonic devices. Passages that in earlier times would have furnished material for an entire number here crowd in on each other, shouldering themselves unceremoniously to the fore in bewildering succession.[26] First edition cover The opera was described by its creators as a commedia lirica.[n 10] McDonald commented in 2009 that Falstaff is very different – a stylistic departure – from Verdi's earlier work.[68] In McDonald's view most of the musical expression is in the dialogue, and there is only one traditional aria.[68] The result is that "such stylistic economy – more sophisticated, more challenging than he had employed before – is the keynote of the work." McDonald argues that consciously or unconsciously, Verdi was developing the idiom that would come to dominate the music of the 20th century: "the lyricism is abbreviated, glanced at rather than indulged. Melodies bloom suddenly and then vanish, replaced by contrasting tempo or an unexpected phrase that introduces another character or idea".[68] In McDonald's view the orchestral writing acts as a sophisticated commentator on the action.[68] It has influenced at least one of Verdi's operatic successors: in 1952 Imogen Holst, musical assistant to Benjamin Britten, wrote, after a performance of Falstaff, "I realised for the first time how much Ben owes to [Verdi]. There are orchestral bits which are just as funny to listen to as the comic instrumental bits in A. Herring!"[69] The extent to which Falstaff is a "Shakespearian" opera has often been debated by critics. Although the action is taken from The Merry Wives of Windsor, some commentators feel that Boito and Verdi have transmuted Shakespeare's play into a wholly Italian work. The soprano Elisabeth Schwarzkopf believed there was nothing English or Shakespearian about the comedy: "it was all done through the music".[70] In 1961 Peter Heyworth wrote in The Observer, "Because of Shakespeare we like to think of Falstaff as a work that has a certain Englishness. In fact the opera is no more English than Aida is Egyptian. Boito and Verdi between them transformed the fat knight into one of the archetypes of opera buffa."[71] Verdi himself, however, felt that the Falstaff of the opera is not a conventional Italian buffo character, but portrays Shakespeare's fuller, more ambiguous Falstaff of the Henry IV plays: "My Falstaff is not merely the hero of The Merry Wives of Windsor, who is simply a buffoon, and allows himself to be tricked by the women, but also the Falstaff of the two parts of Henry IV. Boito has written the libretto in accordance." [2] A contemporary critic argued that the text "imitated with marvellous accuracy the metre and rhythm of Shakespeare's verse",[21] but Hepokoski notes Boito's use of traditional Italian metric conventions.[n 11] Another recurrent question is how much, if at all, Verdi was influenced by Wagner's comic opera Die Meistersinger. At the time of the premiere this was a sensitive subject; many Italians were suspicious of or hostile to Wagner's music, and were protective in a nationalistic way of Verdi's reputation.[73] Nevertheless, Verdi's new style was markedly different from that of his popular works of the 1850s and 1860s, and it seemed to some to have Wagnerian echoes.[73] In 1999 the critic Andrew Porter wrote, "That Falstaff was Verdi's and Boito's answer to Wagner's Meistersinger seems evident now. But the Italian Falstaff moves more quickly."[8] Toscanini, who did more than anyone else to bring Falstaff into the regular operatic repertoire, commented: the difference between Falstaff, which is the absolute masterpiece, and Die Meistersinger, which is an outstanding Wagnerian opera. Just think for a moment how many musical means – beautiful ones, certainly – Wagner must make use of to describe the Nuremberg night. And look how Verdi gets a similarly startling effect at a similar moment with three notes.[74] Verdi scholars including Julian Budden have analysed the music in symphonic terms – the opening section "a perfect little sonata movement", the second act concluding with a variant of the classic slow concertante ensemble leading to a fast stretto, and the whole opera ending with "the most academic of musical forms", a fugue.[75] Milnes suggests that this shows "a wise old conservative's warning about the excesses of the verismo school of Italian opera" already on the rise by the 1890s.[76] Among the solo numbers woven into the continuous score are Falstaff's "honour" monologue, which concludes the first scene, and his reminiscent arietta("Quand'ero paggio") about himself as a young page.[77] The young lovers, Nannetta and Fenton, are given a lyrical and playful duet ("Labbra di foco") in Act I;[76] in Act III, Fenton's impassioned love song, "Dal labbro il canto estasiato vola" briefly becomes a duet when Nannetta joins him.[76] She then has the last substantial solo section of the score, the "fairy" aria, "Sul fil d'un soffio etesio", described by Parker as "yet another aria suffused with the soft orchestral colours that characterize this scene".[26] The score is seen by the critic Richard Osborne as rich in self-parody, with sinister themes from Rigoletto and Un ballo in maschera transmuted into comedy. For Osborne the nocturnal music of Act III draws on the examples of Weber, Berlioz and Mendelssohn, creating a mood akin to that of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Osborne views the whole opera as an ensemble piece, and he comments that grand soliloquy in the old Verdian style is reserved for Ford's "jealousy" aria in Act II, which is almost tragic in style but comic in effect, making Ford "a figure to be laughed at."[78] Osborne concludes his analysis, "Falstaff is comedy's musical apogee: the finest opera, inspired by the finest dramatist, by the finest opera composer the world has known".[79] Recordings[edit] Main article: Falstaff discography There are two early recordings of Falstaff's short arietta "Quand'ero paggio". Pini Corsi, the original Ford, recorded it in 1904, and Maurel followed in 1907.[80] The first recording of the complete opera was made by Italian Columbia in March and April 1932. It was conducted by Lorenzo Molajoli with the chorus and orchestra of La Scala, and a cast including Giacomo Rimini as Falstaff and Pia Tassinari as Alice.[81] Some live stage performances were recorded in the 1930s, but the next studio recording was that conducted by Toscanini for broadcast by NBC in 1950, released on disc by RCA. The first stereophonic recording was conducted by Herbert von Karajan for EMI in 1956.[80] Among the singers whose performances of the title role are on live or studio recordings, Italians include Renato Bruson, Tito Gobbi, Rolando Panerai, Ruggero Raimondi, Mariano Stabile, Giuseppe Taddei and Giuseppe Valdengo; Francophone singers include Gabriel Bacquier, Jean-Philippe Lafont and José van Dam; Germans include Walter Berry, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and Hans Hotter; and UK and US singers include Geraint Evans, Donald Gramm, Bryn Terfel, Leonard Warrenand Willard White.[54] ***** Verdi's Falstaff: a complete guide Gramophone Tue 4th October 2016 Jeremy Nicholas reveals Verdi's creative process, Bryn Terfel discusses the challenges of Falstaff, plus a guide to key recordings The creation of Falstaff, by Jeremy Nicholas ‘Excellent! Excellent,’ enthused Verdi to his friend Arrigo Boito on July 6, 1889. ‘Now [Falstaff or Merry Wives] can take shape and become reality! When? How? Who knows?’ The next day he wrote again to Boito having second thoughts, wondering if he would have the strength to finish the music and not wanting to waste Boito’s time, yet unable to suppress his delight at the prospect of teaming up again with his friend, finishing his letter by saying, ‘What a joy to be able to say to the public, “Here we are again!! Come and see us!”’ Boito reassured him: ‘You have longed for a good subject for a comic opera all your life, which proves you have a natural aptitude for the noble art of comedy. Instinct is a good guide. There is only one way to end your career more splendidly than Otello, and that is to end it with Falstaff.’ ‘Amen,’ replied the composer. ‘So be it! We’ll do this Falstaff, then. Let’s not think now of the obstacles, of age, or of illness! But I want to keep it the deepest secret: a word I underline three times to tell you that no one must know anything about it.’ What Boito had sent to Verdi was his synopsis for a libretto based on Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor. Three years after the phenomenal success of Otello, Verdi would have had good reason to believe that his operatic career was over, finishing on a note of triumph. But Boito knew full well that the 75-year-old composer had long been fascinated with the character of Falstaff and that, moreover, he had always harboured an ambition to write a successful opera buffa ever since the failure of his one attempt at the genre, Un giorno di regno, in 1840. Did The Merry Wives of Windsor, flimsiest of farces and one of the Bard’s weaker plays (written, it would seem, in a hurry) have sufficient dramatic conflict and character interest for the master musical dramatist? When we come out of the cinema or switch off the TV after watching a disappointing adaptation, we often hear someone say, ‘nothing like as good as the book’. Boito, with Verdi’s help, provided a rare exception: a libretto that was better than the play. He achieved this in a number of ways. First, by condensing Shakespeare’s plot and tightening the structure: for example, the Fat Woman of Brentford episode, the second of Falstaff’s ‘trials’, is excised; the Fenton–Anne love story is dispensed in brief snatches (Boito wrote to Verdi, ‘I should like, as one sprinkles sugar on a tart, to sprinkle the whole comedy with that gay love, without collecting it together at any one point’). Secondly, Boito introduces in a masterly way glimpses of the great Falstaff from Henry IV Parts 1 & 2 by lifting at least eight passages from the earlier plays, most notably the famous soliloquy about honour. Finally, Verdi, the astute and experienced man of the theatre, having realised that the linen basket scene in Act 2 was the dramatic high point of the piece and that Act 3 might prove to be an anticlimax, cleverly overcame this by ensuring that the music rose to ever more impressive heights: the enchanting fairies’ music, the love music, and culminating in the great fugal finale, ‘Tutto nel mondo è burla’ (‘Everything in the world’s a jest’) – a joyful rejoinder to the pessimism of Jacques’ ‘All the world’s a stage’ speech from As You Like It. The reason for Verdi’s insistence on secrecy was fear of failure: fear of writing another unsuccessful comic opera, fear of his final work being a flop. When news eventually did (inevitably) leak out, Verdi informed his publisher-friend Ricordi that he was writing it purely to pass the time. ‘So then, why make plans and undertake obligations, however indeterminately worded?’ No one was going to put him under pressure of any kind. ‘When I was young, despite ill-health I was able to stay at my desk for 10 or 12 hours, working constantly…I can’t do that now.’ Verdi began composing Falstaff in the last week of July 1889. Act 1 was completed on March 17 the next year. Little progress was made during the summer months, when Verdi was reluctant to work, but proceeded steadily during the autumn and winter. For the first three months of 1891 he wrote nothing, perhaps affected by the deaths of two younger, long-standing friends. Boito once more gently encouraged him with jokes and banter, and by June, Verdi was hard at work again, in September taking the unusual step (for him) of orchestrating all the music he had completed up till then (‘I’m afraid of forgetting certain blends and colours of instrumentation’). Act 1 had been scored by April 1892. The whole opera was completed in September – in other words, it was a little over three years from start to finish. Its premiere was booked into La Scala for February 9, 1893. Emma Zilli was cast as Alice, Antonio Pini-Corsi as Ford, Giuseppina Pasqua as Mistress Quickly, Edoardo Garbin as Fenton (‘though he’s had no experience, and he knows nothing about music,’ wrote Verdi) and Garbin’s fiancée Adelina Stehle as Nannetta. And for the eponymous title-role? There was only ever one name in the frame: Victor Maurel. But the creator of Iago made such extravagant demands for fees and exclusive rights that he very nearly scuppered the whole enterprise. ‘Never has such a thing happened to me in my 50 years in the galleys,’ wrote the composer, threatening to withdraw the opera should Maurel’s wishes be granted. In the event, Maurel backed down. Piano rehearsals began in November at Verdi’s home, Sant’ Agata, and on January 2, 1893 they moved to Milan, where Verdi supervised the orchestral rehearsals, some of them lasting up to eight hours a day. The premiere on February 9 was a triumph generating scenes that are hard to imagine in 2013: a composer being mobbed outside his hotel and then called out on to the balcony of his room three times by the crowd below. By the end of the year there had been productions of Falstaff in Rome, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, Trieste and Vienna. Paris first saw it (in French) in April 1894, London in May 1894, and New York in 1895, the last two incorporating Verdi’s extensive revisions to the score. Bryn Terfel on Falstaff By taking on Falstaff, I was stepping into the shoes of some rather famous Welshmen, not only on the opera stage but on the dramatic stage as well. Hugh Griffith was an incredible Falstaff on stage and many people commented on the similarities between us, so I was keen to read his autobiography. And then, of course, Sir Geraint Evans famously parked his entire being within the role of Falstaff, travelling the world with the Covent Garden production. I managed to talk to Sir Geraint in the brief moments when he would actually stop and breathe for a little bit (that guy was hard to corner), and (famously) he told me to get a new suit. He also told me that my presence on the stage, be it in the operatic world or in concert, has to be something that holds the eye of whoever is spending their hard-earned cash to see me. And he warned me about the first scene of Falstaff and of the wardrobe hurdles that the role presents: the false bellies, the wigs, the moustaches and beards that constantly get in the way. My transition into the role of Falstaff was interesting. With Welsh National Opera I sang Ford, which in essence is the eye-opener – you get to learn by watching whoever is performing Falstaff. In my case it was Donald Maxwell. It was a tremendous production, incredibly detailed, fabulously portrayed by every character. As the director Peter Stein said, Falstaff is like a Flemish painting with one main character in the middle, but every character has a life of their own. The cast had all performed the production before, and I was the newcomer as Ford, replacing David Malis. I made sure I was in every rehearsal to watch Stein work with Maxwell on Falstaff’s character, which was something of an epiphany for me – it really confirmed in my mind that I had made the right choice to follow my dream to become an opera singer. The first time I took on the role of Falstaff was in Australia in 1999. I’d studied it, I’d been through it with Italian coaches, I’d read Evans’s, Griffith’s and Tito Gobbi’s autobiographies, but none of it helps you when you start to sing that first scene for the first time, ending with that incredible monologue (‘L’honore’). It’s a killer! I tried my best in that production but I never really nailed it. Then I came to Wales, I did it there, tried my best, and I still never nailed it. I did it at Covent Garden, I don’t think I got it there either. And I still haven’t nailed it. It’s a thorn in my side. The monologue is the bane of my life! By the time I get there I’m breathless and my technique goes out of the window. I think the bass-baritone voice has the most trouble with that little section, whereas baritones probably love it. Maybe I come into my own in the monologue after coming out of the Thames – baritones perhaps would struggle with that. It’s a very interesting equation, the role of Falstaff. I’m not a Premiership Falstaff yet, I’m in the First Division, I think. I still have something to say about this role. With Falstaff I always have this tremendous urge to go totally over the top and just convey everything that Verdi wrote. I think the next time I do it, less will be more. And maybe it’s a cheeky strategy on my part to say that I’ve never nailed it, it’s really just a reason to do it again. The role of Falstaff came out of the mould of the classic Verdi baritone roles; Verdi gave us mortals (bass-baritones) a chance to sing his notes. It doesn’t go above the stave very often, the lines aren’t too daunting. I think the role is beautifully paced. Think of the second act of Don Giovanni; I never, ever felt comfortable with that role (should never have sung it really), but I couldn’t have gone through my career not being Don Giovanni. His succession of duet, recit, trio, recit, aria, recit, duet, etc, never fell in my lap as something I was very comfortable with. But in Falstaff, once you’ve got through the monologue and feel happy that it went OK, the rest of the evening is like Horowitz playing Schumann’s Traumerei on a stage in Moscow – you know, throwing his handkerchief on the piano and just smiling, playing and walking off. It’s that kind of role; it gives great satisfaction. I’m doing Falstaff twice at La Scala in 2013, which I’m thrilled about because I want to be in the Guinness Book of Records some day for being the singer that gave the most performances of Falstaff around the world. Falstaff – a recording history, by Jeremy Nicholas Of the myriad recordings of Falstaff that have been issued, none I’ve heard has the completely ideal cast, orchestra, conductor and sound all combined, but several come pretty close. Remarkably, there’s a 1907 recording of Maurel singing a snatch of the role he created: ‘Quand’ero paggio’. In fact, he sings it three times in succession, the end of each ‘verse’ greeted bizarrely with applause and cheers (Marston 52011-2 – nla). Without any set-piece arias, very little else of Falstaff was captured on disc until the full opera had its first commercial recording in 1932, with Lorenzo Molajoli leading some of La Scala’s finest (Giacomo Rimini as Falstaff, Pia Tassinari as Alice) in a vivacious account that sounds amazingly good for its age (Naxos 8 110198/99). But it can’t compare with the live performance conducted by Arturo Toscanini in 1950. This has always been held up as the benchmark, and with good reason. Quite apart from the obvious attraction of it being led by someone who knew the composer personally and had been conducting the work for 56 years, one is struck not just by the crisp detail of the orchestral playing and Toscanini’s youthful high spirits (he was 83 at the time) but also by the sense of a cast singing what’s essentially a chamber work. The ladies in particular are terrific, but the robust Falstaff of Giuseppe Valdengo misses out on the fun element (RCA 74321 72372-2). ‘For my taste,’ said Carlo Maria Giulini, ‘[Falstaff] cannot be too serious.’ This shows in his 1982 recording (DG 477 6498). Claudio Abbado’s highly praised 2001 recording is detailed but laboured, with Bryn Terfel doing a lot of acting as Falstaff (DG 471 1942). Compare him with the faux dignity of the great Mariano Stabile, who sang the role more than 1200 times and can be heard in a live performance from 1952 conducted by Victor de Sabata (Music and Arts MACD1104). Georg Solti’s hard-driven 1963 account will appeal to some, and it features Geraint Evans as a Falstaff to match Stabile (Decca 475 6677). Herbert von Karajan’s 1980 version is heavy-handed, with Giuseppe Taddei in the title-role past his vocal prime (Decca 478 4167). What a contrast to Karajan’s 1956 recording with the wily and ebullient Tito Gobbi as the fat knight, Fedora Barbieri as a fruity Mistress Quickly, Anna Moffo as perhaps the best of all Nannettas, and Rolando Panerai as a superb Ford (Panerai, incidentally, is an excellent Falstaff in the earlier – 1991 – and preferable of Colin Davis’s two recordings: RCA 88697 45801-2). Add to that the Philharmonia at its height (Dennis Brain plays the horn solo at the start of Act 4 scene 2) and an approach clearly influenced by Toscanini (whom Karajan heard conduct the opera several times as a young man) and you have a Falstaff to laugh with and live with. **** Carlo Maria Giulini, Cavaliere di Gran Croce OMRI (Italian pronunciation: [ˈkarlo maˈriːa dʒuˈliːni]; 9 May 1914 – 14 June 2005) was an Italian conductor. From the age of five, when he began to play the violin, Giulini’s musical education was expanded when he began to study at Italy's foremost conservatory, the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Romeat the age of 16. Initially, he studied the viola and conducting; then, following an audition, he won a place in the Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia. Although he won a conducting competition two years later, he was unable to take advantage of the prize, which was the opportunity to conduct, because of being forced to join the army during World War II, albeit that he was a pacifist. As the war was ending, he hid until the liberation to avoid continuing to fight alongside the Germans. While in hiding, he married his girlfriend, Marcella, and they remained together until her death in 1995. Together, they had three children.[1] After the 1944 liberation, he was invited to lead what was then known as the Augusteo Orchestra (now the Santa Cecilia Orchestra)[2] in its first post-Fascist concert, and quickly other conducting opportunities came along. These included some of the world's major orchestras including the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, London's Philharmonia Orchestra, and the Vienna Philharmonic. His career spanned 54 years with retirement coming in 1998. He died in Brescia, Italy, at 91 years of age. Contents [hide] 1 Early life 2 Career 2.1 Giulini and conducting opera 2.2 Giulini as orchestra conductor 2.3 Notable recordings 3 Awards and recognitions 4 See also 5 References 6 External links Early life[edit] Giulini was born in Barletta, Kingdom of Italy, to a father born in Lombardy and a mother born in Naples; but he was raised in Bolzano, which at the time of his birth was part of Austria (it was given to Italy in the Treaty of London (1915)). Therefore, most of the neighbors spoke a dialect of German, and the local music he heard tended to be Austrian/Tyrolean. He recalled being transfixed by the town band.[3] For Christmas in 1919, when he was five, Giulini was given a violin and he progressed rapidly with local instructors, notably a Bohemian violinist (and local pharmacist) whom he called "Brahms."[4] In 1928, the distinguished Italian violinist/composer Remy Principe (1889–1977) gave a recital in Bolzano, and auditioned Giulini; he invited Giulini to study with him at Italy's foremost conservatory, the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Rome. Giulini undertook his studies there two years later, at the age of 16. He studied viola with Principe, composition with Alessandro Bustini (1876–1970), and conducting with Bernardino Molinari.[5] At the age of 18, in order to supplement his family's income (which had been depleted by the Great Depression), he auditioned for the viola section of the Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, at the time Italy's foremost orchestra. He recalled crying for joy when informed that he had won the audition and would be the orchestra's last-desk violist.[6] Among the guest conductors he played under were Bruno Walter, Wilhelm Furtwängler, Richard Strauss, Victor de Sabata, Fritz Reiner, Pierre Monteux, Igor Stravinsky, and Otto Klemperer. His first public performance was the First Symphony of Brahms under Walter. Giulini told interviewers that he detested the dictatorial, often demeaning manner of Molinari, the orchestra's music director, but loved the gentle manner of Walter, who he said had a gift for making every musician feel important. Career[edit] Marcella de Girolami and Carlo Maria Giulini in the Netherlands in 1965 In 1940, Giulini won a conducting competition, whose prize was the chance to conduct the St. Cecilia orchestra, but before the concert, Giulini was drafted into the Italian army, made a second lieutenant, and sent to the front in Croatia. However, because of his commitment to pacifism and intense opposition to fascism and to Benito Mussolini, he did not fire his gun at human targets. In 1942, on a 30-day break in Rome, he married Marcella de Girolami (1921–1995), his girlfriend since 1938; they remained together until her death 53 years later. In September 1943, the Armistice between Italy and Allied armed forces was signed, but the Nazi occupation refused to abandon Rome, and Giulini's Italian commander ordered his troops to fight with the Nazis. Giulini chose instead to go into hiding, living for nine months in a tunnel underneath a home owned by his wife's uncle, along with two friends and a Jewish family which was avoiding Nazi arrest and deportation. Posters around Rome with his face and name instructed that he be shot on sight.[7] After the Allies liberated Rome on 4 June 1944, Giulini—who was among the few conductors not tainted by associations with Fascism—was chosen to lead the Accademia's first post-Fascist concert, held on 16 July 1944.[2] On the program was the Brahms Symphony No. 4, which he had studied while in hiding. It became the work he conducted most frequently over the course of his career, with a total of 180 performances.[8] Giulini began working with the Chamber Orchestra of Rome in 1944, and was made its music director in 1946. Also in 1944 he became assistant conductor of the RAI (Italian Radio) Orchestra in Rome, becoming its principal conductor in 1946. Four years later he was involved in the founding of the Milan Radio Orchestra, working with them from 1946 to 1954, as well as with the RAI's Rome orchestra.[1][9] Giulini and conducting opera[edit] Although he conducted La traviata for Italian radio in 1948,[1] conducting his first staged opera came in 1950 in Bergamo. It was La traviata and he returned the following year, this time with Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi alternating in the role of Violetta.[2] Also, he revived several obscure operas, including works by Alessandro Scarlatti. His work in Bergamo came to the attention of Arturo Toscanini, when the latter heard his radio broadcast of Debussy's La mer[citation needed] (not Haydn's Il mondo della luna as has often been reported).[10] Toscanini asked to meet the young conductor, and the two men formed a deep bond. Toscanini recommended Giulini for the musical directorship at La Scala; Giulini had also won the attention and support of Victor de Sabata, the principal conductor of La Scala, who engaged him as his assistant. Giulini conducted his first opera at La Scala, Falla's La vida breve, in February 1952[5] and succeeded De Sabata as its music director in 1953 after a heart attack caused the older man to leave the position. In his five years in the position, Giulini conducted 13 productions, which included: three marking the operatic debut of the producer Franco Zeffirelli, L'Italiana in Algeri, La Cenerentola and L'elisir d'amore; and Gluck's Alceste and a La traviatawith Maria Callas, the latter in a superb production by Luchino Visconti. It was at this period that Giulini was first able to work with colleagues who shared his views about the relationship of music and the stage in opera, and the results were spectacular: the Traviata, originally scheduled for four performances in 1955, had to be allotted another 17 in the following season.[5] Though highly admired, he resigned after members of the audience jeered Maria Callas during a run of operas from 16 February to 27 April 1956. His UK debut took place at the 1955 Edinburgh Festival conducting Verdi's Falstaff for the Glyndebourne Opera company when it toured to that city.[1] In 1958, Giulini conducted a highly acclaimed production of Verdi's Don Carlos at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden (directed by Visconti),[1] where it was also noted that "what emerged under Giulini's baton was a consistent, convincing masterpiece of astonishing power and lyrical tension."[5] Although he returned to Covent Garden in 1957, where he conducted a Visconti/Callas Traviata, it became clear that, after two more Covent Garden performances in 1961 and 1964 (the famous black-and-white Il trovatore) and another at the Holland Festival in 1965, where he disagreed so strongly with the visual treatment of The Marriage of Figaro on the stage that he refused to conduct, and only concert performances were given,[5] Giulini would abandon opera, not wanting to compromise his artistic vision. Almost without exception from then on, he concentrated on orchestral works. As illustrated, his relationships with opera managements were not always of the best: The Telegraph reported that "he rebelled against the decor and production of a Don Giovanni at the Edinburgh Festival, conducting it with a minimum of scenery; and in 1968, after a production of Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro in Rome, he became so disenchanted with the management of opera that he was not seen in an opera house for 14 years."[1] The New York Times summed up Giulini's approach to working in the area of operas as follows: By the late 1960's, Mr. Giulini had grown disheartened with working in opera houses, where he said he had to contend with insufficient rehearsal time, musically obtuse directors and too many singers interested more in jet-setting international careers than in substantive work. He restricted his appearances, and even the Metropolitan Opera was never able to engage him.[2] Giulini as orchestra conductor[edit] Giulini expanded his repertoire at a careful pace, not conducting the symphonies of Mozart and Beethoven until the 1960s.[11] During the 1960s, he was in great demand as a guest conductor of leading orchestras around the world, and made numerous well-received recordings with the Philharmonia Orchestra of London and several others. In 1955 he had made his American debut with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, leading to a 23-year association with the orchestra; he was its Principal Guest Conductor from 1969 to 1972, although he continued to appear with them regularly until 18 March 1978. In 1956, he began his association with the Philharmonia of London and the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. In addition to his role in Chicago, he was music director of the Vienna Symphony from 1973 to 1976. From 1978 to 1984, he served as principal conductor and Music Director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, launching his tenure there with performances of Beethoven's 9th Symphony. In 1982 he returned once more to opera, conducting a widely acclaimed production of Verdi's Falstaff with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Overall, his impact on the musical world of the mid-to-late 20th century is summed up by Anthony Tommasini in his New York Times obituary of 2005: Far from being an autocratic conductor or a kinetic dynamo of the podium, Mr. Giulini was a probing musician who achieved results by projecting serene authority and providing a model of selfless devotion to the score. His symphonic performances were at once magisterial and urgent, full of surprise yet utterly natural. He brought breadth and telling detail to the operas of Mozart and Verdi.[2] Notable recordings[edit] Giulini's most notable opera recordings include the 1959 Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus versions of Mozart's operas The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovannifor EMI, as well as his live 1955 recording of Verdi's La traviata with Maria Callas. He also made recordings of Verdi's Requiem and the Four Sacred Pieces, which were highly praised. Admired orchestral records include Debussy's La mer and Nocturnes, Dvořák's 9th Symphony and Tchaikovsky's 6th Symphony with the Philharmonia Orchestra, Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition, Brahms's 4th Symphony and Mahler's 1st and 9th symphonies with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Beethoven's 3rd and 5th Symphonies, and Schumann's 3rd Symphony with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, Brahms's four Symphonies, Bruckner's 7th, 8th and 9th symphonies with the Vienna Philharmonic, and Dvořák's 7th and 9th Symphonies with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam. Most of these discs were recorded for the Deutsche Grammophon label. His live recording of Britten's War Requiem made in the Royal Albert Hall in 1969 which is available as a BBC Legends recording was a Gramophone Award winner. Awards and recognitions[edit] Gramophone Award 1981 Beethoven Violin Concerto in D Major; Itzhak Perlman / Philharmonia Orchestra (EMI)[12] Grammy Award for Best Choral Performance 1981 Mozart: Requiem; Norbert Balatsch (choirmaster) / Philharmonia Orchestra & Chorus Grammy Award for Best Classical Album 1979 Brahms: Concerto For Violin in D; Itzhak Perlman / Chicago Symphony Grammy Award for Best Engineered Album, Classical 1965 Britten: The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra; Philharmonia Orchestra Grammy Award for Best Instrumental Soloist Performance 1989 Mozart: Piano Concerto No. 23; Vladimir Horowitz / La Scala Orchestra Grammy Award for Best Orchestral Performance 1972 Mahler: Symphony No. 1 in D; Chicago Symphony 1978 Mahler: Symphony No. 9 in D; Chicago Symphony Honorary Member of the Royal Academy of Music (1972)[13] See also[edit] Recordings of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra under Carlo Maria Giulini **** Carlo Maria Giulini (Barletta, Apulië, 9 mei 1914 – Brescia, 14 juni 2005) was een Italiaans dirigent en altviolist. Giulini wordt algemeen beschouwd als één van de grootste dirigenten van de 20e eeuw. Inhoud [verbergen] 1 Levensloop 2 Opnamen 3 Prijzen en erkenningen 4 Referenties 5 Externe links Levensloop[bewerken] Giulini werd geboren in het zuidoosten van Italië (Barletta in Apulië) als zoon van een houthandelaar. Hij groeide echter op in het noorden van het land, in Bolzano in de Dolomieten, een stad die dankzij de grensaanpassingen na de Eerste Wereldoorlog niet langer het Oostenrijkse Bozen was. Het gezin Giulini was Italiaans in een overwegend Duitssprekende regio, hetgeen zijn vaardigheid in beide talen verklaart. Mogelijk is het ook een verklaring voor Giulini’s gedeelde devotie voor Italiaanse opera’s en Duitse symfonieën. Als eerste muzikale ervaring hoorde hij een rondreizende zigeuner op zijn viool spelen. Hij vroeg daarop prompt een viool voor zijn verjaardag. Een lokale muziekleraar gaf hem een aanbeveling voor de Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia in Rome, waar hij de viool verwisselde voor de altviool. Tegen de tijd dat hij 18 was, was hij beroepsmatig gaan spelen voor het lokale Augusteo Orkest. Hij begon een eigen groep musici om zich heen te verzamelen en kreeg zo zijn eerste ervaring als dirigent, terwijl hij de kunst kon afkijken van de grote meesters achter de lessenaar van het Augusteo Orkest. Later studeerde hij bij Bernardino Molinari de kunst van het dirigeren.[1] Van 1946 tot 1951 werkte Giulini bij de RAI voor de radio in Milaan, waar hij ervoor zorgde dat diverse onbekende opera’s een heropvoering beleefden, waaronder werken van Alessandro Scarlatti. Arturo Toscanini hoorde een productie van Il mondo della luna van Haydn, wat er later toe leidde dat hij Giulini aanbeval als muzikaal directeur bij La Scala, een positie die hij van 1953 tot 1956 vervulde. In 1958 dirigeerde Giulini een productie van Verdi's Don Carlos in het Royal Opera House, Covent Garden die veel bijval oogstte. In de jaren zestig was hij erg in trek als gastdirigent bij alle belangrijke orkesten over de hele wereld, en maakte talrijke opnames die goed ontvangen werden, zoals met het Philharmonia Orchestra uit Londen. Na 1968 gaf Giulini de opera op, omdat hij zich wilde concentreren op orkestrale werken. Hij was de voornaamste gastdirigent van het Chicago Symphony Orchestravan 1969 tot 1978, en werd benoemd als muzikaal directeur van de Wiener Symphoniker in 1973. Van 1978 tot 1984 was hij chef-dirigent en muzikaal directeur van de Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, waar hij zijn dienstverband begon met de uitvoering van de negende symfonie van Ludwig van Beethoven. In 1982 keerde hij nog eenmaal terug naar de opera, en dirigeerde een controversiële productie van Verdi's Falstaff. Giulini stierf op 91-jarige leeftijd in Brescia, Italië. Giulini stond bekend als een zeer bescheiden en aimabele man, wars van sterallures of dictatoriale neigingen. Dirigeren was voor hem overtuigen niet opleggen. Daarnaast was hij een zeer godsdienstig man: tot aan zijn dood bleef hij een devoot katholiek. Muziek was voor Giulini een onmisbare morele kracht, een uitdrukking van de liefde en de hoop. Opnamen[bewerken] De opmerkelijkste operaopnamen van Giulini zijn de versies van Le Nozze di Figaro en Don Giovanni van Mozart uit 1959 met het Philharmonia Koor en Orkest voor EMI, en zijn opname uit 1955 van Verdi's La traviata met Maria Callas en het Requiem. Andere opmerkelijke opnamen zijn Nocturnes en La Mer van Debussy, de 9e symfonie van Dvořák, en de zesde van Tsjaikovski met het Philharmonia Orchestra, Moessorgski's Schilderijen van een tentoonstelling, Brahms' symfonie nr. 4 en Mahlers 1ste en 9e symfonie met het Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Beethovens 3e en 5e symfonie, en Schumanns 3e symfonie met het Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra, Mahlers Das Lied von der Erde met het Berliner Philharmoniker, de vier symfonieën van Brahms, Bruckners 7e, 8e en 9e symfonie met de Wiener Philharmoniker, en ten slotte Dvořáks 7e en 8e symfonie met het Koninklijk Concertgebouworkest van Amsterdam. Het merendeel van deze opnames werd gemaakt voor Deutsche Grammophon. Giulini's latere opnames kenmerken zich door vaak zeer trage tempi, een rijke, indringende strijkersklank en een grote structurele helderheid, waarbij het narratieve en persoonlijke plaatsmaken voor bijna abstracte muzikale statements. Prijzen en erkenningen[bewerken] Gramophone Award 1981 Beethoven Vioolconcert in d-mineur; Itzhak Perlman / Philharmonia Orchestra (EMI)[2] Grammy Award voor de beste kooruitvoering 1981 Mozart: Requiem; Norbert Balatsch (koordirigent) / Philharmonia Orchestra & Chorus Grammy Award voor het beste klassieke album 1979 Brahms: Vioolconcert in D; Itzhak Perlman / Chicago Symphony Orchestra Grammy Award voor het best opgenomen album 1965 Britten: The young person's guide to the orchestra; Philharmonia Orchestra Grammy Award voor de beste instrumentale uitvoering door een solist; 1989 Mozart: Pianoconcert nr. 23; Vladimir Horowitz / Orchestra della Scala Grammy Award voor de beste orkestrale uitvoering 1972 Mahler: Symfonie nr. 1 in D; Chicago Symphony Orchestra; 1978 Mahler: Symfonie nr. 9 in D; Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Referenties[bewerken] Omhoog↑ "Carlo Maria Giulini Obituary", The Guardian, 16 Jun 2005. Omhoog↑ 1981 Gramophone Awards. Infoplease.com (11 Jan 2007) Externe links[bewerken] (en) Carlo Maria Giulini in de database van AllMusic Gramophone Award Listings, 1977 - 2002 (fr) Complete Discography Artikel in de Times over Giulini **** Carlo Maria Giulini Italian conductor who brought spiritual intensity to religious works and perfectionism to opera Thursday 16 June 2005 00.02 BST View more sharing options Shares 0 In the memory of postwar London operagoers, the Covent Garden Don Carlos of 1958 remains one of the glories of the decade - for many the most satisfying operatic performance they had experienced until then. Luchino Visconti's magisterial production, with a cast that could not only sing but act, ensured the success of the staging, but it was the treatment of Verdi's score by the Italian conductor Carlo Maria Giulini, who has died aged 91, that was the real revelation. The piece was not well known, and generally thought to be uneven and difficult to bring off. Yet what emerged under Giulini's baton was a consistent, convincing masterpiece of astonishing power and lyrical tension. Giulini was relatively unknown in Britain at the time. He had conducted Falstaff with the Glyndebourne Opera at the Edinburgh Festival in 1955, but had not reappeared when the production was revived at the company's Sussex base in 1957. A brilliant recording existed of Rossini's L'Italiana In Algeri, made with La Scala forces, but it was not until the 1960s that his many appearances and recordings with the Philharmonia Orchestra made him a familiar figure on the London concert scene - and then as much in the orchestral as the operatic repertory. This is not entirely surprising, for Giulini's musical background was instrumental rather than vocal: born in Barletta, along the Adriatic coast from the southern city of Bari, he was never taken to the opera as a child. At the Accademia di Santa Cecilia in Rome he studied viola and composition, only later taking up conducting under Bernardino Molinari. He played in the orchestra provided by the conservatory for the Teatro Augusteo, where he had the luck to work un der Wilhelm Furtwängler, Bruno Walter and Otto Klemperer. After he graduated in 1941, war service with the Italian army took him to Yugoslavia. However, opposed to fascism, he went underground, hiding in a secret room in his wife's uncle's house - with a portrait of Mussolini hanging on the wall outside - for nine months. G iulini made his own conducting debut with the Augusteo orchestra in May 1945. In the following year, he became musical director of Italian Radio, forming the Milan Radio Orchestra in 1950 and making numerous broadcasts of little-known works. He made his debut in the opera house with La Traviata at Bergamo in the same year, and conducted important revivals of Verdi's Attila (in a concert version) in Venice in 1951, and in 1952 Cavalli's Didone at the Florence Maggio Musicale and Gluck's Iphigénie En Tauride at Aix-en-Provence. Return visits to these and other festivals brought more successes, but it was a broadcast performance of Haydn's comedy Il Mondo Della Luna (The World Of The Moon, then virtually unknown) which proved the turning point. It attracted the attention of Arturo Toscanini, and subsequently of Victor de Sabata, who quickly engaged him as his assistant at La Scala: in February 1952, with Falla's La Vida Breve, Giulini conducted his first opera at Italy's most famous opera house, and succeeded De Sabata as its principal conductor in 1953. During his five years at La Scala, Giulini conducted only 13 productions, but these included three works new to the repertory - Monteverdi's L'Incoronazione Di Poppea, Bartok's Bluebeard's Castle and Stravinsky's ballet Les Noces; three marking the operatic debut of the producer Franco Zeffirelli - L'Italiana in Algeri, Cenerentola and L'Elisir D'Amore; and Gluck's Alceste and a Traviata with Maria Callas, the latter in a superb production by Visconti. It was at this period that Giulini was first able to work with colleagues who shared his views about the relationship of music and the stage in opera, and the results were spectacular: the Traviata, originally scheduled for four performances in 1955, had to be allotted another 17 in the following season. Meanwhile he had not neglected the concert platform. He made his US debut in Chicago in 1955, and in 1958, at the time of the Covent Garden Don Carlos, began an association with the Philharmonia Orchestra which was to bear fruit in a rich succession of concerts and recordings for EMI. This began in 1959 with two Mozart recordings, Don Giovanni and Le Nozze Di Figaro: brilliantly produced by Walter Legge, who assembled for both operas casts that could hardly be matched in their day, these have come to be regarded as classics. The records that followed during the early 1960s maintained a quality that came to be expected as a matter of course, and reflect a London concert repertory that included music by Schubert, Brahms, Dvorak, Tchaikovsky, Debussy, Ravel, brilliant Rossini overtures and memorable performances of the Verdi Requiem - finally committed to disc, with the four Pezzi Sacri, in 1964. Two even more vital live performances of the Requiem have appeared recently on BBC Legends CDs, and the release later this year of a DVD of a 1964 Royal Festival Hall performance should provide a vivid souvenir. Curiously, Giulini made few subsequent opera appearances in London. There were new productions of Falstaff and Il Trovatore at Covent Garden in 1961 and 1964, but at the latter it was already apparent that the uncertainties and practical difficulties of live operatic performance were becoming incompatible with Giulini's fastidious, perfectionist methods of preparation, and passionate concern for the operatic ensemble as a whole. In fact, at the Holland Festival the following year, he disagreed so strongly with the visual treatment of Figaro on the stage that he refused to conduct, and only concert performances were given. He returned to the Royal Opera House for a Traviata in 1967, no doubt lured by the presence of Visconti as producer, but immediately after it announced his intention of abandoning opera. He did actually conduct one more Figaro at Rome in 1968, but otherwise kept his word for the next 14 years. After a guest season with the Hallé Orchestra, he returned to Chicago, where in 1969 he became joint conductor of the city's symphony orchestra with Georg Solti. Four years later, he moved on to the Vienna Symphony Orchestra as principal conductor, having made his Salzburg Festival debut with the Berlin Philharmonic in 1970, and added another classic to the recorded repertory with the Don Carlos of 1971. However, the recordings which followed in London and Chicago during the later 1970s tended more and more towards the weightier end of the symphonic repertory - Beethoven, including a Ninth Symphony and a Missa Solemnis, Brahms, Bruckner and Mahler - a trend that continued when he took up his last permanent engagement, with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, where he presided as chief conductor from 1978 until 1984. It was during this period that Giulini was finally persuaded to return to opera, and in 1981 he conducted a production of Falstaff that subsequently travelled to London and Florence, and was recorded in 1983. There were those who felt this interpretation lacked some of the earthy comedy essential to Verdi's final masterpiece, that the years of concentration on the more serious aspects of the 19th-century orchestral repertory had encouraged Giulini's natural tendency to search out the purely musical beauties of the scores, at the expense of dramatic pacing. Though such an approach is perhaps less controversial on record, there is no doubt that by this time Giulini's manner with the Verdi operas had become extremely personal. The Trovatore that followed in 1984 was a shock to those accustomed to the standard interpretations of this elemental and passionate work: but the expansive tempi and the clarity of orchestral textures showed the score to advantage, with no loss of intensity. The freshness and absolute conviction of the approach proved profoundly rewarding, as also in his last operatic recording, the Rigoletto of 1985. His later orchestral records included especially fine accounts of Mahler's Das Lied Von Der Erde and Bruckner's Ninth Symphony, with the Berlin and Vienna Philharmonic Orchestras respectively, and in his late 70s he embarked upon a remarkable series of the Beethoven symphonies with the new La Scala Philharmonic. Giulini was undoubtedly one of the great conductors of his day. His music making was essentially thoughtful, perfectionist and passionately sincere: the dynamism that lent such brilliance to performances of Rossini or Ravel in the earlier part of his career provided the power house for the deeply considered, profoundly musical interpretations of his middle years. The exhaustive preparation and minute attention to detail that he demanded limited the range of his repertoire, but patently sprang from an integrity he shared with conductors such as Toscanini, Furtwängler and Klemperer. In later years, there was always something rather grand about Giulini's appearances on the platform: watching him conduct, it was easy to be carried away by the obvious commitment, the look of intense participation on the patrician features and the fiery restraint of his platform manner. There were occasions when he seemed to be communicating so personally with the music that the audience hardly mattered, and at such times there were those who dared to suggest that the result might be described as dull. True, the tempi could sometimes seem sluggish, but far more often this was to miss the point of a musical experience where all external trappings were deliberately dropped in the pursuit of one man's absolute artistic integrity. At performances of the great religious works that he so loved conducting - Mozart's Requiem, Beethoven's Missa Solemnis, Rossini's Stabat Mater, Verdi's Requiem - the word "spiritual" seemed always to be hovering in the air, and in the end this is perhaps the epithet that sums up Giulini best. After a holiday on a Greek island he told an orchestral player that he was sad not to be able to stay there as a hermit, "but one would have to be very simple," he said, "which I am not, or a saint, which I am also not". "He's nearer to being one than any other conductor I met," commented the musician. His wife Marcella died in 1995, and their three sons survive him. · Carlo Maria Giulini, conductor, born May 9 1914; died June 14 2005 Verdi's Falstaff: a complete guide Gramophone Tue 4th October 2016 Jeremy Nicholas reveals Verdi's creative process, Bryn Terfel discusses the challenges of Falstaff, plus a guide to key recordings The creation of Falstaff, by Jeremy Nicholas ‘Excellent! Excellent,’ enthused Verdi to his friend Arrigo Boito on July 6, 1889. ‘Now [Falstaff or Merry Wives] can take shape and become reality! When? How? Who knows?’ The next day he wrote again to Boito having second thoughts, wondering if he would have the strength to finish the music and not wanting to waste Boito’s time, yet unable to suppress his delight at the prospect of teaming up again with his friend, finishing his letter by saying, ‘What a joy to be able to say to the public, “Here we are again!! Come and see us!”’ Boito reassured him: ‘You have longed for a good subject for a comic opera all your life, which proves you have a natural aptitude for the noble art of comedy. Instinct is a good guide. There is only one way to end your career more splendidly than Otello, and that is to end it with Falstaff.’ ‘Amen,’ replied the composer. ‘So be it! We’ll do this Falstaff, then. Let’s not think now of the obstacles, of age, or of illness! But I want to keep it the deepest secret: a word I underline three times to tell you that no one must know anything about it.’ What Boito had sent to Verdi was his synopsis for a libretto based on Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor. Three years after the phenomenal success of Otello, Verdi would have had good reason to believe that his operatic career was over, finishing on a note of triumph. But Boito knew full well that the 75-year-old composer had long been fascinated with the character of Falstaff and that, moreover, he had always harboured an ambition to write a successful opera buffa ever since the failure of his one attempt at the genre, Un giorno di regno, in 1840. Did The Merry Wives of Windsor, flimsiest of farces and one of the Bard’s weaker plays (written, it would seem, in a hurry) have sufficient dramatic conflict and character interest for the master musical dramatist? When we come out of the cinema or switch off the TV after watching a disappointing adaptation, we often hear someone say, ‘nothing like as good as the book’. Boito, with Verdi’s help, provided a rare exception: a libretto that was better than the play. He achieved this in a number of ways. First, by condensing Shakespeare’s plot and tightening the structure: for example, the Fat Woman of Brentford episode, the second of Falstaff’s ‘trials’, is excised; the Fenton–Anne love story is dispensed in brief snatches (Boito wrote to Verdi, ‘I should like, as one sprinkles sugar on a tart, to sprinkle the whole comedy with that gay love, without collecting it together at any one point’). Secondly, Boito introduces in a masterly way glimpses of the great Falstaff from Henry IV Parts 1 & 2 by lifting at least eight passages from the earlier plays, most notably the famous soliloquy about honour. Finally, Verdi, the astute and experienced man of the theatre, having realised that the linen basket scene in Act 2 was the dramatic high point of the piece and that Act 3 might prove to be an anticlimax, cleverly overcame this by ensuring that the music rose to ever more impressive heights: the enchanting fairies’ music, the love music, and culminating in the great fugal finale, ‘Tutto nel mondo è burla’ (‘Everything in the world’s a jest’) – a joyful rejoinder to the pessimism of Jacques’ ‘All the world’s a stage’ speech from As You Like It. The reason for Verdi’s insistence on secrecy was fear of failure: fear of writing another unsuccessful comic opera, fear of his final work being a flop. When news eventually did (inevitably) leak out, Verdi informed his publisher-friend Ricordi that he was writing it purely to pass the time. ‘So then, why make plans and undertake obligations, however indeterminately worded?’ No one was going to put him under pressure of any kind. ‘When I was young, despite ill-health I was able to stay at my desk for 10 or 12 hours, working constantly…I can’t do that now.’ Verdi began composing Falstaff in the last week of July 1889. Act 1 was completed on March 17 the next year. Little progress was made during the summer months, when Verdi was reluctant to work, but proceeded steadily during the autumn and winter. For the first three months of 1891 he wrote nothing, perhaps affected by the deaths of two younger, long-standing friends. Boito once more gently encouraged him with jokes and banter, and by June, Verdi was hard at work again, in September taking the unusual step (for him) of orchestrating all the music he had completed up till then (‘I’m afraid of forgetting certain blends and colours of instrumentation’). Act 1 had been scored by April 1892. The whole opera was completed in September – in other words, it was a little over three years from start to finish. Its premiere was booked into La Scala for February 9, 1893. Emma Zilli was cast as Alice, Antonio Pini-Corsi as Ford, Giuseppina Pasqua as Mistress Quickly, Edoardo Garbin as Fenton (‘though he’s had no experience, and he knows nothing about music,’ wrote Verdi) and Garbin’s fiancée Adelina Stehle as Nannetta. And for the eponymous title-role? There was only ever one name in the frame: Victor Maurel. But the creator of Iago made such extravagant demands for fees and exclusive rights that he very nearly scuppered the whole enterprise. ‘Never has such a thing happened to me in my 50 years in the galleys,’ wrote the composer, threatening to withdraw the opera should Maurel’s wishes be granted. In the event, Maurel backed down. Piano rehearsals began in November at Verdi’s home, Sant’ Agata, and on January 2, 1893 they moved to Milan, where Verdi supervised the orchestral rehearsals, some of them lasting up to eight hours a day. The premiere on February 9 was a triumph generating scenes that are hard to imagine in 2013: a composer being mobbed outside his hotel and then called out on to the balcony of his room three times by the crowd below. By the end of the year there had been productions of Falstaff in Rome, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, Trieste and Vienna. Paris first saw it (in French) in April 1894, London in May 1894, and New York in 1895, the last two incorporating Verdi’s extensive revisions to the score. Bryn Terfel on Falstaff By taking on Falstaff, I was stepping into the shoes of some rather famous Welshmen, not only on the opera stage but on the dramatic stage as well. Hugh Griffith was an incredible Falstaff on stage and many people commented on the similarities between us, so I was keen to read his autobiography. And then, of course, Sir Geraint Evans famously parked his entire being within the role of Falstaff, travelling the world with the Covent Garden production. I managed to talk to Sir Geraint in the brief moments when he would actually stop and breathe for a little bit (that guy was hard to corner), and (famously) he told me to get a new suit. He also told me that my presence on the stage, be it in the operatic world or in concert, has to be something that holds the eye of whoever is spending their hard-earned cash to see me. And he warned me about the first scene of Falstaff and of the wardrobe hurdles that the role presents: the false bellies, the wigs, the moustaches and beards that constantly get in the way. My transition into the role of Falstaff was interesting. With Welsh National Opera I sang Ford, which in essence is the eye-opener – you get to learn by watching whoever is performing Falstaff. In my case it was Donald Maxwell. It was a tremendous production, incredibly detailed, fabulously portrayed by every character. As the director Peter Stein said, Falstaff is like a Flemish painting with one main character in the middle, but every character has a life of their own. The cast had all performed the production before, and I was the newcomer as Ford, replacing David Malis. I made sure I was in every rehearsal to watch Stein work with Maxwell on Falstaff’s character, which was something of an epiphany for me – it really confirmed in my mind that I had made the right choice to follow my dream to become an opera singer. The first time I took on the role of Falstaff was in Australia in 1999. I’d studied it, I’d been through it with Italian coaches, I’d read Evans’s, Griffith’s and Tito Gobbi’s autobiographies, but none of it helps you when you start to sing that first scene for the first time, ending with that incredible monologue (‘L’honore’). It’s a killer! I tried my best in that production but I never really nailed it. Then I came to Wales, I did it there, tried my best, and I still never nailed it. I did it at Covent Garden, I don’t think I got it there either. And I still haven’t nailed it. It’s a thorn in my side. The monologue is the bane of my life! By the time I get there I’m breathless and my technique goes out of the window. I think the bass-baritone voice has the most trouble with that little section, whereas baritones probably love it. Maybe I come into my own in the monologue after coming out of the Thames – baritones perhaps would struggle with that. It’s a very interesting equation, the role of Falstaff. I’m not a Premiership Falstaff yet, I’m in the First Division, I think. I still have something to say about this role. With Falstaff I always have this tremendous urge to go totally over the top and just convey everything that Verdi wrote. I think the next time I do it, less will be more. And maybe it’s a cheeky strategy on my part to say that I’ve never nailed it, it’s really just a reason to do it again. The role of Falstaff came out of the mould of the classic Verdi baritone roles; Verdi gave us mortals (bass-baritones) a chance to sing his notes. It doesn’t go above the stave very often, the lines aren’t too daunting. I think the role is beautifully paced. Think of the second act of Don Giovanni; I never, ever felt comfortable with that role (should never have sung it really), but I couldn’t have gone through my career not being Don Giovanni. His succession of duet, recit, trio, recit, aria, recit, duet, etc, never fell in my lap as something I was very comfortable with. But in Falstaff, once you’ve got through the monologue and feel happy that it went OK, the rest of the evening is like Horowitz playing Schumann’s Traumerei on a stage in Moscow – you know, throwing his handkerchief on the piano and just smiling, playing and walking off. It’s that kind of role; it gives great satisfaction. I’m doing Falstaff twice at La Scala in 2013, which I’m thrilled about because I want to be in the Guinness Book of Records some day for being the singer that gave the most performances of Falstaff around the world. Falstaff – a recording history, by Jeremy Nicholas Of the myriad recordings of Falstaff that have been issued, none I’ve heard has the completely ideal cast, orchestra, conductor and sound all combined, but several come pretty close. Remarkably, there’s a 1907 recording of Maurel singing a snatch of the role he created: ‘Quand’ero paggio’. In fact, he sings it three times in succession, the end of each ‘verse’ greeted bizarrely with applause and cheers (Marston 52011-2 – nla). Without any set-piece arias, very little else of Falstaff was captured on disc until the full opera had its first commercial recording in 1932, with Lorenzo Molajoli leading some of La Scala’s finest (Giacomo Rimini as Falstaff, Pia Tassinari as Alice) in a vivacious account that sounds amazingly good for its age (Naxos 8 110198/99). But it can’t compare with the live performance conducted by Arturo Toscanini in 1950. This has always been held up as the benchmark, and with good reason. Quite apart from the obvious attraction of it being led by someone who knew the composer personally and had been conducting the work for 56 years, one is struck not just by the crisp detail of the orchestral playing and Toscanini’s youthful high spirits (he was 83 at the time) but also by the sense of a cast singing what’s essentially a chamber work. The ladies in particular are terrific, but the robust Falstaff of Giuseppe Valdengo misses out on the fun element (RCA 74321 72372-2). ‘For my taste,’ said Carlo Maria Giulini, ‘[Falstaff] cannot be too serious.’ This shows in his 1982 recording (DG 477 6498). Claudio Abbado’s highly praised 2001 recording is detailed but laboured, with Bryn Terfel doing a lot of acting as Falstaff (DG 471 1942). Compare him with the faux dignity of the great Mariano Stabile, who sang the role more than 1200 times and can be heard in a live performance from 1952 conducted by Victor de Sabata (Music and Arts MACD1104). Georg Solti’s hard-driven 1963 account will appeal to some, and it features Geraint Evans as a Falstaff to match Stabile (Decca 475 6677). Herbert von Karajan’s 1980 version is heavy-handed, with Giuseppe Taddei in the title-role past his vocal prime (Decca 478 4167). What a contrast to Karajan’s 1956 recording with the wily and ebullient Tito Gobbi as the fat knight, Fedora Barbieri as a fruity Mistress Quickly, Anna Moffo as perhaps the best of all Nannettas, and Rolando Panerai as a superb Ford (Panerai, incidentally, is an excellent Falstaff in the earlier – 1991 – and preferable of Colin Davis’s two recordings: RCA 88697 45801-2). Add to that the Philharmonia at its height (Dennis Brain plays the horn solo at the start of Act 4 scene 2) and an approach clearly influenced by Toscanini (whom Karajan heard conduct the opera several times as a young man) and you have a Falstaff to laugh with and live with. This is a discography of Giuseppe Verdi's last opera, Falstaff. It was first performed at La Scala, Milan, on 9 February 1893. Year Cast (Falstaff Ford Fenton Alice Ford Nannetta Mistress Quickly) Conductor, Chorus and orchestra Label[1] 1932 Giacomo Rimini Emilio Ghirardini Roberto D'Alessio Pia Tassinari Ines Alfani-Tellini Aurora Buades Lorenzo Molajoli Chorus and Orchestra of La Scala, Milan Audio CD: Naxos Records Cat: 8110198-99 1950 Giuseppe Valdengo Frank Guarrera Antonio Madasi Herva Nelli Teresa Stich-Randall Cloe Elmo Arturo Toscanini Robert Shaw Chorale and Orchestra Broadcast performance recorded in Carnegie Hall, New York[2] Audio CD: RCA Cat: B00004R8ME 1957 Tito Gobbi Rolando Panerai Luigi Alva Elisabeth Schwarzkopf Anna Moffo Fedora Barbieri Herbert von Karajan Philharmonia Chorus and Orchestra Audio CD: EMI Classics Cat: CDM 5 67083 2 1963 Geraint Evans Robert Merrill Alfredo Kraus Ilva Ligabue Mirella Freni Giulietta Simionato Sir Georg Solti RCA Italiana Opera Chorus and Orchestra The chorus and orchestra were those of Rome Opera recorded pseudonymously[3] Audio CD: Decca Cat: B000787WWE 1966 Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau Rolando Panerai Juan Oncina Ilva Ligabue Graziella Sciutti Regina Resnik Leonard Bernstein Vienna State Opera Chorus and Vienna Philharmonic Audio CD: CBS Masterworks Cat: 01-042535-10 1976 Donald Gramm Benjamin Luxon Max-René Cosotti Kay Griffel Elizabeth Gale Nucci Condò Sir John Pritchard Glyndebourne Chorus and London Philharmonic Orchestra Recording of a performance at the Glyndebourne Festival 14 August; Stage director: Jean-Pierre Ponnelle Video (DVD NTSC): Arthaus Musik Cat: 101 083 1980 Giuseppe Taddei Rolando Panerai Francisco Araiza Raina Kabaivanska Janet Perry Christa Ludwig Herbert von Karajan Vienna State Opera Chorus and Vienna Philharmonic Audio CD: Philips Cat: B00000E2SL 1982 Renato Bruson Leo Nucci Dalmacio Gonzalez Katia Ricciarelli Barbara Hendricks Lucia Valentini Terrani Carlo Maria Giulini Los Angeles Master Chorale and Los Angeles Philharmonic Recorded at performances in Los Angeles Audio CD: Deutsche Grammophon Cat: B000001G4L 1991 Rolando Panerai Alan Titus Frank Lopardo Sharon Sweet Julie Kaufmann Marilyn Horne Sir Colin Davis Chorus and Orchestra of Bavarian Radio Audio CD: RCA Victor Cat: 09026 60705-2 1996 Domenico Trimarchi Roberto Servile Maurizio Comencini Julia Faulkner Dilber Yunus Anna Maria di Micco Will Humburg Chorus and Orchestra of the Hungarian State Opera Audio CD: Naxos Cat: 8660050–1 1998 Jean-Philippe Lafont Anthony Michaels-Moore Antonello Palombi Hillevi Martinpelto Rebecca Evans Sara Mingardo Sir John Eliot Gardiner Monteverdi Choir and Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique Audio CD: Phillips Cat: 462 603-2 2001 Andrew Shore Ashley Holland Barry Banks Yvonne Kenny Susan Gritton Rebecca de Pont Davies Paul Daniel Chorus and Orchestra of English National Opera Sung in English Audio CD: Chandos Cat:Chandos 3079 2001 Bryn Terfel Thomas Hampson Danil Shtoda Adrianne Pieczonka Dorothea Röschmann Larissa Diadkova Claudio Abbado Rundfunkchor Berlin and Berlin Philharmonic Audio CD: DGG Cat: 289 471 194-2 2004 Michele Pertusi Carlos Álvarez Bülent Bezdüz Ana Ibarra Maria Josè Moreno Jane Henschel Sir Colin Davis London Symphony Chorus and Orchestra Audio CD: LSO Live Cat:LSO0055 2009 Christopher Purves Tassis Christoyannis Bülent Bezdüz Dina Kuznetsova Adriana Kučerová Marie-Nicole Lemieux Vladimir Jurowski Glyndebourne Chorus and London Philharmonic Orchestra Recording of a performance at the Glyndebourne Festival June Stage director: Richard Jones Video (DVD NTTC): Opus Arte Cat: OA 1021 D The "Operadis" discography lists more than seventy other recordings, made at live performances. They include those conducted by Sir Thomas Beecham at the Metropolitan Opera in 1944 with Leonard Warren in the title role;[4] Fritz Reiner with Warren at the Met (1948);[5] Victor de Sabata with Mariano Stabile at La Scala (1951);[6] Karajan and Gobbi at the Salzburg Festival (1957);[7] Tullio Serafin with Gobbi at the Chicago Lyric Opera (1958);[8] Lorin Maazel and Walter Berry at the Vienna State Opera (1983);[9] James Levine and Paul Plishka at the Met (1992);[10] Riccardo Muti and Juan Pons at La Scala (1993);[11] Solti and José van Dam in Berlin (1993);[12] and Zubin Mehta and Ruggero Raimondi at the Teatro Comunale, Florence (2006).[13] In October 1978 Solti conducted the soundtrack for Götz Friedrich's 1979 film of Falstaff. The recording, made by Decca in the Sofiensaal. Vienna, with the Deutsche Oper Berlin Chorus, the Vienna State Opera Chorus, and the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, featured Gabriel Bacquier as Falstaff, Richard Stilwell as Ford, Max-René Cosotti as Fenton, Karan Armstrong as Alice Ford, Jutta-Renate Ihloff as Nanetta and Márta Szirmay as Mistress Quickly.[3] ***** Fernando Corena (22 December 1916 – 26 November 1984) was a Swiss bass who had a major international opera career from the late 1940s through the early 1980s. He enjoyed a long and successful career at the Metropolitan Opera between 1954 and 1978, and was a regular presence at the Vienna State Opera between 1963 and 1981. His repertoire encompassed both dramatic and comic roles in leading and secondary parts, mainly within Italian opera. He was highly regarded for his performances of opera buffacharacters and is generally considered one of the greatest basso buffos of the post-war era. He was heralded as the true successor to comic Italian bass Salvatore Baccaloni, and in 1966 Harold C. Schonberg wrote in The New York Times that he was "the outstanding buffo in action today and the greatest scene stealer in the history of opera".[citation needed] Life and career[edit] Fernando Corena was born in Geneva, Switzerland, to a Turkish father (the name was Korena) and an Italian mother. He studied theology at the Fribourg University, hoping to become a priest. After winning a vocal contest, he turned his attention to music. He first studied in his native Geneva, 1937-38. He was then noticed by Italian conductor Vittorio Gui, who encouraged him to complete his vocal studies in Milan, with Enrico Romani. At the beginning of World War II, he returned to Switzerland, where he performed regularly on radio broadcasts, and made a few appearances at the Zurich Opera House. His official professional debut was in Trieste, as Varlaam in Boris Godunov, in 1947. He then appeared throughout Italy, singing the standard repertory, Sparafucile, Escamillo, Scarpia, etc. He made his first appearances at La Scala and the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino in 1948. In 1949, he took part in the creation of Goffredo Petrassi's Il cordovano at La Scala in Milan. Although he did not fully surrender the serious bass roles, he steadily moved into the buffo roles and found his career moving more switftly upward. From 1950 to 1952, he sang annually at the Arena di Verona opera festival. In 1953 he made his first appearance at the Edinburgh Festival in the title role of Giuseppe Verdi's Falstaff. Corena's Metropolitan Opera debut took place as Leporello in Don Giovanni on February 6, 1954 with Cesare Siepi in the title role, Margaret Harshaw as Donna Anna, Cesare Valletti as Don Ottavio, Lucine Amara as Donna Elvira, Roberta Peters as Zerlina, and Max Rudolf conducting. He established himself almost immediately as a favorite singer in that house. For a quarter of a century, he all but owned the great comic and character roles such as the two Bartolos, in Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro and Rossini's Il barbiere di Siviglia, Benoit in La bohème, Don Alfonso in Così fan tutte, Dulcamara in L'elisir d'amore, Falstaff, Mathieu in Andrea Chénier, Melitone in La forza del destino, Mustafa in L'italiana in Algeri, the sacristan in Tosca, Sulpice in La fille du régiment, and Varlaam in Boris Godunov. He also sang a small number of serious leading roles like Lescaut in Manon and the title role in Gianni Schicchi. His final and 723rd performance at the Met was in the title role of Don Pasquale on 30 December 1978 with Beverly Sills as Norina, Alfredo Kraus as Ernesto, and conductor Nicola Rescigno. Aside from his close relationship to New York, Corena enjoyed considerable success with opera companies both in the United States and Europe. In 1955 he sang Falstaff at the Glyndebourne Festival. In 1956 he made his debut with the Philadelphia Grand Opera Company singing Archibaldo in Italo Montemezzi's L'amore dei tre re with Beverly Sills as Fiora, Ramón Vinay as Avito, and Frank Guarrera as Manfredo. In 1957 he sang in the world premiere of two operas by Gian Francesco Malipiero at the Teatro della Pergola, Il figliuol prodigo and Venere prigioniera. In 1959 he sang Falstaff with the Israeli Opera in Tel Aviv. In 1960 he made his first appearance at the Lyric Opera of Chicago singing Benoit/Alcindoro in La bohème and later that season Bartolo in Le nozze di Figaro. That same year he made his debut at the Royal Opera, Covent Garden as Rossini's Bartolo. In 1961 he made his debut with the Philadelphia Lyric Opera Company as Rossini's Bartolo, returning there to sing Geronte di Ravoir in Puccini's Manon Lescaut (1961), and Sulpice (1967, 1973). In 1962 he made his first appearance at La Monnaie and in 1965 he made his debut with the Deutsche Oper Berlin. In 1963 he joined the roster at the Vienna State Opera where he sang regularly through 1981. He sang frequently at the Salzburg Festival between 1965–1971, portraying such roles as Don Pasquale, and Osmin in Die Entführung aus dem Serail, among others. He also appeared at the Bavarian State Opera, De Nederlandse Opera, the Opéra National de Paris, the Palacio de Bellas Artes, the Teatro Colón, and the San Francisco Opera. Corena possessed a big, handsome, resonant voice that lacked sufficient flexibility to deliver accurately the complexities of Rossini's florid writing. However, his complete involvement in his characters, and sheer physical presence and acting abilities, more than made up for any vocal technical shortcomings. Opera magazine, for instance, noted in a performance in 1954 of Barber of Seville, that as Bartolo, he was "the very picture of self-satisfied middle age. The characterization was an absolutely complete one... Nothing he did was without point, nothing he did failed to contribute to the total character". Thus this was a performance of Barber which was "dominated by the Bartolo".[1] Corena left many recordings of his best roles, notably two recordings of Mozart's Bartolo in Le nozze di Figaro, under Erich Kleiber and Erich Leinsdorf, Leporello in Don Giovanni, under Josef Krips and later under Erich Leinsdorf, Mustafa in L'italiana in Algeri, three recordings of Rossini's Bartolo in Il barbiere di Siviglia under Alberto Erede, Erich Leinsdorf, and Silvio Varviso, Dulcamara in L'elisir d'amore, Don Pasquale, Fra Melitone in La forza del destino, twice with Renata Tebaldi and Mario del Monaco, and a third with Adriana Guerrini, Gianni Schicchi, Benoit/Alcindoro in La bohème at least three times, etc. He also recorded the role of Rodolfo in La sonnambula, opposite Joan Sutherland in 1962. More serious roles he recorded include the King of Egypt in two recordings of Aida with Renata Tebaldi, Mathieu in Andrea Chénier, also with Tebaldi, two recordings of the Bonze in Madama Butterfly with both Anna Moffo and Leontyne Price, and the Gessler in Rossini's Guglielmo Tell (William Tell) with Giuseppe Taddei and Rosanna Carteri. Fernando Corena died in Lugano, Switzerland, on 26 November 1984, four weeks short of his 68th birthday. ***** Mario Carlin (Báta, 13 giugno 1915 – Lavagna, 30 aprile 1984) è stato un tenore italiano. Ha cantato nei maggiori teatri dagli anni cinquanta agli anni settanta, caratterizzando vari ruoli di comprimario e di tenore caratterista in grandi opere liriche. Fu tra i primi cantanti ad apparire in televisione nelle opere trasmesse dalla RAI (Radiotelevisione Italiana) nel dopoguerra. Conclusa la sua carriera si è dedicato all'insegnamento del canto. Indice [nascondi] 1 Biografia 1.1 Il debutto 1.2 La carriera 1.3 La critica musicale 1.4 La famiglia 2 Discografia 3 Filmografia / Videografia 4 Bibliografia Biografia[modifica | modifica wikitesto] Nato in internamento a Báta in Ungheria all'inizio della prima guerra mondiale mentre il padre è sotto le armi, ma originario di Fasana d'Istria, condivide la sorte di tanti altri italiani d'Istria, anticipando l'esodo che si sarebbe ripetuto trent'anni dopo. Rientrato a Fasana alla fine della guerra, vive in una famiglia numerosa e senza grossi mezzi di sostentamento. Inizia in giovane età a lavorare, di giorno come pescatore e di notte come panettiere. Qui, esprimendo il suo buon umore cantando al lavoro, ottiene dai compaesani il soprannome di "el nostro gardelin" (il nostro cardellino). Saranno proprio alcuni compaesani a suggerirgli di tentare la fortuna cantando. Coglie quindi l'occasione offertagli da una sorella che nel frattempo si era sposata e trasferita a Milano di andare a vivere nella città lombarda. A Milano, lavorando di giorno e frequentando di sera la scuola civica di musica, entra prima nel coro del Duomo di Milano e poi vince il concorso da primo tenore per il coro del Teatro alla Scala di Milano. Nel frattempo scoppia la seconda guerra mondiale. Il servizio militare lo riporta vicino ai suoi luoghi d'origine, prima a Pola e poi a Trieste, dove continua comunque a studiare e a perfezionarsi insieme ad alcuni colleghi, con i quali condividerà poi gran parte della carriera. Il debutto[modifica | modifica wikitesto] Nel luglio del 1945, grazie all'aiuto di un maggiore dell'esercito neozelandese appassionato di lirica, debutta da solista con due concerti all'Arena di Pola, poco prima dell'inizio dell'esodo degli istriani. Inizia quindi una collaborazione con Radio Trieste, cantando un repertorio di qualsiasi epoca e stile. Questa esperienza gli sarà successivamente preziosa per affrontare partiture difficili e per interpretare opere di autori moderni. Nel 1946 al Palazzo dello Sport di Milano è il Messaggero in Aidadiretto da Franco Ghione con Elisabetta Barbato, Fedora Barbieri, Galliano Masini, Ugo Savarese e Cesare Siepi. Ma è al Teatro alla Scala di Milano che avviene il debutto più importante: partecipa all'audizione e viene scritturato per partecipare allo spettacolo d'inaugurazione della stagione 1947-48: l'Otello di Verdi diretto da Victor De Sabata, dove interpreta Cassio accanto Maria Caniglia, Ramón Vinay, Gino Bechi, Aristide Baracchi e Giuseppe Modesti e nel 1949 con Renata Tebaldi, Vinay e Modesti. La carriera[modifica | modifica wikitesto] Dopo vari anni passati alla Scala, alcuni noti direttori d'orchestra come Nino Rota, Carlo Maria Giulini, Antonino Votto e Herbert von Karajan lo chiamano in tournée all'estero, portandolo a cantare nei teatri di Parigi, Vienna, Berlino, Amsterdam, Londra, New York, Città del Messico, San Paolo, Tokio, Melbourne e Tel Aviv. Mario Carlin canta come gregario insieme ai maggiori interpreti della sua epoca quali Mario Del Monaco, Giuseppe Di Stefano, Tito Gobbi, Fernando Corena, Tullio Serafin, Nicolai Gedda, Franco Corelli e Maria Callas, Renata Tebaldi, Anna Moffo, Leontyne Price, Magda Olivero, Beverly Sills ed altri. Lavorando con registi e scenografi famosi come: Luchino Visconti, Franco Zeffirelli, Nicola Benois raffina anche la sua capacità recitativa. Insieme a Silvio Maionica, Angelo Mercuriali e Juan Oncina inizia un'amicizia che nasce ai tempi del debutto a Trieste e durerà vent'anni, interpretando ruoli da comprimario, celebrati nel 1980 al Teatro Carani di Sassuolo con l'evento "Grandi Gregari del Melodramma". Carlin interpreta, come primo tenore, opere di compositori moderni come: "Battono alla Porta" di Dino Buzzati e Riccardo Malipiero, "Il campiello" e "I quatro rusteghi" di Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, "Ascesa e rovina della città di Mahagonny" di Kurt Weill e Bertolt Brecht, "Le campane" di Renzo Rossellini, "Nozze istriane" di Antonio Smareglia, "Il mulatto" di Langston Hughes e Jan Meyerowitz, "Francesca da Rimini" di Riccardo Zandonai, "Un quarto di vita" di Giorgio Gaslini, "La notte Veneziana" di Giorgio Pacuvio e Luigi Cortese, "Le jeu de Robin et de Marion" di Adam de la Halle e "Renard" di Igor Stravinsky. Tutte opere, queste, sconosciute ai più ma che hanno costituito gran parte delle opere trasmesse in televisione dalla RAI. Da ricordare anche la presenza in varie stagioni liriche nei maggiori teatri italiani quali: il Regio di Torino, il Regio di Parma, il Comunale di Firenze, l'Arena di Verona, il Comunale di Treviso La Fenice di Venezia, Il teatro dell'Opera, l'accademia di S.Cecilia e le Terme di Caracalla a Roma, il S.Carlo di Napoli, I Municipali di Genova e Reggio Emilia oltre alle frequenti partecipazioni ai Festival di Glyndebourne, in Inghilterra, a quello di Bayreuth in Germania e a quello dei Due Mondi di Spoleto. Si ritira dalle scene dopo trent'anni di carriera e passa gli ultimi anni della sua vita trasferendo la sua esperienza a giovani cantanti e appassionati, nonostante il diabete che ne mina la salute. Muore a 68 anni a Lavagna, sulla Riviera ligure, a causa di un infarto. La critica musicale[modifica | modifica wikitesto] I critici musicali hanno definito Mario Carlin «nostalgico Federico» nell'Arlesiana di Cilea, «malizioso Arlecchino» nei Pagliacci di Leoncavallo, «misurato Ping» nella Turandot di Puccini, «giovanile Cassio» nell'Otello verdiano, «banditesco Dancairo» nella Carmen di Bizet e «estatico interprete della Venezianità in musica» nelle Opere di Wolf-Ferrari. La famiglia[modifica | modifica wikitesto] Nel 1957 sposa Elena Maretto, artista lirica del Coro del Teatro alla Scala, dopo un fidanzamento durato lo spazio di una tournée a Berlino. Un anno dopo nasce Enrico, il loro unico figlio. Discografia[modifica | modifica wikitesto] Dalla base dati di Puccini: Manon Lescaut - Giacomo Puccini, Jonel Perlea, Rome Opera Orchestra, Enrico Campi, Franco Calabrese (Audio CD - 2005) Puccini: Manon Lescaut - Robert Merrill, Enrico Campi, Giacomo Puccini, Jonel Perlea, Anna Maria Rota (Audio CD - 1990) Puccini: Turandot - Giacomo Puccini, Alberto Erede, Roma Orchestra dell'Accademia di S. Cecilia, Ezio Giordano, Fernando Corena (Audio CD - 2006) Puccini: Tosca - Leonard Warren, Fernando Corena, Leonardo Monreale, Nestore Catalani, Vincenzo Preziosa (Audio CD - 1990) Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor - Guido Picco, Herbert von Karajan, La Scala Theater Orchestra, and Mexico City Palacio de Bellas Artes Orchestra (Audio CD - 2004) Verdi: Stiffelio - Maurizio Rinaldi, Peter Maag, Parma Region Theater Orchestra & Chorus, and RAI Orchestra (Audio CD - 2006) Donizetti: Lucia Di Lammermoor - Herbert von Karajan, Norberto Mola, RIAS-Symphonie-Orchester Berlin, and Maria Callas (Audio CD - 1991) Verdi: Otello - Tullio Serafin, Onelia Fineschi, Mario del Monaco, and Bruna Ronchini (Audio CD - 2000) Puccini: Madama Butterfly (Highlights) by Andrea Mineo, Renato Cesari, Giacomo Puccini, Erich Leinsdorf, and Rosalind Elias (Audio CD - 1989) Puccini: Madama Butterfly - Enrico Campi, Plinio Clabassi, Giacomo Puccini, and Herbert von Karajan (Audio CD - 1990) Giordano: Andrea Chénier - Antonino Votto, La Scala Theater Orchestra, Aldo Protti, and Carlo Forti (Audio CD - 2001) Wolf-Ferrari: I quatro rusteghi - Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, Ettore Gracis, Orchestra del Teatro Regio di Torino, Agostino Lazzari, and Alessandro Maddalena (Audio CD - 2003) Puccini: Turandot - Arturo Basile, Fernando Previtali, and Orchestra Sinfonica di Torino della RAI Radiotelevisione (Audio CD - 2003) Mascagni: Iris by Pietro Mascagni, Magda Olivero, Giulio Neri, Angelo Questa, and Salvatore Puma (Audio CD - 1994) Capua: La Zingara / Orlandini: Serpilla e Bacocco - Giuseppe Maria Orlandini, Edwin Loehrer, Orchestra E Coro Della RCA Italiana, and Enrico Fissore (Audio CD - 2001) Bizet: Carmen - Herbert von Karajan, La Scala Theater Orchestra, Enzo Sordello, and Gino del Signore (Audio CD - 2005) Leoncavallo: Pagliacci - Alfredo Simonetto, Milan Radio Symphony Orchestra, Franco Corelli, and Lino Puglisi (Audio CD - 2005) Verdi: Falstaff - Mario Rossi, Orchestra di Roma della RAI, Aldo Protti, and Anna Maria Canali (Audio CD - 2005) Giacomo Puccini: Tosca - Fernando Corena, Leonardo Monreale, Nestore Catalani, and Vincenzo Preziosa (Audio Cassette - 1995) Bizet: Carmen - Herbert von Karajan, Vienna Symphony Orchestra, Frederick Guthrie, and Giulietta Simionato (Audio CD - 2004) Zandonai: Francesca Da Rimini by Riccardo Zandonai, Antonio Guarnieri, Rome RAI Orchestra, Aldo Bertocci, and Amalia Oliva (Audio CD - 1996) Verdi: Il Finto Stanislao - Alfredo Simonetto, Cristiano Dalamangas, Juan Oncina, and Laura Cozzi (Audio CD - 1997) Bizet: Carmen - Herbert von Karajan, Vienna Symphony Orchestra, Enzo Sordello, and Frederick Guthrie (Audio CD - 2004) Umberto Giordano: Fedora by Umberto Giordano, Francesco Molinari Pradelli, Francesco Molinari-Pradelli, La Fenice Theater Orchestra, and Aldo Bottion (Audio CD - 2000) Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor by Gaetano Donizetti, Jules Massenet, Giacomo Meyerbeer, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Gioachino Rossini (Audio CD - 1994) Verdi: Il Trovatore by Giuseppe Verdi, Fernando Previtali, Miriam Pirazzini, Rome RAI Orchestra, and Graziella Sciutti (Audio CD - 1993) Lucia di Lammermoor by Gaetano Donizetti, Herbert von Karajan, Giuseppe Modesti, Giuseppe Zampieri, and Giuseppe di Stefano (Audio CD - 1992) Cimarosa: Giannina e Bernardone by Domenico Cimarosa, Nino Sanzogno, Milan Radio Symphony Orchestra, Carlo de' Antoni, and Disma de Cecco (Audio CD - 2005) Riccardo Zandonai: Francesca da Rimini by Riccardo Zandonai, Antonio Guarnieri, Rome RAI Orchestra, Aldo Bertocci, and Amalia Oliva (Audio CD - 2002) Giuseppe Verdi: Otello by Robert Kerns, Tito Gobbi, Ferruccio Mazzoli, Giuseppe Verdi, and Miriam Pirazzini (Audio CD - 1990) Mascagni: Iris by Pietro Mascagni, Magda Olivero, Giulio Neri, Angelo Questa, and Salvatore Puma (Audio CD - 1994) Verdi: Un Giorno Di Regno by Giuseppe Verdi, Alfredo Simonetto, Orchestra e Coro di Milano della RAI, Milan RAI Orchestra and Chorus, and Cristiano Dalamangas (Audio CD - 1995) Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor by Anselmo Colzani, Silvio Maionica, Gaetano Donizetti, Franco Capuana, and Ebe Ticozzi (Audio CD - 2004) Umberto Giordano: La Cena delle Beffe by Umberto Giordano, Giacomo Puccini, Alfredo Simonetto, Oliviero de Fabritiis, and Milan Radio Symphony Orchestra (Audio CD - 2005) Verdi: Falstaff by Giuseppe Verdi, Gianandrea Gavazzeni, Mario Rossi, Milan Symphony Orchestra, and Orchestra Sinfonica di Torino della RAI Radiotelevisione (Audio CD - 2006) Rossini: Il Barbiere Di Siviglia/Galliera (Complete Opera) by Tito Gobbi, Nicola Zaccaria [singer], Gioachino Rossini, Alceo Leoncavallo: Pagliacci by Lino Puglisi, Tito Gobbi, Ruggero Leoncavallo, Alfredo Simonetto, and Turin RAI Orchestra (Audio CD - 2001) Mascagni: Lodoletta by Pietro Mascagni, Alberto Paoletti, Luciano Bettarini, Tullio Serafin, and Umberto Cattini (Audio CD - 2003) Verdi: Aida by Zinka Milanov, Jussi Björling, Giuseppe Verdi, Jonel Perlea, and Rome Opera Orchestra (Audio CD - 1990) - Box set Bizet: Carmen by Georges Bizet, Herbert von Karajan, La Scala Theater Orchestra, Enzo Sordello, and Gino del Signore (Audio CD - 2005) Verdi: La Traviata / Sills, Gedda, Panerai; Ceccato by Giuseppe Verdi, John Alldis Choir & Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Aldo Ceccato, Beverly Sills, and Nicolai Gedda (Audio CD - 1990) Umberto Giordano: Fedora by Umberto Giordano, Francesco Molinari Pradelli, Francesco Molinari-Pradelli, La Fenice Theater Orchestra, and Aldo Bottion (Audio CD - 2000) Puccini: Madama Butterfly / Leinsdorf, Moffo, Valletti, Elias by Anna Moffo, Mario Carlin, Nestore Catalani, Renato Cesari, and Maria Grazia Ciferri (Audio CD - 1990) Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor by Gaetano Donizetti, Herbert von Karajan, RIAS Symphonie-Orchester, Giuseppe Zampieri, and Giuseppe di Stefano (Audio CD - 2006) Giuseppe Verdi: Il Trovatore by Leonard Warren, Giorgio Tozzi, Leonardo Monreale, Giuseppe Verdi, and Arturo Basile (Audio CD - 1990) The Essential Leontyne Price: Her Greatest Roles by Robert Merrill, Samuel Barber, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Francis Poulenc, and Giacomo Puccini (Audio CD - 1998 Karajan Conducts Carmen by Georges Bizet, Herbert von Karajan, Vienna Symphony Orchestra, Enzo Sordello, and Frederick Guthrie (Audio CD - 2005) Puccini: Gianni Schicchi by Giacomo Puccini, Massimo Pradella, RAI Orchestra, Angelo Nosotti, and Carlo Badioli (Audio CD - 2001) Puccini: Madama Butterfly (complete opera) with Maria Callas, Lucia Danieli, Nicolai Gedda, Herbert von Karajan, Chorus & Orchestra of La Scala, Milan by Giacomo Puccini, Herbert von Karajan, La Scala Theater Orchestra, Enrico Campi, and Lucia Danieli (Audio CD - 1997) Rossini: The Barber Of Seville with Maria Callas, Tito Gobbi, Alceo Galliera, Philharmonia Orchestra & Chorus by Gioachino Rossini, Alceo Galliera, Maria Callas, Luigi Alva, and Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus (Audio CD - 1997) Verdi: Otello by Robert Kerns, Tito Gobbi, Ferruccio Mazzoli, Franco Calabrese, and Giuseppe Verdi (Audio CD - 2005) Gaetano Donizetti: Lucia Di Lammermoor by Philip Maero, Giorgio Tozzi, Gaetano Donizetti, Erich Leinsdorf, and Miti Truccato Pace (Audio CD - 1996) Verdi: La Forza del Destino by Gaetano Donizetti, Giuseppe Verdi, Antonino Votto, Gianandrea Gavazzeni, and La Scala Theater Orchestra (Audio CD - 2000) Puccini: La fanciulla del West by Giacomo Puccini, Franco Capuana, Accademia di Santa Cecilia Orchestra, Angelo Mercuriali, and Athos Cesarini (Audio CD) Puccini: Turandot by Fernando Corena, Nicola Zaccaria [singer], Giacomo Puccini, Alberto Erede, and James Brown (Audio CD - 1993) Wolf-Ferrari: I Quatro Rusteghi by Renato Cesari, Nicola Rossi-Lemeni, Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, Ettore Gracis, and Fedora Barbieri (Audio CD - 2000) Zandonai: Giulietta e Romeo by Riccardo Zandonai, Angelo Questa, Milan Symphony Orchestra, Angelo Lo Forese, and Anna Maria Roverre (Audio CD - 2006) Verdi: La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi, Aldo Ceccato, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Beverly Sills, and Delia Wallis (Audio CD - 1999) Puccini: Manon Lescaut by Jules Massenet, Giacomo Puccini, Fulvio Vernizzi, Pietro Argento, and Groot Omreoporkest (Audio CD - 1996) Donizetti: Anna Bolena by Gaetano Donizetti, Gianandrea Gavazzeni, Milan Radio Symphony Orchestra & Chorus, RLB Symphony Orchestra, and Aldo Bertocci (Audio CD - 1998 Verdi: Un Giorno Di Regno, Ossia Il Finto Stanislao by Giuseppe Verdi, Alfredo Simonetto, Orchestra Lirica di Milano della RAI, Cristiano Dalamangas, and Juan Oncina (Audio CD - 2000) Un Ballo in Maschera by Giuseppe Verdi, Giuseppe Patane, Parma Region Theater Orchestra & Chorus, Francesco Signor, and Ghena Dimitrova (Audio CD - 1995) Leoncavallo: Pagliacci by Tito Gobbi, Ruggero Leoncavallo, Alfredo Simonetto, Franco Corelli, and Mario Carlin (Audio CD - 1992) Rota - Il Cappello di Paglia di Firenze by Nino Rota, Ugo Benelli, Giorgio Zancanaro, Enrico Campi, and Mario Carlin (Audio CD - 1999) Giordano: La Cena delle Beffe by Anselmo Colzani, Antonio Sacchetti, Franco Calabrese, Umberto Giordano, and Giacomo Puccini (Audio CD - 2000) Il Corsaro - Complete Opera by Giuseppe Verdi, Carlo Franci, La Fenice Theater Orchestra, Angeles Gulin, and Giorgio Lamberti (Audio CD - 1999) Giuseppe Verdi: Il Trovatore by Leonard Warren, Giorgio Tozzi, Leonardo Monreale, Giuseppe Verdi, and Arturo Basile (Audio Cassette - 1995) Mascagni: Iris by Pietro Mascagni, Amalia Oliva, Giulio Neri, Giulio Nervi, and Magda Olivero (Audio CD - 1996) Donizetti: Lucia di Lammermoor by Vox Turnabout (LP Record - 1978) - Live ***Ilva Ligabue (May 23, 1932, Reggio Emilia – August 17, 1998, Palermo) was an Italian operatic soprano, best known for the role of Alice Ford in Falstaff, which she recorded twice, under Georg Solti (RCA, 1963) and Leonard Bernstein (Sony, 1966). Ilva Ligabue studied at the Milan Conservatory in the class of Campogalliani and at La Scuola di Canto alla Scala where she made her debut as Marina in 1953.[1] After singing with success at most of the Italian opera houses, she won considerable acclaim in the title role of Beatrice di Tenda at La Scala in 1961, followed by Margherita in Boito's Mefistofele in Chicago.[1] She then began appearing abroad, notably in Germany, also singing at the Vienna State Opera, the Paris Opera, and became a regular guest artist at the Glyndebourne Festival and the Aix-en-Provence Festival, where she was especially admired as Fiordiligi in Cosi fan tutte. She also appeared in Buenos Aires, Chicago and New York City. A sensitive and intelligent singer and a fine actress, other notable roles included Amelia in Un ballo in maschera and Desdemona in Otello. Alan Blyth wrote that "those who saw and heard her will always remember the liveliness of her characterizations and the aplomb of her singing", representing an Italian vocal style "outgoing yet disciplined".[1] Her complete opera recordings include Alice in Falstaff conducted by Downes, Solti and Bernstein, Verdi's Messa da Requiemon CD and DVD under Giulini, as well as live recordings including Verdi's Otello in Dallas in 1962 with Del Monaco and Vinay (singing Iago) and Verdi's I masnadieri in Rome in 1972 with Raimondi, Bruson and Christoff. Ligabue was married to the Italian baritone Paolo Pedani.[1] *** Oralia Domínguez From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia Oralia Dominguez (25 October 1925 in San Luis Potosí, Mexico – 25 November 2013 in Milan, Italy) was a Mexican operatic mezzo-soprano who performed at many of the world's leading opera houses.[1] She was born in the city of San Luis Potosí in northern Mexico and studied at the National Conservatory of Music where she made the acquaintance of the composer Carlos Chavez who championed her career. She made her professional stage debut at the Mexico City Opera in 1950. In 1951, she sang the role of Amneris in Aida for the first time at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City with Maria Callas, Mario del Monaco, and Giuseppe Taddeiunder the direction of Italian conductor Oliviero De Fabritiis. A recording of this performance has circulated since that time and is still regarded as one of the most exciting performances of this very popular opera on record. She made her European debut in 1953 at London's Wigmore Hall. In the same year, she first appeared at La Scala, Milan, in Adriana Lecouvreur, and performed with the company in Verdi's Requiem at the Lucerne Festival. She recorded the Requiem the following year under the direction of Victor de Sabata. In 1954, she appeared throughout Europe with such conductors as Tullio Serafin, Igor Markevitch, Paul Kletzki and Herbert von Karajan. In 1955, she made her debut at the Royal Opera House Covent Garden singing the role of Madame Sosostris in the world premiere of Michael Tippett's The Midsummer Marriage. Also in England, she appeared at Glyndebourne in the late 1950s as Isabella in L'italiana in Algeri and Mistress Quickly in Falstaff; she appeared at Covent Garden in the latter role in 1967-8 as well. In 1958, Dominguez was soloist in Gustav Mahler's Symphony no. 2 with Leonard Bernstein conducting the Orchestre National de la RTF. The performance took place in the Théatre des Champs-Èlysées in Paris. Recordings[edit] She performed the role of Erda in von Karajan's recording of Wagner's Ring with the Berlin Philharmonic. She recorded also Vivaldi's Juditha triumphans (under Alberto Zedda). Her other recordings, mainly live performances, include Aida, La Gioconda (La Cieca), Il tabarro, Un ballo in maschera, Trovatore, Tippett's Midsummer Marriage (Madame Sosostris), Verdi's Requiem, Mozart's Requiem, Rossini's Petite messe solennelle, De Falla's El amor brujo, Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde, Brahms's Alto Rapsody. She recorded Carmen (excerpts in German) and a recital of arias (Donizetti, Rossini, Cilea, Verdi) made early in her career by Deutsche Grammophon which has been reissued. *** Mariella Adani (born December 17, 1934) is an Italian classical soprano who had an active career in operas, concerts, and recitals from the 1950s through the 1980s. She has sung under the musical direction of Vittorio Gui, Carlo Maria Giulini, Nino Sanzogno, Oliviero De Fabritiis, and Peter Maag and under the directors Sandro Bolchi, Franco Zeffirelli Luchino Visconti, and Walter Felsenstein. A light lyric soprano, she has particularly excelled in the operas of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Gioachino Rossini. She has also been admired for her performances in Baroque opera. Retired from the stage, she now devotes her time to teaching singing. Biography[edit] Adani was born in Palanzano. She studied voice at the Parma Conservatory with Ettore Campogalliani and at the L'Accademia di La Scala with Giulio Confalonieri. In 1954 she made her professional opera debut at La Scala as Barbarina in Le nozze di Figaro with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf as the Countess, Irmgard Seefried as Susanna, Mario Petri as the Count, and Rolando Panerai as Figaro. She returned frequently to that house through 1962, singing such roles as Gretel in Hänsel und Gretel, Amore in Christoph Willibald Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice, Nannetta in Giuseppe Verdi's Falstaff, Lucieta in Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari's I quatro rusteghi, and Musetta in Giacomo Puccini's La bohème. She also portrayed the title role in the Italian premiere of Leoš Janáčeks' The Cunning Little Vixen at La Scala in 1958. In 1956 Adani made her first appearance at La Fenice as Elena in Nino Rota's Il cappello di paglia di Firenze. She returned there periodically through 1968 in such roles as Anna in Die Jahreszeiten, Norina in Don Pasquale, and Zerlina in Don Giovanni. In 1957 she married bass Giorgio Tadeo, with whom she has two children. That same year she made her debut at the Teatro della Piccola Scala as Sofia in Riccardo Malipiero's La donna è mobile. She returned to that house often through 1973, portraying such roles as Arminda in La finta giardiniera, Bellina in Le astuzie femminili, Fanny in Gioachino Rossini's La cambiale di matrimonio, Paoluccia in La buona figliuola, and the title heroine in Gaetano Donizetti's Rita among other roles. During the 1960s, 1970s, and into the 1980s Adani was active at many of the major opera houses in Italy. She was often found at the Teatro di San Carlo, where she appeared as late as 1983 as Donizetti's Rita. She also was a repeat performer at the Teatro Regio di Torino, the Teatro Massimo, the Teatro Lirico Giuseppe Verdi, and the Teatro Comunale di Bologna. At the latter house she had a particular triumph as Fiorilla in Rossini's Il turco in Italia in 1966. She also made a number of appearances at the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino and at the opera festival at the Baths of Caracalla in Rome. Adani was also highly active as a freelance artist on the international stage. She appeared almost every year at the Aix-en-Provence Festival between 1957 and 1967, where she was a lauded Mozart interpreter. Some of her portrayals at that festival included Despina in Così fan tutte, Papagena in The Magic Flute, Susanna in Le Nozze di Figaro, and Zerlina. She made her debut at the Holland Festival as Flamina in Haydn's Il mondo della luna in 1959. That same year she made her first appearance at the Wexford Festival Opera as Ninetta in Rossini's La gazza Ladra. In 1960 Adani portrayed both Nannetta and Susanna at the Glyndebourne Festival. She made her debut at the Vienna State Opera that year as Susanna. In 1961 she made her debut at the Opéra de Monte-Carlo in the world premiere of Bruno Gillet's Il visconte dimezzato. She also made guest appearances at the Bavarian State Opera, the Hamburg State Opera, the Deutsche Oper Berlin, the Lyric Opera of Chicago, the Teatro Colón, De Nederlandse Opera, the Opéra National de Paris, the Liceu, the Romanian National Opera, the Teatro Nacional de São Carlos, the Palacio de Bellas Artes, and at the opera houses in Cologne and Wiesbaden. **** Enrico Campi (Genova, 1919 – Milano, 10 settembre 1976) è stato un basso-baritono italiano. In occasione della serata inaugurale della stagione scaligera del 1951-52 ha cantato Andrea Chénier, nel breve ruolo di Roucher,[1] con Maria Callas, accanto alla quale è apparso in concerto e con la quale ha inciso numerose opere, per lo più in ruoli secondari. Si è esibito anche al Metropolitan di New York. Incisioni[modifica | modifica wikitesto] Alceste di Christoph Willibald Gluck, diretto da Carlo Maria Giulini Andrea Chénier di Umberto Giordano, diretto da Antonino Votto Falstaff di Giuseppe Verdi, diretto da Mario Rossi (Pistola) - Opera d'oro Fedora di Umberto Giordano, diretto da Arturo Basile - Opera d'oro La forza del destino di Giuseppe Verdi, diretto da Antonino Votto (Melitone) - Myto Records Francesca da Rimini di Riccardo Zandonai, diretta da Antonio Guarnieri - Fonit Cetra Francesca da Rimini di Riccardo Zandonai, diretta da Gianandrea Gavazzeni (1959) - Myto Records Gloria di Francesco Cilea, diretto da Fernando Previtali - Bongiovanni Guglielmo Tell di Gioachino Rossini, diretto da Fernando Previtali (Gessler - 1956) - Opera d'oro Madama Butterfly di Giacomo Puccini, diretto da Herbert von Karajan (Commissario imperiale) - Emi Classics Manon Lescaut di Giacomo Puccini, diretto da Jonel Perlea - Opera d'oro Medea di Luigi Cherubini, diretto da Leonard Bernstein - Emi Classics Otello di Giuseppe Verdi, diretto da Nino Sanzogno (1962) - Melodram La Vestale di Gaspare Spontini, diretto da Fernando Previtali - Living Stage Zelmira di Gioachino Rossini, diretto da Carlo Franci (1965) - Opera d'oro ***** Angelo Mercuriali (Ferrara, 17 ottobre 1909 – Milano, 17 dicembre 1999) è stato un tenore italiano. Biografia[modifica | modifica wikitesto] Tenore lirico dalla voce di bel timbro, dal canto morbido e garbato, definita simpaticamente anche la "voce d'Angelo", studiò canto con il maestro Aldo Malagodi. Esordì il 23 dicembre 1932 al Teatro Verdi di Ferrara nel ruolo di Lord Arturo nella Lucia di Lammermoor di Gaetano Donizetti. Dopo un lungo periodo di gavetta impiegato in ruoli da comprimario, venne scritturato al Teatro della Moda di Torino il 18 maggio 1939 nell'opera Cyrano de Bergerac di Franco Alfano. Nello stesso anno debuttò al Teatro alla Scala di Milano nell'opera Conchita di Riccardo Zandonai a fianco del soprano Gianna Pederzini. Per il tenore ferrarese si aprì così un lungo periodo di collaborazione con il teatro milanese durato trent'anni. Mercuriali ricoprì nella sua lunga carriera ben 254 ruoli in 197 opere, cantando al fianco di grandi interpreti come Beniamino Gigli, Maria Callas, Renata Tebaldi, Magda Olivero, Franco Corelli, Giuseppe Di Stefano, Mario Del Monaco, Ettore Bastianini. Nel 1936 sposò il soprano lirico Lina Paletti. L'ultima sua apparizione sulle scene avvenne in una commovente serata del 17 ottobre 1999 (giorno del suo novantesimo compleanno) al Politeama Verdi di Carrara, dove si esibì nel ruolo dell'Imperatore Altoum nella Turandot di Giacomo Puccini. Numerose sono le incisioni discografiche dove si può ascoltare la voce del tenore ferrarese. Fu un comprimario di lusso. ***** Franco Zeffirelli, KBE Grande Ufficiale OMRI (Italian pronunciation: [ˈfraŋko dzeffiˈrɛlli]; born 12 February 1923) is an Italian director and producer of operas, films and television. He is also a former senator (1994–2001) for the Italian centre-right Forza Italia party. Recently Italian researchers have found that he is one of the few distant relatives of Leonardo da Vinci.[1] Some of his operatic designs and productions have become worldwide classics.[2][3][4][5] He is also known for several of the movies he has directed, especially the 1968 version of Romeo and Juliet, for which he received an Academy Award nomination. His 1967 version of The Taming of the Shrew with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton remains the best-known film adaptation of that play as well. His miniseries Jesus of Nazareth (1977) won acclaim and is still shown on Christmas and Easter in many countries. A Grande Ufficiale OMRI of the Italian Republic since 1977, Zeffirelli also received an honorary knighthood from the British government in 2004 when he was created a Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire.[6] He was awarded the Premio Colosseo in 2009 by the city of Rome. Contents [hide] 1 Early life 2 Career 2.1 Film 2.2 Opera 3 Honours 4 Personal life 5 Selected filmography 6 References 7 External links Early life[edit] Zeffirelli was born Gianfranco Zeffirelli in the outskirts of Florence, Italy. He was the result of an affair between Alaide Garosi, a fashion designer, and Ottorino Corsi, a wool and silk dealer. Since both were married, Alaide was unable to use her surname or Corsi's for her child. She came up with "Zeffiretti" which are the "little breezes" mentioned in Mozart's opera Idomeneo, of which she was quite fond. However, it was misspelled in the register and became Zeffirelli.[7] When he was six years old, his mother died and he subsequently grew up under the auspices of the English expatriate community and was particularly involved with the so-called Scorpioni, who inspired his semi-autobiographical film Tea with Mussolini (1999). He graduated from the Accademia di Belle Arti Firenze in 1941 and, following his father's advice, entered the University of Florence to study art and architecture.[8]After World War II broke out, he fought as a partisan, before he met up with British soldiers of the 1st Scots Guards and became their interpreter. After the war, he re-entered the University of Florence to continue his studies, but when he saw Laurence Olivier's Henry V in 1945, he directed his attention toward theatre instead. While working for a scenic painter in Florence, he was introduced to and hired by Luchino Visconti, who made him the assistant director for the film La Terra trema, which was released in 1948. Visconti's methods had a deep impact upon Zeffirelli's later work.[9] He also worked with directors such as Vittorio De Sica and Roberto Rossellini. In the 1960s, he made his name designing and directing his own plays in London and New York, and soon transferred his ideas to cinema. Career[edit] Film[edit] Zeffirelli's first film as director was a version of The Taming of the Shrew (1967), originally intended for Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni but finally including the Hollywood stars Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton instead. Taylor and Burton helped fund production and took a percentage of the profits rather than their normal salaries. While editing The Taming of the Shrew, Zeffirelli's native Florence was devastated by floods. A month later, Zeffirelli released a short documentary, Florence: Days of Destruction, to raise funds for the disaster appeal.[10] Zeffirelli's major breakthrough came the year after when he presented two teenagers as Romeo and Juliet (1968). The movie is still immensely popular and was for many years the standard adaptation of the play shown to students. This movie also made Zeffirelli a household name - no other subsequent work by him had the immediate impact of Romeo and Juliet. After two successful film adaptations of Shakespeare, Zeffirelli went on to religious themes, first with a film about the life of St. Francis of Assisi titled Brother Sun, Sister Moon (1972), then his extended miniseries Jesus of Nazareth (1977) with an all-star cast. The latter was a major success in the ratings and has been frequently shown on television in the years since. He moved on to contemporary themes with a remake of the boxing picture The Champ (1979) and the critically panned Endless Love (1981). In the 1980s, he made a series of successful films adapting opera to the screen, with such stars as Plácido Domingo, Teresa Stratas, Juan Pons, and Katia Ricciarelli. He returned to Shakespeare with Hamlet (1990), casting the then–action hero Mel Gibson in the lead role. His 1996 adaptation of the Charlotte Brontë novel Jane Eyre was a critical success. Zeffirelli frequently cast unknown actors in major roles; however his leads have rarely gone on to stardom or even a sustained acting career. Leonard Whiting (Romeo in Romeo and Juliet), Graham Faulkner (St. Francis in Brother Sun, Sister Moon), and Martin Hewitt (in Endless Love) all left the film business after failing to secure similar high-profile roles. The female leads in those films (Olivia Hussey and Brooke Shields) have attained far greater success in the industry. Opera[edit] Zeffirelli has been a major director of opera productions since the 1950s in Italy, Europe, and the United States. He began his career in the theatre as assistant to Luchino Visconti. Then he tried his hand at scenography. His first work as a director was buffo operas by Rossini. He became a friend of Maria Callas, and they worked together on a La Traviata in Dallas, Texas, in 1958. Of particular note is his 1964 Royal Opera House production of Tosca with Maria Callas and Tito Gobbi. In the same year, he created Callas' last Norma at the Paris Opera. Zeffirelli also collaborated often with Dame Joan Sutherland, designing and directing her performances of Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor in 1959. He has over the years created several productions for the Metropolitan Opera in New York, including La bohème, Tosca, Turandot and Don Giovanni. Honours[edit] In November 2004, he was awarded an honorary knighthood by the United Kingdom.[11] In 1996, for services to the arts, he was awarded an honorary degree by the University of Kent at a graduation ceremony held in Canterbury Cathedral. In 1999, he received the Crystal Globe award for outstanding artistic contribution to world cinema at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival. Personal life[edit] In 1996, Zeffirelli came out as gay, but has since preferred to be discreet about his personal life.[12] Zeffirelli considers himself "homosexual" rather than gay, he feels the term "gay" is less elegant.[13] Zeffirelli has adopted two adult sons, men he has worked with for years and who now live with him and manage his affairs.[13] He has received criticism from religious groups for what they call the blasphemous representation of biblical figures in his films and also criticism from members of the gay community for publicly backing the Roman Catholic Church with regard to homosexual issues.[14] Director Bruce Robinson claimed to have been the target of unwanted sexual advances by Zeffirelli during the filming of Romeo and Juliet, in which Robinson played Benvolio. Robinson says that he based the lecherous character of Uncle Monty in the film Withnail and I on Zeffirelli.[15] Selected filmography[edit] La Bohème (1965; production designer only)[16] Florence: Days of Destruction (1966) (documentary short) The Taming of the Shrew (1967)[16] Romeo and Juliet (1968)[16] Academy Award nominee, director Brother Sun, Sister Moon (1972)[16] Jesus of Nazareth (1977)[16] The Champ (1979)[16] Cavalleria Rusticana (1978) with Tatiana Troyanos and Plácido Domingo[16] (live Metropolitan Opera House – stage director) Pagliacci (1978) with Teresa Stratas, Sherrill Milnes and Plácido Domingo[16] (live Metropolitan Opera House – stage director) Endless Love (1981)[16] Cavalleria Rusticana (1982) with Plácido Domingo and Elena Obraztsova[16] Pagliacci (1982) with Plácido Domingo and Teresa Stratas[16] La Bohème (1982)[16] (live Metropolitan Opera – stage director) La Traviata (1983)[16] – Academy Award nominee, BAFTA winner, art direction; with Teresa Stratas and Plácido Domingo Tosca (1985),[16] (live Metropolitan Opera – stage director) Otello (1986)[16] – British Academy of Film and Television Arts winner, foreign language film; with Plácido Domingo and Katia Ricciarelli Young Toscanini (1988)[16] Hamlet (1990)[16] Don Giovanni[16] (live Metropolitan Opera – stage director) Don Carlo with Luciano Pavarotti and Daniela Dessi[16] (live La Scala – stage director) Storia di una capinera (also known as Sparrow; 1993)[16] with Sheherazade Ventura Jane Eyre (1996)[16] Tea with Mussolini (1999)[16] Callas Forever (2002)[16]

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