Verdi: Simon Boccanegra (Opera Rara) - MusicWeb International

Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)
Simon Boccanegra (1857 version), Opera in a Prologue and 3 Acts
Simon Boccanegra: Germán Enrique Alcántara (baritone)
Amelia: Eri Nakamura (soprano)
Gabriele: Iván Ayón-Rivas (tenor)
Fiesco: William Thomas (bass)
Other cast beneath review
Chorus of Opera North and Royal Northern College of Music Opera Chorus
The Hallé/Sir Mark Elder
rec. April 2024, Hallé St Peter’s, Ancoats, Manchester, UK
Texts and translations included
Opera Rara ORC65 [2 CDs: 133]

This review is supplementary to that already posted by my colleagues Philip Harrison and Daniel Floyd, with whose extensive observations I largely agree, and I refer you to those reviews for background information to this, the earlier version of the opera, which it would be redundant to repeat here.

Until now, the only viable option to hear this original, 1857 version has been the live BBC broadcast of 1976 conducted by John Matheson – and even there, despite the excellence of Sesto Bruscantini and Gwynne Howell, the two other lead singers portraying the lovers leave much to be desired; see my survey and RJF’s review of 2004 for more details of their failings. Both have their moments, however, and the performance as a whole is distinctly better than the other possibility, a live account from 1999 on the Dynamic label.

Neglect of the first version for a hundred years until Matheson’s recording is attributable to a number of factors. The subject matter was considered too gloomy, the plot too convoluted, the music lacking instant memorability and the cast of the premiere was inadequate; furthermore, Verdi’s quite radical revision of had hitherto been a more gung-ho style, embracing a new subtlety and sophistication, puzzled its first audiences and critics. The premiere in Venice was, in Verdi’s words “a greater fiasco than La Traviata” and despite moderate success in Naples, a subsequent production at La Scala a couple of years later fared even worse than in Venice. Another factor explaining the neglect of the original version resides in the great Council Chamber scene which Verdi wrote for the 1881 version being one of the highpoints of his oeuvre and its absence in the earlier version always constitutes a disappointment. Finally, there have been several highly successful accounts of the later version, crowned by Abbado’s near-perfect recording made in 1977. As a result, any new recording of that first version needs to be very convincing if it is to entice the average listener and might still only appeal to the Verdi connoisseur or specialist.

Among his many other accomplishments, Sir Mark Elder has cultivated something of a reputation as a conductor of operas, both rare and mainstream; he was artistic director of Opera Rara from 2011 until 2019 and this issue by that label is distinguished by the fact that this is the first recording of the new critical edition taken from Verdi’s original manuscript. He was apparently drawn to this first version by what he perceives as its greater stylistic unity – which makes sense, given that in the revision, Verdi grafted onto the opera passages which are clearly redolent of his later manner.

Nonetheless, the start is very promising; the vigour and sonority of the Hallé orchestra are immediately in evidence in the Prologue. None of the three male singers we next hear has the juiciest voice but they are exceptionally alive to the drama of the situation and enunciate the text feelingly, and the chorus is smooth and homogeneous.

Young bass William Thomas delivers his short showpiece aria “Il lacerato spirito” with confidence and conviction, displacing considerable depth of tone. The eponymous hero is sung by Germán Enrique Alcántara whose voice is rather lacking in authentic Verdian baritonal bite but he is thoroughly immersed in the character and invariably sustains a pleasing legato; it helps, too, that the balance between the voices and the orchestral accompaniment is such that the listener is always aware of how carefully Elder supports his singers and brings out instrumental details which are often lost. The crowd’s acclamation of Simone as Doge to clanging bells is really stirring.

One might regret the absence of the of revised “dawn opening” to the first act, which is so much more atmospherically magical and ephemeral than the original and it does not help that Eri Nakamura does not have the poise, trill or beauty of tone of Freni or Te Kanawa – and occasionally both her vibrato and accuracy of intonation get away from her – but she is involved and vocally reliable, even occasionally employing some semblance of lower register. Her jolly cabaletta seems oddly out of place in the context of this dark opera and one soon realises that Verdi was right to excise it from his later revision as redolent of a style already dated but she makes light work of its challenges. Her innamorato is the sturdy Iván Ayón-Rivas. His tenor is not as glamorously ardent or honied as the young Carreras for Abbado or Domingo for Gavazzeni but perhaps that it is hardly a fair comparison and his duet with Nakamura goes nicely; she seems to sing herself into creamier voice as it progresses and if Ayón-Rivas does not have a great variety of colour in his voice it is commendably even throughout its range.

The extended duet between the Doge Simon and Maria/Amelia is sensitively sung, particularly the section beginning “Orfanella il tetto umile” and at times Alcántara begins to rival Cappuccilli for smooth delivery and sincerity of utterance; the recognition scene concluding it is tenderly sung but we must again miss the gently floated “Figlia” which concludes the later version and the end of the act has some distinctly rum-ti-tum and somewhat uninspired passages compared with the great “Plebe! Patrizia! Popolo!” scene which replaced it. Nonetheless, the ensemble injects plenty of fire into their climactic, rousing cries of “Giustizia” and its sheer, raw excitement compensates for its lacks of originality.

The opening of the second act reveals baritone Sergi Vitale as something of a vocal weak link, especially if one has memories of José van Dam as Paolo but that is not a fatal flaw. There follows a big, emotive scene for Ayón-Rivas including the celebrated aria “Cielo pietoso, rendila” and he rises to the challenge. Even if his voice does not have plangent beauty of tone of some predecessors like Bergonzi, he has power and temperament. Alcántara enacts the scene where he falls asleep movingly and the ensuing confrontation between him and Gabriele is very effective; I have a particular nostalgic affection for this scene as it was my first exposure to the opera in my teens, in the form of an excerpt from the famous Gobbi recording on an old EMI operatic compilation sampler on LP. Ayón-Rivas’ repeated cries of “Dammi la morte” are impassioned, Nakamura’s pleas are heartfelt and Alcántara’s interjections beautifully vocalised – they pass my test. Likewise, Alcántara makes a fine job of his death scene with his plaintive cries of “Il mare!”, even if he does not rise to the histrionic heights of Gobbi. William Thomas, too, is impressive here – but again does not rival the towering authority of Gwynne Howell, Boris Christoff or Nicolai Ghiaurov. Having said that, I can pay him no greater compliment than to observe that he often sounds very like the last of those three great basses.

Sound and presentation are up to the usual Opera Rara high standards, although the notes could be a little more helpful in explaining the differences between the earlier and later versions.

I do not claim that the voices here are as starry and sumptuous as those in my favourite recordings but they are more than adequate at all times and this must now supplant Matheson’s old account as the best option for hearing Verdi’s original conception.

Ralph Moore

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