Umberto Giordano’s Fedora – A survey of the recordings
by Ralph Moore

[Parts of this introduction are adapted from the opening of my original review of the first recording below.]

Giordano’s “other opera”, Fedora, is decidedly an also-ran alongside his one enduring success; one or two of his other works are periodically revived (see my reviews of Serbia and Il re) but Fedora is the next of his operas most likely to be encountered after Andrea Chénier. He is credited with being the father of the verismo style, so we may expect to encounter more “realistic” elements – such as the first mention in opera of the bicycle – although in fact the eponymous anti-heroine and the other main characters are Russian aristocrats, as per Sardou’s play which was the basis for the libretto, so hardly emblematic of the struggles of the downtrodden poor.

Fedora has had a surprisingly good recording history despite there being only four studio accounts, the first of which was as early as 1931 and was complete; the last was with the leading pair of Angela Gheorghiu and Plácido Domingo in 2008, with Mada Olivero and Mario Del Monaco in 1969, and Eva Marton and José Carreras in 1985 in between. There are also some interesting live recordings but they are often compromised by their poor sound; I have selected seven of them and hope I have included the best.

The very brief tenor aria “Amor ti vieta” is by far its most celebrated number, frequently encountered in concert and on recital albums. There are undoubtedly bald patches in the work but it is more than a “one-tune opera” and there are other highlights; when it is done well it makes quite an impact and I am still surprised by the opera’s comparative neglect especially as doing this survey has given me renewed respect for it. It had an auspicious premiere in Milan in 1898, starring Caruso with Gemma Bellincioni, who specifically asked for the young tenor having auditioned him, but after a run of early 20C performances in opera houses worldwide, it has been revived only sporadically since. Its melodramatic, verismo plot requires a pairing of charismatic leads of the Freni-Domingo kind and that is a rare thing. The action is steamy but I would not go so far as to call it hokum – at least, it is no more so than many a more successful opera. There is an element of desperation in the quest for local colour by setting the three acts in St Petersburg, Paris and Switzerland respectively but that permits some atmospheric set numbers providing “local colour” – a salon waltz, a stolen Russian song, peasant choruses and the like – and it’s all very diverting.

The opera starts with a lovely, broad melody in a brief introduction too short to be an overture, and plunges straight into the action. The music is oddly staccato and fragmentary, in keeping with the jumpy, nervous nature of the action as the wounded Count is brought in, but it is continually replete with fleeting melodic moments, the line frequently punctuated by the big falling motif we first hear in the introduction.

Act II contains the most entertaining sequence of numbers, opening with a swirling waltz and a rousing ensemble in music of a mood and content often reminiscent of Puccini’s La rondine but with much more of a Russian flavour, as per de Siriex’ celebrated little set piece “La donna russa” (the tune of which was in fact a famous Russian art song that Giordano filched from Russian composer Alexander Alyabyev.)  The confrontation between Loris and Fedora and the revelation of the truth behind his killing of her fiancé, set against the background of the playing of Chopinesque music by a piano soloist, makes for good theatre. This is an opera with a plot constantly on the move and the music is aptly mercurial and protean.

Act III has a yet another distinctly regional ambience, this time Swiss and “Alpine bucolic” with a spacious, mountain air feeling to the opening. The musical inspiration here is not perhaps as sustained as it is in Act II but there is no shortage of drama to engage the audience, as the dénouement relies upon that old operatic standby, death by swallowing poison.

As far as I know, the eleven recordings below comprehend the main options for CD collectors, although there are also some download and video alternatives and there may be recordings of other live performances of quality of which I am unaware or do not own.

The Recordings:

(Note: recordings below differ as to how they spell, denote or identify characters, the order in which they are presented, how many are credited – there being such a large supporting cast – and even which voice types sing some roles. I have not attempted to standardise the cast lists.)

Lorenzo Molajoli, 1931 – studio mono, Malibran
Orchestra e Coro del Teatro alla Scala, Milano

La Principessa Fedora Romazov: Gilda Dalla Rizza (soprano)
Il Conte Loris Ipanoff: Antonio Melandri (tenor)
Il Conte Giovanni de Siriex, diplomatico francese: Emilio Ghirardini (baritone)
Gretch, ufficiale di Polizia: Corrado Zambelli (bass)
Dimitri, un ragazzo: Ebe Ticozzi (mezzo-soprano)
La Contessa Olga Sukarev: Luba Mirella (soprano)
Cirillo, cocchiere: Ernesto Dominici (bass)
Désiré, cameriere e il Barone Rouvel: Piero Girardi (tenor)
Boroff, medico e Nicola, staffiere: Blando Giusti (baritone)
Loreck, chirugo: Eugenio Dall’Argine (baritone)
Sergio, staffiere: Antonio Alfiere (bass)
Michele, portinaio: Z. Chiranini (spoken role)
Un piccolo Savoiardo: Ida Mannarini (mezzo-soprano)
Boleslao Lazinski: Bernardo de Plaisant (piano)

I reviewed this in 2023 and quote here extracts from that review:

I was previously unacquainted with this, the first full studio recording, nor was I very familiar with the singers here. Its timing of 91 minutes and my following with a libretto suggest that it is given uncut; indeed, it even includes Olga’s “Veuve Cliquot” aria which was cut from the Decca recording. The sound is a bit crackly but perfectly acceptable given the age of the recording.

Dalla Rizza has a pure, piping soprano with a fast vibrato which takes some getting used to and she can turn shrill, but her opening arioso is a slow, voluptuous encomium to her fiancé Count Vladimir and her true pitch and full lower register are immediately in evidence, as is a bevy of fine voices filling out the very large supporting cast – mostly servants.

“La donna russa” is neatly sung by light baritone Emilio Ghirardini and, as I remark above, lyric soprano Luba Mirella is given her sparkling little “champagne aria”. In the opera’s most famous piece, the very brief but highly memorable “Amor ti vieta”, Antonio Melandri reveals himself to be what I call “a proper tenor” who would be a star attraction today.

Molajoli was a recording fixture of the era and provides impeccable direction. The same applies to the orchestra, insofar as we can hear, given the relatively primitive sound.

[A substantial bonus of 47 minutes is provided, offering an orchestral excerpt from Siberia and seventeen tracks of individual recordings of arias and duets from Fedora featuring an impressive roster of singers, including the original performers, Caruso and Bellincioni, Titta Ruffo, de Lucia, Bonci, Anselmi and more. Bellincioni’s voice proves to sound similar to that of her successor: large, vibrant and flickering, with a highly developed lower register. The young Caruso – still under thirty – caresses the famous aria passionately but Amadeo Bassi, Fernando de Lucia, Alessandro Bonci, Giuseppe Anselmi and Emile Scaramberg, singing it in French, are all hardly less impressive. The last track is a more modern recording showcasing tenor Galliano Masini in a melodramatic but highly effective narration of how he killed Fedora’s lover. Titta Ruffo delivers “La donna russa” with typical leonine authority but again, the comparatively forgotten Giacomo Rimini is nearly as good. The duet with Russ and Garbin is highly effective, powerfully sung by both. All the voices here are “Old School”, technically and aesthetically unimpeachable.]

Mario Rossi, 1950 – live mono, Cetra, Mondo Musica
Orchestra Lirica e Coro di Milano della RAI

Fedora: Maria Caniglia (soprano)
Olga Sukarev: Carmen Piccini (soprano)
Loris Ipanoff: Giacinto Prandelli (tenor)
De Siriex: Scipio Colombo (baritone)
Désiré: Aldo Bertocci (tenor)
Cirillo & Boroff: Cristiano Dalamangas (bass)
Dmitri: Gilda Capozzi (soprano)
Baron Rouvel: Aldon Bertocci (tenor)
Lorek: Pier Luigi Latinucci (baritone)
Gretch: Mario Zorgniotti (bass)

The mono sound here is excellent, being a RAI radio broadcast performance rather than a stage performance, so it is clear and well balanced without intrusive noise. Spinto soprano Maria Caniglia is in fine voice, powerful, with trenchant lower register and strong top notes, an occasional hint of flatness notwithstanding. She has plenty of temperament, as you might expect from a famous Tosca and Aida. Carmen Piccini as Olga is a bit twittery but charming enough. Scipio Colombo makes an elegant de Siriex and Giacinto Prandelli is equally suave as Loris, singing his showpiece aria very sweetly even if he is not the possessor of the most virile or heroic tenorial timbre, so he sounds a little underpowered when pitted against Caniglia’s big voice. However, he is a good vocal actor and handles the text well. The supporting cast is fine, the conducting by turns animated and affectionate, the orchestral playing pleasing if rather distant.

This is in many ways as enjoyable and idiomatic an account as any but the CD sets are scarce and expensive; it is, however, available streamed or as a download from Naxos (but not, unfortunately, in the USA).

Sanzogno, 1951 – live mono, Eklipse
Orchestra & Chorus: Teatro Municipal de Rio de Janeiro

Princess Fedora Romanoff: Elena Nicolai (mezzo-soprano)
Loris Ipanoff: Beniamino Gigli (tenor)
De Siriex: Paulo Fortes (baritone)
Olga Sukarev: Diva Pieranti (soprano)
Boroff: Ernesto De Marco (baritone)
Gretch: Antonio Lembo (bass)
Baron Rouvel: Heraldo De Marco (tenor)
Cirillo: Giuseppe Modesti (bass)
Dimitri: Carmen Pimental (mezzo-soprano)
Désiré: Heraldo De Marco (tenor)

NB: this radio broadcast is not a complete recording and thus runs to something over an hour instead of the usual just under two hours for a complete performance. It contains several scenes from Act 1, most of Act II, starting several minutes in, then running to the end, and the whole of Act III except for the opening chorus. It was probably cut by the radio station to fit their schedule. Furthermore “Amor ti vieta” is not actually from this performance but a “patch” from a BBC broadcast in 1952; perhaps the original was lost or damaged.

Elena Nikolai was classed as a mezzo-soprano but could easily encompass the range of such demanding roles as Brünnhilde and Santuzza, officially the territory of dramatic sopranos. The depth and power of her voice are remarkable and she tears into the declamatory passages. Gigli was in his early sixties here but his tenor was still sweet and mellow of timbre with the famed legato intact and the soft singing beguiling, even if the vibrato had slowed and there is sometimes an element effortfulness. Nonetheless, the power is still there and his “l’uccido” draws spontaneous applause. The pair generates quite some heat in the climax of the Act II duet and the audience responds ecstatically.

The supporting cast features another famous name in Giuseppe Modesti, who sang and made recordings with Callas, and here sings a trenchant Cirillo, garnering deserved applause. Baritone Paulo Fortes has a big, dark, vibrant baritone and is not afraid to use it; evidently in a bid to prove the truth of nominative determinism, he shamelessly hangs on to the top G concluding “La donna russa” far too loudly and for far too long; he is a real belter. The Olga is the usual shrill type.

Unfortunately, the sound here is pretty grim: distorted and “crispy” with swish and crackle, almost to the point of being intolerable – and it gets even worse during Act III, becoming very wearing. Only the historical aficionado will brave it to hear a legend in his mature phase partnered with a still under-rated singer, but the average punter will pass in favour of something easier on the ear – and indeed complete.

Oliviero de Fabritiis 1954 – live mono, Arkadia, NAR Classical, Eklipse
Orchestra e Coro di Milano della RAI

La Principessa Fedora Romanoff: Pia Tassinari (soprano)
Il Conte Loris Ipanoff: Ferruccio Tagliavini (tenor)
De Siriex: Saturno Meletti (baritone)
Lorek: Carlo Valenti (baritone)
La Contessa Olga Sokarev: Mafalda Micheluzzi (soprano)
Boroff: Mario Carmassi (bass)
Gretch: Leonardo Monreale (bass)
Il Barone Rouvel & Désiré: Gianni Artioli (tenor)
Cirillo: Mario Carmassi (bass)
Dmitri: Giuseppe Torriani (boy soprano)
Il piccolo Savoiardo: Alfredo Mascolo (boy soprano)

This comes in slightly tinny, hissy mono sound but is largely free of distortion and perfectly listenable. The two lead singers were a married couple celebrated on stage – but who later divorced owing to the tenor’s barely concealed affairs – and both were renowned stylists, Tagliavini in particular for his reliance upon soft, “honeyed” mezza voce and a rounded falsetto, when he often resembles Gigli – and is also, again like Gigli, sometimes inclined to be lachrymose. He is perfectly capable of singing out in full voice and pays careful attention to articulating and animating text as required but is more inclined to caress the line. Those skills are amply displayed in his delivery of the famous aria when he starts gently and builds skilfully. Pia Tassinari has a big, dark, properly registered voice with a secure top and she has a stage animal’s dramatic acumen. De Fabritiis is a skilled animator of the score, flexible, energised and tender by turns.

As is so often the case with these Italian productions of the 50s and 60s, the numerous supporting cast members are first rate. Mafalda Micheluzzi makes an attractive, much less piping Olga than is too often the case and Saturno Meletti – perhaps best known to modern lovers of vintage recordings as a superb Ford in Rossi’s Falstaff, an equally impressive Fra Melitone in Marinuzzi’s La forza del destino and a touching Michonnet in Simonetto’s Adriana Lecouvreur – has a lovely voice and sings a vivid “La donna russa“, ending with a terrific top G.

This is a recording artistically without flaw; if only we had it in more congenial stereo sound.

Arturo Basile, 1961 – live mono, Opera d’Oro, Legato
Orchestra e Coro del Teatro San Carlo di Napoli

Fedora Romazoff: Renata Tebaldi (soprano)
Loris Ipanov: Giuseppe Di Stefano (tenor)
De Siriex: Mario Sereni (baritone)
La Contessa Olga Sukarev: Sofia Mezzetti (soprano)
Dimitri: Vittoria Buccini (mezzo-soprano)
Il Barone Rouvel & Désiré: Mariano Caruso (tenor)
Boroff: Mario Frosini (baritone)
Un piccolo Savoiardo: Pina Esca (boy alto)
Cirillo: Enrico Campi (bass-baritone)
Gretch: Giovanni Amodeo (bass)
Lorek: Mario Cioffi (baritone)
Boleslao Lazinski (pianist) & Michele (spoken role): Gerardo Garofalo
Nicola: Gennaro Chiocca (bass)
Sergio: Luigi Paolillo (bass)

Once again, the radio broadcast sound here is perfectly acceptable, if a bit muddy and with bouts of crackly interference; the orchestra is quite forward, the voices a little removed but again fine, but the prompter is sometimes too present. Tebaldi’s entrance in the first act is masked by applause from the noisily appreciative Neapolitans. She is in confident, voluminous voice, her lower register firm, the middle voice full and evincing very little harshness on top notes which are secure despite a little sliding up. Her first arioso as she ponders her lover’s portrait is again rewarded with applause and she makes a beautiful job of her death scene.

We have to wait half an hour before Loris arrives on stage but Di Stefano’s appearance is also warmly received and he is in fine voice, if somewhat more effortful than of yore. His clear, forward projection and telling enunciation of words are always an asset and “Amor ti vieta” arouses prolonged clapping and fruitless cries of “Bis!”. He rises to commendable fit of passion in Act III, even if sobbing on-stage is always a risky ploy.

Mario Sereni is luxury casting as di Siriex; he was just one of many elegant, incisively-voiced baritones gracing Italian opera stages in that era. He makes the most of his set-piece in praise of the Russian woman in Act I and his extended, doleful, Act III narrative. The Olga is a nice, full-voiced lyric soprano, not a squeaker.

Yet again, one notes the plethora of attractive voices among the supporting cast, with the exception of an inappropriately fruity contralto singing the young Savoyard peasant boy. Basile directs the score authoritatively and idiomatically.

(There is also an in-house recording of Tebaldi, Di Stefano and Tito Gobbi singing this opera in Chicago the previous year – the first time Tebaldi had sung it on stage – but I am given to understand that the sound is poor – or at least inferior to that here in Naples.)

Francesco Molinari-Pradelli, 1968 – live stereo, Mondo Musica
Orchestra and Chorus of the Teatro La Fenice

Principessa Fedora Romanoff:  Marcella Pobbe (soprano)
Count Loris Ipanoff: Aldo Bottion (tenor)
De Siriex: Attilio d’Orazi (baritone)
Contessa Olga Sukarev: Daniela Mazzucato Meneghini (soprano)
Dimitri: Maurizio Ballarin (boy soprano)
Un piccolo Savoiardo: Annalia Bazzani (mezzo-soprano)
Il Barone Rouvel: Mario Carlin (tenor)
Cirillo: Giovanni Antonini (bass)
Boroff: Gianni Socci (baritone)
Gretch: Angelo Nosotti (bass)
Lorek: Paolo Cesari (baritone)
Nicola: Uberto Scaglione (bass)
Sergio: Ottorino Begali (bass)
Michele: Giorgio Santi (spoken role)

Here is another live, strongly cast Fedora from the 60s and for once in superb remastered stereo sound, too – which also unfortunately picks up some heedless coughing from the audience in quiet moments such as the orchestral passage in the post-party scene in Act II when Fedora is seated, writing, and elicits some “shushing” from irritated audience members. Marcella Pobbe made a number of fine recordings for Cetra, including Margherita in Mefistofele and a filmed Adriana Lecouvreur. She hasn’t the creamy hauteur of Tebaldi or the ability to characterise as vividly as Olivero, and her vibrato is sometimes a little too pronounced and loud notes pulse, but she had a big, pure, well-trained soprano. Her declamatory powers are very much in evidence when she accuses Loris in Act II. Attilio d’Orazi was a very competent and Italianate baritone, perhaps of second rank but wholly reliable. Much the same may be said of tenor Aldo Bottion whose light, supple voice hasn’t quite the glamour of his Big-Name coeval tenors but he is again very acceptable, singing with a clean, clear tone and his powerful narration of how he killed his wife’s lover in self-defence is rightly accorded a spontaneous outburst of applause. (He had a long and successful career first as a primo uomo, then as a comprimario; he will be best known to collectors as Cassio in Karajan’s second studio recording of Otello with Vickers.) Their co-singers in the supplementary roles are excellent, especially bass Giovanni Antonini as the coachman Cirillo and Daniela Mazzucato Meneghini as a vibrant, perky Olga. I also like the fact that the roles of Dimitri and the peasant boy are sung by boy sopranos.

You would expect a conductor with the experience of Francesco Molinari-Pradelli to be in complete command of proceedings, and so it proves; the orchestral playing is admirable.

In sum, almost every aspect of this performance is a pleasing apart from the coughers.

Lamberto Gardelli, 1969 – studio stereo, Decca
Orchestre National et Chœur de l’Opéra de Monte Carlo

La Principessa Fedora Romazoff:  Magda Olivero (soprano)
La Contessa Olga Sukarev: Lucia Cappellino (soprano)
Il Conte Loris Ipanoff: Mario Del Monaco (tenor)
De Siriex: Tito Gobbi (baritone)
Dimitri: Kiri Te Kanawa (soprano)
Un piccolo Savoiardo: Sergio Caspari (boy soprano)
Désiré: Riccardo Cassinelli (tenor)
Il Barone Rouvel: Piero De Palma (tenor)
Cirillo: Peter Binder (baritone)
Boroff: Virgilio Carbonari (baritone)
Gretch: Silvio Maionica (bass)
Lorek: Leonardo Monreale (baritone)
Sergio & Nicola: Athos Cesarini (tenor)
Michele: Aron Bokatti (spoken role)
Lazinski: Pascal Rogé (pianist)

CH reviewed this very comprehensively twenty years ago, provides a comprehensive list of the stage revivals and makes an observation which with I agree that Fedora is “not an essential opera, maybe, but a very good one.” Additional interest here is provided in that it is a rare commercial recording by one of several great sopranos of the 50s and 60s who merit the title “Queen of Pirates”, Magda Olivero – the others being Leyla Gencer, Virginia Zeani and Anita Cerquetti. Olivero had a long career after a comeback and was here in her late fifties; CH remarks that she sounds like an elderly, albeit gifted, singer. Del Monaco was in his early fifties but had likewise returned to the stage in 1964 following a long period of convalescence resulting from very serious injuries in a road accident – and some felt that his voice was never the same; CH calls his performance “a ghastly sample of a stentorian tenor in decline” and finds Gardelli’s conducting routine compared with Gavazzeni in 1993 (below).

I am not inclined to be as harsh as my esteemed fellow reviewer but first let me list the obvious virtues of this recording, as I hear them. First, excellent sound without distractions. Secondly, I do not find Olivero’s voice to sound superannuated as such; it has what is to my ears is an attractive glottal catch, a mastery of soft, floated notes and that unique ability of a great singer-actress to infuse text with deeper meaning and memorability. Just listen to “O grand’occhi lucenti”, her first “set piece”; it is a masterpiece of subtly nuanced inflection – then the drama of her reaction to the news that her lover has been shot is electrifying. I find her performance mesmerising in the way that only Callas rivals. Her death scene transcends any potential mawkishness; her control is stunning. Thirdly, is the presence of Tito Gobbi, who always injects extra life into even a comparatively minor role like Di Siriex. He makes “La donna russa” and his Act III narrative true highlights even with dryer vocal resources. Finally, the supporting cast is first rate. It is a pleasure to hear the pure tones of Kiri Te Kanawa as Dimitri but in truth, an earthier, more boyish sound is ideally required. Peter Binder is a rather light, baritone Cirillo as opposed to the usual trenchant bass but he sings sensitively and cleanly. Lucia Cappellino is an alluring, unexaggerated, warm-voiced Olga, the best of any here, I think. Pascal Rogé plays the Chopin pastiche in spirited fashion to dubbed – but deserved – applause. The boy who sings the little Savoyard is a close cousin to the shepherd boy in the famous Serafin Tosca. Gardelli conducts with real élan and I enjoy the Act II orchestral interlude.

In short, everything about this recording please me – and that includes Olivero. However, as mentioned above, Del Monaco’s vocal condition is a sticking point for some – perhaps the same audience who never warmed to him even when he was in his prime. “Loud, unsubtle, brutish, metallic” – “the Brass Bull of Milan” – yet audiences adored him and I suspect that recordings could never convey the sheer visceral impact of his singing. The voice is certainly thinner here than of yore and there is a lack of tonal allure in “Amor ti vieta” but interestingly the top notes are actually better than the middle voice and I do not find him as objectionable as my colleague. He often sings quite softly, too, the love duet concluding Act II offers thrilling singing from both singers and I think he’s fine in the passionate dénouement, which is again riveting.

I have to say that reacquaintance with this recording has quelled any doubts and renewed my affection for it. It has become the standard recommendation not just faute de mieux but for reason of its quality.

Giuseppe Patanè, 1985 – studio digital, CBS Masterworks, Sony
Hungarian Radio Orchestra & Chorus

Fedora Romazoff: Éva Marton (soprano)
Loris Ipanoff: José Carreras (tenor)
Olga Sukarev: Veronika Kincses (soprano)
De Siriex: János Martin (baritone)
Gretch: József Gregor (bass)
Loreck: József Németh (baritone)
Baron Rouvel: Attila Fülöp (tenor)
Dimitri: Jutta Bokor (contralto)
Désiré: István Rozsos (tenor)
Cirillo: Kolos Kováts (bass) 
Un piccolo Savoiardo: Tamás Csányi (countertenor)
Lazinski: Imre Rohman (pianist)
Sergio: István Basky (bass)
Nicola & Michele (spoken role): Sándor Blazsó (bass)

There is no doubt that, unlike Gheorghiu, the large-voiced Marton has the heft for the role of Fedora, whereas there is room for legitimate speculation whether Carreras should have been pushing his lovely lyrical tenor in verismo and heavy spinto roles – but Loris is not a large role, nor one with many high notes and he had been successfully singing Radamès, Don Carlo and Manrico – and I have to say that when I heard him sing the latter live at Covent Garden in the early 80s he was impressive. Furthermore, the following year, he recorded Giordano’s Andrea Chénier again for CBS in Hungary under Patanè with Marton and the same tenor in the cast who sings Désiré here and it, too, is very good (see my survey).

Both he and Marton later developed an uncomfortable pulse in their voices but both sound splendid here; she, in particular, really makes the listener sit up with the power, steadiness and sheer beauty of tone in her opening arioso “O grandi occhi lucenti”. I have read criticism of her vocal production, calling it “wobbly”; I do not hear that; likewise, Carreras is accused of forcing. I grant that he is singing at the limits of his tenor but he is not over-stretched. He gives a full-voiced, plaintive account of his famous aria and makes the most of a role that in many ways suits him as his voice was always geared to expressing sorrow and desperation. He evinces no sign of vocal weakness and although he provides a very different Loris from Del Monaco’s, I enjoy both. Perhaps I am going soft in my old age, but I am far less inclined to criticise both singers here than some other critics and reviewers. The last scene is as impassioned as that in the Decca recording and Patanè was a master of the Italian school with many performances and recordings behind him to prove it; he also makes a lush feast of the Entr’acte. The digital sound is excellent, although again I have read that some find the orchestra too recessed; I find it fine, especially when listening on headphones.

So far, so good, then – an excellent leading pair, and first-rate sound and conducting – but there is a downside: the supporting cast is disappointing – much less brilliantly characterful than many of the more Italianate troupes in recordings here. The Gretch is good and eminent bass Kolos Kováts sings Cirillo’s lament feelingly but has an “ingolato” bass and Veronika Kincses is a squeaky Olga. János Martin’s de Siriex is a complete non-event – devoid of charm or charisma, too light and weak of voice, so obviously an undeveloped tenor singing baritone, and making me long for a truly Italianate voices like those of Gobbi, Sereni and Meletti. The little Savoyard is feeble and recessed, too; it is always a mistake to substitute a countertenor or contralto for a boy in this role. Obviously, these failings are of secondary importance to the quality of the two lead singers but the cumulative effect in conjunction with strength of the competition means that this recording can stand only as a supplement to the very best.

Gianandrea Gavazzeni, 1993 – live digital, Opera d’Oro, Myto, Legato
Orchestra & Chorus of La Scala, Milan

Princess Fedora Romanov: Mirella Freni (soprano)
Countess Olga Sukarev: Adelina Scarabelli (soprano)
Count Loris Ipanov: Plácido Domingo (tenor)
De Siriex, diplomat: Alessandro Corbelli (baritone)
Dimitri; Silvia Mazzoni (contralto)
Désiré: Ernesto Gavazzi (tenor)
Baron Rouvel: Aldo Bottoni (tenor)
Cirillo, coachman: Luigi Roni (bass)
Gretch, police officer and others: Alfredo Giacomotti (bass)

This was the octogenarian veteran maestro Gavazzeni’s last appearance at La Scala and we may take his mastery of the score for granted. Given the comparative weaknesses of Domingo’s later studio recording, this always looked like the main competition to the Decca recording with Olivero and Del Monaco; GF approvingly reviewed the DVD version of this in 2009, when it was part of a triple offering “Domingo Live Gold Box”.

However, despite my unwonted tolerance of any supposed vocal failings in the Gardelli and Patanè sets above, I am, perhaps surprisingly, more bothered than my colleagues by two things here. I love Mirella Freni’s voice, of course, but there is no doubt that by this stage of her career when she was in her late fifties, the beat in her vocal production was rather too pronounced and some of the bloom of tone had gone, so loud notes turn harsh and pulse. It mildly puzzles and amuses me that Marton is criticised for the same fault yet I barely hear that in her and think that flaw is much more pronounced in Freni. She is still commanding and is moving in her death scene, and matched by Domingo for involvement as they clearly worked well together, but she is not as arresting a vocal actress as Olivero, Caniglia or Tassinari. Secondly, the sound really isn’t that good for a digital recording of this date; it is quite distanced and indistinct, whereas the old Decca and CBS recordings are vivid. Both the voices and orchestra sound removed as if the microphones are way back in the theatre and there is come coughing and muttering, too; I would be inclined to greater tolerance of it if it was a recording from the sixties…

The supporting cast is generally good without being outstanding: we have an excellent Cirillo from bass Luigi Roni, Adelina Scarabelli is fine as a lively Olga – and gets the aria often cut – and Alessandro Corbelli is likewise agile and animated but not as vocally distinguished as many predecessors, lacking real bite – unless that is the fault of the remote recording. Di Siriex is not an especially rewarding role and it needs the kind of spark Gobbi gives it to make it really come alive. Domingo is good but to my ears he is pushing hard for power and volume in “Amor ti vieta” such that he is actually going a bit sharp and nasal – and the applause he earns sounds somewhat perfunctory. His duet with Freni against the piano in Act II goes well, however, and for the most part his tenor is in good condition and she finds some of the requisite temperament; her cries of “Infame!” and his of “l’uccido” (I kill him) are impressively powerful and steady but in other places he can sound thin and she a bit wobbly. In many ways this is the best portion of the opera, especially as their confrontation is punctuated by the orchestral intermezzo, beautifully played and directed but marred by persistent coughers.

In the end, while I concede its merits, I am not quite as engaged by this as I expected to be.

Alberto Veronesi 2008 – studio digital, DG
Orchestre et Chœurs de la Monnaie

Princess Fedora Romazov: Angela Gheorghiu (soprano)
Count Loris Ipanoff: Plácido Domingo (tenor)
De Siriex, a diplomat in Paris: Fabio Maria Capitanucci (baritone)
Countess Olga Sukarew: Nino Machaidze (mezzo)
Dimitri: Marina Comparato (mezzo-soprano)
Baron Rouvel: Enrico Casari (tenor)
Borov: Federico Longhi (baritone)
Cirillo: Alex Esposito (bass-baritone)
Lorek: Nabil Suliman (baritone)
Michele: Bernard Giovani (spoken role)
Gretch: Giuseppe Scorsin (bass)
Sergio: Bernard Villiers (bass)
Un piccolo Savoiardo: Pedro Leandro (boy alto)

RJF’s assessment of this was recently re-posted as a Déjà Review and expressed his reservations about Gheorghiu’s suitability for a role which requires more heft than she could summon up, as well as observing that it was something of a stretch for Domingo in his late sixties. The absence of lower register in her voice and his weak, nasal top both constitute serious deficiencies. To be honest, this is one of those recordings where one legitimately wonders why it was made, especially as it isn’t live, but a studio recording made at a time when the big houses had pretty much ceased undertaking such expensive projects.

Of course, the sparkling digital sound instantly makes a cheerful encounter after so many recordings in poor sound – the only exceptions being the two studio recordings above – but then once also notices how ordinary and undistinguished are the voices of the supporting cast compared with recordings from the fifties – nearly all are squeezed, wobbly and throaty. Gheorghiu had a lovely lyric soprano – no longer the case, as I write, I am sad to say – but her voice is simply wrong for the role and I cannot think what possessed her to undertake it; even her first phrases sound thin and underpowered and she is more a waif than a vengeful, strong-willed princess. She was a lovely Violetta, Nanetta, Magda, Mimì and Gilda, but had no business singing and recording Tosca or Cio-Cio-San – yet she did, with very mixed results and she seemed to think that continuing to venture into true spinto roles was a good idea. You have only to compare her with the likes of Caniglia, Nicolai, Pobbe, Olivero and Marton to hear what is missing in terms of dramatisation and hefty lower register development; she substitutes a rather cloudy approximation and is more often breathy than passionate, so much of the time sounds simply frightened, whispering her fear, and instead of the scream of desperate anguish we hear from those other ladies on learning of her lover Count Vladimir Andrejevich‘s death, she sighs and sounds mildly irked, as if she has dropped an egg on the kitchen floor.

Her principal co-singers are also problematic. Domingo doesn’t sound bad – indeed his voice is remarkably well preserved for a singer of his age – but his vibrato has loosened, the tone has turned pinched and other tenors are more alluring. I haven’t heard much of baritone Fabio Capitanucci since I rather unkindly wrote of his Sharpless back in 2009 that he “is a bit of a bellower; he has a nice voice but little subtlety.” He is better here but not especially characterful or striking – and he aspirates his divisions in “La donna russa”. The Olga is one if those sopranos with “more needle than thread” in her tone.

Alberto Veronesi is a conductor of whom I know nothing but his direction is slack; he generates little tension or excitement in the ensembles and is not helped by the mediocre voices of the cast. The orchestral interlude is delicately played but not very interesting because the orchestra is rather thin-toned and Veronesi whips up none of the torque we hear from, for example, de Fabritiis or Patanè.

In short, apart from the allure of digital sound, there is nothing here to render this more attractive than the studio recordings from Decca and CBS.

Valerio Galli 2015 – live digital, Dynamic
Orchestra and Chorus of Teatro Carlo Felice, Genova

Fedora: Daniela Dessì (soprano)
Loris: Fabio Armiliato (tenor)
De Siriex: Alfonso Antoniozzi (baritone)
Olga: Daria Kovalenko (soprano)
Dimitri: Margherita Rotondi (contralto)
Désiré: Manuel Pierattelli (tenor)
Baron Rouvel: Alessandro Fantoni (tenor)
Cirillo: Luigi Roni (bass)
Boroff: Claudio Ottino (baritone)
Gretch: Roberto Maietta (bass)
Lorek: Davide Mura (baritone)
Lazinski: Sirio Restani (pianist)
Peasant Boy: Sebastiano Carbone (boy alto)

GF reviewed this quite approvingly in 2018 but with evident reservations and I suspect he was being more diplomatic than I am prepared to be. There are a couple of parallels here with the Gavazzeni and Veronesi recordings immediately above, in that all three feature artists not in the first flush of youth (with the exception of Gheorghiu, who was still comparatively young but not vocally equipped for the eponymous role) and they all have less impressive supporting casts than do older recordings, but those disadvantages are to some degree offset by the fact that the live, digital sound in Genova is much better than that of the live, stereo La Scala and La Fenice recordings, being much more immediate, better balanced and with fewer extraneous noises such as the coughing which blights those two.

Dessi is in good voice given the stage of her career and even if her timbre can turn breathy and the vibrato loosens as she goes up, her first arioso “Rigida e assai la sera” elicits deserved applause; I even find her voice more attractive than Freni’s even if that beat can be distracting, I like Galli’s conducting, too; he gives the music and singers space to breathe but also finds the requisite drama in the tense confrontations. Unfortunately, Armiliato is awful – hoarse, coarse and unlovely of tone, the high notes very constricted. Antoniozzi is equally poor as De Siriex, his cloudy baritone is devoid of tonal centre and his coloratura “La donna russa” embarrassingly laboured; it gains a little reluctant applause but I cannot think why it merits even that. The Olga is a shrieker. Over twenty years later after he sang the role under Gavazzeni at La Scala, Luigi Roni again sings Cirillo but one would hardly expect the same result.  This is a non-starter.

Recommendations:

In truth, apart from the first complete issue of 1931, which certainly holds interest for those who appreciate vintage, “historical” recordings, three of the four live mono recordings from the 50s and 60s above will satisfy if you accept their limitations of sound but the Gigli recording cannot be recommended for reasons of poor sound and incompleteness, so I have included it more as a caveat to prospective buyers. However, the sole live stereo performance of that era conducted by Molinari-Pradelli stands out for the quality of its sound, even if the singing is somewhat less starry – so when it comes to more modern recordings, for a live version it is between that and the much later Gavazzeni performance and I prefer it, despite the coughing, because the recording is less distant and it is one of those “sum of the parts” successes. For a stereo, studio account it has to be Decca – hardly a surprising choice as that has long been the reference version. You may test my recommendations by listening on YouTube, particularly when it comes to my reservations concerning Freni versus Marton, Pobbe, Olivero et al.

Live mono: de Fabritiis, Basile
Live stereo: Molinari-Pradelli
Studio stereo: Gardelli*
*first choice