Sunday Classics preview: The "bad boys" of "Cav" 'n' "Pag"

It's a shame we don't have a better visual reproduction -- it sounds pretty good, doesn't it? -- of this classic 1927 Vitaphone short (I recall seeing a version that actually looked as well as sounded pretty good) in which the great tenor Beniamino Gigli sings Turiddu's drinking song from Cavalleria rusticana. (At the end we see Turiddu facing up to a challenge from "compar Alfio," with whose wife he has been sleeping, in the person of baritone Millo Picco. A companion Vitaphone short continues on with the Addio alla madre.)

by Ken

Of course even if we had a better video reproduction of that Vitaphone short, Gigli would still look like Gigli rather than, say, Franco Corelli, whose physical presence would give us a better feeling for the hold this overgrown boy of a charmer has over his rustic Sicilian village. (If you recall from last night's preview, in which we heard his dumped fling Santuzza filling his clueless mother in on the village dirt, he's been a soldier -- a real man of the world!) For the record, Corelli could sing the daylights out of the role, and fortunately this we don't have to imagine. Here's Corelli singing the Brindisi, from his complete recording of Cav.

MASCAGNI: Cavalleria rusticana: Turiddu's
Brindisi, "Viva il vino spumeggiante"

Franco Corelli (t), Turiddu; Rome Opera Chorus and Orchestra, Gabriele Santini, cond. EMI, recorded 1962

While the all-but-inseparable hour-and-a-quarter operas Cavalleria rusticana and I Pagliacci. Clearly they have a chemistry that makes them so compatible, but they're also incredibly different. Even the "bad boys" at their dramatic centers, perhaps their closest point of convergence, are pretty different. Clearly, though, both Turiddu (in Cav) and Canio (in Pag) have a package of looks and charm that in their big-fish-in-small-pond world passes for charisma, and in both cases we see that charm in full measure and then see it all fall apart for them. So for tonight's preview I thought we'd do a "before and after," hearing each pre- and post-meltdown.

We've already glimpsed Turiddu the seducer, in his pre-curtain offstage "Siciliana," serenading his beautiful Lola, and of course we've just seen as well as heard him work a crowd. Still, one more time wouldn't hurt, right? Here's Jussi Bjoerling.

MASCAGNI: Cavalleria rusticana: Turiddu's
Brindisi, "Viva il vino spumeggiante"

Jussi Bjoerling (t), Turiddu; Chorus and Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Alberto Erede, cond. RCA/Decca, recorded Sept. 1-7, 1957

We'll talk more about Turiddu's meltdown tomorrow. Meanwhile here he is, saying farewell to his mother (the Addio alla madre), sung again by Corelli and Bjoerling.

MASCAGNI: Cavalleria rusticana: Turiddu's
Addo alla madre, "Mamma, quel vino è generoso"

Jussi Bjoerling (t), Turiddu; Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Alberto Erede, cond. RCA/Decca, recorded Sept. 1-7, 1957

Franco Corelli (t), Turiddu; Rome Opera Orchestra, Gabriele Santini, cond. EMI, recorded 1962

As for other bad boy, we've already heard Canio's most famous number, "Vesti la giubba," a bunch of times. Here's a recording of some interest that we didn't hear, from an Italian aria recital Jon Vickers recorded for RCA in 1961, the summer after he made his first Otello recording, also with Tullio Serafin conducting.

LEONCAVALLO: I Pagliacci: Act I, Canio,
"Recitar!" . . . "Vesti la giubba"

Jon Vickers (t), Canio; Rome Opera Orchesttra, Tullio Serafin, cond. RCA/VAI, recorded July 1961

Now let's back up and hear Canio in full-charm mode, just arriving in this Calabrian village with his troupe of singing actors and working the crowd, doing his sales spiel for that night's show -- a late one ("a venti-tre ore," Canio sings so memoraably, "at 23 hours") -- to the gathered Calabrian villagers. (We actually saw a good bit of this in the clip from the Zeffirelli film of Pagliacci which began with Juan Pons as Tonio singing the Prologue.) We could easily to the Bjoerling-and-Corelli route for Canio as well, but I thought we'd mix it up a little.

LEONCAVALLO: I Pagliacci: Act I, Villagers, "Eh! Son qua!" . . . Canio, "Mi accordan di parlar?" . . . "Un grande spettacolo"

Giuseppe di Stefano (t), Canio; Tito Gobbi (b), Tonio; unidentified (b) and (t), Villagers; Chorus and Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Tullio Serafin, cond. EMI, recorded June 12-17, 1954
Jon Vickers (t), Canio; Cornell MacNeil (b), Tonio; unidentified (b) and (t), Villagers; Chorus and Orchestra of the Teatro Colón (Buenos Aires), Bruno Bartoletti, cond. VAI, recorded live, 1968

Note that as our audio clips continue on past Canio's spiel, and the villagers invite him and his fellow actors out for a pre-show drink, and one warns jokingly that the hunchback Tonio, who has declined the invitation in order to stay behind in order to tend to the horse, may plan to woo Canio's wife, Nedda, we see signs of the meltdown to come. We really should continue on with his "Un tal gioco," in which he makes clear that he knows it's a joke, but there are some jokes it's better not to joke.

For Canio the joke becomes all too real when he catches Nedda at the end of a brief but still foolish encounter with a man she plans to run off with after the night's show. The show itself goes off the rails when Canio, playing the stock commedia dell'arte character of Pagliaccio the player, finds the plot of their little farce too eerily mirroring real life, and finally declares: "No, I'm not Pagliaccio," berating Nedda for what he sees as the cruel way she's repaid him for all he's done for her.

LEONCAVALLO: I Pagliacci: Act II,
Canio, "No, Pagliaccio non son"
[recital version] Jon Vickers (t), Canio; Rome Opera Orchestra, Tullio Serafin, cond. RCA/VAI, recorded July 1961
Giuseppe di Stefano (t), Canio; Rolando Panerai (b), Silvio; Chorus and Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Tullio Serafin, cond. EMI, recorded June 12-17, 1954


IN TOMORROW'S SUNDAY CLASSICS POST

The collision course Turiddu and Santuzza are on ends badly for most everyone concerned.

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