Sunday Classics: Puccini makes a scene [cont'd]: "Gianni Schicchi" harks back to Verdi's "Falstaff"

The jacket of the original U.K. issue of EMI's 1958 recording of Gianni Schicchi, from which we hear a chunk below, featured this watercolor impression of the title character by none other than the performance's Schicchi, baritone Tito Gobbi.

by Ken

In last night's preview we sneaked ahead to the end of Gianni Schicchi, on the promise that today we were going to fill in some of the blanks. (And don't forget that way back when we saw a video clip of the first 10 minutes of the 2007 Met Gianni Schicchi.) Plus, we're also down to make the connection between Puccini's comic masterpiece and Verdi's great final opera, Falstaff.

For the story of Gianni Schicchi, Puccini and his Trittico librettist Giovacchino Forzano descended all the way to the Eighth Circle of Dante's Inferno. Wikipedia sketches what they found in the sources:

Literary sources

A man named Gianni Schicchi is only briefly referred to in Dante's Inferno Canto XXX:

E l'Aretin che rimase, tremando,
mi disse: 'Quel folletto è Gianni Schicchi,
e va rabbioso altrui così conciando.'

(And he of Arezzo, pausing, trembling,
told me, "That madman is Gianni Schicchi,
who gnaws the other in his raving.")

The text states that Schicchi

per guadagnar la donna de la torma,
falsificare in sè Buoso Donati,
testando e dando al testamento norma

(to gain for himself the fairest of the herd,
impersonated Buoso Donati,
making a will in proper form.)

That grim vignette is not the real source of the opera's action. A work entitled "Commentary on the Divine Comedy by an Anonymous Florentine of the 14th Century," first published in 1866, elucidating Dante's terse references, is the actual source to the familiar plot setup. In this, Buoso has wished to make a will, but was put off with words by his son, Simone. Once it is too late, Simone fears that Buoso may have made a will before his illness, unfavorable to Simone. Simone calls on Schicchi for counsel, and Schicchi coins the idea of the impersonation. Simone promises Schicchi he will be well rewarded, but Schicchi takes no chances, "leaving" a hefty sum to himself (though most goes to Simone), including the mule, and makes the bequests conditional on Simone's distributing the estate within fifteen days, otherwise everything shall go to charity.

Dante was no doubt somewhat biased in his description, having married into the Donati family himself, marrying Gemma Donati in 1295, five years after the death of his adored Beatrice.

This is still pretty far removed from the version of the story in the opera, but it at least gave Puccini and Forzano enough to begin fleshing out the predatory Donati clan, the way Schicchi is involved, and the ruse he concocts and pulls off.

Note in particular that there's no hint in the sources of the great young love of the Donati nephew Rinuccio and Schicchi's adored daughter Lauretta, which has been at the heart of our approach to Gianni Schicchi and in particular to its most famous excerpt, Lauretta's aria "O mio babbino caro."

Our starting point has been my insistence that ripped out of its proper setting, while the aria remains, obviously, an extremely pretty and touching thing, it tends to become a wallow in cheap sentimentality -- you know, the sort of thing that Puccini is widely accused of having made a career of. In context it's actually more beautiful, and more moving, and also side-splittingly funny.

Last week we listened first to the aria itself, and then I staked out my position that at a bare minimum it needs to be framed, first, by the enraged Schicchi's refusal to do anything to help the wretched snobs of the Donati clan to deal with the will of their late Buoso which disinherits them, to which Lauretta is responding, and at the end by darling Daddy's infinitely grudging response. That, to refresh your memory, would go something like this:

Gianni Schicchi: "A pro di quella gente?" . . . "O mio babbino caro"

GIANNI SCHICCHI: For the sake of those people?
Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!

LAURETTA: O my dear little daddy,
I like him. He's lovely, he's lovely.
I want to go to the Porta Rossa
to buy a wedding ring!
Yes, yes, I want to go there!
And if I were to love him in vain,
I would go to the Ponte Vecchio,
but to throw myself in the Arno!
I'm pining and I'm tormented!
O God, I'd like to die!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!

GIANNI SCHICCHI [grudgingly]: Give me the will.

Fernando Corena (bs), Gianni Schicchi; Renata Tebaldi (s), Lauretta; Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Lamberto Gardelli, cond. Decca, recorded July 1962 By the way, even though we got to hear more of Fernando Corena's Schicchi than we did of poor Gabriel Bacquier's in the 1981 Met video clip that opened last Sunday's post, in which Renata Scotto sang "O mio babbino caro," I expect you'd like to hear more of what was a wonderful role assumption. Not to worry, we're going to hear more, though not from the Decca recording. In our original discussion of this scene, I noted that when Schicchi, enraged by his treatment at the hands of the Donatis, and in particular the formidable matriarch Zita, is prepared to hustle Lauretta the hell out of the house, Rinuccio makes a hilarious last-ditch appeal to his would-be father-in-law, going so far as to address him as "Signor Giovanni." We hear this at 1:18 of our next excerpt, in which we start at [b] in the text below, Schicchi's expostulation to Zita, "Brava, La Vecchia." Note that when he address her as "old woman," he's not being entirely rudely offensive; Zita is actually known, albeit not entirely flatteringly, as "La Vecchia." Note the young people's expression of despair ("Addio, speranza bella," "Farewell, beautiful hope"), which we hear again after Schicchi grudgingly takes possession of the will -- and twice after studying it declares that there's nothing to be done. Gianni Schicchi: [a] "Quale aspetto sgomento e desolato!" . . . [b] "Brava, la vecchia, brava" . . . [c] "Signor Giovanni, rimanete un momento" . . . "A pro di quella gente?" . . . "O mio babbino caro" . . . "Datemi il testamento"

[a] [GIANNI SCHICCHI enters, followed by LAURETTA.] SCHICCHI: How desolate and dismayed they look! Buoso must have gotten better. RINUCCIO: Lauretta! LAURETTA: Rino! RINUCCIO: My love! LAURETTA: Why so pale? RINUCCIO: Alas, my uncle . . . LAURETTA: Well, tell me . . . RINUCCIO: My love, my love, how much sorrow! LAURETTA: How much sorrow! [SCHICCHI advances slowly toward ZITA, who turns her back to him; advancing, he sees the candelabras around the bed.] SCHICCHI: Ah! Gone? [To himself.] Why all the tears? They act better than a strolling player. [Aloud, with false intonation.] Ah! I understand the sorrow of such a loss. My soul commiserates with you. GHERARDO: Eh! The loss has been really big! SCHICCHI [expressing stupid polite sentiments]: Eh! There are things . . .Bah! What can you do? In this world you lose one thing . . . you find another . . . if Buoso is lost, isn't there the inheritance? ZITA: Sure, for the monks! SCHICCHI: Ah, disinherited! ZITA: Disinherited! Yes, yes, disinherited! And that's why I'm telling you, take your little daughter and be off with you! I will not give my daughter to someone who's dowry-less. RINUCCIO: O aunt! I love her, I love her! LAURETTA: Daddy! Daddy! I want him! SCHICCHI: Little girl, a bit of pride! ZITA: I don't give a hang! [b] SCHICCHI: Brava, old woman! Brava! For the dowry you'll sacrifice my daughter and your nephew! Brava, old woman! Brava! [All simultaneously:] Old hag! Skinflint! Contemptible! Grasping! Mean! LAURETTA: Rinuccio, don't leave me! Ah, you swore it to me under the moon at Fiesole, you swore it when you kissed me! No, don't leave me! No, don't leave me, Rinuccio, no! RINUCCIO: My Lauretta, remember, you swore love to me. and that evening Fiesole seemed to be all a flower. Remember, remember, love, love. ZITA: He even insults me! Without a dowry I won't, I won't give my nephew, I won't give my nephew! Rinuccio, come, let them go! You would be inviting disaster! Come, come. LAURETTA and RINUCCIO: Farewell, beautiful hope, every last ray has died. We won't be able to wed on May Day. SCHICCHI: Ah, come, Lauretta, come, dry your eyes, your new relations would be misers! A bit of pride! Ah, come, come! ZITA: But come, Rinuccio, come, but come, come, let them go. Go, get out of here! [Everyone continues in this vain, with RINUCCIO and LAURETTA occasionally crying, "Love!," until RINUCCIO appeals directly to SCHICCHI.] [c] RINUCCIO: Master Giovanni, remain a moment! [To ZITA] Instead of screaming, give him the will. [To SCHICCHI] Try to save us! You can't fail to have an important idea, a discovery, a remedy, a way out, an expedient! SCHICCHI: For the sake of those people? Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! LAURETTA: O my dear little daddy, I like him. He's lovely, he's lovely. I want to go to the Porta Rossa to buy a wedding ring! Yes, yes, I want to go there! And if I were to love him in vain, I would go to the Ponte Vecchio, but to throw myself in the Arno! I'm pining and I'm tormented! O God, I'd like to die! Daddy, have pity, have pity! Daddy, have pity, have pity! SCHICCHI [grudgingly]: Give me the will. [RINUCCIO gives the will to SCHICCHI; the latter paces up and down, absorbed in reading. The relatives follow him with their eyes, then unconsciously wind up walking behind him. SCHICCHI stops suddenly.] SCHICCHI: Nothing to be done! LAURETTA and RINUCCIO: Farewell, beautiful hope, sweet mirage. We won't be able to wed on May Day. [SCHICCHI returns to pacing, reading the will more carefully.] SCHICCHI [stopping suddenly]: Nothing to be done! LAURETTA and RINUCCIO: Farewell, beautiful hope! Every ray has died. SCHICCHI: But . . . LAURETTA and RINUCCIO: Perhaps we will be able to wed on May Day. [The relatives circle around SCHICCHI, watching him with great anxiety. SCHICCHI, motionless in the middle of the scene, gestures sparingly, staring in front of him. Little by little his face breaks out in a smile, triumphant.] THE RELATIVES: Well? SCHICCHI: Laurettina, go out on the terrace; take some little crumbs for the little bird. [Stopping RINUCCIO, who wants to follow LAURETTA.] Alone. [As soon as LAURETTA has left, SCHICCHI turns to the relatives.] No one knows that Buoso has breathed his last?

from [b]: José van Dam (bs-b), Gianni Schicchi; Roberto Alagna (t), Rinuccio; Felicity Palmer (ms), Zita; Angela Gheorghiu (s), Lauretta; et al.; London Symphony Orchestra, Antonio Pappano, cond. EMI, recorded August 1997 Now we're going to back up just a bit, to Schicchi's entrance (i.e., point [a]). This is the very point we got to last night when we heard Rinuccio making his plea on behalf of Schicchi, for whom it turns out Rinuccio has sent, thinking him the only person who might be able to help them with the fatal will. While I'm far from an unalloyed fan of Tito Gobbi, even though the voice -- always short at the top -- is short at the bottom for a role that seems closer to bass than to baritone territory, this is one of my favorite of his recordings. from [a]: Tito Gobbi (b), Gianni Schicchi; Victoria de los Angeles (s), Lauretta; Carlo del Monte (t), Rinuccio; Anna Maria Canali (ms), Zita; et al.; Rome Opera Orchestra, Gabriele Santini, cond. EMI, recorded July 1958 Of course we've left out one factor that Puccini surely anticipated: applause. In an actual performance, inevitably "O mio babbino caro" is going to stop the show for a while, thereby giving Schicchi an extra beat to stew in his predicament, wanting so badly to get himself and Lauretta the hell out of this accursed house but unable to bear her pain, even as he knows how she's manipulating him. Here are two wonderful live performances. from [a]: Italo Tajo (bs), Gianni Schicchi; Giuseppe di Stefano (t), Rinuccio; Cloë Elmo (c), Zita; Licia Albanese (s), Lauretta; et al.; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Giuseppe Antonicelli, cond. Live performance, March 12, 1949 from [a]: Fernando Corena (bs), Gianni Schicchi; Charles Anthony (t), Rinuccio; Belén Amparan (c), Zita; Laurel Hurley (s), Lauretta; et al.; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Dimitri Mitropoulos, cond. Live performance, Feb. 8, 1958

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HELLO, YOUNG LOVERS: A LOOK BACK

AT VERDI'S NANNETTA AND FENTON

It's a story that doesn't sound any less clichéd or any less miraculous however often it's told, how Giuseppe Verdi, who had already considered himself retired when he was pressed into composing Aida, sick to death of the deadly work-for-hire conditions of performance in even the world's greatest opera houses (what was the point of trying to set higher composing standards if there was no place to perform work of serious artistic ambition?), was lured by the younger critic, composer (most notably of Mefistofele), and librettist (most notably, if pseudonymously, of Ponchielli's La Gioconda), Arrigo Boito, into composing, in secrecy and exclusively for his own satisfaction, first Otelllo and then, with his 80th birthday on the horizon, Falstaff. It sounds like yet another dreary cliché that after all those decades of work, of resolutely bleak personal and philosophical outlook, in Falstaff Verdi undertook his first comedy since his generally disastrous second opera, Un Giorno di regno. The composer would claim that it was because no one had asked him to do so, and anyone who wishes is free to buy that explanation. And maybe it really doesn't need explaining why no one thought to suggest a comic subject to the creator of all those operatic masterpieces that reflect such a bleak, even hopeless, view of the human condition. Nevertheless, in his collaboration with Boito the idea not only came up but was carried through with miraculous brilliance. Falstaff is an agglomeration of miracles, and the one that I find most miraculous is that at such an advanced age Verdi both chose and was able and chose to invest such love and hope in the piece's children. Of course, if you're going to entertain any hope for the future of the human race, where else can you lodge it? Still, there is a point in the opera at which the focus subtly switches from the ridiculousness of Sir John Falstaff's amorous pursuits to the determination of a mother, Mistress Alice Ford, to override her husband's plan for their only child and see her married to the young man who makes her feel hopeful for the future. From the outset, though, there is what I can only call magic in the music of the always-joined young Nannetta Ford and her beloved Fenton, and it seems to me inconceivable that in the creation of the young lovers in Gianni Schicchi Puccini didn't have their story playing in his head. The nominal business of the second scene of Falstaff is the playing out of the letters we saw Sir John writing in the opening scene to Mistress Ford and her neighbor Mistress Meg Page, attempting to seduce these merry wives of Windsor, with a view toward raising some much-needed cash from the adventure. In this astonishingly concise scene we get the reactions to Falstaff's letters, first alternately but eventually simultaneously, of the women and the men (Falstaff's plot having been blown by his much-aggrieved followers, Bardolfo and Pistola). Threading through their doings, however, are the young people's frantic efforts to steal moments of intimacy. VERDI: Falstaff: Act I, Scene 2, "Psst, psst, Nannetta"

FENTON [softly, behind the bushes]: Psst, psst, Nannetta. NANNETTA [putting her finger to her lips in a sign for silence]: Shhh. FENTON: Come here. NANNETTA [looking around, with caution]: It's quiet. What do you want? FENTON: Two kisses. NANNETTA: Quickly. FENTON: Quickly. [They kiss rapidly.] NANNETTA: Lips like fire! FENTON: Lips like flowers! NANNETTA: That know the jolly game of love. FENTON: That speak nonsense, that reveal pearls, beautiful to look at, beautiful to kiss. [Tries to embrace her.] Gossamer lips! NANNETTA [defending herself and looking around]: Naughty hand! FENTON: Murderous eyelashes! Thieving pupils! I love you. NANNETTA: Imprudent. [FENTON goes to kiss her again.] No. FENTON: Yes. Two kisses. NANNETTA [freeing herself]: Enough. FENTON: I want you so much! NANNETTA: People are coming. [They separate from each other as the women return.] FENTON [singing as he goes out] A kissed mouth never lacks for fortune. NANNETTA [continuing FENTON's song as she joins the other women]: Instead it's renewed, as the moon is.

Mirella Freni (s), Nannetta; Alfredo Kraus (t); RCA Italiana Opera Orchestra, Georg Solti, cond. RCA/Decca, recorded 1963 Maureen O'Flynn (s), Nannetta; Ramón Vargas (t), Fenton; Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Riccardo Muti, cond. Sony, recorded live, June 21-30, 1993 A bit later in the scene, "Torno all' assalta" ("I return to the assault")

FENTON: I return to the assault. NANNETTA: I return to the defense. FENTON: Parry! [He tries to kiss her. She covers her face with a hand, which he kisses and would like to kiss again but NANNETTA lifts it as high in the air as she can, and FENTON is unable to reach it with his lips.] NANNETTA: The target is way high. Love is an agile tournament. Its court rules that the weaker wins over the stronger. FENTON: I'm armed; I see you. I await you at the pass. NANNETTA: The lips are the bow. FENTON: And the kiss is the arrow. Beware, the fatal shaft is already flying from my lips into your hair. [He kisses her hair.] NANNETTA [winding her hair around his neck while he kisses it]: Here you are conquered. FENTON: I plead for my life! NANNETTA: I'm wounded, but you're conquered. FENTON: Mercy! Mercy! Let's make peace, and then -- NANNETTA: And then? FENTON: If you will, let's start over again! NANNETTA: The best games don't last long. Enough. FENTON: My love. NANNETTA [running out]: People are coming. Goodby! FENTON: [going away, singing]: A kissed mouth never lacks for fortune. NANNETTA [answering from afar]: Instead it's renewed, as the moon is.

Mirella Freni (s), Nannetta; Alfredo Kraus (t); RCA Italiana Opera Orchestra, Georg Solti, cond. RCA/Decca, recorded 1963 Maureen O'Flynn (s), Nannetta; Ramón Vargas (t), Fenton; Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Riccardo Muti, cond. Sony, recorded live, June 21-30, 1993 The lovers finally get solo opportunities in the midnight Windsor Park scene, where the merry wives enlist most of the town, in disguise, to get back at Falstaff. Mistress Ford has disguised Nannetta as the Queen of the Fairies, against whom Sir John has been warned especially. After the magical (sorry, but the word keeps coming up in connection with Falstaff) orchestral introduction, Fenton has his aria. Act III, Scene 2, introduction and aria (Fenton), "Dal labbro il canto estasiata vola" ("From my lips my ecstatic song flies")

[Herne's Oak stands at the center. The banks of a ditch show in the background. The trees and shrubbery are in bloom. It is night. [The far-off cries of nightwatchmen are heard. Slowly the park is lit by the rays of the moon. FENTON enters.] FENTON: From my lips my ecstatic song flies in the silent night and goes far and finally meets other human lips that answer it with their word. Then the note, which is no longer alone, trembles with joy in a secret accord, and bathing the pre-dawn air in love with the other voice makes its way back to its source. There the sound resumes, but its care attempts always to unite what separates it. Thus I kissed the longed-for lips! A kissed mouth never lacks for fortune. NANNETTA [offstage, distant and coming nearer]: Instead it's renewed, as the moon is. FENTON [running to where her voice was heard]: But the song dies in the mouth that touches it. [FENTON sees NANNETTA, who enters, and embraces her. NANNETTA is dressed as the Queen of the Fairies. With her is ALICE, not masked, carrying a robe over her arm and a mask in her hand.] ALICE: No, sir, you put on this robe.

Alfredo Kraus (t), Fenton; Mirella Freni (s), Nannetta; Ilva Ligabue (s), Alice Ford; RCA Italiana Opera Orchestra, Georg Solti, cond. RCA/Decca, recorded 1963 Ramón Vargas (t), Fenton; Maureen O'Flynn (s), Nannetta; Daniela Dessì (s), Alice Ford; Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Riccardo Muti, cond. Sony, recorded live, June 21-30, 1993 Later in that scene, "Ninfe! Elfi! Silfi!" . . . aria (Nannetta), "Sul fil d'un soffio etesio" ("Nymphs! Elves! Sylphs!" . . . "On the breath of a seasonal breeze") Preparations for the double game, the tormenting of Falstaff and Alice's plan for Nannetta, proceed. Falstaff arrives, in a state of advanced alarm. Finally it's showtime. Nannetta and her cohort of fairies are first heard offstage.

NANNETTA, as the Queen of the Fairies, organizes her party of nymphs, elves, sylphs, dryads, and sirens offstage and ushers them onstage, where Falstaff is cowering before Herne's Oak, having been warned that anyone who sees the fairies will die. When the large cast of characters is in place, NANNETTA sings. NANNETTA: On the breath of a seasonal breeze, run about, you agile specters, among the branches a blue glow of moonlight rises. Dance! And let your fairy steps be measured by a fairy tune, which joins your magic dancing to a magic song. THE FAIRIES: The wood is asleep and breathes out perfume and shadow; it shines in the black night air like a green cavern deep in the sea. NANNETTA: We wander under the moon, choosing flower to flower. Each blossom in its heart carries its fortune. With lilies and violets we write secret names; from our fairy hands blossom words. Words that gleam with pure silver and gold, charms and spells. Fairies have flowers for figures. THE FAIRIES: Let's move one by one under the moon's halo toward the dark shadow of the Black Huntsman.

Mirella Freni (s), Nannetta; et al.; RCA Italiana Opera Chorus and Orchestra, Georg Solti, cond. RCA/Decca, recorded 1963 Maureen O'Flynn (s), Nannetta; et al.; Chorus and Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Riccardo Muti, cond. Sony, recorded live, June 21-30, 1993 SUNDAY CLASSICS POSTS The current list is here.

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Sunday Classics preview: Gianni Schicchi does it all for the young lovers

Woody Allen directs soprano Laura Tatulescu (Lauretta), tenor Salmir Pirgu (Rinuccio), and young Sage Ryan (Gherardino) in Gianni Schicchi at Los Angeles Opera in 2008. (For that production of Puccini's Il Trittico, the well-known film director William Friedkin took on Il Tabarro and Suor Angelica.)

by Ken

We tried this trick last night with Act I of Puccini's Tosca -- just jumping to the end. Maybe we can get away with it again with the one-act romp Gianni Schicchi.

We've been focusing, you recall, on the now nearly inescapable "O mio babbino caro," with a view to appreciating the brilliant and hilarious scene of which this amazingly beautiful aria is the hub. I've already advanced the argument that without hearing what leads into the aria, and what comes out of it, it is falsified into sappy sentimentality. And tomorrow we're going to try to nail down the musical and dramatic context.

For now I thought we'd hear the aria one more time, albeit with a bogus orchestral intro tacked on like the one we heard last week in the recording by Renée Fleming. Here, though, once the soprano opens her mouth, we're in the heat of the dramatic moment. I'm guessing that this singer doesn't require any further introduction.

PUCCINI: Gianni Schicchi: "O mio babbino caro"

O my dear little daddy,
I like him. He's lovely, he's lovely.
I want to go to the Porta Rossa
to buy a wedding ring!
Yes, yes, I want to go there!
And if I were to love him in vain,
I would go to the Ponte Vecchio,
but to throw myself in the Arno!
I'm pining and I'm tormented!
O God, I'd like to die!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!

Maria Callas, soprano; Philharmonia Orchestra, Tullio Serafin, cond. EMI, recorded Sept. 15-18, 1954

Just to review the situation, it's 1299, you'll recall, and in the Donati house in Florence the relatives assembled to grieve their just-deceased kinsman Buoso, following a frantic search, have found a revised will that confirms the terrible rumor that Buoso left his most valuable possessions to the monks. The love-besotted young Rinuccio is still hoping somehow to persuade his formidable Aunt Zita to allow him to marry his beloved Lauretta, the daughter of the wily Gianni Schicchi.

ZITA, LA CIESCA, NELLA: Isn't there any way . . .
SIMONE, BETTO: To change it?
ZITA, MARCO: To get around it?
GHERARDO: To soften it?
MARCO: O Simone, Simone!
ZITA: You're the oldest.
MARCO: You've also served as mayor of Fucecchio.
[SIMONE makes a gesture as if to say that it's impossible to find a remedy.]
RINUCCIO: There's only one person who can advise us, perhaps save us.
THE OTHERS: Who?
RINUCCIO: Gianni Schicchi.
THE OTHERS: Oh!
ZITA: About Gianni Schicchi and his little daughter
I don't want to hear anything more ever said.
And you better understand.
LITTLE GHERARDINO [running in]: Here he is coming.
THE RELATIVES: Who?
GHERARDINO: Gianni Schicchi!
ZITA: Who called him?
RINUCCIO: I sent for him,
because I hoped --
ZITA: Ah, enough! If he comes up,
I'll fling him down the stairs!
GHERADO [to Gherardino, spanking him]: You should obey only your father. There! There!
SIMONE: For a Donati to marry the daughter of a peasant!
ZITA: Of someone who's descended on Florence from the countryside!
To be related to this new class!
I don't wish him to come!
I don't wish it!

RINUCCIO: You're wrong.
He's crafty, astute.
Every trick of the law and the codex
he knows through and through.
A wag! A joker!*
[*The Italian is the improbable five-syllable words "motteggiatore" and "beffeggiatore."]
Is there some new and rare practical joke going around?
It's Gianni Schicchi who's set it in motion.
Shrewd eyes light up with laughter
his strange face,
and his big nose throws a shadow
that's like an old ruined tower.
He comes from the countryside? Well, so what?
Enough of this petty, small-minded prejudice!

Florence is like a flowering tree,
which has its trunk and branches in the Piazza dei Signori,
but its roots bring in new strength
from the fresh and fecund valleys.
And Florence grows, and to the stars
rise solid palaces and slim towers.
The Arno, before running to the sea,
sings kissing the Piazza Santa Croce,
and its song is so sweet and sonorous
that streams have come down in chorus to join it.
In this way those gifted in arts and sciences have joined
to make Florence richer and more splendid.
And down from the castle of Val d'Elsa
has come Arnolfo to build his beautiful tower.
And Giotto has come from leafy Mugel,
and the courageous merchant Medici.
Enough with this these narrow-minded hates and these spites!
Long live the new class and Gianni Schicchi!
[There's a knock at the door.]
It's him!
[The door opens; GIANNI SCHICCHI enters, followed by LAURETTA.]

Giuseppe di Stefano (t), Rinuccio; Cloë Elmo (c), Zita; Virgilio Lazzari (bs), Simone; et al.; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Giuseppe Antonicelli, cond. Live performance, March 12, 1949

Roberto Alagna (t), Rinuccio; Ewa Podles (ms), Zita; Enrico Fissore (bs), Simone; et al.; Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Bruno Bartoletti, cond. Decca, recorded 1991

We're going to fill in some of the blanks tomorrow, but when Schicchi is verbally abused by Zita, despite a final desperate plea by Rinuccio, he swears in a rage that he will do nothing to help such people. And Lauretta swings into action with her famous aria. When she finishes her loaded-to-the-hilt entreaty, her dear daddy finally grumbles, "Give me the will." After several false starts, he comes up with the germ of an idea. He has the notary sent for and then, impersonating the late Buoso, dictates a new will, leaving those prized possessions . . . to his good friend Gianni Schicchi!

After the notary leaves, the Donati relatives rise in righteous wrath.

[SCHICCHI and the Donatis hurl imprecations at each other. As SCHICCHI tries to hustle them out of what is now his house, they loot everything they can carry. Finally they head out and down the stairs. SCHICCHI runs after them, rushing down the stairs. The window opens slowly, and Florence appears, bathed in sunlight; the two young lovers appear, embracing, on the terrace.]

RINUCCIO: My Lauretta, we shall always stay here.
Look! Florence is golden. Fiesole is beautiful.
LAURETTA: There you swore your love to me.
RINUCCIO: I asked you for a kiss.
LAURETTA: The first kiss.
RINUCCIO: Trembling and pale, you turned your face.
LAURETTA and RINUCCIO: Florence in the distance seemed to us like Paradise!
[GIANNI SCHICCHI returns climbing the stairs, loaded with stuff that he throws to the ground.]
GIANNI SCHICCHI: The gang has fled!
[He sees the lovers, smiles, and turns to the audience]
Tell me, folks,
if Buoso's money
could have finished up better than this.
For this prank
they sent me to hell,
and so be it;
but with the permission of the great father Dante,
if this evening you've been entertained,
grant me [makes the gesture of applauding] extenuation.

Leo Nucci (b), Gianni Schicchi; Mirella Freni (s), Lauretta; Roberto Alagna (t); et al.; Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Bruno Bartoletti, cond. Decca, recorded 1991

In the 1949 Met production the Schicchi, Italo Tajo, delivered the final address to the audience in English (of a sort).


Italo Tajo (bs), Gianni Schicchi; Licia Albanese (s), Lauretta; Giuseppe di Stefano (t), Rinuccio; et al.; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Giuseppe Antonicelli, cond. Live performance, March 12, 1949


IN TOMORROW'S SUNDAY CLASSICS POST

We pin down the musico-dramatic place of "O mio babbino caro," and hark back to the young lovers Puccini pays homage to, in Verdi's Falstaff.


SUNDAY CLASSICS POSTS

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Sunday Classics: Hey, that Puccini sure knew how to make a scene

Yes, the simple lyrical lines of "O mio babbino caro" were heavy going for Renata Scotto by the time she sang all three soprano leads in Puccini's Trittico at the Met in 1981, but the bigger problem with this clip is that it starts too late and ends too early to allow us to appreciate the real accomplishment of the aria.

by Ken

We have two great Puccini arias on our plate. It's not that their greatness isn't acknowledged but that the scope of their achievement is rarely accorded.

In the case of "Recondita armonia," which we began considering in last night's preview, you will rarely hear proper appreciation for the genius of Puccini's musico-dramatic construction, of which Tosca is not just a riveting but an inexhaustibly fascinating example. I can't begin to do justice to this subject, but I think we can at least hear some of the phenomenal care, and of course brilliance, with which just this brief (a mere 10 minutes) opening chunk of Act I is put together.

And in the case of the now-inescapable "O mio babbinio" from Gianni Schicchi, I argued both in a January 2009 post and in Friday night's preview that the gush of mawkish sentimentality we normally hear when the piece is ripped out of context both falsifies it and strips it of most of its originality and brilliance, by which it manages, astoudingly, to be at once profoundly moving and side-splittingly funny.

TOO MUCH, TOO MUCH

Once I had this whole post laid out, with all the audio files in place, I decided that it was just too much, especially after last night's preview grew to more properly post length. So we're going to table most of the Gianni Schicchi discussion to next week, which will also allow us to do a bit more exploring. However, you're still going to hear what I consider the basic minimal representation necessary to make the simplest sense of "O mio babbino caro." Then next week we can fit it into the context of this hilarious scene.

1. TOSCA:
"Recondita armonia"

In last night's preview, we wound up hearing almost the whole scene, or the portion of the scene we're considering here. The only "new" music today is the Sacristan's musically memorable entrance and brief solo scene before the entrance of Cavaradossi. As it happens, it was this scene in particular -- and in particular the once seeming uniquitousness of Fernando Corena's Sacristan -- that got me to thinking about doing some sort of post, which gradually morphed into this one. Sure enough, today we're going to hear this portion of Corena's Sacristan three times over, and that still omits an earlier (1952) and a later (1979) recording of the role.

I thought we would begin by breaking the scene down into three component parts:

1. Opening, "Ah! Finalmente!"
(scene of Angelotti)

The desperate fugitive we meet shortly after the curtain rises on the interior of Rome's church of Sant' Andrea della Valle will later be identified for us by the painter Mario Cavaradossi as Cesare Angelotti, the onetime consul of the overthrown Roman Republic.

[ANGELOTTI enters, dressed as a prisoner, torn, disheveled, trembling with fear, almost running. He gives a quick glance around.]
ANGELOTTI: Ah! Finally! In my dumb terror
I thought I saw a policeman's jowl in every face.
[Turns to look around attentively, and calms down as he recognizes the place. He gives a sigh of relief seeing the column with the basin of holy water and the Madonna.]
The basin . . . the column . . .
"At the foot of the Madonna,"
my sister wrote me.
[Advances, searches at the feet of the Madonna, and draws from it, with a muffled cry of joy, a key.]
Here's the key, and here's the chapel.
[With great care he inserts the key in the lock of the Attavanti Chapel, opens the gate, enters the chapel, recloses, and disppears.]

Silvio Maionica (bs), Angelotti; Orchestra of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia (Rome), Francesco Molinari-Pradelli, cond. Decca, recorded July 1959

2. "E sempre lava" . . . "Che fai?"
(entrances of the Sacristan and then Cavaradossi)

Note that the way the track points are placed on this CD, the Sacristan's entrance music, which depicts his limping gait as he sets about his morning chores, is tacked onto the Angelotti scene, and this track begins with his first words.

SACRISTAN: And always washing!
Each paintbrush is filthy,
worse than a poor priest's collar.
Mister painter! . . . There!
[Looks toward the scaffold, where the painting stands, and seeing it deserted exclaims in surprise.]
No one! I would have sworn
that the cavalier Cavaradossi had returned.
[Puts the brushes down, climbs up on the scaffold, looks through the basket, and says:]
No, I'm mistaken.
The basket is intact.
[The Angelus sounds. The SACRISTAN kneels and prays quietly.]
SACRISTAN: Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae,
et concepit de Spiritu Sancto.
Ecce ancilla Domini;
fiat mihi secundum Verbum tuum
et Verbum caro factum est
et habitavit in nobis . . .
[CAVARADOSSI enters from the side door and sees the SACRISTAN on his knees.]
CAVARADOSSI: What are you doing?
SACRISTAN: Reciting the Angelus.
[CAVARADOSSI mounts the scaffold and uncovers the painting. It's a Mary Magdalen with large azure eyes and a great shower of golden hair. The painter stands mute in front of it, observing attentively. The SACRISTAN, turning toward CAVARADOSSI to speak to him, sees the uncovered painting and lets out a cry of wonder.]
SACRISTAN: Holy vessels!
Her portrait!
CAVARADOSSI: Whose?
SACRISTAN: That unknown woman
who in recent days has come here to pray.
Totally devoted . . . and pious.
[Motions toward the statue of the Madonna, from which ANGELOTTI earlier removed the key.]
CAVARADOSSI: It's true. And she was so
engrossed in her prayer
that I painted, without her noticing, her beautiful face.
SACRISTAN [to himself]: Flee, Satan, flee!

Fernando Corena (bs), the Sacristan; Mario del Monaco (t), Cavaradossi; Orchestra of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia (Rome), Francesco Molinari-Pradelli, cond. Decca, recorded July 1959

3. Aria (Cavaradossi), "Dammi i colori" . . . "Recondita armonia"

Now Cavaradossi asks the Sacristan for his paints and resumes contemplation of the painting he has been working on, nothing the "recondite harmony" between the "diverse beauties" of his beloved Tosca and the model for the portrait.

CAVARADOSSI: Give me my paints.
[The SACRISTAN complies. CAVARADOSSI paints rapidly, pausing frequently to observe. The SACRISTAN comes and goes, carrying a small basin in which he continues to wash the paintbrushes. Suddenly CAVARADOSSI stops painting; from his pocket he lifts a medalion containing a miniature portrait, and his eyes go from the medalion to the painting.]

Hidden harmony
of diverse beauties! Flora is dark,
my ardent beloved . . .
SACRISTAN [to himself]: Joke with knaves, and let the saints be.
CAVARADOSSI: And you, unknown beauty,
crowned with blond locks,
you have azure eyes --
Tosca has black eyes.
SACRISTAN [to himself]: Joke with knaves, and let the saints be.
CAVARADOSSI: The art in her mystery
blends together the diverse beauties.
But while I'm painting her,
My sole thought, Tosca, is you!
SACRISTAN [to himself, aside]: These various skirts
who set themselves in competition with the Madonna
give off the stench of Hell.

Joke with knaves, and let the saints be.
But with these Voltairean dogs,
enemies of the holy realm,
there's no point talking.
Joke with knaves, and let the saints be.
For sure, they're sinners, the whole lot.
Let us rather make the sign of the cross.
Excellency, shall I go?
CAVARADOSSI: Do as you please. [Continues to paint.]
SACRISTAN: The basket is full.
Are you serving penitence?
CAVARADOSSI: I'm not hungry.
SACRISTAN [with irony, rubbing his hands]: Oh! I'm sorry!
[He can't suppress a gesture of joy and a glance of avidity toward the basket, which he picks up and sets aside.]
Be sure to close up when you leave.
CAVARADOSSI: Go!
SACRISTAN: I'm going. [Goes out at the rear. CAVARADOSSI, turning his back to the Chapel, works. ANGELOTTI, believing the church deserted, appears behind the gate and inserts the key to open it.]
CAVARADOSSI [turning at the creaking of the lock]: There's someone in there!

Mario del Monaco (t), Cavaradossi; Fernando Corena (bs), the Sacristan; Orchestra of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia (Rome), Francesco Molinari-Pradelli, cond. Decca, recorded July 1959

NOW LET'S PUT IT ALL TOGETHER

PUCCINI: Tosca: Act I opening scene: "Ah, finalmente" . . . "E sempre lava" . . . "Dammi i colori" . . . "Recondita armonia"

As noted, we're going to hear two more recordings with the then seemingly ubiquitous Fernando Corena as the Sacristan, and the three performances are certainly very different. The RCA recording has the obvious plus of Bjoerling's Cavaradossi, but also a much-underrated contribution from conductor Erich Leinsdorf.

Herbert von Karajan's RCA/Decca recording, made from what has always seemed to me the most satisfying and productive portion of his long career, is for me the most audaciously and most beautifully conducted Tosca on records, and I have to say that even with the way Giuseppe di Stefano is heaving that peerless tenor around by 1962, I prefer his performance here to the one we heard last night, from the widely worshiped 1953 EMI recording.

For me the 1953 EMI Tosca is another of those "legendary" recordings (like the Tristan with Flagstad conducted by Furtwängler, the Rosenkavalier with Schwarzkopf conducted by Karajan, the Fidelio conducted by Klemperer, and the Così conducted by Böhm) in which producer EMI Walter Legge hired outstanding and unquestionably appropriate performers (in this case including also Maria Callas as Tosca and Tito Gobbi as Scarpia, with Victor de Sabata conducting) and then cajoled, steamrollered and where necessary (as with the 19 or however many takes it was of the Tosca "Te Deum" he forced Gobbi to sing) browbeat them into giving, not their own performances, but his sterile, denatured, middlebrow one. Somehow listeners through the generations seem to have been snookered into hearing the performers' reputations rather than the performances that actually made it onto the tapes.


Leonardo Monreale (bs), Angelotti; Fernando Corena (bs), the Sacristan; Jussi Bjoerling (t), Cavaradossi; Rome Opera Orchestra, Erich Leinsdorf, cond. RCA/BMG, recorded July 1957


Carlo Cava (bs), Angelotti; Fernando Corena (bs), the Sacristan; Giuseppe di Stefano (t), Cavaradossi; Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. RCA/Decca, recorded September 1962

Believe it or not, it is actually possible to perform this scene without Fernando Corena. The version we're about to hear is in fact from EMI's stereo remake of Maria Callas's Tosca, again featuring Tito Gobbi as Scarpia, and while they're both unquestionably more challenged vocally after the nine-year interval, as suggested above I find the later performances way more alive and grabbing, as indeed I do the performance as a whole. I might add that our Sacristan here, Giorgio Tadeo, is one of the most appealing I've heard. (UPDATE: The only reason I hedged this, as "one of the most appealing," is that I hadn't bothered to relisten to the performance. Appealingness isn't a quality often sought by Sacristans -- Tadeo's is clearly the most appealing I've heard, a really lovely, quite touching piece of work.)


Leonardo Monreale (bs), Angelotti; Giorgio Tadeo (bs), the Sacristan; Carlo Bergonzi (t), Cavaradossi; Paris Conservatory Orchestra, Georges Prêtre, cond. EMI, recorded Dec. 1964-Jan. 1965

2. GIANNI SCHICCHI:
"O mio babbino caro"

The original issue of EMI's 1958 recording of Gianni Schicchi, from which we'll hear an excerpt next week, featured this watercolor impression of the title character by none other than Tito Gobbi.

As noted above, we're going to defer most of our Gianni Schicchi discussion to next week, but I still want you to hear how "O mio babbino caro" sounds in context.

Gianni Schicchi: "A pro di quella gente?" . . . "O mio babbino caro"

The wily Gianni Schicchi, you'll recall, has been sent for by Rinuccio, a nephew of the Donati family, which is grieving over the recent demise of their, um, beloved old Buoso -- but rather more over the discovery that he had made a new will leaving his most valuable possessions to the monks. Rinuccio has an ulterior motive: He's hopelessly in love with Lauretta, the daughter of Schicchi, whom he knows his fearsome Aunt Zita considers a hopeless parvenu, a despised member of the "new" class in the Florence of 1299. It's hardly coincidental that both Schicchi and his daughter are known, not by real names, but by diminutive nicknames -- not Giovanni and Laura but Gianni and Lauretta.

Indeed, when Schicchi arrives, with his beloved Lauretta in tow, he's treated like dirt by Zita, and is all set to whisk his daughter out of this house of horrors when Rinuccio makes a desperate last appeal to him, even addressing him as "Signor Giovanni." Schicchi explodes: "For the sake of those types? NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING!" Then something altogether extraordinary happens.

GIANNI SCHICCHI: For the sake of those types?
NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING!

LAURETTA: O my dear little daddy,
I like him, he's lovely, lovely.
I want to go to the Porta Rossa
to buy a wedding ring!
Yes, yes, I want to go there!
And if I were to love him in vain,
I would go to the Ponte Vecchio,
but to throw myself in the Arno!
I'm pining and I'm tormented!
O God, I'd like to die!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!
Daddy, have pity, have pity!

GIANNI SCHICCHI: Give me the will.

Fernando Corena (bs), Gianni Schicchi; Renata Tebaldi (s), Lauretta; Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Lamberto Gardelli, cond. Decca, recorded July 1962

By the way, even though we got to hear more of our friend Fernando Corena's Schicchi here than we did of poor Gabriel Bacquier's in our post-opening video clip, I expect you'd like to hear more of what was a wonderful role assumption. Not to worry, we're going to hear more next week.

UPDATE: We heard more Tosca -- jumping to the great climax of Act I -- in a Friday Sunday Classics "postscript." The Gianni Schicchi thread continued in the following Saturday preview and the Sunday post.


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