The attractions here are the conducting of Hans Rosbaud, the Elvira of Suzanne Danco, the Ottavio of Leopold Simoneau, and to a lesser degree, the Don of Renato Capecchi. Rosbaud stresses the opera’s comic elements over any deeper philosophical meanings–witness the practically clownish, mugged “Madamina” of Marcello Cortis’ Leporello–but there’s a true tension in the one-on-one moments of drama: “Don Ottavio, son morta” and the rest of the recit leading up to Anna’s first-act aria are chilling; each time Elvira shows up her rage is palpable (she’s not played with any irony by Danco); and the Don’s fooling the peasants in Act 2 is really nasty.
What’s strange is the facelessness of Capecchi’s Don. Near the start of his very long career he sings the role well, with Mozart’s dynamics respected and with a snarl and wheedle always available; but he never dominates the scene, either dramatically or vocally. Perhaps that’s the point–but it’s an odd experience. Danco’s Elvira is almost too ladylike, but it’s beautifully sung, while the otherwise unknown Carla Castellani as Anna is serviceable but falls utterly to pieces by the time “Non mi dir” comes around. Leopold Simoneau is exquisite as Ottavio; in fact, he’s almost too lovely. But his “Dalla sua pace” is ravishing and “Il mio tesoro”, though lacking the ultimate in long breath, is very good indeed. Emmy Loose’s Zerlina is as literal and dull as dirt, but she sings prettily. Arié’s Commendatore is splendidly loud and scary in the second act, and Eraldo Coda’s Masetto is uninteresting. The sound from this live, 1950 show is terrible. In short, this might interest you once, but it’s not a keeper.
