Begun and dropped by Weber in the very early 1820s and completed by Mahler in 1886 from sketches and other works by Weber (a song or two, for example), Die drei Pintos is an enjoyable diversion. But Mahler fans hoping to discover the composer’s style so early in his career–in 1886 he had yet to have any of his own work performed–will be disappointed. The wonder of Die drei Pintos is how completely Mahler takes himself out of the picture and in so doing perfectly captures Weber’s style. Only an Entr’acte was newly composed entirely by Mahler from sketches by Weber, and if you try hard, you can imagine Mahlerian touches–but in truth, you’d have to try really, really hard.
Taken on its own, it is a relatively feeble comic opera that opens in an inn, where we meet Don Gaston (tenor), a Spanish student who, hearing a clumsy bumpkin (Don Pinto, bass) talking about his promised bride, decides with his servant Ambrosio (a baritone) to get Pinto drunk, take his letter of introduction, and travel to the home of the bride-to-be, Clarissa (soprano), daughter of the wealthy Don Pantaleone (bass), and claim to be Don Pinto. When Gaston arrives, he learns that Clarissa really is in love with Don Gomez (another tenor); the latter convinces Gaston of his own true love for Clarissa and Gaston gives Gomez Pinto’s letter so he, Gomez, can be introduced as the groom-to-be. Ergo, the three Pintos–one bass and two tenors. The real Pinto arrives and, to everyone’s horror, is gauche enough to demand a kiss from Clarissa. He spots Gaston and they almost duel, but he, the real Pinto, is thrown out. Clarissa and Gomez can now marry and everyone is happy. A bit light, no? Hans von Bülow referred to the story as “unadulterated, antiquated trash”.
This is the second recording of the opera to appear, the other being both out-of-print (it appeared on RCA in 1977 and never was available on CD) and better, starring the likes of Lucia Popp, Hermann Prey, and Kurt Moll under a highly idiomatic Gary Bertini, who seems to understand Weber’s foot-stomping rhythms somewhat more instinctively than does Paolo Arrivabeni on this present recording from the always daring and intermittently excellent Wexford Festival. To be sure, it is a spirited reading, with good enough singers and plenty of stage noise to imply fun and action and annoy us at the same time. The best singing comes from the Ambrosio of Ales Jenis, who, in addition to having to sing in falsetto a good deal of the time, has a wonderfully perky and very high-lying aria in the last act. Alessandro Svab is a resonant Don Pinto (the real one–a stupid role) and Robert Holzer’s Don Pantaleone is sung with a minimum of over-acting and good, solid tone.
Neither tenor makes you want to hear him in recital, but Eric Shaw’s nice shading and general feeling for the part bring Don Gaston to life; Peter Furlong’s pitch and limited range don’t help Don Gomez. Barbara Zechmeister’s Clarissa is good enough (she has a lovely aria), but I made the error of re-listening to the RCA recording with Lucia Popp, and so there went any fondness for Zechmeister. The innkeeper’s daughter, Inez, has a nice solo and some work in the first act’s final ensemble, and soprano Sinead Campbell fills the bill well.
There’s occasional sloppy stage-pit work, but surprisingly little, and the choral contributions–of which there are many–are fine. You get a nice sense of what the work has to offer from this recording, and since you’ll probably never find the RCA, this is for you if your music collection requires a Drei Pintos. No libretto is included, but there’s a good synopsis and notes. Aside from the aforementioned stage racket, orchestral detail could be clearer; sonics on the old RCA are better.
