The CD’s title and its “Victor/Victoria” cover tells us a lot about this almost 81-minute recital, but not everything. Seeing as how Joyce DiDonato is a mezzo and therefore sings girly roles as well as trouser roles, that might be the gimmick–but that’s been done. Here we also get a look into how different composers handle the same stories: the trouser role of Massenet’s Prince Charming and the female Cinderella of Rossini; the boy Sesto and the woman Vitellia in Gluck’s and Mozart’s La Clemenza di Tito (respectively); the Cherubino of Mozart compared with Massenet’s Chérubin; Figaro’s Susanna and Rossini’s young Countess, a/k/a Rosina in Il barbiere; and Massenet’s little-known Ariane followed by the Composer in Strauss’ opera on the same subject. And more.
Looking back on my previous reactions to DiDonato’s CDs, I can find nothing but praise, and this one is no different. It begins with Chérubin, and I thought I was listening to a soprano: the part sits very high in this arietta and DiDonato catches the manic spirits and soul of exuberance of a young lad drunk with his own freedom. Later, she captures the winsome confusion of Cherubino.
Her Susanna in “Deh, vieni…” has a fine swing to it that makes her wise use of rubato all the more meaningful, with finely placed appoggiaturas and nice ornamentation at the end. Sesto’s aria from Gluck’s Tito uses the same music as in Iphigenie en Tauride, and it’s just as throbbingly beautiful here; DiDonato approaches it with very limited vibrato. Vitellia’s “Non piu di fiori”, a whopper of a piece, is fluent and properly self-pitying; only the bizarrely low passages sound uncomfortable for DiDonato.
Rosina’s “Contro un cor” (with tenor Edgaras Montvidas filling in Almaviva’s few lines) is witty and showy, with some of the finest trills this side of Joan Sutherland and conspiratorial whisperings that make this seem as if it were recorded in performance. Her Roméo, from Bellini’s opera (again with Montvidas and baritone Nabil Suliman), is the perfect impetuous lad, with dark low notes, pointed diction, and strong rhythmic thrust. Cenerentola’s final rondo is taken at a fantastically breakneck speed and our Yankee Diva does not drop a note. It’s hard to believe it is the same singer who delivers Marguerite’s “D’amour l’ardente flamme”, with its pulsing anxiety contrasted with what she feels is absolutely true, if strange, love.
Massenet’s Ariane turns out to be quite a piece. She is by turns weak and nervous at the thought of Theseus fighting the Minotaur, ferocious in her terror, and pleading when she prays to Aphrodite to allow her to die in Theseus’ place. Massenet’s orchestration is as lush as the emotions expressed by his heroine, and DiDonato pulls out all the stops. This is followed by–and the CD ends with–Strauss’ Composer’s outburst, the feelings of a gifted young man with strong ideals.
I’ve skipped descriptions of a few arias, but suffice it to say that this CD gives enormous pleasure in rare as well as familiar repertoire. When embellishments are called for they are unhackneyed and perfectly in keeping with the composer’s style, and the mezzo invariably finds the right color for each portrayal. Perhaps the best thing about this recital is that everything DiDonato sings sounds spontaneous, as if the character–her- or himself–were actually experiencing it for the first time. Being an American, I’d like to chalk this up to her Yankee pluckiness, but it’s really something else: She’s a great artist. The Lyon forces under Kazushi Ono are fine partners. [1/28/2011]
