This performance of Le nozze di Figaro, broadcast on January 28, 1961, is a good if ordinary version, made special by a few elements and kept earthbound by another few. Erich Leinsdorf’s leadership is precise, entertaining, and lacking in both eccentricities and subtext. “The gayest of romps” was how the opera was described in New York in those days, and that’s what we get here: a good time. Tempos are fleet for the most part, and only during truly introspective moments–both of the Countess’ arias, for example, or some asides of Figaro’s, which should be more pointed–is it lacking. It’s a domestic comedy–period; get used to it.
Roberta Peters’ Susanna is delicious in the pert and sassy rather than vaguely vindictive manner, much in keeping with the overall mood, and it is beautifully sung, with a “Deh vieni” to remember. Same for Cesare Siepi’s Figaro. His tone is round and alluring, even with some early pitch problems, but good-natured and charming and almost never angry. He throws some emphasis into a phrase near the end of “Aprite un po’…” but reverts immediately to golden sound rather than vivid characterization.
Kim Borg’s shallow-voiced, comprimario-like Count is a loser; he has all the notes but the tone is uninteresting and he’s less than a paper tiger–he could be dispatched in a flash. Lucine Amara, a Met cult object within 10 years of this broadcast due to her biggest jobs–i.e., filling in for other sopranos when they were indisposed and therefore seen as an underdog–is a nice if faceless Countess. Both of her arias suffer from lack of profile due to Leinsdorf’s matter-of-factness and to the uni-color of her otherwise fine soprano. She was a lovely Elsa (in Lohengrin) and was always reliable, but stardom correctly eluded her. Mildred Miller’s Cherubino is a delight, and it was not until the emergence of Troyanos and Stade did the Met audience realize what it was missing in this role. Aside from Peters, the only two singers who sing with “face” are Regina Resnik as Marcellina and Ezio Flagello as Bartolo: she, in an unexpectedly small part/star turn (no, she does not get her last-act aria) and he, in one of his 500-plus performances at the Met, a vivid, complex Bartolo. In all, a nice afternoon at the Met with a few moments to remember and/or savor. [6/7/2011]
