Vaughan Williams’ “Falstaff” opera probably will never become a repertory staple owing to its relentlessly undramatic character. It has all of the local color that Verdi’s opera lacks, but none of its depth of characterization or rapid-fire wit. In trying to stay as close to Shakespeare as possible the composer has been reduced to illustrating a series of disconnected vignettes populated by an excess of minor characters, all set in an Elizabethan dialect as impenetrable to the modern English speaker as Verdi’s (or Boito’s) Italian. That said, the music is just gorgeous: there’s that famous setting of “Greensleeves” (and other folk songs), the various madrigal settings, the luscious choral writing (check out the opening scene of Act 3), and more than a few lovely arias for the principals. It’s vintage RVW, written with care and no mean level of passion, which of course makes the work perfect for enjoyment at home, on disc.
This new recording has a lot going for it. Donald Maxwell interprets the title character with a nicely judged combination of arrogance, dignity, and absurdity. Susan Gritton sings a lovely Anne Page, and Mark Padmore partners her admirably as Fenton. In fact, all of the more “serious” characters do very well. It’s the comic ones that fail to impress. In the combined role of Shallow and Dr. Caius, Adrian Thomson’s whiny tenor sounds neither enraged at the opera’s opening, and about as funny as a crutch elsewhere. As his housekeeper Mrs. Quickly, Anne-Marie Owens has a bit too much of the Gilbert and Sullivan contralto in her (as parodied by Anna Russell). I keep expecting her to run screaming on stage bellowing a stentorian: “HOLD! MY CRRRIME I MUST CONFESS!”
Matthew Best’s Ford also lacks ideal steadiness of tone and dramatic conviction (listen to his unimpressive cries of “Cuckold!” at the end of Act 1). Part of the problem of course stems from the score itself, which just isn’t very funny musically (affectionately Romantic, rather), and perhaps this encourages the singers to exaggerate or indulge in excessive vocal caricature. The result is never really bad or downright irritating, but it lacks a certain lightness of touch and sheer intelligence that the piece could well use. Hickox does a good job in the pit, though, and he’s got a very well trained chorus making a fine impression in its various scenes, many of which are highpoints of the score.
However, this being only the second complete recording of the opera issued commercially, comparison with EMI’s pioneering version under Meredith Davies is perhaps inevitable, and there’s little question that on average the earlier recording has the better cast and conductor. Compare Robert Lloyd’s Ford, Helen Watts’ Quickly, or Gerald English’s Caius. On the other hand, Wendy Eathorne yields pride of place to Gritton as Anne, and honors are pretty evenly divided elsewhere. What tips the balance in favor of the earlier performance is Davies’ just-that-much more lively conducting, and EMI’s brighter recording, which gives the orchestra greater vividness without ever covering the vocal lines.
These aren’t huge differences, and you may find the earlier (and much cheaper) recording difficult to find, though most UK shops carrying EMI’s British Composers line should have it. Certainly there’s little in this newcomer that fails to capture the opera’s essential musical qualities, and all of the big scenes sound marvelous. Still, so much of comedy thrives on the “little things”–those deft touches of color and wit that create the right comic ambience, the “laughter in the air” as it were. In this respect Davies simply has more to offer the attentive listener, though if you love this score or this composer, I can well understand the decision to purchase this generally fine newcomer, and wouldn’t want to discourage it.
