Yes, there once was a time when Gianni Schicchi and Salome were considered complementary enough to make a double bill at the opera. It must have been quite a roller coaster ride. This 2-CD set, taken from a Met Broadcast in 1949, really can’t give us an idea of what the double-bill-for-an-afternoon’s-entertainment might be like, so I’ll only discuss them as performances.
The Schicchi is interesting and worthy mostly for the very young Giuseppe di Stefano as Rinuccio, soprano Licia Albanese as Lauretta, and bass Italo Tajo in the title role. Di Stefano is thrilling–passionate and ardent, and with impeccable diction, sounding impulsive and very “in” the character. Interestingly, even then he tended to oversing, yelling a good deal. But it’s exciting and it’s easy to hear what the fuss was about–the experience is almost visceral. Albanese sounds too old for Lauretta (did she ever sound young?), but she must have added a certain appeal to the proceedings. Tajo ducks all of Schicchi’s very highest notes and he has a terrible tendency to droop at the end of each phrase, slipping off pitch and offering us what sounds like an audible sneer–but he’s wonderfully colorful as this wacky character. The rest of the cast is good, with Cloe Elmo’s ripe Zita a standout. Giuseppe Antonicelli clearly was a time-beater and he can’t always get the orchestra to play very well, but as a curtain raiser, this performance is okay. However, almost all modern, studio versions of this opera are better.
With the Salome, we’re in a different class. Ljuba Welitsch’s Salome is legendary, and I must admit that having previously heard only a 1952 performance with her from the Met (on disc), I always wondered what much of the fuss was about. This set explains it. Here is the perfect Salome. The voice may not have the heft Strauss desired (or presumed he needed–he hoped for an Isolde-like sound), but it is perfectly focused and of a silvery quality that cuts through even the most heavily orchestrated moments, from the top of her range to the bottom. Indeed, Welitsch actually has the low notes that other, bigger-voiced sopranos usually resort to grunting to get out. Her Salome is a deranged little brat from the start; her little interjection of “ah!” as Jokanaan is rising from his cistern is sexy, lusty, grimy, and devastatingly appealing, all at the same time. And once she starts to focus on Jokanaan’s lips, watch out: This is acting/singing of such singular purpose it’s like possession.
Janssen makes a lighter-than-usual Jokanaan; his voice never booms, but his nobility, devotion, and rage are striking. Thorborg and Jagel are the perfect amoral couple and both of them sing, rather than exclaim, their music. But along with Welitsch, Fritz Reiner is the star. He leads the Met Orchestra in a fast, obsessed, and accurate performance. Clearly, all they had to be was inspired to get out of the doldrums Antonicelli left them in. There’s a poorly-timed break from CD 1 to CD 2 and the sound is truly mediocre, but no fan of this opera should be without this performance. [2/21/2003]
