With a cast this good, how can you go wrong? Well, I’ll tell you. Gianandrea Gavazzeni, a La Scala stalwart with great credentials in the bel canto operas and some fine experience in verismo, here displays a complete misunderstanding of Gounod’s Faust. It isn’t merely a matter of tempo–although there are sections that are so slow that you wonder if his score might have been incorrectly marked (Siebel’s aria is taken at a largo). More importantly, it’s a matter of style. There’s ferocious bombast at times that jars the very essence of French opera in general and Faust in particular, and Gavazzeni seems to bring out the worst in his cast.
Nicolai Gedda, the favorite Faust in the world in the ’60s and ’70s, is in ringing voice; but in what must be a first, he’s loud and vulgar, and in the case of the final moments of “Salut demeure”, absolutely unmusical. He plays to the gallery and shouts more often than not. Heather Harper, the final Irish soprano, sings an altogether unappealing Marguerite, occasionally off-pitch–but more importantly, unidiomatically and with what seems to be anger. Nicolai Ghiaurov’s Mefistofeles never was a particularly subtle portrayal, but here he’s often off the beat as well (stage and pit don’t agree much in general), and while he still offers plenty of big, rich sound, there’s little charm to this devil. Robert Massard’s Valentin goes by almost unnoticed, including in his big aria.
Marguerite is allowed her extra fourth-act aria (“Il ne revient pas…”), but it’s a bore, and the Church Scene that follows is so lethargic that it’s a wonder Marguerite doesn’t fall asleep. The sound is acceptable, as is the playing of the Teatro Colon orchestra. An off night, altogether: If you want Gedda’s Faust, the EMI recording with a touching Victoria de los Angeles and a scary Boris Christoff is still grand despite André Cluytens’ less-than-great conducting.
