Cosi Fan Tutte

In terms of the music, rather than the drama, this Mozart opera would have to be my favourite opera of all time. Yes, the story is silly in the manner of comedies, but the music is, to put it in one word, ravishing. I’ve been listening to various recordings over the past several weeks, or rather, re-listening to them, and I would like to pin down some thoughts and opinions I have about the relative merits of just three of these recordings to share with you all. The many guidebooks to opera recordings never have enough space to discuss each recording fully. So here I am once more, unconstrained by space, or word limits, or personal indulgence!

1. Decca recording, conducted by Georg Solti, 1973

This 1973 recording (the first of two recorded by Solti) is one that I keep returning to, even after wandering off to sample others over the years. It has not pleased most reviewers, who have found it too high-powered, ie, too dramatic, too fast-paced, for such a genial comedy (and they take as the ideal, the Bohm 1963 recording, the most universally praised of all the recordings of this opera, and the most ridiculously over-praised in my opinion – but more about this one below). But I find this Solti recording magnificently passionate, truly rising to this most passionate of Mozart operas – Cosi Fan Tutte is a more passionate, more focused, more concentrated opera than the more admired Mozart work, The Marriage of Figaro.

The overall sense from this Solti recording is certainly one of great drive and momentum. Yes, this makes it the most exciting of all the available recordings, but what is more important is not the pace but the pulse – the rhythm, the accentuations. Every other recording simply sounds a tad boring by comparison, even if they go at the same pace as this Solti at certain moments. And I say this after very close listening over several weeks and making side by side comparisons of various sections of the opera. The quality is not just in the singing but also in the recitatives which interact at the pace of real dialogue, and this is most telling in the back-slapping ‘boys’ talk’ moments among the three lead male singers.But what really sets the Solti set apart is actually the singing.

Let’s begin with perhaps the most controversial singer in the cast.The Spanish soprano Pilar Lorengar (in the role of Fiordiligi) has one of the most distinctive and individual voices I’ve ever heard. You will never mistake her for anyone else once you have heard her (unlike, say, the creamy-toned Kiri Te Kanawa, who comes from a long line of creamy-toned sopranos who are not so easily distinguishable from each other). Lorengar’s voice has an attractive nasal quality, a certain resonant ‘body’ that often eludes other sopranos of her voice type (a lyric-soprano, to use the correct term). But what is particularly striking is the impression you get that the voice is, well… ‘shimmering’. Leonard Bernstein apparently described it as ‘luminous’. Closer hearing reveals that this shimmer or luminosity is due to the presence of a very fast and slight vibrato, of a kind that I have never heard in any other singer, past or present. Other sopranos have a vibrato of varying degrees, but none sounds like Lorengar.

The possible controversy with Lorengar in this Mozart role is that she is not regarded as being ideally suited for singing Mozart’s melodic lines with the required ‘purity of line’, the kind of purity that you get best from boy sopranos who have no vibrato, or from a renowned Mozart singer like Te Kanawa who has very little vibrato. Now, nobody actually knows how much purity of line the singers in Mozart’s time showed when singing his operas in his presence, but the tradition which has been established over time is that there is a certain style required for singing Mozart. By this reckoning, Lorengar is certainly not an ideal Mozart singer.But Lorengar wins me over by her unique sound, and by an even more important reason – she gives the most moving portrayal of Fiordiligi that I’ve heard on recordings. She has two big arias to sing, and she does it her way with both.

The first is “Come scoglio”, in which Fiordiligi proudly asserts the fidelity of her love. Usually sung with great vehemence, Lorengar instead sings it with a sense of fragility, as if to suggest the uncertainty of such an inhuman proclamation (Like a rock I will stand in faith and love). Those of you who know the plot will understand the absolute aptness of this uncertainty.The second aria is the very beautiful “Per pieta” in which Fiordiligi makes an inner plea for pity to be taken on those who stray from love’s fidelity. Lorengar is the most agonizingly heartfelt of all the Fiordiligis I have heard in this aria, and it really is a musically moving performance – quite magnificent. So there you have it, the least vocally suited soprano for Mozart giving the best performance of this Mozart role.

The more famous and more acclaimed mezzo-soprano Teresa Berganza sings the role of Dorabella with her customary purity of tone (here is a member of that elite pantheon of “Mozart singers”!). True, this Dorabella is a little more faceless than others I have heard, but I prefer Berganza’s sound to the usually plummy or matronly sounds emitted by many other mezzo-sopranos. It is clear that Berganza made her reputation chiefly on her voice rather than on the quality of her vocal acting.

Tenor Ryland Davies in the role of Ferrando has been one of the most unfairly under-rated Ferrandos on record, and I would like to help set it straight. Davies’ is, quite simply, the best sung Ferrando I’ve heard. Few tenors can beat him for displaying that Mozartean purity of line. Davies’ voice is absolutely even throughout its range, every note perfectly placed and evenly-emitted, so that his show-stopping aria “Un’aura amorosa” is exactly that – show stopping. It’s a miracle how he keeps the singing line afloat in this aria, phrasing with all the required light and shade and yet not losing the line at any point, as can happen with many other a singer. For a light lyric tenor, Davies’ tone is also surprisingly robust, a firm and focused sound which would carry very well even in a large opera house, I expect.

Tom Krause’s baritone has never sounded better than here in the role of Guglielmo, handsome and masculine with its hint of a very slight tonal roughness, and he distinguishes himself unexpectedly in a minor aria – “Non siate ritrosi” simply doesn’t sound as melodious sung by any of his competition (and I haven’t been able to figure out exactly why; probably to do with his manner of phrasing).

Gabriel Bacquier gives the most characterful Don Alfonso on record - cynical but genial and good-humoured. And Jane Berbie similarly is the most characterful Despina on record – a purposely coarse maid, full of fun and street-smart wisdom, the entire character captured in the very tone of her singing voice when most Despinas sound mostly sweet and pert (and yet at the same time, Berbie still sings with the requisite purity of tone for Mozart even if her actual sound is just so-so!).By the way, this recording is also absolutely complete (none of the usual cuts made as is done by earlier recordings) and the recorded sound quality is excellent (this is still a variable factor in recordings, being dependent on many factors such as the acoustics of the recording venue, the skill of the engineers etc).

2. EMI recording, conducted by Karl Bohm, 1963

This second recording of the opera made by Bohm in 1963 is, as I have said, the most over-praised I’ve seen. In many quarters, it is reckoned to be the best recording of Cosi Fan Tutte ever made (the authoritative Gramophone guide even awards it a special rosette). Well, I just have to disagree.

It is perhaps easy to see why it had such impact when it first came out. Perhaps for the first time, we had a recording of Cosi Fan Tutte that aimed to be ‘expressive’ – the singers vary their dynamics in their recitatives very often. Indeed, they seem to spend a lot of time whispering dramatically to each other but in a way that would actually have made them inaudible had they been performing on stage. All this nudging expressiveness is fine, except that the recording is ruined by a cast of largely sub-standard or indifferent performers.

The chief culprit also happens to be the most praised – the redoubtable and ever selfconsciously expressive Elizabeth Schwarzkopf in the role of Fiordiligi. The problem is that Schwarzkopf is so intent on being expressive that very rarely does she sing an even line. Each note is so toyed with that she comes across as whining, screeching, moaning, grimacing, gritting her teeth – anything but singing. It sounds such a comic caricature that it becomes laughable. Her “Come Scoglio” alternates between sounding stern and sounding hysterical (barking chest tones and screeching downward scales). She does manage to keep her face (and voice) straight in “Per pieta”, but you can still hear the pushing for expressiveness. This is precisely the kind of thing that gives ammunition to those who believe that ‘expressiveness’ in opera singing is a dirty word (and the very opposite of what someone like Maria Callas was able to do). Schwarzkopf alone disqualifies this set from being seriously considered as an acceptable option in the huge catalogue of available recordings of this opera.

Christa Ludwig suggests a sensual and languid Dorabella (a plausible characterization) but otherwise makes no particular impression. Neither does Walter Berry as Don Alfonso nor Giuseppe Taddei as Guglielmo – they are dramatically too neutral in roles which other singers have made so much more of. Hanny Steffek is a cool and prim maid Despina – not much here. And Alfredo Kraus, so reputed for his fine command of the singing line in all his other roles by other composers, simply shows that he was not ready for Mozart in his singing of Ferrando (indeed, he had never sung the role before the recording was made, and neither had the other two male leads apparently). Just sample his acid-test aria “Un’aura amorosa” – the lack of a true line forged from skilful shading of tone and variation of dynamics means that he is totally outclassed by the recorded competition.

I keep returning to this recording at various intervals, just to convince myself that I have missed its beauties – after all, it is so universally acclaimed that something must have been wrong with my response. But after 19 years of trying, I’ve decided to give up. I am going to say this: This recording is just awful. Truly awful. To all of you who are going to consult all the renowned guides in order to decide which recording of Cosi Fan Tutte to buy, please….choose ANY other than this one. Or you will end up like me 19 years ago. I had bought this Bohm recording, and then had to try to sell it off so that I could purchase another recording. A good friend took pity on me, and bought it off me. I had been in possession of it for less than one week!

Besides the above gripes, the recording quality is also a little less than what we would expect these days, AND, the score is presented with the customary cuts, as was the performance custom back then for this opera.I badly wanted to own a Cosi recording 19 years ago. It was the second opera I had ever seen and I was hooked. The year was 1976 and it was a production by the Australian Opera in Melbourne, and I went back to see it again before the season ended.And the first opera I had ever seen? It was Rigoletto, and I saw it the year before when a friend took me to see my first opera, very much hoping I would understand what the fuss was all about.To find out about Rigoletto, you will have to wait for another posting!

3. Philips recording, conducted by Colin Davis, 1974

Just one more to talk about – the 1974 star-studded recording by Colin Davis. I’ve chosen to discuss this one precisely because there was certainly curiosity on my part about what these stars would be like in such an ensemble opera as Cosi Fan Tutte.Well, the disappointment was mighty.Montserrat Caballe, one of opera’s super-divas of the 70s and 80s, sings the role of Fiordiligi without any special distinction whatsoever. This possessor of one of the most beautiful voices ever heard in opera could not endow any of Fiordiligi’s music with any special beauty (how is this possible?). Neither could she invest the role with any special insight. Fiordiligi’s two arias sound pedestrian – “not bad” is what I would say.

Unfortunately, that is not what I can say about the famed English mezzo-soprano Janet Baker and tenor Nicolai Gedda. Baker’s retirement should have taken place before this recording was made. There is one small patch of voice in the lower middle that sounds acceptable but the rest is coarse and truly worn, and there is no ease or beauty anywhere in her singing.

The almost legendary Gedda should have retired even earlier. Had Gedda not been Gedda, he would not have been allowed to record even his main aria “Un’aura amorosa”, much less the whole opera. The whole aria is painful to hear – it begins just slightly off-key (the voice no longer able to pin the exact note down squarely) and proceeds from there in a most strenuous way, the tone emerging dry and harsh in too many moments.

Not quite regarded as being as starry as Caballe, Baker or Gedda, Wladimiro Ganzarolli (Guglielmo) and Richard Van Allan (Don Alfonso), also make no distinctive impact in their roles.Only Ileana Cotrubas as the maid Despina comes alive; however, her attractive but fragile tone does not appear to please others as much as it can please me.Colin Davis conducts the score in the same ‘not bad’ way.