William Tell, in concert, Prom 2, Royal Albert Hall, July 2011

This opera is Rossini’s last, fulfilling a commission for a grand opera made five years earlier when he took up residence in Paris. The press had been buzzing with information on its progress, and in his book on Rossini, Francis Toye tells us that “On August 3^rd, 1829, it was finally produced before an audience bursting with curiosity. …  boxes were said to have changed hands for as much as five hundred francs … [and] though [it] was hailed with a salvo of applause by every musician and critic of note, the public remained comparatively indifferent, judging the opera as a whole to be long, cold and boring”. It is long — nearly four hours of music — and usually sustains various cuts. This performance was no exception, but it was gloriously played and sung by the Orchestra and Chorus of the Academy of Santa Cecilia, Rome, conducted by their music director Antonio Pappano, who also directs our own Royal Opera at Covent Garden.

William Tell is a legendary archer, forced to shoot an apple placed on his son’s head, and the opera is based on Schiller’s 1804 play, in which Tell’s actions help inspire a successful insurrection against Austrian rule. Whether he and his nemesis, the tyrannical Austrian reeve, Gessler, really existed is an open question, and the story of an archer who was compelled to shoot an apple from his son’s head goes back to a Danish tale in the Gestae Danorum (Deeds of the Danes) written by Saxo Grammaticus in the late twelfth century, in which the archer was named Toke, and the oppressor was King Harald Bluetooth. As in the Tell story the archer takes two arrows from his quiver and after succeeding with the first one is asked the meaning of the second one. He responds that if the first one killed his son, the second was for the oppressor himself, and he’s then condemned to death.

Historically it’s a fact that in 1273, Rudolf I of Habsburg revoked the Reichsfreiheit enjoyed by the Cantons of Uri, Schwyz and Unterwalden, and there was a tradition that William Tell’s insurrection took place in the early 14^th century. He’s a local hero, and in 1895 a bronze statue to him was erected in Altdorf, the capital of Uri.

The Schiller drama includes an important love interest. The young Arnold, a friend of Tell, is in love with Princess Mathilde of Habsburg, and sympathetic to Austria as a consequence. But learning that Gessler has killed his father he joins the rebels, and after Tell and his son are condemned to death, Mathilde places the boy under her royal protection. The role of Arnold with its multitude of high notes is a difficult one, and was brilliantly sung by John Osborn, with a glorious heroic tinge to his voice. His opening Act IV aria Ne m’abandonne pas elicited justifiably huge applause. Tell’s son Jemmy was sung with great purity and clarity by Elena Xanthoudakis, and Mark Stone stood out in the baritone role of Leuthold, as did Nicolas Courjal in the bass role of Gessler. The other principals and soloists were all strong, and the chorus was magnificent. When they played the role of Swiss Confederates at the end of scene 2 in Act IV the audience gave them tremendous applause.

I find it ironic, not to say amusing, that this opera on freedom from oppression — whose last line is Liberté, redescends des cieux — was produced in Paris in 1829, the year before the second French revolution when the last Bourbon King of France was exiled. However, it went past the censor unscathed, though the Papal States were not as lenient, and as for northern Italy there was predictable trouble with the Austrian authorities — in Milan the hero became William Wallace, the oppressors were the English, and the scene with the apple was taken out.

Rossini’s music for William Tell is fascinating, and one can even see ways in which it foreshadows Wagner — certainly Wagner himself congratulated Rossini on this! It was much admired by other composers, and I’m delighted that Antonio Pappano has brought it to the Proms, and given us such a wonderful performance. The start of the overture with those five solo cellos, and the wonderful horn calls around the upper reaches of the auditorium in the first scene, were gripping. The audience loved it, and time seemed to fly, but what a pity there were so many empty seats.

Les pêcheurs de perles, in concert, Royal Opera, Covent Garden, October 2010

Bizet wrote this opera when he was 24, during the summer of 1863 after returning to Paris from a three year stint in Rome. It was commissioned by Carvalho for the Théâtre Lyrique using as librettists Cormon and Carré, who had recently written Les pêcheurs de Catane (Catane, or Catania, being a coastal town in Sicily) for another French composer, Aimé Maillart. It’s reported that when they heard Bizet’s music they regretted not providing him with a better libretto, and it is indeed rather weak. The problem of how to bring the opera to a close was contentious, and when it was revived in Paris after Bizet’s death, the management loved the baritone/tenor duet, Au fond du temple saint, but didn’t like the ending in which the chief fisherman Zurga burns down the village so that the lovers can escape. They commissioned a different ending, and the loss of the original score tended to discourage productions of this opera. However this performance was based on Brad Cohen’s recent reconstruction of the original.

The music is much better than the libretto, and as Halévy wrote at the time, “After listening to the work seriously three times, I persist in finding in it the rarest of virtues”. So how was this concert performance at Covent Garden? Certainly Antonio Pappano gave a fine account of the score. He started gently, producing melodious sounds from the orchestra. Unfortunately the famous baritone/tenor duet in the early part of Act I, with Gerald Finley as Zurga and American tenor John Osborn as Nadir, failed to catch fire. It’s such a familiar piece of music that one is liable to expect too much, but I think the problem was partly that the evening took a while to warm up. The singers really only got into their stride after American soprano Nicole Cabell had entered as the priestess, with whom both Zurga and Nadir are in love. Her name Leïla was the original title of the opera, which was to be set in Mexico, but later changed to the more exotic location of Sri Lanka. Ms. Cabell won the Cardiff Singer of the World competition in 2005, and she sang beautifully here — she was the star of the evening, definitely a soprano to watch out for. Finley, Osborn and Cabell were well backed up by American bass Raymond Aceto as the high priest Nourabad, singing firmly and strongly.

As the evening warmed up we were treated to a very fine duet between Osborn and Cabell in Act II, a lovely soliloquy by Finley in Act III, and some strong singing from the chorus. I imagine the second and final night of this production on Thursday will be terrific throughout.

Armida, Metropolitan Opera live relay, April 2010

Rossini composed Armida shortly after returning to Naples from great success at La Scala in Milan. That was where, following his new opera La Cenerentola in Rome, he created La Gazza Ladra (The Thieving Magpie) for the more sophisticated Milanese audience, and they loved it. Rossini could do no wrong, and arriving in Naples in August he found a new libretto waiting for him. Chosen by the reigning impresario Domenico Barbaia, who ran the newly rebuilt Teatro San Carlo, it was a rather fantastical work, not ideally suited to the composer’s tastes. Nevertheless he set to work with unusual conscientiousness, preparing a great soprano role for the company’s prima donna, Isabella Colbran, darling of the Neapolitan public, favourite of the king of Naples, and mistress of Barbaia. He experimented with new harmonies and modulations, but as Francis Toye has written, “he might have spared himself the trouble, for the Neapolitan critics judged the result to be ‘too German’, too learned altogether, disappointingly devoid of spontaneity. Nobody seems to have traced the responsibility to . . . its real cause — the incompetence of the librettist, a certain Schmitt”. This was Giovanni Schmitt, who based his work on the epic poem, La Gerusalemme liberata published in 1581 by Torquato Tasso, telling a fictionalised account of the first Crusade.

Renée Fleming as Armida with the knights in Act I, photo Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

Armida herself is a sorceress whose seductiveness creates confusion and divisiveness between the knights when she enters their encampment. She persuades a group of knights to leave with her to recover her lost kingdom, and in the original story turns them into animals, like Circe in Homer’s Odyssey. She intends to kill the leading knight, Rinaldo, but falls in love with him, and in the opera he alone escapes with her, after killing one of the other knights. They enter her magic realm and sing of their love for one another, but this comes to an end in Act III when two knights, Carlo and Ubaldo find their way into Armida’s magical garden to bring Rinaldo back to his military role. When they show him his new effeminacy reflected in a shield, he feels ashamed and is persuaded to regain his mettle and flee with them. Armida tries to restrain him, but loses. She is then faced with a choice between two figures, Love and Revenge. She chooses the latter, destroys her pleasure palace, and flies off in a rage.

Renée Fleming and Lawrence Brownlee in Act II, photo Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

This bel-canto opera needs a really first-rate soprano, and Maria Callas sang the title role in a 1952 revival. Renée Fleming performed it in 1993 at the Rossini festival in Pesaro, and again in this new production for the Met. She sings here with consummate skill and brilliant characterisation, very ably supported by Lawrence Brownlee as Rinaldo. The knights Carlo and Ubaldo who rescue Rinaldo from Armida’s clutches were well sung by Barry Banks and Kobie van Rensburg, and the former also sang strongly as a knight named Gernando whom Rinaldo killed in a duel in Act I. John Osborn sang the role of Goffredo, a knight who persuades the company to support Armida, and Keith Miller gave an admirable portrayal of Astarotte, the prince of darkness in Armida’s realm.

Act III, photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

The production by Mary Zimmerman, with set and costume designs by Richard Hudson, shows Rossini’s original three act version, complete with a ballet in Act II. There is plenty of choreography in one form and another, along with frequent reappearances of the two characters Revenge and Love, the former portrayed by a tattooed man with a fine physique, and the latter as a girl in red dress. As often the case in relatively early operas these days, the sets showed clean lines and bright colours. I’m delighted the Met has broadcast this fine production of a little-known opera, conducted here by Riccardo Frizza, and I only wish their information sheets contained a more complete cast list. For example in this opera, Keith Miller who sang the bass role of Astarotte, and was interviewed by Deborah Voigt in the second intermission, was not listed.