home entertainment 2007

makes a fine case for Zarzuela, the Spanish theatrical form
popular from the late 19th century until the 1930s. (The
inclusion on this CD of a song composed in 1998 by the
singer-songwriter José Maria Cano, about the honor of a
Gypsy, is a slovenly imitation of the form.) Zarzuela is halfway
between what we know as musicals and opera, and requires
as much sheer voice as Puccini, Mascagni, and that crowd.
Teresa Berganza, Alfredo Kraus, Domingo, Montserrat
Caballé, and others have popularized it somewhat in the past
30 years, but this terrific new CD could push it close to the
mainstream. These selections are mostly filled with grand
emotions—love, loss, joy—and the remarkable Villazón inflects
his essentially dark-hued voice so intelligently and sensitively
that he embodies each experience.
Unlike any of the singers mentioned above, Villazón ventures
back 300 years for the repertoire on another new disc,
Combattimento, which should raise some eyebrows.
Monteverdi falls just outside the realm of “early music” but is
normally treated as such—sung and played with little or no
vibrato, and approached with a certain delicacy. Conductor
Emmanuelle Haïm has proven, in her recordings of Orfeo and
other works, that her approach to 17th-century music is dramatic,
full-blooded, and decidedly full of vibrato, while at the
same time remaining faithful to the music itself.
In addition to arias and duets,
Combattimento features one of
Monteverdi’s most dramatic works:
Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda, a
lengthy narrative of war, death, love,
and forgiveness that fairly vibrates with
tension. The Christian knight Tancredi
has fallen in love with Clorinda, a
Saracen. In armor, they meet on the
battlefield, where Tancredi kills
Clorinda; he removes her helmet in
time to be horrified by the fact that it is
his true love, and she lives long enough
to ask to be baptized.
Villazón, as the narrator, has the bulk
of the work—Tancredi and Clorinda
sing about two minutes’ worth of
music—and he turns the sequence of
events into a suspenseful story.
Monteverdi pulls out all the vocal
stops—there are so-called goat trills (a
trill on a repeated note, rather than one
including the note above or below),
which Villazón approaches in an unidiomatic
but perfectly acceptable manner,
and there are fast runs, periods of
almost panic-stricken recitation, and
lovely, lyrical moments, all of which he
handles perfectly. Similarly, neither
soprano Patrizia Ciofi (Clorinda) nor
tenor Topi Lehtipuu (Tancredi) has the
type of voice one normally associates
with Monteverdi, but their commitment,
musicality, and dramatic thrust
make this reading as urgent and touching
as it should be. Haïm gets through
the work in 18 minutes, some three
minutes less than other conductors, and
the effect is shattering—a sung video
game of war’s brutality.
Last in this Rolando Villazón fiesta is a
ROLANDO VILLAZÓN
Gitano
Arias by Cano, Guerrero, Luna, Moreno-Torroba,
Relato, Serrano, Soriano, Sorozabal, Soutullo,
Vives
Rolando Villazón, tenor; Orquestra de la
Communidad de Madrid, Plácido Domingo
Virgin Classics 65474 2 (CD). 2007. Daniel Zalay,
prod.; Jean-Pierre Signoret, eng. DDD. TT: 57:06
Performance ★★★ Sonics ★★★★
MONTEVERDI
Combattimento
Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda;
madrigals, arias, duets
Rolando Villazón, Topi Lehtipuu, tenors;
Patrizia Ciofi, soprano; Le Concert d’Astrée,
Emmanuelle Haïm
Virgin Classics 63350 2 (CD). 2007. Daniel Zalay,
prod.; Michel Pierre, eng. DDD. TT: 67:28
Performance ★★★★★ Sonics ★★★★★
DONIZETTI
L’Elisir d’Amore
Rolando Villazón, Nemorino; Anna Netrebko,
Adina; Leo Nucci, Belcore; Ildebrando
D’Arcangelo, Dulcamara; Inna Los, Giannetta;
Chor und Orchester der Wiener Staatsoper;
Alfred Eschwé
Virgin Classics 63352 9 (DVD-Video). 2006.
Thomas König, ed.; Peter Strasser, Petra
Zeininger, engs. DTS 5.0 Surround, Dolby 5.0
Surround, LPCM Stereo. TT: 2:10:00
Performance ★★★★★ Sonics ★★★★★
DVD of a performance of Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore, taped at the
Vienna State Opera in 2005. The role of Nemorino was in the
repertoire of each of The Three Tenors in the 1970s and ’80s, and
while Domingo brought a certain smoothness to it early in his
career, his voice soon grew too heavy; Pavarotti was simple, affectionate,
and bright-toned, and Carreras had vulnerability and
warmth. Villazón has it all. The voice gleams at the top, the baritonal
bottom adds tenderness in introspective moments, he handles
the coloratura handsomely, and is even a master at messa di
voce—that glorious effect in which a note is attacked softly, swells
to almost forte, and is then drawn back to pianissimo—and he uses
it at the close of his big aria, “Una furtiva lagrima.” After two minutes
of applause from the normally reticent Viennese audience,
he repeats the aria, with even greater nuance. The character is a
bumpkin, and Villazón makes everything he says seem spontaneous.
With his mop-top hair and big eyes, he seems to be channeling
Harpo, Chico, and Chaplin at once. He’s a born ham—he
juggles three pieces of fruit while singing one aria—and offers one
of the most delightful portrayals of the role ever.
We’ve seen and heard Villazón before in tragic 19th-century
opera—his Traviata was reviewed in these pages a few
months ago, and he was ardent and sexy—but like all fine
actors, he’s a chameleon onstage. (Pavarotti always played
Pavarotti.) The gorgeous Russian superstar Anna Netrebko
is Villazón’s beloved Adina, and everything
she does seems likewise relaxed;
she executes endless streams of coloratura
in beautiful tone with ease, and
she’s truly alert and appealing. The two
share a one-minute-long kiss that has
the audience erupting in applause. Bass
Ildebrando d’Arcangelo makes a nicely
snide, mellifluous, younger-than-usual
quack, Dr. Dulcamara, and veteran
baritone Leo Nucci still has it as the
boastful soldier, Belcore. Conductor
Alfred Eschwé clearly realizes he had
struck gold with this cast (apparently
Villazón and Netrebko were thrown
into the show on a few weeks’ notice
when they became available), and leads
a tight, energetic reading of the score.
The traditional sets and costumes
(from 1980, by Jürgen Rose) are
charming, and whose direction for
both stage and TV is fine. The subtitles
are in English, Spanish, French, Italian,
or German.
And so the opera world has a true
tenor star, one whose charm, great voice,
and natural gifts could get the attention
of non-opera lovers as well. (Netrebko is
his female equivalent nowadays and
they’re frequently cast together.) At the
moment—he’s 33—it seems there’s nothing
Rolando Villazón can’t do right, well,
and with originality. His strange combination
of a dark tone that turns bright
and is thoroughly secure at the top is a
rarity (Caruso had it), and it alone should
be enough, assuming it stays intact. Nor
is the voice small: We may just get, in ten
or so years, a great Otello from him.
Until then, everything else he’s doing
turns to gold. —Robert Levine ■■
www.Stereophile.com, May 2007 47