One need only watch Angela Gheorghiu as Tosca, scratching her
chin in puzzlement as she tries to figure out who Cavaradossi’s
painting of Mary Magdalene looks like, to realize that Sarah
Bernhardt may rest easy. “Golly, who could that be?” she’s
thinking deeply, and then, grabbing the dramatic moment by the
throat, she hurls out “E l’Attavanti!” much to everyone’s
surprise. Later, in Act 2, when Scarpia asks her if she knows
the whereabouts of the escaped prisoner Angelotti,
Gheorghiu-as-Tosca, dramatic brain-wheels a-spinning, thinks to
herself “time for chest voice” and sings the words “Non so
nulla,” thusly. And so it goes: albeit without a hint of
spontaneity on the soprano’s part, there is a good chance that
this Tosca is, note-for-note, one of the finest ever sung.
In the opera house, I would not be surprised if the voice
were a bit too small for the part, but on DVD it sounds
gorgeous: rich and creamy from top to bottom, all of the high Cs
easily produced and perfectly placed, legato pure, dynamics
attended to. Looking ravishing and every inch the diva in her
gowns and jewels, Gheorghiu moves well and knows when to glare,
when to giggle, when to fill her voice with coyness or hatred.
But she is always Angela Gheorghiu first and her performance is
proof that you can’t have everything: this is an amazingly
unmoving portrayal. I won’t compare her to other Toscas; I’ll
allow opera-lovers who watch this to choose their own favorites.
And watch it they should. Taking in Bryn Terfel’s
performance of Scarpia, you sense what is missing from his
leading lady. Looking as corrupt and lecherous as possible (his
portrayal brings to mind Orson Welles in the 1958 film Touch of
Evil), unkempt and with dirty hair, he actually terrifies as no
other Scarpia has (even Gobbi’s) because it is impossible to
know what he will do next. The voice booms out spectacularly in
the showy moments, of course, but it is in the insinuating,
manipulative spots that the character’s evil can be so
horrifying. Shots of him enjoying Tosca’s misery reveal an alert
sadist, and his interpretation seems to come from within; he
despises himself. After Tosca stabs him, he lands on top of her
and they struggle—a fine piece of stage business that will make
you gasp. This is hot stuff, and when Scarpia dies, much of the
power leaves the performance.
Somewhere in between the
brilliant artifice of one and the seeming artlessness of the
other comes Jonas Kaufmann’s stunning Cavaradossi. The voice
just gets better and better. From the (somewhat self-conscious)
soft notes and diminuendos, to the Corelli-like cry of
“Vittoria!”, Kaufmann is always in control of his beautiful,
expressive sound, and he looks the hero to a fare-thee-well.
Seemingly incapable of vulgarity, he sings an immensely moving
“E lucevan le stelle” without a sob, and the restraint only
makes his reading more valid.
In the smaller roles, Lukas
Jacobski makes us believe Angelotti’s plight; Jeremy White’s
Sacristan is less buffo than usual; Hubert Francis’ Spoletta is
as nasty as his boss; and William Payne’s treble makes the most
of the Shepherd Boy’s solo. Antonio Pappano convinces again that
there’s little he does not conduct well; he’s considerate of the
singers but keeps an inner pace and throb to the score that
makes it seem inevitable. In the second act, when Scarpia is
questioning Tosca, the repeated thrum of the strings becomes
torturous in itself, and the Covent Garden forces play
passionately throughout.
Aside from Scarpia’s molestation
of Tosca, even near death, the direction by Jonathan Kent
(helped in this revival by Duncan Macfarland) holds no
surprises. Paul Brown’s design for the two-level first act set
is the most effective: the wrought-iron grille a cage that keeps
the evil in check, with Scarpia down below and the Te Deum
above. As I mentioned above, for sheer singing, this is among
the finest performances of this opera I’ve ever heard, and
Gheorghiu’s legions of fans may not notice (or mind) the chill I
sense coming from her.
The only performance on DVD that
generates a vaguely comparable amount of heat is from the
Nederlands Opera with Terfel and Catherina Malfitano; the 1976
film that takes place on location is lip-synched and therefore
rules itself out; the early Met/Zeffirelli show with Domingo,
Hildegard Behrens, and Cornell MacNeil is excellent. And of
course, Callas’ second act (EMI) with Gobbi shows us all how it
should be done. This new one is excellent, and if you “buy”
Gheorghiu’s act, you’ll have no complaints at all.
