''Throw yourself into it, try to attain pathos, avoid dryness, don't despise sensuousness too much. Think Mozart and re-read him constantly.'' Bizet's wise words in a letter to a colleague at the time he was writing La jolie fille were faithfully adhered to by himself in the composition of the work, which is full of attractive and often inspired music, harmonically subtle and rhythmically well varied. What fatally lames it, as all commentators have remarked, is the libretto, a very long way after Scott's novel. To quote our leading Bizet scholar, Winton Dean, in his Master Musicians volume on the composer (Dent: rev. 1975): ''The construction is poor, the characterisation standardised, the verse execrable'', dicta that have to be confirmed even after hearing this excellent performance. But, at least, as Dean continues ''there is no attempt at the monumental; the characters are, in intention at least, ordinary human beings''. For a full description of the score's musical felicities I refer the reader to Dean. Suffice it to say here that the orchestration shows Bizet's usual sensitivity, that some of the numbers—notably the famous Serenade, Ralph's drinking song and the duet for hero and heroine in the last act, and to a lesser extent the genre pieces for the gipsy Mab—are the composer at his most endearing and original.
Another important facet of the work is the muddle over editions, almost equalling that over Carmen. What we have here is Bizet's unaltered original, quite different from later amended ones. For instance, Heddle Nash in his best-selling Columbia 78 rpm record of the Serenade (DX540, 11/33), followed a corrupt edition that simply has two identical stanzas. Bizet intended the first stanza to be followed by a melancholy solo when the hero Smith realizes that his beloved Catherine will feign indifference. The composer cleverly kept the repetition of the first stanza for the end of the Second Act, Catherine now replying, ironically, to the departed Smith, who has followed the disguised Mab.
The preposterous story of misunderstandings revolves round Smith's love for, and jealousy shown to, the flighty Catherine, and the ruse played by Mab that nearly ruins the lovers' future. The wicked Duke of Rothsay is also enchanted by Catherine, and almost succeeds in seducing her away from the faithful Smith. The tenor lead is extremely taxing, but little of it seems to worry the apparently ageless Alfredo Kraus, who also shows his customary feeling for the sense of a phrase. Oddly, he seems less at ease in his quieter singing, which can sound dry, and he sometimes leaves little bulges in his line that interrupt its smooth flow. Ardour has always been his strong suit, and he has plenty of opportunity to show it here. June Anderson is also in her element as Catherine, easily fulfilling its coloratura demands, and giving the right plangent airiness to her short mad scene, once beautifully done by Gwen Catley as ''Sweet echo, come tune thy lay'' (HMV C3931, 12/49—nla). This is a role Joan Sutherland might well have tackled, and Anderson brings to it a similar gift for liquid tone. Like her noted predecessor, however, her diction is often unclear, which is particularly noticeable beside Kraus, so keen in that respect.
The cast is altogether a strong one. Catherine does well to steer away from the dangerously seductive tones, Giovanni-like in their sensuality, of Gino Quilico's Duke, who—once again on record—shows that he has few rivals today in the high-baritone territory. He's splendid in his Brindisi. Jose van Dam, the apprentice Ralph, sings his characterful solo, ''Quand la flamme de l'amour'' as well as on his Erato recital (NUM75023, 7/82), and the veteran Gabriel Bacquier contributes a suitably paternal Glover. Margarita Zimmermann rightly suggests the pre-echoes of Carmen in Mab's music, giving them a light-hearted brio.
Pretre's conducting is a more questionable asset. He is inclined to overheat the score, and he and his moderate orchestra aren't helped by the over-recessed and too reverberant recording (in the Salle Wagram, Paris). The choral contributions, important for their scene-setting and, at the start of the Second Act, humour, are not notable for tight ensemble. In spite of these incidental drawbacks, this is a welcome 'first' to the catalogue, fully worthy of the piece in its excellent solo contributions.'