For a newcomer to Linda di Chamounix (or one who is hovering on the brink, or, having not been impressed by a first hearing, wonders whether it might be time to try again), it may be helpful to think of it as Donizetti’s Luisa Miller. There are similarities in subject – a strong father-and-daughter relationship, a simple family and communal life threatened by the high-and-mighty. More than that, both operas evoke a strong sense of compassion. Donizetti’s is lighter, with a comic element, a happy ending, and reassurance from the start in that the ‘villain’ is only the buffo bass-baritone whom operatic convention will not allow to win. Still, tragedy looms and the situations involve heartache of various kinds, of which the separation of soprano-and-tenor lovers is not the only one. Musically, it suffers at first hearing from having its best and most famous number (Linda’s “O luce di quest’anima”) at the start: if, like “Ah, non giunge” in La sonnambula, it had been reserved for the finale the whole opera might have enjoyed more success. There is also a homeliness about the melodies and their harmonies that makes it seem all rather tame. Yet the proof, or at any rate evidence, that this is far from the whole story lies in the way that this opera has of deepening its impression on each encounter over the years.
Last time I came upon it was two years ago, when two sets, one of them new, the other a reissue, arrived for review in these columns. The 1956 recording (under Serafin on Philips) had to be dismissed, in spite of its being on two discs instead of three, with only 13 minutes difference in playing-time. The other (listed above) was in almost every way a delight, a concert performance in Stockholm, recorded live in 1993 with Edita Gruberova in the title-role. Readers who have that version would not find it worth their while to replace it with this new one, but for those who have to choose this is certainly a viable alternative and in certain respects to be preferred.
Linda di Chamounix is generally thought of as ‘the soprano’s opera’, and obviously much depends upon her. Mariella Devia sings with purity of tone and brilliancy of range and technique; just occasionally it sounds to me like a voice that needs a rest (the same is true of the tenor Canonici), yet much is beautiful as well as skilful. Though Gruberova leaves a stronger impression of the character, Devia too presents a fully human Linda and no mere coloratura-singing doll. In the main supporting roles, the two recordings each have an advantage, the Haider performance gaining from the livelier Carlo of Don Bernardini, the new one from the outstanding bass of Petteri Salomaa. The ‘trousers’ role of Pierotto (whose hurdy-gurdy and plaintive folk-song theme contribute so distinctively) is sung here by the rather fruitily vibrant Sonia Ganassi, and Monica Groop, though somewhat maternal, is perhaps preferable. Both versions offer a suitably authoritative Prefect and a discreetly buffo-ish Marquis.
Both are fine in ensemble, chorus work and orchestral playing. Friedrich Haider in Stockholm moves it along at a livelier pace; Gabrielle Bellini is more contemplative. Haider’s live recording has the singers further forward; the new one brings more orchestral detail to notice. One clear advantage lies with its predecessor – it includes an English translation of the libretto – but it also costs about twice as much.'