Anyone interested in the authentic performance of early music will know that for some time the Swedish conductor Arnold Ostman has been essaying performances of this kind at the court opera house, Drottningholm, just outside Stockholm. There can be no better place to attempt it: the theatre is in virtually its original (1766) condition, with the wooden machinery in working order and copies of the original stage sets available. The revivals I have seen there do not in fact make a serious attempt to reproduce period staging, but musically they go a long way towards offering the kind of sound and approach that eighteenth-century composers envisaged for their works. Some readers may have seen the Cimarosa Il matrimonio segreto that Ostman conducted in London, which was highly successful, or have heard his Don Giovanni with the company at Covent Garden, which (understandably) was not. The present recording of Cosi fan tutte originated in Drottingholm production last year, given both with a young light-voiced Swedish cast and with the more international one assembled here.
Such double casting underlines, perhaps, one of the difficulties surrounding the application of period principles to opera (and one which, incidentally, effectually scuppered the Swedish authentic Die Zauberflote recording): there are too few period-style singers around, and still fewer who carry enough emotion weight for music like Mozart's. The cast here represents a sensible compromise; I do not think any of these singers produces the tone in an eighteenth-century manner, but the voices are generally light and flexible and are handled with a real awareness of style.
I find the result, taken all round, very appealing, and though this isn't the recording I would go to hear the depths of the work plumbed it is probably the one I will return to most often. One particular delight is that all—well, nearly all—of the obligatory appoggiaturas are properly in place. This is not simply a scholar's or a pedant's fad. It is a matter of singing the actual notes that Mozart expected, and securing a true match between verbal accent and musical shape. Time and again a phrase that has habitually struck one as a shade awkward comes out natural and fluent here. Listen to it: the essential rightness is unmistakable. The other point that will at once strike every listener is that almost every tempo is faster than one is accustomed to. I have tried hard not to be prejudiced here, in either direction. Certainly the light general character of the performance and the articulation available on these instruments allow quicker tempos, but many times I felt that the music wasn't being given enough time for its expressive depth to be realized (and I don't think I am wanting romantic Mozart). And here and there the singers seem hurried and not quite in control. At the beginning, for example—once through an overture so rapid that I don't know how the woodwind could manage it— ''Ah guarda, sorella'' seems too speedy to be graceful, and in the E flat quintet, ''Sento, o dio'', the detail could be more eloquent if allowed a little more space. Ostman would no doubt argue that it is marked two-in-a-bar. So is the military march, which Mozart heads Maestoso; it's two-in-a-bar all right, but I wouldn't call it majestic. He is evidently treating it as a slow march; he may well be correct. In the Act 1 finale, the B flat Andante, marked four-in-a-bar, is much faster than usual, but this tempo makes excellent sense for the voices and for the general shape of the finale; I am inclined to wonder if every other performance I have heard isn't substantially too slow. In Act 2, I found the garden scene serenade somewhat inflexible at Ostman's tempo and ''Ah! lo veggio'' too fast to be graceful (it is omitted in most other recordings). And in ''Fra gli amplessi'' the rapidity of the 3/4 section seemed damaging to its role as (surely) the emotional climax of the opera.
As I have already indicated, the solo singing is not likely to offer quite the thrills available on most of the existing recordings. But nor can real fault be found with it in such comparisons. Rachel Yakar gives a careful, intelligent ''Come scoglio'', which has ample force in the context and the passage-work is natural and integrated (and the appoggiaturas—which I have so often longed for in the opera house and on records—enormously add to the impact). Her ''Per pieta'' is deeply felt, and the Allegro, taken at a nicely measured pace, is, if not greatly exciting, extremely competent and warmly expressed. Alicia Nafe makes a direct, unaffected Dorabella, and is an outstanding ensemble singer— ''Prendero quel brunettino'' is quite charming and her duet with Guglielmo has real sensuality. I greatly enjoyed Georgine Resick's light, spirited, unexaggerated (for once) singing of Despina; ''In uomini'' especially is really a delight (and note the charmingly crisp little trills at the end, on violins and woodwind).
Her counterpart, Alfonso, is taken by that admirable vocal comedian Carlos Feller; there may be better singers as such, but few whose timing, handling of words and audible chuckle in the tone could serve as well. The Guglielmo of Tom Krause gave me particular pleasure, with the elegance and charm of his ''Non siete ritrosi'' and the subtle touches in ''Donne mie''. His brother officer, Gosta Winbergh, offers, without being the very sweetest of lyrical tenors, a most graceful and heartfelt ''Un' aura amorosa'' (listen in particular to the recapitulation, which is really lovely); he is somewhat taxed by ''Ah! lo veggio'' at this pace, but his cavatina ( ''Tradito! schernito!'') has real urgency.
I was very much struck by the sweetness of the orchestral sound here. This is not the kind of authentic orchestra that has scrawny strings and out-of-town woodwind. Indeed, the woodwind chording often has a purity and roundness that comes from taking special care over intonation and sensitive ensemble listening. The string tone is pleasantly warm and clean. I like the prominence Ostman gives to the trumpets and drums at appropriate moments. The balance generally is well held; woodwind phrases 'commenting' on what is being sung or acted are well drawn out of the texture, being allowed to make their point clearly but without prejudice to the well-blended orchestral sound.
The work is given absolutely complete, with the little duet for the officers in their Act 1 farewell scene which is almost always omitted (not specially distinguished Mozart, but its inclusion does help mark off the two quintets), as well as all three of Ferrando's arias. (And ''Rivolgete a lui'', the aria Mozart wrote for Guglielmo in Act 1 and then scrapped, is given in an appendix.) Recitatives are kept moving along and have a properly conversational character. I hope readers will try the set; I fancy that many people who think they don't much care for period instruments are going to be very pleasantly surprised.'