In the voluminous history of Don Giovanni recordings, an honoured place has always been accorded to the Giulini version of 1959. Not many Italian conductors have recorded the work (Muti on EMI, for one, but no others in the current catalogue); here we have Claudio Abbado, in a reading of the opera that seems to me very Italianate yet in a curious way is not particularly strong in dramatic impulse, nor does it possess much of the sparkle that one expects from an Italian in an opera buffa.
It is, however, an intensely musical performance, large in scale, keen in its awareness of what is going on in the score and eager to make everything tell. Abbado is often ready to stretch the pulse in order to allow an expressive point in the music to register effectively, and he is generously supportive of his singers. His tempos are in any case mostly on the deliberate side (and that applies equally in the secco recitatives), and it seems to me that the performance as a whole is somewhat lacking in energy – and of all operas Don Giovanni surely needs that, to a demonic degree – so that the momentum of the music is sometimes forfeit. Listen for example to “Fuggi, crudele, fuggi!”, where the surface of the music is richly inflected but the underlying vitality is weak. The same applies to other movements, such as the Act 1 quartet, the accompanied recitative that follows it, and “Dalla sua pace” (to look only as far as the first disc). Everything Abbado does is justifiable, in terms of what the music is doing and the sense of the words; and certainly he draws much sensitive and tender playing from this very fine orchestra (as in “Ah! taci, ingiusto core” or the Act 2 sextet). But I do feel that the performance would have profited from more feeling that Don Giovanni is an opera buffa, a comic opera (that’s what Mozart called it: Da Ponte used the term dramma giocoso, for his libretto). Of course, it is serious too, like a Shakespeare comedy; but more of lightness and vivacity, around Leporello, the peasant couple and at times even Elvira and Giovanni, would have given a clearer idea of the universality of the work.
The cast is powerful. Carmela Remigio, whose only previous recording, apparently, is of Clotilde in Norma (EMI, 10/95), makes a noble and heroic Anna, providing a spacious, ringing account of “Or sai chi l’onore” (and vivid, even desperate, in the preceding recitative), and often beautiful if a little abstract in “Non mi dir”. Soile Isokoski, who sang Fiordiligi in the Kuijken Cosi fan tutte (Accent, 2/94), is the Elvira, with plenty of incisiveness in “Ah, fuggi il traditor” and ample intensity in “Mi tradi”, warm in tone, shapely of phrase. There is delicacy and charm in the singing of Patrizia Pace as Zerlina. Simon Keenlyside makes a splendid Giovanni, very musically and intelligently sung: there is great vitality in the Champagne aria, rather softer singing (though never quite concealing the sexual aggression) in the serenade and real depth of tone in “Meta di voi”; and he goes down finally with the vocal equivalent of flying colours. His voice and Bryn Terfel’s, as Leporello, are arguably too close in register and colour for comfort. But Terfel (Giovanni on the recent Solti version) provides a subtle and lively Catalogue song and a sturdy comic impersonation in general, if once or twice a little exaggerated. Uwe Heilmann’s Ottavio is clear, masculine, generally well tuned, often graceful; and of course Matti Salminen provides a solid, resonant, uncompromising Commendatore. The Masetto of Ildebrando d’Arcangelo is nicely recalcitrant-sounding, characterized by his splendidly spat-out consonants – it’s always beneficial, to everyone, if there are some Italians in the cast, ready to make the most of their language.
This, then, is an outstandingly well-sung Giovanni, certainly among the most distinguished versions, vocally speaking, to be had. But to my mind it lacks the dramatic edge that is so evident in, for example, the recent Mackerras version or (with period instruments) the Drottningholm recording by Oestman. I am sure, however, that Abbado’s more traditional, romantic view of the work will win many admirers.'