Anyone who was hoping that the present focus on Spain might encourage a recording of a Spanish opera (a genre pitifully under-represented in the catalogue)—Breton's Los amantes de Teruel, say, or his La Dolores, or Albeniz's Pepita Jimenez, Guridi's Mirentxu or Usandizaga's Mendi mendiyan, to name but a few—is unlikely to feel any great satisfaction at the choice of this crudely melodramatic story with music by Penella, a composer concerned for most of his career with trivialities, though he had a good training; but since the piece is currently being staged and has Domingo (who apparently asked for it) in the cast, here it is, and mostly well done. The plot centres on the triangle of the young torero Rafael, the gipsy girl Solea whom he loves but whose feelings for him are clouded by her lingering love for the bandit Juanillo (the ''wildcat'' of the title), and the latter's savagely fierce jealousy of Rafael. In the best melodrama tradition, all three end up dead: Rafael gored in the bullring, Solea from grief, and Juanillo, having snatched up her body but being cornered by the law, shot at his own command by a faithful henchman. The score's most famous number (widely popular in Spain) is a pasodoble in the bullring scene, and the musical depiction of the corrida (a scene excellently produced here, with convincing crowd noises) is also skilfully written: indeed, it is chiefly the purely orchestral sections—the prelude to Act 3 and the interludes in Acts 2 and 3—that bring out the best in Penella. There are, however, some vocal highlights—Solea's recollections of her childhood, Rafael's love duet with her and his prayer before the bullfight, the Cat's narrative of his life and his lamentation over the body of his dead love—but Penella's invention is short-breathed, and with his zarzuela background he conspicuously shows an inability to think in long dramatic or musical sequences: continuity is constantly being halted. A real opera calls for more than a series of snippets, however tuneful.
It is the three principals who carry this recording (with the help of a reliable orchestra and an excellent chorus which does much to invest the performance with a much-needed sense of theatre). Domingo is suitably involved and passionate as the over-confident, lovesick torero; Juan Pons all but steals the show, with his dark voice conveying all the character's desperation; and Veronica Villarroel, if not particularly memorable, suggests something of Solea's irresolution. Like the two men, Berganza as a gipsy fortune-teller brings a welcome whiff of the stage with her, but her intonation is not flawless; mention should be made of an admirable bass, Carlos Alvarez, as Rafael's older friend; the rest of the cast range from adequate to stiffly mediocre. This is not a work I personally think I shall be coming back to very often, but if it leads to a wider demand for more distinguished Spanish operas it will have served a useful purpose; and meanwhile it provides colourful, if undemanding, fare.'