A piece of casting that inspires confidence at the start of the CD set is that of Bryn Terfel as Angelotti. He is excellent; and then again on his reemergence with the full-voiced exclamation ''Voi! Cavaradossi!'', and still more in those poignant phrases when he sees that Cavaradossi has found him unrecognizable. Unhappily, a flair for interesting and well-justified casting is not evident elsewhere. Of course Domingo is a fine Cavaradossi, but two recordings of him in the role are available already (RCA, 11/86 and EMI, 1/89 respectively), and his style and conception have not notably changed. Freni might possibly be considered a good Tosca, but again her performance is not new to us or strikingly different in interpretation, only that bit older in voice. Ramey is the new feature, a bass with a readily available high register and, on the face of it, a suitable choice for Scarpia. But it is indeed 'on the face of it', for the result suggests (as any number of observers would have foretold) that only a superficial view of the role and the singer can have brought them together on record. Ramey has the stern authoritarian tone needed for one element in this character, but nothing of the volatile, ingratiating, suave and sensual qualities needed for the rest. And it is not a good idea to cast a bass, or even a bassbaritone, as Scarpia. For a singer like Ramey the range and tessitura present no insuperable difficulty, but such singers do not have the vibrant resonance and relish of the authentic Italian baritone. It may be well enough at the entrance (''Un tal baccano in chiesa''), but as soon as he begins to insinuate himself into Tosca's attention with that monotoned B flat (''Tosca divina'') the right tone is not there, and nobody with a real feeling for voices could have thought that it would be.
That Ramey goes on to sing very well will also come as no surprise. In the ''Te Deum'' he phrases over well to the softened D flat (''Ah! di quegl' occhi''); in Act 2 the broad melody of ''Ha piu forte sapore'' is scrupulous in legato and precision; nowhere are the top notes forced and, above all, the voice is kept firm and steady. But this still doesn't make a Scarpia. It's the colouring and 'face' in phrases such as ''Ella verra per l'amor del suo Mario'', ''Ma e fallace speranza'', ''Cosi, cosi ti voglio'' that are missing: without them, no Scarpia.
In Freni and Domingo the performance has of course a real Tosca and a real Cavaradossi, and for the great and unflawed splendour of Domingo's singing there can be nothing but gratitude. As ever, his ''Qual' occhio al mondo'' and ''Amaro sol per te'' are specially fine features of the two love duets, and many are the personal touches in his characterization that, however familiar, still seem spontaneous. With Freni too there is much to admire, including a careful and sometimes beautiful ''Vissi d'arte''. But equally one cannot ignore, and that from the very first notes, that this is a voice which has lost much of its firmness and freshness. It was so to some extent even in the 1978 Decca recording conducted by Rescigno, but it is inescapable now.
Much of the interest therefore focuses on the conductor. That he is a very positive force in the performance is clearly instanced in the first minutes of it. The great Scarpia chords have their due amplitude, but it is the vivacissimo con violenza that has the special Sinopoli stamp upon it (''Violent!'' you say to yourself even before noting con violenza in the markings). There is a real savour to everything now, yet it isn't long before another of Sinopoli's characteristics comes into play, and with less happy effect: a poco rit. becomes a molto rit. (end of the A flat melody before ''Ora stammi a sentir'' in Act 1), and he anticipates an allargando (end of Act 1), bringing it forward a bar. Later, some of the speeds are very slow indeed and, although they may have worked well enough in the theatre (as the video suggests), they weigh too heavily when the music stands on its own, deprived of stage-action.
The video, of course, takes the orchestra and its conductor away from their place at the centre, and we concentrate far more on the stage. It is, I think, for the production that I would want to have the video. This is Zeffirelli at his best: rich in colour, superb in care for detail, the movements all so natural and right, a genuine classic of the operatic stage. And again there is Domingo, his Cavaradossi such a genuine person, gallant, humorous and with flashes of fierce conviction: a treasurable keepsake to have on film. Behrens's Tosca gives me minimal pleasure, whether in the viewing or the listening. MacNeil's Scarpia is impressively odious but his voice has drained out (he was 63 in 1985, the year of this performance) so that it has weight but no lustre.
Sound-quality on the video is good, on the CD very rich, but the churchy resonance which suits Act 1 becomes somewhat oppressive. As a performance, the best Tosca on record is still the first Callas under de Sabata (EMI). The sumptuous and characterful Karajan Decca version of 1962 is available again and still impressive as recorded sound. There is also the attractive bargain version on Naxos under Alexander Rahbari (Miricioiu, Lamberti and Carroli in the principal roles). And many more (a total of 14 in the current Classical Catalogue). The video is a worthwhile addition, but I can't see a great future for the discs.'