Orfeo have picked up the challenge of recording at least one of Verdi's early operas where Philips dropped it. Not unnaturally the latter company drew back at tackling Alzira, which has had—since its premiere—a universally bad press. Even that arch-Verdian Julian Budden has little good to say about it. Yet, perhaps because this set is such a firm advocate for the piece, I began to find the ugly child (almost disowned by its 'father') looking quite prepossessing. Admittedly, as Budden avers, the ''intellectual content'' of Voltaire's original and sceptical (of religion) play is ''reduced to a minimum'' in Cammarano's libretto, which often presented Verdi with a more florid text than he seemed able to set adequately. But for all that, and its unsuitable short length, I found enough of Verdi's genius to keep me fascinated throughout. The plot may be as ridiculous as that for Ernani (reviewed below), to which it bears some resemblances, but there is true feeling in all of Alzira's music, unhappy at having to marry the unyielding Spaniard Gusmano rather than the Peruvian fighter Zamoro. Her First Act aria recounting her dream seems to be good early Verdi, as does Zamoro's Second Act cavatina (there are only two acts) and all of the music for Gusmano, forerunner of Luna, successor of Don Carlo (Ernani) is full of character, while the extended sextet at the end of Act 1 and the Second Act finale show Verdi surpassing Donizettian models in every respect. There are weak cabalettas and rum-ti-tum banda music, but these are common to all of the 'galley years' operas.
My admiration for the opera stems, I am sure, from Gardelli's unerringly apt conducting. Where other, supposedly more illustrious conductors often draw attention to themselves in addressing Verdi, Gardelli draws our attention to the merits of the piece in hand, never forcing a tempo or a dynamic, always shaping a movement with a feeling for line and structure. Having just listened to the CD Traviata (reviewed on page 910) unmercifully pulled about by Bonynge, the skill of Gardelli's direction is all the more apparent, and he inspires his Munich forces to give of their appreciable best, though one or two of the comprimarii could easily have been bettered.
Cotrubas is in her best voice as Alzira, whose downtrodden, lamenting role suits her particular gifts to perfection. She floats the cantilena of ''Nell'astro piu che fulgido'' sensuously, then makes the coloratura of the cabaletta seem more attractive than it probably is, while her halting contribution, ''Il pianto l'angoscia di lena'', to her duet with the implacable Gusmano is deeply affecting. Here she is partnered by Bruson's splendid baritone. Completing a superb Verdian double this month, he brings to Gusmano the benefit of his resolute, well-modulated singing. Although the part offers far less than Don Carlo in Ernani, Bruson makes the most of its opportunities, especially in the finale where, stabbed by Zamoro (disguised as a Spaniard and breaking in on the wedding celebrations of Gusmano and the unwilling Alzira), he forgives Zamoro and in affecting phrases wishes the tenor and soprano happiness hereafter.
Araiza, whom we have known till now largely in the lighter duties of Mozart, Rossini and Donizetti, suggests all the fire and ardour of Zamoro, but sometimes one feels his attractive tenor is being forced to its very limits in a role written for Gaetano Fraschini who was a heroic singer known as the ''tenore della maledizione''. Araiza is not by nature either of those things, but he makes a more than passable shot at suggesting them. Only once in a while is his old fault of doubtful intonation in evidence.
The recording is spacious and well balanced, thus supporting a venture that deserves to be rewarded. We shan't get another Alzira, I'm sure, so this excellent one should be in every Verdian's collection.'