Amadeo Vives, one of the most cultured and technically accomplished writers for the Spanish musical theatre, composed over 100 zarzuelas and operettas, but held something of a record with his 1923 masterpiece Dona Francisquita, which clocked up 5,000 performances in 20 years. Based on a comedy by the seventeenth-century Lope de Vega, the plot is a complicated amorous intrigue: a young student infatuated with an actress is loved by a girl who, in her determination to win him, pretends to accept the hand of his father, whose advances are mistakenly thought by her mother to be directed to her: throw in carnival scenes and the young man's companion who—for somewhat obscure reasons—disguises himself as a woman, and the action becomes elusive to follow. All the more since what we hear are isolated scenes without any of the dialogue (a good half of the libretto): especially in Act 3, this leaves huge gaps in the continuity that are papered over only by brief summaries in the booklet.
This throws all the emphasis, therefore, on the music, which for all its popular appeal, with a fandango, mazurka, bolero and bands of folk instruments (in the best zarzuela tradition) is of a distinction seldom found in this repertoire: alike in construction (the conspicuous weakness in so much Spanish music), in harmony and in orchestration (endlessly inventive here) Dona Francisquita is in an altogether superior class. Highlights of the score, apart from the dance movements, are a charming 'nightingale' song in Act 1, Fernando's big solo and a lively quintet in Act 2, and a dramatically superfluous but musically endearing romantic interlude at the start of Act 3, in which the orchestra and chorus have a chance to show their sensitivity.
Rather wryly, it has to be admitted that the chief virtues of this issue are indeed the orchestral playing and the excellent singing of the chorus (though the male section sounds rather large for the stage situation). Alfredo Kraus is a much respected artist but does not sound like a young student (particularly beside the very light tenor of Santiago Jerico as his companion) and is too beefy by half—as was Pedro Lavirgen in the recording under Sorozabal (Hispavox, 10/92—nla): the role is a romantic one, not heroic. Maria Bayo, also a much admired singer, is heard to less advantage than had been hoped: the recording seems to catch an edge to her voice, in places giving it a shrillness that accords ill with the heroine whom she is portraying: Teresa Tourne, in the earlier recording, is more appealing. The most successful artist here is Raquel Pierotti, who brings real character to her part as the haughty actress who at first disdains the hero's adoration. The production takes insufficient care over perspectives in Act 1—asides in particular are blurted out in full voice—but noticeably improves thereafter.'