This highly idiosyncratic project derives from semi-staged performances given in Chicago, where the dialogue was replaced by a narration (written by the distinguished writer-critic, Edward Said) given to Leonore, viewing the events of the opera some years on. That bizarre idea has sensibly been abandoned here - though part of the narration is printed in the booklet - but unfortunately the dialogue hasn't been restored. As Furtwangler's old set illustrates, its omission draws most of the drama from the work. Even Walter Legge, who disliked including dialogue on disc, relented when Klemperer came to record the opera. You really cannot perform this great human document with any meaning if, for instance, you omit the exchanges between Leonore, Florestan and Rocco after the duet in Act 2. Did the presence of Domingo, whose German is indifferent, have anything to do with this strange decision?
Then Barenboim opts for the overture (now known as Leonore No 2), played at the first version's premiere in 1805 - another odd choice - and reverses the order of the two opening numbers, again following Beethoven's original idea. After that Barenboim reverts to the usual 1814 score. Leonore No 2 being the dullest of the work's four overtures, the performance gets off to a lame start, but thankfully you can programme in the Fidelio Overture, as it is included with the two other Leonores at the end of the recording.
Barenboim's interpretation, obviously influenced by Furtwangler's, is for the most part clear and perceptive, evincing a predictable understanding of the score's inner workings, but it sometimes seems too deliberate, wanting forward pulse, nowhere more so than in the final section of Act 1, 'Lebwohl, du warmes Sonnenlicht', where Barenboim takes as much as two minutes longer than Halasz on his recent and recommendable Naxos set. The playing of the conductor's Berlin Staatskapelle, refined in detail, impressive in dramatic elan, and the singing of the State Opera Chorus are the most enjoyable contributions to the set. Both are caught in a clear, well-balanced recording, typical of Teldec.
The Roccos are well cast. Father is more than safe in Pape's glorious, astutely etched singing, though he sounds a shade youthful for the old gaoler. By contrast Isokoski, who offers rounded tone and appealing sincerity, sounds a mite mature for Marzelline. How one would like her to have tackled Leonore, possibly giving us a performance in the mould of Nielsen on Naxos. Meier's approach is forthright, almost aggressive. She delivers the role in often raw sounds: where, one wonders, has the rescuing wife's warmth gone? While one has to admire the fearless attack and dramatic bite of her singing, as at 'Noch heute', she is not in the class of Rysanek for Fricsay or Nilsson for Maazel.
Inevitably by the side of Meier's meaningful diction, that of Domingo as Florestan sounds unidiomatic and at times uncommunicative. As for his singing, it is of course good to hear his powerful tenor approach the familiar phrases with such breadth and security, but the emotions expressed are generalised, the tone muscular, when set beside Winbergh's varied, easily shaped account of the part on Naxos or McCracken's anguished utterance for Maazel. Nothing in this reading really goes beyond the excellently articulated notes - and that won't do.
Struckmann's Pizarro is suitably nasty, but his sometimes unsteady singing doesn't match that of Titus for Halasz, Krause for Maazel, Berry for Klemperer. The Jaquino and Fernando are both good, but Barenboim makes another weird decision by giving the First Prisoner's words to the choral tenors. The whole point here surely is for a single voice to make its special appeal within the context of the whole group.
No, if you want a romantic approach, Klemperer remains the choice. Those who want something more direct and viscerally dramatic, with forces more attuned to Beethoven's concept, cannot do better than the Halasz, a recording that takes us into the theatre, and an experience akin to that which excited the original hearers in 1814, while Maazel and his su-perb cast, at mid-price, grip this score like no other.'