At Parma in 2001 they had a creditable Norma; at Orange, on a wind-swept, genius-driven night in 1974, they had greatness itself. Pierre Jourdan’s film of the event is a priceless document, first of all (I would say) in the history of the opera. Stage-settings of Norma are usually hopeless: an offence to the eye, a chafing confutation of the spirit by gross matter. The ancient Roman amphitheatre is at any rate worthy and appropriate, and the mistral which threatened to close down the whole show and turn away an audience (inside and out) estimated at 10,000 adds a fine reminder of the power of Nature as it sets the druidical robes billowing and attacks the microphones.

The vastness of the stage provides a further challenge to the man in charge, and although conductor Giuseppe Patanè’s star is somewhat eclipsed in the general view of things, he deserves all congratulation for two contrary achievements – holding the ensemble together and giving the soloists freedom.

But of course it is their night, and particularly Caballé’s. She herself (according to biographers Taylor and Pullen; Casta Diva, Gollanz: 1994) has named it ‘the greatest single performance of her career,’ and it is indeed astonishing. In certain passages and phrases it is hard to think of any voice we have known, whether on stage or through records, that could sound more lovely; but, more than that, the great role is sung and acted with such well-founded assurance that for once it fulfils its own legend, the embodiment of musical-dramatic sublimity in 19th-century opera. Of the others in the cast it must for now suffice to say that they are worthy partners – and that says much, though individually they deserve much more.

For the other Norma, filmed at Parma with June Anderson in the lead, it is a misfortune that the release should coincide with that of the older but incomparably special version. On its own it would deserve recommendation, certainly in preference to the DVD of the production with Sutherland in 1978 at Sydney. The work of the Biondis, Fabio (as conductor) and Maurizio (score-editor), secures the basis for a sound performance on the musical side; and the staging, if unimaginative in its handling of the chorus, is well thought-out with regard to the soloists. For the home-viewer a tiresome feature is the effect of the make-up in connection with the lighting. On his first appearance, Pollione emerges as something from a horror film; Adalgisa has a second pair of eyebrows, and Norma often looks as though she has been in a fight. A further visual blemish is the height (half a head taller) and ample figure of the Adalgisa in relation to Norma.

The matching is also not entirely happy in respect of vocal suitability. Anderson, still a very personable Norma, needs as young and girlish an Adalgisa as possible. Daniela Barcellona is a fine sample of that now rare commodity, the authentic Verdi mezzo, but Adalgisa is something different, and the key relationship in the opera is another matter far better served in the Orange performance. Of June Anderson it still must be said that the role brings out the best in her, and, if her voice has lost some freedom and resonance in the high register, it is fuller than it used to be in character and warmth. Her central performance and the conductor’s musicianship do much to carry the day.