This performance left me essentially unmoved. For all Muti's adherence to the letter of the score its spirit curiously eludes him. He has used the relatively new critical edition of the piece, which involves a few, somewhat slight emendations, listed by Philip Gossett in the recording's accompanying booklet. Gossett, however, really goes to the heart of the matter when he writes; ''The critical edition is a point of departure, then, not a point of arrival... it remains the responsibility of sensitive performers to bring Verdi's world to life.''
As is his custom, Muti is more attentive to note values, dynamic advice and metronome markings than any other conductor. No licence is allowed to singers or players. Often this produces exciting results as in the Rigoletto/Sparafucile encounter rnostiy taken in a sinister sotto voce, and the abduction chorus sung, conspiratorially, ppp. The careful detailing of accompanying and internal figures, particularly in the duets is always illuminating and often adds a new dimension to a number. But too often I find the performance hard-driven and unloving, as though the conductor was trying to prove a point rather than devoting himself to interpreting one of the most eloquent pieces in the Verdian canon. For VEF instance, there is nothing in the least affetuoso about the ''Ah! veglia, o donna'' duet or inwardly soulful about Rigoletto's appeal to the courtiers which hardly- suggests the ''spiritual nobility'' referred to by Julian Budden in his essay; nor is ''La donna e mobile'' as airy and buoyant as it should be. The singers sound overawed by the maestro. In the opening section of the first Gilda/ Rigoletto duet they seem so concerned to keep up to Muti's rigorous tempo that no time is left for character or nuance in their phrasing and so, I am sorry to say, it continues throughout.
It is a pleasure to hear three genuine Italians in the principal roles. This pays dividends in terms of incisive articulation—that's immediately clear from La Scola's ''Questo e quella''—but none of the singers evinces anything like the individual distinction to justify a new version of a wellrepresented opera. Zancanaro sings boldly, bitingly and quite often with unexpected finesse—''Pari siamo'' benefits from his keen accents and. subtle colouring—but the voice is consistently that of a villain such as Luna or Don Carlo (roles he has taken with distinction on disc), seldom that of the grieving father. Thus, he is at his best taunting the counties or pouring hatred on the Duke in ''Si, vendetta''. His is a saturnine, black-browed jester, never a forlorn and loving father. The reading has profile and presence, but little pathos.
Having heard, and been impressed by Dessi in the theatre, I looked forward to her Gilda. I like a strong-voiced Italian in the part and when the voice rings out freely in parts of ''Caro nome'' and at the top of the Quartet, hopes are fulfilled. Her phrasing is always considered, but the voice often sounds too heavily spinto, too mature, and high notes become either edgy or strained.
Because I felt I might be judging conductor,' soprano and baritone unfairly, I made a dose comparison of Act 2 from ''Tutte le feste'' to the end of the act with three of the sets listed above. In the Sinopoli (Philips), Gruberova is more flexible than Dessi but less Italianate, Bruson far more fatherly than Zancanaro but a little generalized in expression. Their efforts are vitiated by their conductor's ludicrously slow speeds: rather Muti's strictness than this self-indulgence. Giulini (DG) and Serafin (EMI) get it absolutely right, particularly in ''Si, vendetta'', where Muti gabbles the music. Cotrubas (Giulini) is vocally accomplished, moving and girlish as Gilda, Cappuccilli paternal and authoritative without too many specific accents. Callas and Gobbi are even better for Serafin: here, at last, the words and the vocal line are inflected with colour and meaning, and—quite frankly—both singers are technically more assured than any rivals, certainly overshadowing the latest contenders.
La Scola is a tight-voiced, uninteresting Duke. There is nothing in his performance of di Stefano's smile (Serafin), Kraus's elegance (on the Solti/ RCA) or Pavarotti's elan (on the Bonynge/Decca). Harsh comparisons maybe but surely not unfair ones in a highly competitive market. You have to pay your money and you have the choice. Not much consolation is to be found in the smaller parts. Burchuladze is unidiomatic as Sparafucile, as if Varlaam had strolled into the wrong opera. The Maddalena wobbles, the Monterone bawls.
The Scala Chorus and Orchestra are splendidly vital, but not more so than their predecessors for Serafin, or the Vienna forces for Giulini. The recording is excellent: voices are well placed in relation to the orchestra and the overall acoustic is natural. In that, this new set is of course superior to its old stablemate at EMI. This is also an absolutely complete version, but by treating Verdi's masterpiece as a human, intimate drama, Serafin still holds the lead. The Giulini is a modern version of almost equal distinction. We are promised a new Decca recording in the near future, with Anderson, Pavarotti and Nucci, conducted by Chailly.'