Metropolitan Opera Archives

Marked by all the brilliancy of old time grand opera, when "concert in costume" was the thing and the florid aria with a strumming orchestra the ideal, last night at the Academy of Music was like a return to the "good, old days" of the fathers - when, of course, nothing was quite so good as it is today. Mr. Gatti's forces were in their best bib and tucker and the mis-en-scene was as polite and high-falutin' as could wish - for in that period grand opera was not sufficiently "grand" unless it dealt with bejeweled and bedazzled personages of the extreme upper classes. It must have been something of an innovation when Violetta was admitted to that association and, no doubt, when Venice first heard this "Traviata," on March 6, 1853, there were many qualms at so admitting her. Anyway, it was brilliant last night and the old vocal pyrotechnics were sent on their dazzling way to illumine the sky for the awestruck in the same fireworks fashion. Three artists of superlative quality were quite equal to tradition, in a sense, and it was only a wonder that all the Academy bats, and the cat, did not walk to celebrate the occasion. The audience, too, looked like an old time one and the applause and everything was the same.

Galli-Curci covered herself with glory as the sentimental heroine, turning loose all the bravura tricks of the coloratura from the "Ah fors 'e lul" to the "Oh, mio sospiro" and illuminating every aria with exquisitely moulded trills, runs and cadenzas, with dazzling staccati, with beautifully sustained tones all of which were emitted with absolute finish, roundness and modeling. It was a rare performance in which the artiste revealed all that is best in her work and something of what mars it. There was the velvety quality, the warmth and color which make it so agreeable, and there were, also, that certain lack of brilliancy of execution which mark her from other superlative divas of her class, and an infinitesimal shading of pitch which is so baffling, together with that characteristic of her attack which always makes one gasp as it seems she is certain to fall or go off key, only to find in the end that she does nothing of the kind, or, if so, only just such a little bit that the most refined ear alone may detect. But, it is good to hear one doing this work and so well, with such facility and fluency and withal, with a voice so warm and appealing in quality, with such grace, and charm, and one who is slender and svelt and moves with some suggestion of poetry and romance. So, it is no wonder there was such applause, tumults and furores, in a small way, and a general acclaiming of the prima donna which brought back recollections of the old days.

But, it was not the luscious and dazzling Melba, the brilliant Sembrich, the cold but clear cut, coruscating Tetrazzini - smaller, warmer, more appealing and less dominating diva. From Marietta Gazzaniga, in 1857, Pauline Colson, Marietta Piccolomini, Adelina Patti, Marie Pappenheim, Clara Louise Kellogg to Lillian Nordica and the others just mentioned, the walls of the Academy have resounded to applause following the bravura pyro- technics of the "Ah fors' e lui" as that the current exemplar has a definite standard to meet.

Beniamino Gigli cast his hat in the ring and went out for stellar honors by coloring his masterly bel canto with an unwonted and tremendously emotional rendition of the music of Alfredo. His triumph of the "Oh amore misterioso" in the First Act, was a superb piece of work, in which the refinements of bel canto were never better exemplified. Here he sang with all the beautiful tone he commands, with finesse in coloring and shading, rounding and moulding, and a fluency which was graceful and inspiring. In most of his other work he was reminding himself, of Caruso and trying for that dramatic and authoritative phrasing, steeped in emotionalism, which removed Caruso from all others. To a certain extent it is foreign to Gigli's exquisite style and interfered with the quality and smoothness of his work, yet, it is commendable as an effort, and some day - who knows? He did the scene of denunciation with unwonted fury and passion which quite took him away from his bel canto into sheer dramatic heroics. To the loss of tone add beauty, but not without some compensation in its histrionic effect and in providing variety and contrast to what might have been a sickly-sweet evening. More unusual still he expressed his remorse and horror in the "Rimorso io n'ho" entirely sotto voce.

Giuseppe de Luca, who did not appear to be in best voice, nevertheless was second to none in the incomparable vocalism with which he delivered his principal numbers, the "Pura siccome un angelo," "Mia figlia" and the "Di sprezzo degno." In the former there was a tenderness and a verity of sentiment which went straight to the hearts of all and won for him honors as high as any. Bel canto finds a true disciple in him and with it he is an actor of superior quality. He sang quietly and with care for refinements of his art which polished his work to the last degree and his success was well deserved. The others in the cast were entirely satisfactory. Angelo Bada's Gastone, Minnie Egener's Flora, Millo Picco's dignified and distinguished Douphol, Mario Laurenti, Louis d'Angelo and Grace Anthony in the smaller roles.

Roberto Moranzoni, polished as ever, lent distinction and meticulous shading and balance to the entire performance, which was kept to the high standard under his baton. The chorus did itself credit in all its work, and the production was quaintly beautiful and charming throughout, especially in costumes against appropriate scenic investiture. The ballet, led by Rosina Galli, with Florence Rudolph and Giuseppe Bonfiglia, was a decided feature of grace and elegance, the dances being designed by Galli. "Traviata" was last previously sung here by the Metropolitan Feb. 5, 1918, with virtually the same cast, excepting Freda Hempel as Violetta and Fernando Carpi as Alfredo.

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