MUSIC REVIEW : Ambassador Hosts a Concert Version of ‘Linda di Chamounix’

Donizetti cranked out “Linda di Chamounix” in 1842, somewhere between the dainty bel-canto tragedy of “La Favorite” and the gentle buffo pathos of “Don Pasquale.”

“Linda di Chamounix” (pronounce the x ) is a formula opera, one of those bucolic, kitsch-post card charades about a wronged maiden who goes temporarily and very prettily mad but recovers her senses just in time for the final, happy, stratospheric cadence. The work abounds in lovely, decorative, naive tunes and it certainly provides a grateful showcase for a gaggle of virtuosic canaries.

Amelita Galli-Curci and Lily Pons used to love singing Linda. Beverly Sills and Joan Sutherland have made popular hay with her delectable entrance aria, an ornate sing-along hit called “O luce di quest’anima.”

But the opera hasn’t been seen much in America. Chicago paid it some lip service in the 1920s, and the mighty Met mustered seven performances in the mid-’30s. Apart from an isolated recording or two, the rest has been silence.

Enter the Los Angeles Concert Opera, an offshoot of the Zachary Society. Drafting a cast of young American singers, most of them recent contest winners, the new organization put together an unreasonable facsimile of “Linda di Chamounix” Monday night at Ambassador Auditorium.

One was pleased to be able to hear the work at last. At least one was pleased to be able to hear most of it--some genius had the bright idea of cutting the big love duet from Act II. Still, one left with only a faint impression.

The opera obviously demands an ensemble of golden throats--singers who command the graceful style, singers who can project character, singers who can offer subtle linear inflections and indulge in elegant, dramatically oriented flights of fioriture .

A glance at the Met cast for 1934 gives one the idea. Pons was surrounded, and supported, by Gladys Swarthout, Richard Crooks, Giuseppe de Luca and Ezio Pinza.

The Ambassador roster did manage to introduce three interesting voices.

In the title role, DeLaine Morrow revealed a spinto -size soprano of considerable sensuality and warmth, an extended if somewhat tight top range and a technique that facilitates legato arches and coloratura filigree as well as pianissimo indulgences. Her personality would seem to be a bit placid and her histrionic image a bit matronly; nevertheless, she has obvious potential.

Jorge Lopez-Yanez as the hero, Carlo, sang with sweet and sturdy, lightweight tone throughout. He has the equipment to be a superior tenore di grazia . He must learn, however, to modulate the dynamic scheme, to caress the line, to phrase with refinement and to avoid pushing the high notes too hard. Nor would it hurt if, even in a concert performance, he would cast an occasional glance at his supposedly beloved soprano.

Suzanna Guzman brought a sympathetic stage presence and a rich, vibrant mezzo-soprano to the Hosenrolle of Pierotto, but sang in a monotonous mezzo-forte all night long.

The only genuine dramatic portrait in the performance came courtesy of Ralph Bassett, a rough-voiced New York City Opera stalwart who offered a crusty impression of the stuffy Marquis, and who, not incidentally, showed enough esprit de corps to memorize his music. Although fussy entrances and exits had been devised to suggest the basic action, the rest of the cast kept its collective nose buried, lazily or timidly, in the score.

Wade Wilson (Antonio), David Downing (the basso Prefect) and Debbie Cree (Maddalena) brought minimal resources and mediocre workshop standards to their important assignments.

Frank Fetta conducted a scrappy orchestra (members of the Inland Empire Symphony) and a modest chorus (members of the Valley Master Chorale) with finicky would-be precision. His communication with the singers standing behind him turned out to be a sometime thing.

Giorgio Tozzi, one of the finest, most versatile bassos of the Bing era at the Met, was listed as artistic director. His actual duties in this context proved obscure.