MUSIC : Brought to You in Divavision : Four divas--and one tenor--showcase the promise and limitations of viewing great singers on video

Does the public really want to see close-ups, over and over again, of Pavarotti’s moles or watch the perspiration trickle down his sideburns as he sings an elegant phrase in a Puccini or Verdi aria?

Increasingly, videos of recitals by classical vocal soloists are hitting the market, and the question is whether visual repetition is as desirable as that of pure sound. Audio discs, of course, can give accurate accounts of an artist’s musical personality, or lack of it. We think nothing of listening many times to a great performance of an aria. Actually seeing the singers at work adds another dimension, for we can tell just how they physically sell their product.

With the exception of Cecilia Bartoli’s, which has many tight close-ups, these recently released videotapes are content with mostly medium shots. On balance, there is a certain charm that bears repetition in watching the singers work, especially when they are “on.”

Los Angeles’ performance was taped without audience, in a studio, specifically for television. The others take place before the public in concert halls.

The Pavarotti and Los Angeles tapes, the oldest, come from the vaults of Italian television and the BBC, respectively, and have been resurrected to take advantage of the explosion of the video market for classical music in the last few years. Doubtless the success of VAI in selling the old “Voice of Firestone” tapes in black and white from the ‘40s and ‘50s showed that there was money to be made.

The three other performances were given not only as concerts, but also with television and videocassette rights in mind. A third element is entering the scene in the form of the laser disc. It is too early to tell how successful that will be--and the five programs reviewed here are available so far only on tape. However, both the Bernstein and Karajan estates are going into the archives for laser disc material, a sign that the classics are attempting to keep up with technological advancements.

Of the singers, two are now at the end of their careers (Los Angeles at 69 and Scotto at 58), one (Pavarotti at 57) is nearing it, one (Te Kanawa at 48) is in full swing, and the last (Bartoli at 26) is just beginning.

Los Angeles sang much opera, of course, but many believed she was more effective on the recital stage. She was always a “short” soprano, meaning she approached her top range warily. In recitals she could choose music that showed her to best advantage. This 1968 BBC recital finds the much-loved singer in resplendent voice. Few had her coloristic abilities, and, particularly in Spanish music, she was irresistible.

The main drawback to this recital is the format. Gerald Moore, the accompanist, introduces each song, telling us what it’s all about. Still, many of Los Angeles’ specialties are on this tape, including Nin’s “Granadina,” Valverde’s “Clavelitos,” Rodrigo’s “De los alamos vengo, madre” and Montsalvage’s “Cancion de cuna para dormir a un negrito.” (Prepare to be jolted as Moore explains that the latter is a lullaby to a “pickaninny.” Well, it was 1968.)

The voice, especially in the middle, was warm and voluptuous. Her piano work and mezza voce were zephyr-like. Physically, the lady was always on the plump side, but here she is beautifully gowned and those big, dark eyes could melt steel. If charm weren’t already a word, it would have been invented for her. Moore’s work, as always, is sympathetic and knowing.

Scotto, on the other hand, was chiefly an opera singer. The voice began as a coloratura, but the soprano was eager for meatier challenges and moved first into the spinto repertory and then the dramatic. She paid the price. Her top went, and what was left was afflicted with a wobble, especially in forte passages.

In this 1991 Budapest concert, Scotto’s program was cannily chosen. Most of the music lies in the middle, and she still had the dramatic accents and imaginative phrasing that made her such a probingly satisfying artist. There were some pitch problems, but otherwise she was in her current best voice.

Her French, like that of Los Angeles, is lightly accented but quite good. Berlioz’s “Nuits d’Ete” suits her well, and the perfumed music allows exposure of her haunting mezza voce and piano . It’s a shame she had to rely on a score, which is distracting.

She was in her true element in the verismo world of opera. The arias from “La Wally,” “Adriana Lecouvreur” and “Gianni Schicchi” had silver-edged passion and fire.

Taped in the same hall used for the film “Meeting Venus,” Scotto takes some getting used to visually. She is attractive, but her arms wave like windmills as she paints pictures in the air (except in Handel’s “Piangero,” the least effective number in the concert, where one suspects she was too uncomfortable musically to do arm and hand signals). Holding the score in her left hand during the Berlioz, she does double duty with the right hand. Lukacs was well-primed for the singer’s strengths and weaknesses.

VAI wisely cut the purely orchestral portions of the concert. One wishes EMI had done the same for the Te Kanawa event, taped in the Barbican Centre in London. Fast forwarding takes care of the warhorses dished up by the mediocre conductor, Carl Davis.

Te Kanawa is a problem. Few before the public have the instrument she has been given. The voice is big, wonderfully rich, with the same sound throughout the range. But Dame Kiri seems bored with the chestnuts she serves up. Because she is bored, we are bored.

There is no difference between her Angelica, Louise or the Mother Superior in “The Sound of Music” (she has the most peculiar way of pronouncing mountain ). She seems uninterested in attempting coloration; mostly she just sings out.

Although beautiful, she looks as bland as she sounds. The only number in which she shows some signs of life, musically and personally, is the Victor Herbert song “Art Is Calling for Me.” Trouble is, she’s not answering.

One who does answer is Luciano Pavarotti. In 1984 he taped a fairly typical recital at Teatro Petruzzelli in Bari, Italy. Here he is in excellent form--these are his compatriots, after all--singing with abandon, only occasionally showing signs of strain.

Once he gets the Bononcini and Caldara arias out of the way ( arie antiche are not his forte)--as well as the tenor version of “Che faro,” in which he lacks true classical style--the tenor shades and colors his Tosti songs with as much care and refinement as he does his Verdi and Puccini. His B-flat is about as beautiful a sound as we can hear today, or at least it was in 1984.

Routine is not for him, as it was so often for Te Kanawa. How many times he may have sung “Una furtiva lagrima” or “O sole mio” we can only guess, but here they had fresh passion and verve. Every syllable is projected with pointed aristocratic style.

Naturally, the famous handkerchief is firmly clutched in his left hand. A loss of weight was also notable in 1984. Magiera is an exceptionally facile accompanist.

Perhaps the most satisfying and interesting of the tapes is that of the young and beautiful Bartoli. The first half is the documentary shown recently on cable’s Bravo channel, catching the mezzo rehearsing and recording her recent London CD at La Fenice in Venice.

There are also scenes of lessons with her mother, meals with friends, driving around Rome at top speed--her explosive expletive directed at another driver on the original program has been bleeped--even some flamenco dancing. Her record producer, Christopher Raeburn, whose Italian phrases are very British and very funny, is interviewed.

The second half of the tape is a recital given last year in London at the Savoy Hotel. The program is for the most part unhackneyed, ranging from arie antiche of Pergolesi and Vivaldi--which she sings with much more flair than does Pavarotti--through Mozart (“Cosi,” “Tito” and “Figaro” arias) to her great specialty, Rossini (songs including the “Regata Veneziana” cycle and various arias).

The voice is on the small side, dark, even in scale and expertly colored. She can manage a meltingly lush legato line (as in “Giusto ciel” from “Assedio di Corinto” and Cherubino’s “Voi che sapete”) with the same skill with which she tosses off effortless coloratura.

Her feathery scales in such a piece as Tancredi’s “Tanti affetti” are of a technical security quite amazing in one so young. All this is put to the service of text and the drama. The tension she achieves in the “Regata” songs is almost palpable.

As with Pavarotti, every syllable is projected. Bartoli was probably born with her sense of theater, and it is nowhere more evident than in the imaginative phrasing and rich characterization of “Una voce poco fa” that makes one forget all the linnet-headed Rosinas one has heard in the past. The only possible quibble is the occasional aspirate that creeps in.

The camera, like the microphone, clearly loves her. As with her Spanish colleague Los Angeles, Bartoli’s dark eyes are enough to alarm Jesse Helms or Dan Quayle. Her joy in what she does is infectious. It can be seen as well as heard.

No texts are provided for any of the tapes.

*

“THE MAGNIFICENT VICTORIA DE LOS ANGELES.” Songs by Granados, Nin, Valverde, Faure, Ravel, others. Victoria de los Angeles, soprano; Gerald Moore, piano (1968). VAI 69070.

“A PAVAROTTI VALENTINE.” Songs and arias by Puccini, Verdi, Tosti, others. Luciano Pavarotti, tenor; Leone Magiera, piano (1984). VAI 69200.

“KIRI IN CONCERT.” Songs and arias by Mozart, Canteloube, Puccini, Verdi, Gershwin, others. Kiri Te Kanawa, soprano; the Royal Philharmonic, conducted by Carl Davis (1989). EMI A5VE 9 91233 3.

“RENATA SCOTTO IN CONCERT.” Songs and arias by Berlioz, Puccini, Mozart, Bizet, others. Renata Scotto, soprano; the Budapest Symphony, conducted by Ervin Lukacs (1991). VAI 69068.

“CECILIA BARTOLI: A PORTRAIT.” Songs and arias by Rossini, Mozart, Vivaldi, Pergolesi. Cecilia Bartoli, mezzo-soprano; Gyorgy Fischer, piano (1991). London 071 241-3.