Historically Correct Mozart--and Mehta’s Version

After a decent interval since the overkill of the Mozart bicentennial, the composer’s major operas are again appearing on recordings, perhaps to satisfy a consumer demand for ever-more “authentic” performances. Or perhaps just for the sake of novelty, there being a thin line between the two.

As has been shown since the first, simplistic 1970s notions of what Mozart really wanted, one scholar’s historical accuracy is another’s flawed research. We still don’t know what’s authentic, and probably never will. Which is no reason to stop seeking what sounds right to our ears.

A healthy aspect of the search for a performing style stripped of Romantic encrustations is the increasingly frequent practice of combining modern instruments (including human voices) and the most pertinent gleanings of scholarship, exemplified by the “Cosi fan Tutte” conducted and edited by master Mozartean Charles Mackerras (Telarc 80360, 3 CDs).

Mozart’s profoundly serious comedy is led with tremendous verve--not necessarily synonymous with speed--by Mackerras, without pushing the drama or his singers’ abilities beyond their natural boundaries.

The conductor’s sharply inflected reading, spiffily executed by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, frames the work of an intelligent cast, headed in this instance by Alessandro Corbelli’s raffish Guilelmo --that’s the way it’s spelled in Telarc’s printed materials and accordingly pronounced “Gweelelmo” by the cast, without explanation in the otherwise thorough annotations.

Jerry Hadley’s eager Ferrando is delightful and, while Gilles Cachemaille lacks the crusty edge of an ideal Alfonso, his graceful vocalism is welcome.

The women provide vivid characterizations and, in each instance, some flawed, but not fatally so, vocal production. Felicity Lott’s fiery Fiordiligi lacks security at both extremes of the improbably wide range demanded by the composer, a situation exacerbated by her overly ambitious ornamentation. As Dorabella, Marie McLaughlin’s darker soprano has its tremulous moments, and the very bright soprano of Nuccia Focile, a spirited, un-minxish Despina, turns strident under pressure.

On the whole, however, the cast projects an uncommon feeling of ensemble, particularly in the recitatives, whose alternating banter and reflectiveness here propels the action rather than impeding it, as is often the case.

Ornamentation, including appoggiaturas, is not applied dogmatically at every cadential opportunity but--with the exception noted--for expressive effect, to state the case rather broadly.

It all adds up to richly satisfying entertainment that captures the opera’s elusive pathos without obscuring its sparkling humor: a more successful production overall than the recent Archiv edition (437 829, 3 CDs), expertly conducted and played by John Eliot Gardiner and his period-instrument English Baroque Soloists, but with a cast distinguished only by Rodney Gilfry’s likable Guglielmo, in the familiar spelling used here.

*

By contrast, Sony’s new “Le Nozze di Figaro” (53286, 3 CDs) recalls a time before any of us lost sleep over whether Mozart would have been satisfied with the interpretation.

This is “Figaro” plushly played by a fine, largish-sounding orchestra, that of the Maggio Musical Fiorentino, under the relaxed, affectionate, singer-accommodating baton of Zubin Mehta.

A notable aspect of this production is that it has been cast by someone with the extraordinary notion that every singer should be able to sing Mozart’s notes accurately and securely.

The leading women are superb, with Marie McLaughlin this time a distinctly adult Susanna, devoid of soubrette mannerisms, Karita Mattila a grandly dignified Countess, and Monica Bacelli a sexily smoldering Cherubino.

The men likewise are uncommonly solid, although stolid might better describe Michele Pertusi’s well-sung but unaccountably somber Figaro. Lucio Gallo is, however, a believably wrathful Count, chastened, but hardly into impotence, by the final curtain. The smaller roles, male and female, have been cast with comparable care.

Still, the further we’re removed in time from the 1958 London Records “Figaro” (now on mid-price CDs), the more modern it seems, largely because of the fleet, uncannily illuminating conducting of Erich Kleiber, who was also blessed with the Figaro of Cesare Siepi, still unmatched for charm and vocal resourcefulness.

For those unable to tolerate London’s faded sonics and the rather awful Count of Alfred Poell, Mehta and his strong cast provide a viable, sonically up-to-date alternative.*