It would be nice to be able to point to the best DVD of Don Giovanni, to some Mozart’s finest opera. But with 23 versions currently available on Amazon.com it’s impossible to evaluate all the contenders. It remains to the beleaguered reviewer to make some comments on the versions he happens to have available.
The opportunity is welcome, nonetheless, on account of the appearance in 2008, on three DVDs, of a De Luxe Edition of Joseph Losey’s celebrated film of the opera, originally issued in 1979. Shot in the Italian city of Vicenza, with its wealth of Palladian mansions, this film combined visual splendor with great acting, a sardonic sense of comedy and a stellar cast for its day. It’s not surprising that it’s still often referred to as the finest film of an opera ever made.
The cast comprises Ruggero Raimondi as the Don, Teresa Berganza, a great singer daringly cast as the country girl Zerlina, Malcolm King (Masetto), Kiri Te Kanawa (Elvira) and Jose Van Dam (Leporello). Lorin Maazel conducts. This new edition has DTS 5.1 sound and is spread over two discs and is both visually and aurally superb. A third disc contains background material on the making of the original movie.
There’s a political angle to this film. Losey, who worked with Bertolt Brecht in the former East Germany, was black-listed during the McCarthy era in the US and moved to London. Here he quotes the famous Italian Marxist thinker Antonio Gramsci, but to the ordinary viewer no political theory will stand in the way of the decadent sumptuousness that’s found on every hand.
It’s understandable that Losey’s Don Giovanni is available only from the UK branch of Amazon (www.amazon.co.uk) as it’s in the PAL format, not generally used in the US. But why another outstanding version of the opera is only on offer from the same source is something of a mystery.
Bryn Terfel’s 2000 performance as Giovanni is a masterpiece of dark intensity, as is the entire production, issued on DVD in 2005. It originated at the Metropolitan Opera, New York, under the baton of James Levine, so its non-availability on the US Amazon Web site is doubly inexplicable.
I’ve said before in this column that a somber portrait of the Don adds enormously to the effectiveness of Mozart’s music. From this perspective, Terfel’s performance is everything you could hope for. He’s supported by a fine Leporello from Ferruccio Furlanetto, a veteran in the role, and other cast members reach a similarly high level. Renee Fleming is predictably strong as Donna Anna and Solveig Kringelborn profoundly satisfying as Donna Elvira. I particularly liked Paul Groves’s Don Ottavio (if the Don is presented as a villain, Ottavio’s stature must necessarily increase). Hei-kyung Hong as Zerlina is an appropriate foil to Terfel, and John Relyea throws fresh light on the part of Masetto.
But it’s Levine, as always, who steals the limelight. I’ve never heard the music of Giovanni’s descent into hell played with such ferocity — clearly exactly what Mozart intended. This version, on two DVDs, remains the finest live performance of the opera I’ve seen and is unreservedly recommended.
The 1991 traditionalist Cologne version, conducted by James Conlon with Thomas Allen as the Don, would be worth considering but for one problem. This is that Allen, superb elsewhere (notably as Beckmesser in the 2001 Levine Meistersinger), is somewhat lackluster in this role. Otherwise there is much to enjoy, and no one who opts for this version would be wasting their money. Despite applause at the end, it appears to have been recorded without the presence of an audience.
The 2007 production from the Festspielhaus Baden-Baden, conducted by Rene Jacobs and with Johannes Weisser as the Don, is a lightweight affair. Scenery is almost nonexistent and costumes token. Musically it’s notably authentic. Even so, with the competition so strong, this is a version that will not win many hearts.
The lack of visual support inevitably makes things harder for the soloists. They attempt to compensate by physical pranks — Giovanni sings Deh Vieni Alla Finestra lying on his back — but the final scene in particular loses in this cutback approach. There’s no onstage band, and Leporello’s closing the red stage curtain to represent the arrival of the fires of hell (reminiscent of Loge’s similar action at the end of the Patrice Chereau’s Rheingold) is at best a desperate measure.
The use of decoration in the arias (“improvisation” in modern terminology) in the 18th century manner will annoy some — it did me — but is competently handled. Weisser allows his youthful energy to stand in for true vocal power. Zerlina (Sunhae Im) is appropriately impressionable, while Alexandrina Pendatchanska as Elvira sings Mi Tradi as it was written, with the introduction taken very slowly in the 18th century tradition of nature weeping in sympathy with humanity’s woes.
Of these versions, then, the Terfel remains the one to beat if you want something more recent than Losey’s intelligent, complex and frequently resplendent movie.
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