The Naked Interpretation of Two Famous Verdi Arias
As the story goes, the great Italian maestro, Arturo Toscanini, was asked by a group of aspiring young conductors as to what tempi he took in this particular scene or what tempo did he do in a certain aria. His reply was Guarda il dramma! (Look at the drama). Toscanini was also known as “Signor Come Scritto” (Mister How It's Written). His mission to rid opera of years of bad performing traditions and interpret the music as to what the composer wrote has been chronicled in many books and by the personal experiences of those who participated in his productions. I begin with Toscanini's example because this article should not be read by anyone who does not accept the premise that the composer's music is the arbiter of the interpretation and not the gimmicky, stage director, nor the highly paid famous singer or the inexperienced conductor. To determine how the composer interpreted the drama we must look to the clues he has left in the music. I begin the search for these clues in two famous Verdi soprano arias: Caro Nome from Rigoletto, and Violetta's Ah, fors'é Lui from La Traviata.
The first stop on the aria tour is Gilda's Caro Nome. This aria unfortunately attracts three misinterpretations. The first one occurs in the introduction to the aria as Gilda sings: Gualtier Maldé. The first mistake is a lack of attention to the accuracy of the 16th note rhythm and Gilda's true mood. Because the musical introduction sounds so ethereal and soft the tendency for the soprano is to mimic that quality. Yet, I would call the singer's attention to the preceding duet between Gilda and the deceitful Duke (whom she believes is merely a poor student). The duet ends with a very excited stretta with the words: "Farewell, farewell...only you will be my hope and spirit ...my love will live unchangeable. While the aria's musical intro suggests a dreamy state, it is a barely contained excited state for this sheltered, and emotionally immature sixteen year old who has lived the majority of her life in a convent.
Since the female of the species is said to mature earlier than the male, the "hormonal release of her womanhood" into the first 16th note and the soft dramatic quality of the following 16th notes of the next line carry a bit more "juice" than a shy, shrinking violet approach.
In a letter concerning the tempo following the ten bar introduction Verdi wrote: Perhaps you haven't understood the tempo, which ought to be Allegretto molto lento (the vocal score has allegro moderato). It should be taken at a moderate pace and sung sotto voce and shouldn't give the slightest difficulty. Unfortunately, the tendency today is to take the tempo so slow that the "moderate pace" Verdi referred to becomes a snail's pace. The singer must become aware that this music is a "gavotte". This approach will aid the singer in realizing Verdi's intent and not turn the aria into "anything you can sing.... I can sing slower!"
The final misconception concerns the 8th note rests between the sung 8th notes as Gilda sings: nome che il mio, and the following rhythmic patterns occurring every other bar. Time and time again I have heard coaches and teachers exhort the singer to take gasps of air on each 8th note rest to portray Gilda's excitement and girlish longing for her true love. It has been my experience that it can be an impediment to the vocal health and dramatic intent of the aria to "over breathe" these notes. If the singer takes in too much air there is a result of an over-abundance of air creating vocal tension that can poison the stamina of the singer.
The Italian musical scholar and composer Abramo Basevi (1818-1885) called this type of vocal line: melodia staccata. That is to say that the 8th notes between the 8th rests create the impression of a legato and each note in turn seems to lean toward the next. Breathing between each note has the effect of a rider on horseback in preparing to jump a fence, pulls up on the reins stopping the horse's momentum. If the singer will trust that Verdi knew what he was doing and observe the rests as merely rests and only take the breath before the dotted half note of the next bar, I believe the singer will achieve in this gavotte a much more believable elegant style.
The last stop is Verdi's aria Ah, fors'è Lui which is a classic example of misinterpretation. If Violetta's very first words of the recitative È strano, è strano! are delivered in an introspective, perplexed manner the result usually comes out sounding like a chicken being strangled. Some years ago I witnessed a performance at New York City Opera. The well-known soprano at the conclusion of the chorus which directly precedes the aria, waited for what seemed an eternity as she began a soulful introspective search for the meaning of her navel and then began the recitative with her pale little navel as her motivation. It may have been the viewpoint of the singer or the desire of the director to put his or her individualized stamp of gimmickry onto the music, but none of it had anything to do with Verdi's clear musical directions. I present as evidence Verdi's first musical marking: Allegro. Allegro, according to Grove's Dictionary of Music, means "lively, primarily in the sense of quickness". Secondly, the rhythm of the opening line is filled with impassioned and dramatic 8th and 16th notes. How did Verdi reach the conclusion that Violetta was excited and overjoyed when she begins this recitative with the tempo marking of allegro? The answer is to found at the end of the previous duet between Violetta and Alfredo. As they sing their last addios, the excitement of the music must be maintained and not allowed to slow as has been heard so many times in the past.
Ideally, after Alfredo left, Violetta is in a state of wonderment as she utters the words: È strano, è strano! (Also notice the exclamation point at the end of the word strano). The Italian verb è means: It's strange not He's strange"! The chorus following the duet is only a slight intrusion into Violetta's emotionally intoxicated state where she now believes she has just found the man of her dreams and how his words of love are carved into her heart. In the subsequent chorus after the duet, Violetta is not even aware of the hubbub surrounding her as she murmurs goodbye to her departing guests. Thus, her È strano, è strano! is an excited outburst and a continuation of her joy at the end of the duet. The artist would find it valuable to first practice singing the end of the duet and then jump immediately to the recitative.
In the two arias I have discussed there is a common thread. The singer can get the aria off on the right foot from the beginning by looking at the drama and honoring the written instructions of the composer. As a young conductor with Seattle Opera in the late 70's, I will always remember a production of Aida with Martina Arroyo and James McCracken. The fervor by which they never took the musical instructions of the composer for granted was exemplary and a model for the way all artists in the operatic world should conduct themselves. Musical integrity in the service of the composer is unfortunately rare and the lack of which does not ultimately reward the singer. It is rare, because it requires commitment and courage on the part of the artist to be willing to defend what one rationally believes to be correct in spite of the risk of being labeled as "difficult". It is rewarding, because at the end of the rehearsal only you are responsible for your own artistic self-esteem.