Remembering Renata Tebaldi

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February 1, 2022 is the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Renata Tebaldi, a revered interpreter of 19^th-century and early 20^th-century Italian opera. We would not want the moment to pass without marking the occasion on OperaPost.

 

Tebaldi was born in Pesaro, a city on Italy’s Adriatic coast. At the age of seventeen she was encouraged to study voice and made her debut in 1944 in the provincial opera house of Rovigo. Her professional career began in earnest in post-War Italy when she was engaged for leading roles in La Bohème, Otello, and Andrea Chénier by the theaters of Parma, Trieste, and Bologna. In May 1946, she auditioned for Arturo Toscanini who tapped her for the prestigious inaugural concert of the reconstructed La Scala, Milan’s opera house devastated during the war. 

 

Tebaldi’s career securely launched, she appeared on Italy's major lyric stages alongside the country’s leading artists. London and San Francisco audiences heard her in 1950. The legendary rivalry with Maria Callas, hyped by the media, began in 1951 when they were together on tour in South America. By the late 1950s, when both had become stars in the United States, the dueling sopranos were pictured separately on covers of Time, attesting to the extraordinary publicity their ostensible feud had garnered.

 

In 1955, Tebaldi made an unforgettable Met debut as Desdemona in Verdi’s Otello.  From then on, New York would be her operatic home, in effect leaving the Milanese field to Callas. Renata Tebaldi’s name promised a sold-out house. But it was not only the voice that captured the public. The soprano’s warmth radiated across the footlights to endear her to Met audiences. She charmed her passionate fans for nearly two decades. In 1973, she said farewell as Desdemona, her debut role. For two years thereafter she was active as a recitalist.

 

We begin with one of Tebaldi’s first commercial recordings, made in Geneva by Decca/London in November 1949. The amalgam of the strong and the sweet, uniquely hers, is already on full display. She sings “In quelle trine morbide (In those soft lace curtains)” from Act II of Puccini’s Manon Lescaut. The soprano’s sustained legato and doleful tone carry Manon’s regret as she compares the luxurious abode of her elderly sugar-daddy to the humble room she had shared with her young lover. The conductor is Alberto Erede.

In 1958, at the height of her fame, and at the powers Tebaldi sang La Forza del destino in Naples. In this clip ( "Pace, pace" from the complete performance, available on YouTube) the soprano meets with astonishing, and perhaps unparalled authority the wide emotional, technical, and dynamic challenges Verdi set for the soprano.

The release of the 1952 album of Madama Butterfly, one of her first complete opera recordings, was instrumental in promoting Tebaldi’s celebrity. During the initial period of copious release of complete operas on long-playing records, she was the prima donna assoluta of Decca/London. Tebaldi’s onstage presence is discernable in this clip drawn from an installment of the regularly televised Bell Telephone Hour (1959). We see her in the opera’s final scene. Before taking her own life, the tragic figure bids farewell to her young son.

On the opera stage in Italy and elsewhere Tebaldi never once sang other than in Italian, whether the text was originally in Italian or not--as was the practice in Italy until the late 1950s. In the United States, that meant that she performed only the Italian repertoire. Her Marguerite (Gounod, Faust), Elisabeth, Elsa, and Eva (Wagner, Tannhäuser, Lohengrin, Die Mesitersinger), and Tatiana (Tchaikovsky, Eugene Onegin), roles she sang early in her career in Italian for Italian audiences, of course, are very much worth your search on YouTube.

Romeo and Juliet X3

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To begin, a word about Roméo et Juliette’s long history at the Metropolitan. Charles Gounod’s opera was first produced in Italian during the company’s inaugural season, 1883-1884. It was not sung in French until opening night 1891, when French itself was at last heard at the Met. The currency of Roméo et Juliette, and the composer’s even more popular Faust, can be measured by the near monopoly these titles enjoyed as opening night fare during the “Gilded Age.” In fact, one or the other opened the season all but once between 1891 and 1900. A witty wag dubbed the Met the ”Faustspielhaus.” During the thirty-year period beginning in 1938 Roméo et Juliette was given in only two seasons. It reentered the core repertoire in 1967 and has been frequently revived ever since.

New this season, Bartlett Sher’s staging of Roméo et Juliette counts as one of the Metropolitan’s few successful recent productions. Those who were fortunate to be in the audience at the Lincoln Center house or at a “Live in HD” screening witnessed a performance faithful to the narrative as presented in the libretto, movingly sung and acted by the principals, Vittorio Grigolo and Diana Damrau, and beautifully conducted by Gianandrea Noseda. Michael Yeargen’s unit set, a nod to Elizabethan stage practice, favored the fluid unfolding of the action. It served the youthful exuberance of the doomed couple particularly well.

Shakespeare’s play (circa 1595) has been adapted to legitimate, musical, and dance stages endless times. At least eight operas (the most famous by Bellini, Zandonai, and Gounod) are based on the story of the “star-cross’d lovers.” We offer below three versions of the tragic scene in which Romeo and then Juliet take their own lives. We begin with Shakespeare’s text, continue with a ballet danced to Sergei Prokofiev’s score (1935), and conclude with Gounod’s final scene (1867).

The traditional staging, décor, and costumes of the 1976 telefilm starring Christopher Neame and Ann Hasson adhere faithfully to Shakespeare’s scenario and text. Preceded by Romeo’s duel with Paris, Juliet’s betrothed, then interrupted by Friar Laurence, whose herbal brew produced Juliet’s simulated death, and followed by a guard who alludes to the heavy toll Verona has paid for the feud between the Capulets and the Montagues, the final private minutes of the lovers are embedded in the social context of the narrative.
  

Kenneth Macmillan’s choreography (1965) was first performed by the world’s then most celebrated ballet team, Rudolf Nureyev and Margot Fonteyn, both extraordinary actors. The hyper-expressive physical conventions of ballet that so fittingly capture extreme emotions are unabashedly present when Romeo “dances” with Juliet whose inert body he mistakes for dead. Magically rendered by Fonteyn is Juliet’s evolving consciousness that it is Romeo who has died, and her evolving determination to take her own life.

The Met’s new production of Roméo et Juliette, to which we return, originated at the Salzburg Festival in 2008 where the principal roles were taken by Rolando Villazon and Nino Machaidze. The vocal crisis that would have such a devastating impact on Villazon’s career obliged the lowering of several of the role’s high notes. It did nothing however to inhibit the passionate energy and generous outpouring that marked him as one of the most exciting tenors of his generation. By allowing Roméo and Juliette an uninterrupted final duet in which they sing their short-lived joy at being reunited, then their despair as death overtakes them, Gounod allows the couple a privacy that excludes family and society. The only available clip, from Austrian television, has German subtitles.

Post-script: In 1947, the Met cast Roméo and Juliette with ideal interpreters, Jussi Björling and Bidu Sayão, but only twice. Fortunately, one of the performances was broadcast. We urge you to search for excerpts from this Saturday matinee on Youtube.