The touching story of the Druid priestess and her self-sacrifice in the name of love, extremely poetically recreated in images and costumes by Hugo de Anna, is successfully complemented by the impressive decor in which the action takes place. Each of the characters seems insignificant against the background of the impressive 14-meter columns with two-meter bases. Fantastic scenography, multimedia and costumes, "occupied" by the Napoleonic era, during which "Norma" was composed, reinforce the implication of the work written 185 years ago.
The magnificent choral excerpts enhance the impact of the music of the work, which in the minds of viewers - from the moment of its creation until today is mostly associated with the magical aria-prayer of Norma "Caste Diva". The orchestra masterfully presents all the richness of nuances and moods that the music contains.
Connoisseurs of Bellini from Germany and other European countries express admiration for what they saw on the Sofia stage. "This is a world-class production, with female performers who would be a source of pride for any theater," said Dr. Blagoy Apostolov of the German Radio Opera. Critics and the audience are unanimous in their enthusiasm for the production of our first opera house.
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Norma: The case of belcanto
A popular view of Vincenzo Bellini's Norma is that the lead role is so outrageously difficult to sing that the opera survived the years after its premiere in 1831, only as a means of expressing several particularly gifted divas: Judith Pasta , Maria Malibran, Julia Grisi (all three of whom Bellini heard before she died at the age of thirty-three), Lily Lehmann, Rosa Poncell and Maria Callas.
God knows it's not an easy part to sing, with its demanding mix of vocal and emotional textures, its tops (some go to re) and B-flats below the five-line, its long-breathing lines, its octave jumps. and her ostentatious trills. One must be able to sing both a strong, natural-sounding contralto and some of the highest coloratura ever written. Norma's role requires an authentic white cant soprano voice, which can be both mobile-bird and witch-dramatic.
Moreover, the dramatic challenge of this deep and complex party is at least as great as the musical one. In the role of Norma, the priestess of the Druids and the despised woman has as much potential for dramatic excitement as in the role of any of the great tragic queens of Racine. It may be that only the six sopranos I just named have tackled both challenges at the same time and achieved something close to the full potential of this role.
When comparing the critical descriptions made of all six of these Norms, what I found striking was the constant use, for more than a century and a quarter, of the same terms. Harold Rosenthal writes: "All the great Norms of opera history were great singing actresses: masters of dramatic declamation and outstanding personalities - Lily Lehmann, Rosa Poncell, Maria Callas."
"The singer," said another critic, "must translate into a musical phrase and cadence the emotions of a stressed-out heroine, as Pasta and Malibran did - and as Callas did."
Listening to Callas in Florence in 1952, a third critic wrote: "I realized what Stendhal and other nineteenth-century chroniclers meant when they spoke of Malibran and Pasta."
"We can believe," John Ardoin said in The Legacy of Callas, "that her balance between drama and agility comes closest to these qualities of Judith Pasta in modern conditions."
Of all six (with the possible exception of Ponselle), it is acknowledged that the vocal instrument itself can be dirty, even ugly, but the singer has turned this sometimes steel edge into opera gold through her range, control and agility; through musical intelligence, accuracy and style; and through theatrical presence and acting skills.
In 1856, Paul Scudo said: "Beautiful, intelligent and passionate, Pasta compensates for the imperfections of his vocal organ through constant work and noble, gentle, understanding style. A first-rate actress, she controlled every breath with impeccable taste and never left a single note of chance. "
Stendhal, a passionate admirer (and personal friend) of Judith Pasta, admits that she has a voice made up of three different bands - "not all of the same metal, as they say in Italy; but the basic variety of tones produced by one voice provides one of the richest veins of musical expression that the artistry of a great soprano is able to use. ”
"From the very beginning," concludes Sergio Segalini, "her limitations were obvious; but through much effort, Judith Pasta forged all the sophisticated techniques that allowed her to become Bellini's ideal interpreter. She never managed to bring the exquisite beauty of Maria Malibran to her voice, but she learned how to bring an infinite variety of vocal colors into her interpretations. ”
Most of the great Norms start as mezzo-sopranos or even Wagnerians, and then direct this force to the white canto. Lily Lehmann and Maria Callas were perhaps the only two sopranos in history who could sing well with both Norma and Brunhilda, sometimes two or three nights apart, a feat once written by someone comparable to winning gold medals in both raising and weights, and in running a hundred yards. (Lehmann insists he prefers to sing three Brunhilds rather than a single Norma.)
All six work in their craft with demonic intensity. Lehmann sings each phrase hundreds of times in practice, going through the third act or four times in a row. Callas sang the entire "Casta diva" nine times in a rehearsal for its American premiere. Each of the six applies exceptional intelligence in their analysis and role creation. "She has to sing and play with fanatical dedication," Lehmann said. Each manages to electrify the audience even with their presence on stage.
Each of these Norms has been called "hypnotic", "riveting", "electrifying", "unforgettable"; each has been described as having accurate height and control; and choosing the right moment.
The Time critic wrote after Callas's Norma in 1954 in Chicago: "She may not have the most beautiful voice in the world, but she is certainly the most exciting singer."
"I'm fascinated," Harold Rosenthal wrote of Callas's London Norma in 1957, "When She's on Stage." Opera is more than just singing; it is a musical drama; and Norma of Callas is a dramatic creation of the highest order ... We will tell our children and grandchildren about it. "
This role has never died in Italy. There, provincial and major opera houses held Norma in the repertoire of its premiere in the early nineteenth century: an Italian critic listed twenty-three Norms worthy of commemoration between Pasta and Callas.
More than ten years ago, Andrew Porter invented forty-seven different recordings of Casta diva, Norma's famous first act prayer: two verses of a heartbreakingly beautiful melody on simple string arpeggios and a solo flute that float weightlessly in long curves. the surrounding fa, then overflows into wild, repetitive trills.
The cavatina culminates in two series of upper la in fortissimo, jumping to its flat and then descending rapidly. She is gorgeous, touching, insanely demanding. It can be made to correspond exactly to the secret inner pain and confusion of the traitor / priestess, touchingly begging the goddess of the moon to tame the daring aspiration and fiery hearts of her people.
And it seems that every soprano who is there wants to prove that he can sing it. The most notable of the current generation are three savages endowed with coloratura, if not captivating dramatic reproductions: Joan Sutherland, Beverly Sils and Montserrat Cabaye, perhaps the most satisfying of the three.
As for the orchestration, I think Bellini is more knowledgeable and skilled in the dramatic aspect than Verdi admits.
Things that most opera viewers feel rather than recognize, such as shifting tones, pauses, and delays, are as carefully crafted as more expressive gestures — allegro agitato or terribly creeping low strings as a hint of danger; repetitive notes to indicate inner arousal; tender love verses, freeing from crackling chords; full palette of colors of wooden wind instruments. Some of the orchestral interludes (listen to the touching, three-part prelude in D minor to the second act) are seductive and appropriate, and the singing line is usually cleverly emphasized by the musical.
"Casta diva", best remembered for its long breaths, the floating, rising and falling legato would lose half its meaning without the coloratura outburst with which it ends. Regarding Norma's violent attack on Polione ("Ah, non tremare"), Brunel commented: "Norma's extreme anger, transformed into pure rage, is expressed through her grace." The three devilishly difficult low trills - my flat, salt flat, flat - that Norma has to sing in the second act (con furore) on the accented dotted quarter notes of "A-dal-gi-sa fia punita" (Adaldjiza will be punished) are the physical manifestation of her unbearable inner rage.
The unstressed syllables here are sung in double hexadecimal notes, and after a fourth trill on her flat tonic, she jumps to a quick run (to la) above and below the five-line to complete the horrible and vindictive sentence: "Nel-le fiamme perirà," will perish in the flames).
Even Wagner recognizes this quality in Bellini. "They consider me a cannibal in everything to do with the Italian School of Music," he wrote in 1837, "and put me in special opposition to Bellini. No, no, not thousands of times! Bellini is one of my favorites because his music is from the heart, deeply felt, closely and intimately connected with the words.
Wagner conducted Norma in Magdeburg in 1835 and in Riga in 1837, making additions and changes to the orchestration. In Paris in 1839, he wrote a new aria (never used) for Oroveso. In 1880, conductor Anton Seidel wrote that after playing some Norma tunes on the piano, Wagner remarked: "There is real passion and feeling here. It just has to be sung by the right singer to have a deeply exciting effect. ”
As well as being the most demanding and physically demanding female role in Italian opera (The Isolde of La Scala), Norma's character encompasses a psychological encyclopedia of emotions. Our singer-actress must make a credible virtually continuous range of turbulent emotional changes, until the moment she beats the sacred shield, declares her own guilt and, veiled in black, enters her own funeral pyre. Certainly, as Polyone finally realizes, she is a sublime donna .
In Opera or the Destruction of Women, Catherine Clement argues that this captivating vocal phenomenon - the human voice in its greatest beauty and potentially greatest expressiveness - has all too often been "wasted" on weak, compliant, long-suffering heroines. Most of the female heroines in the opera are seen by her as creatures of rude and cruel male librettists and composers who simply turn their or their culture male-chauvinistic fantasies into operas. According to Ellen Seydou, male artists who are secretly frustrated with their cultural obligation to "behave like men" - when what they really want to do is cry - express their inner feminine selves through their suffering heroines.
But can this be said honestly about Norma? Catherine Clement's analysis seems to give the Druid priestess a great degree of independence from pre-Christian, pre-Roman female power: the power of a witch or sorceress, even more than that of a mistress and mother.
Between Medea, all charged with manic laughter - in this laughter we recognize her divinity - and the human priestess, who actually had children from the Roman officer, the grand power of the myth has diminished. Romanticism cares more about tenderness ... He can't handle the epic style. His heroines are no longer goddesses, but divided women, in whom the divine spark shines only with sudden flashes. Norma's full strength is expressed in those moments when her rage stops and transforms into self-denial.
Norma finds no tenderness in the chaste, cold moon. She does not find him in the unfaithful Roman Polyon. She finds it only in Adalgiza. The gentle Adaldjiza ... and the gentle Norma, who would rather die than condemn her younger rival.
Norma's mysterious rule over the i druidi - and ultimately over the Romans as well - goes beyond the ordinary political power, the accidental and anomalous power of Semiramis, Cleopatra or Elizabeth I.
Norma rules them, as he rules us, with his voice. This is the strongest thing in the world that this particular opera creates. In fact, it seems to me that there is almost no innate, deeply feminine emotion that Norma's music does not contain. In this most powerful of female operatic roles (Isolde is all love; Brunhilda loses her mind), the soprano voice is able to express the supreme and independent gender difference she represents.
(1975, edited 1991)
David Littlejon
The Supreme Art: Essays around and about opera.
Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992.
