2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Halfway from Naples to Broadway ..., September 28, 2011
This review is from: L' Alidoro (DVD)
... or from Monteverdi to Sondheim, with a detour through Offenbach. "L'Alidoro" is a 'comedy in music' with a plot as ancient as Plautus, still as current in the 18th Century as 'commedia dell'arte', a lost-and-found identity, disguise, misplaced love, and love rivalry. A 'corny' plot in modern terms, but one that would still draw laughs as a sit-com or a Broadway Musical. The librettist, Gennarantonio Federico, gave it some twists that are probably lost on a modern audience. Like many works of 18th C literature, it's a portrayal of class conflict -- almost class warfare, if you will. The characters include a wealthy parvenu Giangrazio, his spoiled and foppish son Don Marcello, his daughter Elisa and her step-sister Faustina, a tavern girl Zeza and her 'lower class lover Meo, plus Marcello's 'valet' Ascanio, whom Faustina calls Luigi, who is in reality Alidoro, the lost son of Giangrazio. Thus Ascanio/Alidoro has the double persona of a clever servant in the mold of Figaro and a gentleman-in-masquerade, in order to be with his beloved Faustina. Marcello lusts for Zeza, Elisa lusts for Ascanio, Zeza wants only Meo, but Meo is ferociously jealous of both Marcello and Giangrazio, who is also smitten with Zeza in rivalry with hsi own son. Federico's satire cuts both ways; the upper-class characters are mocked for their pretensions and foibles, and the lower-class for their crudity and naivete. English subtitle-readers won't have the pleasure of realizing that the libretto is in two distinct dialects, with the upper-class people speaking/singing in Tuscan and the lower-class in Neapolitan.
The arias of this opera buffa are also musically billingual. Elisa and Faustina sing in the ornately ornamented formal style of opera seria, and their 'excessive' virtuosity was probably a sly amusement for 18th C listeners. Meanwhile, Zeza and Meo sing in the plainer melodic style of popular songs and ballads. Giangrazio's parvenu origins are to be detected both in his confounding of Tuscan and Neapolitan and in his mixed florid/popular aria technique. Sorry, anglophones and neophytes to 18th C drama! You ARE missing some of the humor of this goofy drama, both in the language and in the music. It's funnier than you may think.
The music per se is also more sophisticated, I would argue, than it seems. Leonardo Leo (1694-1744) composed most of his forty-plus operas for the popular urban theater rathe than for a courtly audience. Staged first in Florenze (where the Neapolitan characters would have seemed inherently comical), L'Alidoro was one of several highly successful works by Leo in the 1740s, all of which drew crowds all around Europe. It's musicologically credible to consider Leonardo Leo the forerunner of both Mozart and Rossini -- though I don't mean to place his works on a par with The Marriage of Figaro or The barber of Seville! -- in that he rather skillfully blended high and low, seria and buffa, into a form that is more affective than mere slapstick yet less artificial than stilted tragedy.
This production is more intent on musical values than on stagecraft. The singing is excellent thoughout, from the whole cast, none of whom are especially renowned, and all of whom are amply skilled as comic actors as well as singers. The sets are absolutely minimal, but the costuming is quite effective: proper 18th C clothing just a tad exaggerated and bizarre, especially the "Neapolitan Afro" wigs of the step-sisters. Don Marcello, sung and acted by Giuseppe de Vittorio, minces and grimaces as ludicrously as Joel Grey in the film Cabaret. Meo, sung by Gianpiero Ruggeri, is a charming out. Filippo Morace plays Giangrazio to the hilt as a bibulous paternalist tyrant. Soprano Maria Schaivo (Faustina) gets to sing the two deliberately lovely high-style arias, with flute obbligato, whole alto Francesca Ermolli (Elisa) has the fun of singing the 'furore' arias. The pivotal role of Alidoro is sung and acted elegantly by Maria Ercolano, in what nowadays is called a "trousers" role.
And the period instrument Baroque Orchestra della Pieta de' Turchini contributes more to this musical event than mere background or continuo. The orchestration is so supple and well-integrated that one might not realize that two dozen instruments are being played, including horns and flutes with bowed and plucked strings. There's sophisticated artistry in Leo's music along with delightful lightness.
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