A preliminary note: The full-length Porgy and Bess Roundtable of June10, produced by Joseph Horowitz’s Post Classical Ensemble, with a distinguished panel that includes yours truly, has now been posted, and is available to those of you who missed the original chat. You will find it here, and will then need the following password: 1O^%=0=Y. To skip some irrelevant warm-ups, start the video at 2:20. It’s well worth a look for anyone interested in the work and many of the issues, artistic and social, that crowd around it. And to today’s topic: 

While the musical and dramatic changes involved in reverting to the 1904 version of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly, discussed last week, are significant, they pale in comparison to those necessitated by a return to the 1859 edition of Gounod’s Faust. The motivation for the revisions made in these two enduringly popular works were different. Puccini’s were undertaken to rescue his opera from the storm of criticism that attended its premiere—criticism that owed much to the operatic politics of the time, but which obviously hit on some of the composer’s own dissatisfactions with his work. Gounod’s had to do with re-shaping his already-successful opéra-dialogué, first performed at the Théâtre-Lyrique in Paris, to fit the presentational practicalities of other opera houses, first in Germany and the French provinces, then at La Scala, and finally at the Opéra itself (1869) in full grand opera form, complete with ballet. It amounts to a transformation from one music-theatre genre to another, though with much of the original music retained in the process.

Parts of the1859 Faust, notably the participation of Siébel and Wagner in the opening scene, have surfaced on previous recordings, and even in our familiar1869 version there have always been questions, in both staged and recorded productions, as to whether or not to include the “Spinning Wheel Scene,” and if so whether or not it should comprise Marguerite’s “Il ne revient pas,” Siébel’s “Si le bonheur,” either or both; as to which version, if any, of the Walpurgis scene to include, etc. In Sir Thomas Beecham’s 1947-48 recording with the RPO and singers of the Opéra Comique, Valentin’s “Avant de quitter ces lieux,” conceived in English (“Even Bravest Heart May Swell”) for Santley at the London premiere, was excised, as was once common practice in French houses apart from the Opéra. But the new recording emanating from the Centre du Musique Romantique Française at Venice’s Palazetto Bru Zane is the first to essay an inclusive return to 1859, with its stretches of spoken dialogue and mélodrame and its extensive additions, subtractions, and revisions of musical numbers. It also embraces the use of period  instruments. And while at first glance it seems odd to find this opera as No. 22 on the impressive list of French Romantic rarities that have to date been committed to disc by Bru Zane, as my readers will recall, I’ve considered Faust among the missing in action for some time now (see “MIA–Gounod’s Faust, 1/4/19).

I think it’s best to begin by listing and briefly characterizing this version’s departures from the familiar 1869 Faust, before evaluating the effects of each and of the performance itself. I’ll pass over the relatively minor changes that occur in the orchestrations of a few of the musical numbers common to both editions. I should add that the score I’ve used for comparisons is the full score published by Dover (1994, reissued 2013), which is a compendium drawn from three  sources (all much earlier, but undated) issued by Bote & Bock, Berlin; by Chappell & Co., London; and by Mapleson Music Publications, N. Y., together with some incidental apparatus provided by Dover’s editors. It is not the same as a full-blown critical edition, but is very useful all the same, including both Louis Schindelmeisser’s Dance Music for the Walpurgis episode (a curiosity, apparently used by some German companies for a time) and Gounod’s own ballet music; and Siébel’s brief intrusion into the Garden Scene (between the Quartet and Mephistopehélès’ Invocation), in which he comically interacts with Marthe and Mephistophélès.

As has happened on several occasions, an unusual convergence of work demands has resulted in a slightly off-kilter publishing schedule. I have divided my consideration of the Decca/London/La Scala Madama Butterfly and the Bru Zane/Talens Lyriques Faust into two installments, the Butterfly herewith and the Faust in one week’s time. A few preliminary updates from my last full post: 1) Richard Dyer has corrected my reference to Jean Madeira as Suzuki. She sings that role on the Columbia recording under Max Rudolf (with Steber, Tucker, and Valdengo), and not on the Met Record Club release under Dmitri Mitropoulos with Dorothy Kirsten, Daniele Barioni, and Clifford Harvuot. Mildred Miller is the Suzuki there. 2) The onstage surprise celebration of Lawrence Tibbett’s 25th anniversary with the Met took place on the evening of the first performance of Peter Grimes in the 1949-50 season, not after the broadcast matinee a few days later, about which I wrote. 3) With respect to my speculations about Armed Forces Radio Network transcription discs (my suspected source for that same Grimes), Arianna Zukerman writes that the Library of Congress owns an extensive collection of those, which it is in the process of digitizing. There must be fascinating material there, some of it not preserved—or at least not well preserved—in any other form, including some of interest to lovers of opera and singing.

Finally: We had a rare old time in our June 10 “Porgy and Bess Roundtable,” produced by Joseph Horowitz’s Post Classical Ensemble. Horowitz has posted a brief blog entry on the event, accompanied by some video excerpts, here. I don’t yet know if the recording of the entire discussion (it lasted nearly two hours) will be made accessible in the future, but will keep you informed. And to our subject of the day—  

Aspects of the Butterfly production and performance were so off-putting to me that, after viewing Act 1, I very nearly decided to not write about it at all, or to simply report on the doings of the first act and allow us all to imagine the rest. If, I thought, this is what we’re to get at the opera world’s highest professional level, it does not matter if it’s the first, second, or fifth edition (see below) or the Bowery Follies edition—the emotional emptiness will be the same. And this wasn’t because the performance wasn’t succeeding on its own terms, but because of the terms themselves, which no longer seem open to question. Yet (I continued thinking) the restorations, of which the most extensive (in terms of elapsed time) were already past, are worth some notice and preliminary evaluation, and I was aware that the post-interlude parts of Act 2 (in other words, Act 3 in the common act division) held some changes of potential musical and dramatic import. So, after a fitful night’s sleep, I forged ahead.

All opera fans past entry level know that despite a cast headed by Rosina Storchio, Giovanni Zenatello, and Giuseppe de Luca, Madama Butterfly was a fiasco at its premiere (La Scala, Milan, 1904), and that the opera underwent extensive redaction and retouching before settling into the “standard edition” we almost always hear today. Minor revisions were made immediately, between the first and second performances of the original production; more extensive ones by May of that year, when Butterfly was performed with great success at Brescia; more again for its London premiere in 1905; and yet more for its first presentation in Paris (1906, at the Opéra Comique), on the basis of which the “definitive” vocal score, in Italian, was printed. There were even further changes, for Puccini re-inserted a few of the cut passages for a 1921 production at the Teatro Carcano, Milan. Although that edition could arguably be deemed the composer’s “final wishes,” it wasn’t taken up by the majority of the many companies undertaking the work—by any that I know of, in fact. ^(I)

The purpose of today’s minipost is to announce a forthcoming video discussion I think many readers will find stimulating. Some of you will remember my extended essay on last season’s  Metropolitan Opera production of Porgy and Bess (see 11/3/19) and the follow-up responses to readers’ comments (see 11/22/19). You may also recall my reference (with links) to the reviews of that production by Joseph Horowitz, whose several books on American music (and music in America) include “On My Way”/The Untold Story of Rouben Mamoulian, George Gershwin, and “Porgy and Bess.”

Now, Horowitz has gathered a highly qualified panel to exchange thoughts about Porgy, its place in our culture, and the questions of race that inevitably surface around its performance, including whether or not white singers should be allowed to perform in it, and if so under what circumstances. It’s the second in a two-installment discussion on Gershwin, parts of a series of video chats and podcasts produced by the Post-Classical Ensemble, of which Horowitz is the Artistic Director, and will include musical examples. Besides Horowitz, the participants will include Angel Gil-Ordoñez, PCE’s Musical Director; George Shirley, performer of major tenor roles in many of the world’s leading opera houses and frequent spokesperson on the status of African-American singers on the operatic scene; bass-baritone Kevin Deas, distinguished concert and recital artist who has sung Porgy on numerous occasions; Mark Clague, head of the Gershwin Initiative at the University of Michigan; and myself. Bill McGlaughlin, host of many of the PCE podcasts and chats, will moderate.

This event, in the form of a Zoom chat, will air this Wednesday, June 10, at 6:00 pm. You do have to register, but that’s simply done. Here’s the link, which includes all needed instruction:

I hope many of you will tune in.

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NEXT TIME: As previously announced, I’ll be writing about video and audio recordings that feature the restoration of much material originally included , but subsequently cut, from the scores of two standard repertory operas: Madama Butterfly, in the 2016 La Scala production (on Decca/London DVDs) and Faust (on CDs from Bru Zane). Due to the pile-up of work, I’m giving myself a day’s grace on my usual Friday publication date. So look for it on Saturday, June 13.

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