The Minister is coming! The Minister is coming! Don Fernando and the lesson of Fidelio, Part 1

-- from Beethoven's setting of Schiller's "Ode 'To Joy',"
in the final movement of the Ninth Symphony

Jessye Norman, soprano; Brigitte Fassbaender, mezzo-soprano; Plácido Domingo, tenor; Walter Berry, bass-baritone; Vienna State Opera Concert Chorus, Vienna Philharmonic, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded 1980


NOW, WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH DON FERNANDO?

DON FERNANDO: Our best of kings' will and pleasure
leads me here to you, poor people,
that I may uncover the night of crime,
which black and heavy encompassed all.
No longer kneel down like slaves,
stern tyranny be far from me!
A brother seeks his brothers,
and gladly helps, if help he can.
CHORUS: Hail the day! Hail the hour!
DON FERNANDO: A brother seeks his brothers,
and gladly helps, if help he can. . . .

-- from the final scene of Fidelio

Martti Talvela (bs), Don Fernando; Leipzig Radio Chorus, Staatskapelle Dresden, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded c1968

by Ken

Even a seasoned operagoer may be forgiven for forgetting, even when Don Fernando appears at the top of a Fidelio cast list, as he often does, just who the heck he is. The fact is, if you add to what we've just heard a few lines we're going to hear in a while and just a few more we heard a few weeks ago ("'In this life scoundrels always receive their just desserts': Now that we know the lesson of Don Giovanni, how does it square with the lesson of Fidelio?," June 28), you've got the entire role!

And listen to who we've got singing it! Yes, it's early-career Martti Talvela, but he'd already established himself as a star, and just listen to that voice. There's none of that yawny, slidey quality that settled in dispiritingly quickly. (A reference point: the King Marke he sang in the 1965 live-from-Bayreuth Tristan und Isolde with Birgit Nilsson and Wolfgang Windgassen (and Christa Ludwig the spectacular Brangäne, one of my favorites of her recordings, conducted by, well, as it happens, Karl Böhm.) Here that ringing, booming bass slashes and soars and I'm going to say dazzles with its strength and beauty and ease. I think I need to revisit some more of those early recordings!


BUT THEN, "A-LIST" CASTING OF THE ROLE
IS MORE THE RULE THAN THE EXCEPTION

Just take a gander at this roster. Admittedly, some of these are studio recordings, like the Böhm-DG above. Still, mixed in with this batch are some live performances, with some high-class (and, I would think, not exactly bargain-price) talent.

DON FERNANDO: Our best of kings' will and pleasure
leads me here to you, poor people,
that I may uncover the night of crime,
which black and heavy encompassed all.
No longer kneel down like slaves,
stern tyranny be far from me!
A brother seeks his brothers,
and gladly helps, if help he can.
CHORUS: Hail the day! Hail the hour!
DON FERNANDO: A brother seeks his brothers,
and gladly helps, if help he can. . . .

-- from the final scene of Fidelio

Hermann Prey (b), Don Fernando; Bavarian State Opera Chorus, Bavarian State Orchestra, Herbert von Karajan, cond. Live performance, Dec. 1, 1963

Eberhard Wächter (b), Don Fernando; Vienna State Opera Chorus and Orchestra, Herbert von Karajan, cond. Live performance, May 25, 1962

Tom Krause (b), Don Fernando; Vienna State Opera Chorus, Vienna Philharmonic, Lorin Maazel, cond. Decca, recorded March 1964

Thomas Quasthoff (bs-b); Bavarian Radio Chorus and Symphony Orchestra, Sir Colin Davis, cond. RCA, recorded May 15-25, 1995

Thomas Quasthoff (bs-b), Don Fernando; Arnold Schoenberg Choir, Berlin Philharmonic, Sir Simon Rattle, cond. EMI, recorded Apr. 25-28, 2003

Gerd Nienstedt (bs-b), Don Fernando; Vienna State Opera Chorus and Orchestra, Leonard Bernstein, cond. Live performance, June 1970

Martti Talvela (bs), Don Fernando; Leipzig Radio Chorus, Staatskapelle Dresden, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded c1968

I've intentionally ordered our talent in sort of voice-range order, from high to low, starting with the baritones. When the music goes low, Hermann Prey really can't quite travel with it, sort of marks time at the bottoms of some phrases waiting for the music to rise back up, so he can show us some star quality -- and there is star quality, isn't there? Eberhard Wächter's baritone doesn't have much depth either, but my goodness, listen to the richness of the sound he makes most of the way here. (This is early Wächter, but by May 1962 he had already recorded Don Giovanni (1959) and the Count in Figaro (1960) with Carlo Maria Giulini for EMI, and he was months away from singing his lovely Wolfram von Eschenbach in Philips' Bayreuth Tannhäuser. Apropos of very little, he would completed the principal cast of the aforementioned 1966 Böhm-DG Bayreuth Tristan with Nilsson, Windgassen, Ludwig, and Talvela -- even setting aside Nilsson's Isolde, Ludwig's Brangäne and Wächter's Wolfram remain two of my favorite recordings of a complete Wagner role.)

Thomas Quasthoff's voice isn't really a bass-baritone in the bass-baritone sense, but the voice does encompass the music's range, and he sure sings it beautifully, doesn't he? It's noteworthy that Colin Davis seems to have been going for an elegiac tone -- note how he tenderizes the lead-in chord that most conductors bang out. I don't know that he really makes the idea work, but he does seem to be remembering that this is Music of Brotherhood on Earth, and with more persuasive follow-through on the idea, this could have made for a really special performance moment. It's still a darned nice piece of singing, enough so to make me curious about Quasthoff's later recording of the "role."

With Don Fernando, one does have to put "role" in quotes, doesn't one? I mean, yeah, the singer comes out onstage in a costume, and he's got a name in the program (not to mention that often-fancy billing), and he does have an important plot function, but it doesn't add up to much of a "character," does it?

Anyway, I found myself curious about that later recording, and it doesn't happen often that "curious" occurs in the same thought bubble as "Simon Rattle," the conductor of that later recording. I'd only bought it because I'd found it in the $3.99-per-CD bins, in good shape, with the booklet, so I gave in to my lingering Fidelio compulsiveness. I'm sure I started listening to it, and if I know me, I'm sure I managed by one means or another to at least dip into Act II, because I would have wanted to hear the Florestan (Jon Villars). Beyond this I have no recall. I certainly don't recall thinking, "Surely I must soldier on to hear Don Fernando."

So I did a quick-add of the relevant cut, and it's very different from the earlier performance. There is an eight-year time gap (43 vs. 35), which may have something to do with the choppier sound of the voice. But we're also out of elegiac mode, without having modes into any recognizable other performance mode. It's OK, I guess, but I'd be surprised if I listen to it again. I think it's pretty likely that I'll listen to the version with Davis again.

Finally (or almost-finally, as I've taken the liberty of pasting in the Talvela-Böhm performance, which I think deserves an encore hearing) we come to Gerd Nienstedt, whom I kind of think of as a real bass. He did sing a suspicious number of baritone roles, including secondary ones. Still, as Hunding in Philips's 1967 Böhm-Bayreuth Walküre and in some other bass roles, he sounds like the real thing to me. And while there's something a little odd about his delivery (maybe easing into stressed syllables?), he gives the role the stature it needs.

HERE'S GERD THE BARITONE, IN DAS RHEINGOLD

DONNER [pointing to the background still veiled in mist]:
A sultry haze
hangs in the air;
heavy upon me is
its dreary weight.
The pale clouds
I'll collect into a thunderstorm.
That will sweep the sky clean.
[He climbs on a rock overhanging the valley and swings his hammer. As he sings, the mist collects around him.]
Heda, heda, hedo!
Come to me, mist!
Vapors, come to me!
Donner your master
calls you on parade.
Heda, heda, hedo!
[DONNER vanishes completely behind a thundercloud that grows thicker and thicker. his hammer blow is heard striking hard on the rock. A large flash of lightning shoots from the cloud, followed by a violent clap of thunder. FROH has vanished with him into the cloud.]
DONNER [invisible]: Brother, come here,
show the way over the bridge.
[Suddenly the clouds lift. DONNER and FROH are visible. From their feet a rainbow bridge, brilliantly bright, stretches across the valley toward the fortress now bathed in bright evening sunshine.]

-- translation by William Mann

Gerd Nienstedt (bs-b), Donner; Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Karl Böhm, cond. Philips, recorded live at the 1966 festival

AND GERD THE BASS, AS HUNDING IN DIE WALKÜRE

I'm going to assume that the action of Act I of Die Walküre is too familiar to require detailed exposition. What we're going to hear is the last of Hunding's parting comment, as he heads for bed, to make clear to his wife and the stranger to whom she has given shelter, that he has figured out from the stories the stranger has told who he is, or at least who his people are, and while the iron-clad rules of hospitality prevent him from doing anything about it tonight, the morning will be another story entirely. That chilling, thrilling upward-leaping line "Mein Haus hüttet, Wölfing, dich heut' für die Nacht nahm ich dich auf" is a place where you focus in and hope like heck the Hunding can rear back and deliver us something special -- I think Gerd does a fabulous job.

Die Walküre: Act I, Hunding,
"Ich weiss ein wildes Geschlecht"

I know of a savage family [race?]
who hold nothing sacred
that others honor.
Everyone hates them, as I do.
I was called to vengeance
to make amends
for family blood.
I came too late,
and now, returning home,
the tracks of the villain who fled
I discover in my own house.
My house will shelter you,
Wolf-Cub, for today.
For this night I put you up.
But with stout weapons
arm yourself tomorrow.
I choose the day for fighting.
You must pay me for those deaths.
[to SIEGLINDE] Leave the room!
Don't dally here.
Prepare my night drink
and wait till I come to bed.
[to SIEGMUND]: A man needs his armor.
Wolf-Cub, I will meet you tomorrow.
You heard what I said.
Take good care of yourself.

Gerd Nienstedt (bs-b), Hunding; Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Karl Böhm, cond. Philips, recorded live at the 1967 festival

I might note that we've still got some great Don Fernandos in the wings, when we hear the first half of the final scene of Fidelio in the same performances from which we heard the second half. The point is that the operatic literature has a sprinkling of these roles that leave little wiggle room in the quality-control department, while making demands way out of proportion to their size, and seemingly to their importance. I mean, how often does one leave a performance of Fidelio thinking, Man, that Don Fernando, he really made the show! Or, Jeez, where'd they find that bozo? Made a total hash of that scene.


WE JUST DEALT WITH ANOTHER ROLE THAT'S
AN OUT-OF-PROPORTION CASTING NIGHTMARE

I mean the Commendatore in Don Giovanni. (See "If you're just dying to know, is Don Giovanni a comedy or a tragedy?, you've come to the wrong place," June 14, "Homing in on that moment in Don Giovanni when 'Everything returns to normal,' -- or should we say 'the new normal'?" June 21, and the above-mentioned June 28 post.) Of course compared with barely-a-single-scene Don Fernando, the Commendatore's three scenes add up to a star turn. Each of his scenes is a game-changer, even the middle one, the Cemetery Scene, with just his two ghostly lines plus his single word "Sì." His part in the opening scene, while brief, is of top quality and importance, and of course his ultimate confrontation is among the great scenes in opera.

As we were noting, the impresario who has to cast Don Giovanni has a heap of problems, a number of which no doubt seem more important than the Commendatore problem. But he or she surely knows that if you don't have a solution for the Commendatore problem, you've got yourself a Commendatore problem.


OR WHAT ABOUT ERDA IN DAS RHEINGOLD?


Wotan (Greer Grimsley) and Erda (Lucille Beer) in Das Rheingold, Seattle, 2013 (photo ©Alan Alabastro)

By the time she makes her appearance, a lot of the intermission-deprived audience is probably eyeing the exits, thinking of the imminent possibility of relief. Then here she is: "Weiche, Wotan, weiche!" And wow! Wagner was counting on this single piece of intense but hardly protracted standing-and-delivering to change not just Wotan's world but ours as well. A great Erda could probably plant herself in an audience member's mind as inescapably as in Wotan's, while a mediocre one would be, well, a crying shame.

In the encounter as we're about to hear it, running just over four and a half minutes, Erda is onstage for about 4:20, and sings in three bursts of 27-28 seconds, for a total of under a minute and a half -- that's the entire role. (She'll be back at the start of Act III of Siegfried for one glorious scene with Wotan, but just the one scene. Again, though, for Rheingold, this is her entire night's work.)

Now, to recap: Wotan's fellow gods have been importuning him to give the (officially) cursèd Ring to the Giants, Fasolt and Fafner, in payment for the ransom of his sister-in-law Freia. (The performance, you'll note, is the same one from which we just heard Donner clearing the mists, which follows almost immediately upon Erda's disappearance.)

[The others all stand perplexed.]
WOTAN: Leave me in peace!
The Ring I will not give up!
[WOTAN turns crossly away. The stage has again become dark. A Blue light breaks from the rocky cleft at the side. ERDA suddenly appears in it. She rises from below to about half her height. Her noble face is ringed by a mass of black hair.]
ERDA [stretching her hand out to WOTAN in warning]: Yield, Wotan, yield!
Flee the Ring's curse!
To irredeemable
dark destruction
its possession condemns you.
WOTAN: Who are you, threatening woman?
How all things were, I know;
how all things are,
how all things will be,
I also see;
The everlasting world's
Ur-Wala [primeval woman],
Erda warns your willfulness.
Three daughters
primevally conceived
my womb bore:
what I see,
you are told each night by the Norns.
But greatest danger
today brings me
to you myself.
Hear! Hear! Hear!
Everything that is, ends/
A dark day
dawns for the gods.
I warn you, avoid the ring.
[ERDA sinks slowly to breast level, as the blue lights begin to grow dim.]
WOTAN: Mysterious and grand
your words sound to me.
Stay that I may know more.
ERDA [as she disappears]: I have warned you --
you know enough:
think it over in fear and anxiety.
[She disappears entirely.]
WOTAN: If I must be anxious and fear,
then I must catch you
and learn everything.

-- translation by William Mann

Donald McIntyre (bs-b), Wotan; Vera Soukupová (c), Erda; Bayreuth Festival Orchestra, Karl Böhm, cond. Philips, recorded live at the 1966 festival

Are we grasping the bind Wagner has put our hapless casting director in? He would probably argue, as patiently as he could, that he has after all given the contralto cast as Erda the tools, in words and music, to get the job done. As indeed he has. It's just that the job can only be done by a singer of really special abilities. I suppose a halfway decent performance will still pretty much make the effect, but is anyone -- including the composer, I assume -- interested in a halfway decent effect with such extraordinary music?


ANOTHER CASE: THE BOYAR SHCHELKALOV ADDRESSES
THE CROWD IN THE OPENING SCENE OF BORIS GODUNOV

It's all a put-up job, all political theater. Inside the Monastery of Novodyevich, near Moscow, Boris Godunov, brother-in-law of the late Tsar Feodor (son of Ivan the Terrible) but lacking any blood tie to the imperial family, is holed up and officially refusing all entreaties to accept the vacant throne of Russia. Meanwhile, in the courtyard of the monastery a crowd has been herded and goaded to implore Boris to relent. As our scene begins, the boyar (nobleman) Shchelkalov, secretary of the Russian Duma, emerges from the monastery to address the crowd. [SPOILER ALERT for those new to the opera. Although this scene ends with the clear understanding that nothing will persuade Boris to take the throne, the very next scene, without further explanation or consideration, is the famous Coronation Scene.]

Although Shchelkalov does make a later appearance in the opera, he has nothing of anywhere near comparable importance or quality to sing, leaving our poor operatic casting director in a quandary to satisfy the vocal requirements of this utterly extraordinary writing. With so many roles to fill, and so many of them making pretty precise vocal demands, maybe the company has a veteran baritone willing to take on such a juicy cameo? Or if the casting has to be done from the house team, is there an especially honey-voiced baritone on call? (In the 1959 Met broadcast, Calvin Marsh does the team proud.) It's just too important a vocal opportunity-slash-obligation to be treated casually.

MUSSORGSKY: Boris Godunov: Prologue, Scene 1: The boyar Schchelkalov addresses the crowd

The courtyard of the Monastery of Novodyevich, near Moscow. On the right, the gate of the monsastery is seen with a tower above it. The stage is filled with people who have been herded here to implore Boris Godunov, brother-in-law of the late Tsar Feodor (son of Ivan the Terrible), who is holed up inside the monastery, to relent and accept the vacant throne of Russia. The boyar (nobleman) SHCHELKALOV, secretary of the Russian Duma, comes out of the monastery.

SHCHELKALOV [advancing toward the people and saluting them, taking off his cap]: Faithful orthodox people! The boyar will not yield!
He will not heed the appeal
of the Duma and Patriarchs,
and will not accept the tsar's throne.
Woe unto Russia! Yes, woe unto us,
ye faithful orthodox people!
Our land groans for want of a ruler.
Put your faith in the Lord,
that He may send comfort to our troubled Russia.
And may he guide in His wisdom
Boris's weary soul!
[He goes out. The scene is lit up by the rays of sunset. The singing of blind wandering pilgrims is heard in the distance.]
PILGRIMS: Glory to Thee, Lord on earth!
Glory unto the powers of Heaven,
unto all the saints
and unto Russia!
[The people whisper, "Messengers of God."]
Thus spoke the Angel of the Lord:
Arise, stormy clouds,
travel through the heavens
and cover this Russian land.
[The pilgrims enter, leaning upon the shoulders of their guides.]
PILGRIMS: May the cruel serpent,
the many-headed dragon,
which should have brought discord to our Russian land.
Let all Christians hear this,
for they will be saved!
[Distributing amulets among the people]
Dress yourself in bright vestments,
uplift the sacred icons
of all our holy saint
and go to meet the Tsar.
[As they enter the monastery, the song gradually dies away.]
Sing praises unto the Lord
and unto the holy Heaven.
Glory be to God on earth,
our heavenly Father!

With Pilgrims' Chorus, in Mussorgsky's own edition

Albert Shagidullin (b), Shchelkalov; Slovak Philharmonic Chorus (Bratislava), Berlin Radio Chorus, Berlin Philharmonic, Claudio Abbado, cond. Sony, recorded November 1993

[in German] Hermann Uhde (bs-b), Shchelkalov; Bavarian Radio Chorus and Symphony Orchestra, Eugen Jochum, cond. Broadcast performance, 1957
Shchelkalov's address only, in various editions

[ed. Rimsky-Korsakov] Ilya Bogdanov (b), Shchelkalov; Bolshoi Opera Orchestra, Nikolai Golovanov, cond. Melodiya, recorded 1948-49

[ed. Rimsky-Korsakov] Sabin Markov (b), Shchelkalov; Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. Decca, recorded November 1970

[in English, orch. Shostakovich?] Calvin Marsh (b), Shchelkalov; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Erich Leinsdorf, cond. Live performance, Mar. 21, 1959

Now back to business!


"FATHER ROCCO! FATHER ROCCO!
THE LORD MINISTER HAS ARRIVED!"

If it's not the most famous trumpet call there is, it ought to be. For a good while Beethoven thought it needed to be in the overture he was struggling to concoct for his opera-still-in-progress. Here's how he incorporated it into the overture we know as Leonore No. 3.


Staatskapelle Dresden, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded c1968

Working backwards as we so often do, we've already met and heard from the Herr Minister. By way of a refresher on who Don Fernando is and why he matters, let's dial back to the dramatic moment of the famous trumpet call --

A dark subterranean dungeon. Left, a well covered in stones and rubble. Behind, several grilled openings in the wall show steps to the floor above. The lowest steps and the cell door on the right.

At the height of the frenzied action involving LEONORE, her imprisoned and near-death husband FLORESTAN, the prison governor DON PIZARRO, and the head jailer ROCCO, a distant trumpet sounds from the tower of the castle.

LEONORE: Ah, you are saved! Almighty God!
FLORESTAN: Ah, I am saved! Almighty God!
PIZARRO: Ha! The Minister! Death and damnation!
ROCCO: Oh! What is that? Righteous God!

PIZARRO and ROCCO stand dumbfounded. LEONORE and FLORESTAN embrace.

The trumpet sounds again, but louder.

JAQUINO, with two officers, and soldiers bearing torches, appears at the uppermost opening on the staircase.

JAQUINO: Father Rocco! Father Rocco! The Lord Minister has arrived.
ROCCO [joyful and surprised, aside]: Praise be to God!

-- translation by William Mann

Helga Dernesch (s), Leonore; Jon Vickers (t), Florestan; Zoltán Kélémen (b), Don Pizarro; Karl Ridderbusch (bs), Rocco; Horst R. Laubenthal (t), Jaquino; Berlin Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. EMI, recorded 1970

While we're at it, I don't see how we can move on without listening to Leonore No. 3. Extraordinary as it is, Beethoven was certainly right to reject it as the overture for the opera, and it was at the point when he abandoned the path he'd been treading in what we know as the three Leonore Overtures that his mind was freed to imagine the overture we know and love as the proper curtain-raiser for Fidelio. At that point he might have disposed of the three Leonore Overtures, but happily he didn't. I thought this might be a good occasion to listen to all three of them, but I'm not going to drag you there.

I have to say, though, that I have no problem at all with the idea, often attributed to Mahler, of incorporating Leonore No. 3 into Act II of the opera, to cover the scene change from Florestan's dungeon to the castle parade ground -- and also give the singers a chance to catch their breath. And my first thought for a Leonore No. 3, one we haven't listened to before, from which to extract the trumpet-call episode above, especially since Karl Böhm seems to be hovering our line of inquiry, was the performance Böhm recorded with the Staatskapelle Dresden for his studio recording of Fidelio. So now I think we should hear it complete, and then back it up with some others from the SC archives. (Longtime readers may recall that the Leinsdorf recording is a happy companion of mine over an embarrassing number of decades.)

BEETHOVEN: Leonore Overture No. 3, Op. 72a


Staatskapelle Dresden, Karl Böhm, cond. DG, recorded c1968

Philharmonia Orchestra, Erich Leinsdorf, cond. Capitol-EMI, recorded c1958

Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Bruno Walter, cond. Live performance, Feb. 22, 1941

NBC Symphony Orchestra, Arturo Toscanini, cond. RCA-BMG, recorded in Studio 8-H, New York, Dec. 17, 1944
NOTE: The Walter and Toscanini performances are both from live broadcasts of Fidelio -- Walter's in an actual opera house, Toscanini's in the second of a pair of radio concerts devoted to the opera -- in which Leonore No. 3 was played between the two scenes of Act II.


SO WHAT'S THE LINK TO THE NINTH SYMPHONY?

I'd like to think that nobody has actually wanted to ask this question, that it's too obvious, that we only need to talk about it so we can proceed. Of course in Beethovenian terms this isn't a flashback but a flash forward -- Fidelio is Beethoven's Op. 72, the Ninth Symphony his Op. 125. The Brotherhood of Man was never far from his thinking, and in Don Fernando we have a living and singing embodiment of Brothers Helping Brothers. Which sends me inescapably to this amazing moment in a symphony built almost entirely of amazing moments: the final diversion before the finale finally succeeds in scampering to the finish.

It just so happens that I (mis)spent an entire afternoon extracting clips of this moment, a total of eight of 'em. It felt like a good idea, or at least an idea, at the time, and since I made 'em, you're gonna hear 'em. One you've already heard: the Böhm-Dresden version at the top of this post.

In this tiny morsel, the symphony's clearly felt wish to gallop on to the conclusion (it's right after our excerpt that the for-real Prestissimo conclusion finally launches) is interrupted not once but twice by "Poco Adagio" digressions, the second of which stretches the quartet of vocal soloists -- in an episode that passes too quickly to give them much opportunity to leave an enduring impression, except maybe for the soprano's ascent to that sustained high B-flat, to the extent that she can bring it off. So I thought maybe it would be interesting to just listen to some performances without being distracted by performers' names. One thing I can tell you is that a group of hard-core Beethovenians is represented here: Claudio Abbado, Wilhelm Furtwängler, Herbert von Karajan, Otto Klemperer, Pierre Monteux, Arturo Toscanini.

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

[5]

[6]

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ALL WILL BE REVEALED NEXT WEEK . . .

. . . as we take a closer look at Minister Brother-Helping-Brothers and muse on who exactly is whose brother's keeper. We're operating, remember, on the premise that the Lesson of Fidelio is the one that a revived Don Florestan announces so triumphally in the opera's traditional moralizing conclusion, as rendered here by the tenor who for me remains the one true Florestan.

"He who has won such a wife
may join in our rejoicing.
Never can we too much hymn
the savior of her husband's life."

Jon Vickers (Florestan), Sena Jurinac (Leonore), et al., with Otto Klemperer conducting, Covent Garden, February 1961

This isn't a bad lesson as lessons go -- better, certainly, than the one you'll recall is announced in the traditional moralizing conclusion to Don Giovanni:

"This is the end that befalls evildoers,
and in this life scoundrels
always receive their just desserts."

Claire Watson (s), Donna Anna; Christa Ludwig (ms), Donna Elvira; Mirella Freni (s), Zerlina; Nicolai Gedda (t), Don Ottavio; Walter Berry (bs-b), Leporello; Paolo Montarsolo (bs), Masetto; New Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded June-July 1966

I'm going to go out on a limb here and venture that this just isn't true! It just ain't so that "in this life scoundrels always receive their just desserts." Not to mention that the opera has done a highly questionable job of pinpointing the "evildoers" and "scoundrels." The fact that I don't think anyone of sound mind would dispute Florestan's heartfelt moral-of-the-story is certainly to its credit.

However, it's not my takeaway from Fidelio, which while upbeat up to a point, beyond that point is, well, just a tiny bit crushing and hopelessness-inducing. We'll talk about it next time.

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