Fernando Cortez (review)

This is probably the first "modern" recording of Spontini's opera, a tragédie lyrique in three acts on a libretto by Etienne de Jouy and Joseph Alphonse d'Esmenard, first staged at the Paris Opéra as Fernand Cortez, ou La conquête du Mexique on 28 November 1809. According to information received from the all-knowing Tom Kaufman, this much-praised and much-maligned opera had not previously been staged in the twentieth century except for a production in Prague (1900) and one at La Scala in Milan (1916). The Italian translation was probably used in Prague and certainly in Milan. According to the annotations, the Naples revival captured on these CDs "made numerous, far-reaching cuts to the score, markedly in the dances, for a total of about one hour's music."

Gaspare Spontini (1774–1851) began his career in Naples, where he wrote several light operas in the style of Cimarosa and Paisiello. But he soon discovered that the grander designs of Gluck and Cherubini were more to his liking, and he moved to Paris in 1803. There he was fortunate enough to receive the patronage of the Empress Josephine and, with Napoléon's tacit blessing, produced La vestale (1807) about a vestal virgin who betrays her vows and is sentenced to death but—unlike Bellini's later Norma (1831)—is allowed a Metastasian lieto fine. The huge success of La vestale catapulted Spontini to the front line of European composers. It led the way to Fernand Cortez, a subject of political significance allegedly suggested by Napoléon, who was at that time planning to invade Spain. The political grand plan, however, misfired. Reacting to the plot at the opera's premiere, the audience failed to respond to the patriotic undertones and transferred its sympathy to Montezuma and his heroic Mexican defenders. The opera was soon withdrawn, but it returned to the repertory in a drastically reconstructed second version in 1817, which held the French stage triumphantly for decades.

The critics were right. To modern listeners, Fernand Cortez, in whatever version, has a laughable plot, featuring an absurd amorous episode between Cortez and the Aztec princess Amazily and ending with a hearty reconciliation between Cortez and Montezuma, the conqueror and the conquered. However, there was much in Spontini's music that appealed to the audience of the period. Although memorable melodies were never this composer's forte, he used Italianate melodic recitative effectively, frequently accentuated by a strong rhythmic element. Fernand Cortez abounds with triumphal processions and public ceremonies requiring the large choruses and martial passages dearly loved in the Napoleonic era. Spontini placed these devices with great theatrical skill. His orchestration was clearly manipulative, investing the noble dignity of his idol Gluck with Meyerbeerian excesses. Just the same, he counted Berlioz and Wagner among his admirers.

Very little of Spontini's orchestral splendor is accessible to us via this live Naples recording, whose acoustics are below 1951 monaural standards. Conductor Santini and the Naples orchestra cannot be judged by the recorded results. The cast contains some of Italy's preeminent singers of the period, and, as the listener recovers from the atrocious orchestral sound of the overture and becomes accustomed to the erratic balances of sounds emanating from different stage levels, the forgiving ear is gradually allowed to enjoy the singing. What is hard to forgive are the insensitive cuts that disfigure continuity, interrupting the action without any regard for gradual fadings or other production refinements. The endearing timbre of the young Renata Tebaldi manages to triumph over the orchestral murkiness in the opening scenes of act 1, which involve brutally cut duets with Aldo Protti (Telasco, Amazily's brother) and Italo Tajo (Montezuma). Montezuma is a baritone role, lying rather high for Tajo, but he manages his lines eloquently. Gino Penno (Cortez) commands the proper heroic timbre of a conquistador, and Afro Poli, Antonio Cassinelli, and Piero De Palma perform their various Spanish and Aztec roles valiantly. Spontini provided extended choral scenes for Spaniards and Aztecs alike, but more interesting is the duet between Amazily and Cortez...