vilaine fille

Callas query

This is a cross-posting of a query I made on opera-l:

An Adnkronos article dated 18 June reports that 19 original acetates of recordings made by Maria Callas in Mexico City between 1950 and 1952 have surfaced. They were to be auctioned in Rome last week, where they were expected to fetch EUR 60-70K.

It’s not clear to me from reading the article whether these are new (previously unknown) recordings or simply first-generation sources of known material. (The article uses the expressions dischi inediti and incisioni inedite but also says that they are acetati originali dei dischi incisi da Maria Callas… a Città del Messico, so it’s a little hard to parse.)

If you have any information on the recordings or the auction, please leave a comment or write to me by selecting the link on my about page.

Update: I’ve received private and on-list replies from opera-l, and the consensus seems to be that a small amount of this material may be new, but that most of it is probably already known.

Senza titolo XXV

145. R, an angel who showers me with spiritual light and material delights
146. “you are in intermission, and the lights are going to dim while the curtain rises on act-whatever-number of this opera” (sweetie, you don’t know how apt this was!)
147. incoming Skypes from Firenze and Inghilterra
148. the dry, breezy weather
149. “Sanssouci” (playing at my MySpace page this week)—though, Francophile to the last, I putter around singing: “Who will be at Saint-Sulpice tonight?”
150. that I live where it all started

Pensée du dimanche 24 juin

Do I disappoint you,
in just being human?
—Rufola

23° 26’ and holding

According to the information at hand, the Earth has an axial tilt of c. 23° 26’.

And, contrary to earlier predictions, it looks like that general degree of obliquity will hold, since Giuseppe Filianoti reportedly has cancelled his scheduled Otello opposite the Rodrigo of Juan Diego Flórez at this summer’s Rossini Opera Festival. This information comes to vilaine fille from a reliable source not associated with the proceedings.

Once again, vilaine fille sends Don Peppino tanti auguri di pronta guarigione. (*blubber, sniff*)

Senza titolo XXIV

139. great gobs of glittering stardust
140. unexpected bargains
141. sea air and sylvan scents without having to leave the greatest place on earth
142. believing for more than half an hour that good things are possible
143. cupcakes
144. beautiful meditation images, presaging stardust

Pensée du dimanche 17 juin

Ἔμεθεν δ' ἔχεισθα λάθαν
—Sappho, fragment 21 (“Me thou forgettest”)

Il y a un an (I)

One year ago today, Italy launched their triumphant campaign in the final phase of the World Cup tournament with a 2-0 victory over gallant Ghana.

Andrea Pirlo (in Portuguese, Pirlu) scored the Azzurri’s first goal and set up the second one. He was named Man of the Match, an honor he would earn twice again (after the semifinal and final matches), more than any other player in the competition. Against France, he netted the Azzurri’s first penalty. Last month, he won the Champions League with Milan.

I love this man. On the pitch, he carries himself with understated elegance. Off the pitch, he is all but invisible, a devoted family man. That said, though he shuns the spotlight, he does model underwear. Forza Azzurri!

Pirlo is a fantasista, a “playmaker,” sometimes known as il maestro because of his vision, control, and ability to set the tempo. And it’s no coincidence:

Compare the chin, the brow, the nose, the lips, and the seventies-style hair. Of course, in Muti’s case, the acconciatura is no mere retro affectation, because the photo must be at least 25 years old. (Où sont les slips d’antan, eh, Riccardone? No more Dolce & Gabbana for you!)

Here are Italy’s goals (with a yummy man-pile after Vincenzo Iaquinta scores), and here is the way you really call a match. Here is a fan video that seems to indicate that “Azzurro” by Paolo Conte was the first song played after the final whistle. If so, it was a sign.

And here is the one and only Maestro singing “Azzurro.”

Senza titolo XXIII

133. NYPL and its kind librarians
134. Anisia Bella, which makes many kinds of summer heat almost bearable
135. 2-1 (phew!) and 2-0
136. Un petit effort… Voilà, c’est ça!
137. my other neighborhood cinema
138. la belle langue et ses merveilles

Pensée du dimanche 10 juin

YOU left me, sweet, two legacies,—
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;

You left me boundaries of pain
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.
—Emily Dickinson

Good news and bad news

My review of the new Opera Rara recording of Donizetti’s Dom Sébastien appears in this week’s Time Out New York. The vilaine fille capsule review: Meh.

Though recorded shortly before Giuseppe Filianoti’s electrifying Met début, the performance captures neither il nostro nor the cast’s other stars (Kasarova and Keenlyside) at their best, and the opera is long and uneven.

Speaking of Don Peppino, he is still recovering from an appendectomy and a bout of peritonitis. Following his acclaimed portrayal of Werther in Rome, he was forced to withdraw from two runs of La traviata (Rome, Naples) and what was to have been his role début as Massenet’s Des Grieux (Palermo). vilaine fille sends Filianoti tanti auguri di pronta guarigione. As of right now, he is still scheduled to take on the title role of Rossini’s Otello (opposite the Rodrigo of Juan Diego Flórez) at the Rossini Opera Festival.

I saw La Vie en Rose. As a film, it strikes me as a great churning bucket of slop—bloated, poorly constructed, and beyond mawkish. At one point, the child Edith hears Saint Thérèse of Lisieux speaking to her from what appears to be a cloud of Tinker Bell’s fairy dust.

That’s the kind of scene that usually sends vilaine fille rushing for the exit. Still, for all its flaws, La Vie en Rose is a must-see. Tetsuo Nagata’s cinematography is sumptuous, lush and velvety like an overripe rose, while the costumes (by Marit Allen) and the sets and art direction (credits here) are equally remarkable.

And while Olivier Dahan, bless his heart, did a poor job constructing his film, he drew superb work from his cast. Everything you have heard and read about Marion Cotillard is true—and then some. Her searing, titanic portrayal of Piaf shook me to my core. The girls who play Piaf as a child, Manon Chevallier and Pauline Burlet, are also heartbreakers. Even Depardieu (who has tended to coast in recent years, soyons francs) turns in a sober, finely wrought performance.

A 20-CD set advertising itself as Edith Piaf L’Intégrale 2007 can be had for around USD 50. It offers no documentation or notes, but it’s admirably compact, the transfers are good, and—wow!—is that ever bang for the buck. Though no expert in Piaf lore, I’m guessing that the set is not really an intégrale, because chez les grenouilles (je vous adore, mes poules !), that term often means: Everything—except the stuff we left out! (I own, and cherish, L’Intégrale des disques Vogue by Françoise Hardy, but find new-to-me Vogue Hardy recordings nearly every time I look elsewhere.) On the other hand, 413 Piaf songs will keep anyone busy for a good long time.

There’s an abundance of Piaf material on YouTube. And in case you’re away from your discs and files, here’s a little GoEar playlist:

Tu es partout (1941)
Y a pas de printemps (1944)
Hymne à l’amour (1949)
Sous le ciel de Paris (1954)
Mon Dieu (1960)