Giovanni Paisiello's L'Osteria Di Marechiaro (1769): Classical Opera You'll Adore!

I'm writing this, my first bona fide opera review, with scarcely any expert guidance (seldom an advisable way to assay a maiden flight). The VAI/Hardy Classic DVD L'Osteria di Marechiaro (The Tavern of Marechiaro) itself includes essentially nada in the way of documentary, commentary, or booklet. [The "booklet", er, insert merely duplicates the cast/character names and several other basic credits appearing on the back of the box.

There's no list of arias (much less any lyrics), which is most unfortunate, given that the DVD's relatively rudimentary on-screen "chapter menu" itself indicates only some, not all, of the arias; moreover, there's generally no way to skip to a particular aria, short of some fast-forwarding or rewinding.]

To no avail, I searched all over the darned place for any reviews, articles, synopses, commentaries, or other documentation (in English) regarding this fairly early (1769)--yet compellingly charming--opera by Giovanni Paisiello (1740-1816), who is arguably the most successful Italian opera composer of the "classical" (pre-Rossini) period. [Domenico Cimarosa rivals him for that distinction.]

In that benchmark of general opera references, the four-volume New Grove Dictionary of Opera, I couldn't discover even the briefest synopsis or commentary for this obscure opera--though its existence is duly cited there. And so, unless I'm missing something (short of researching more specialized operatic tomes or periodicals, or grappling with Italian-language sources, for which they ain't payin' this monoglot enough), precious little information about this opera is widely available elsewhere in English.

Accordingly, despite my laughable greenness, allow me to proffer my impressions!

This production of L'Osteria di Marechiaro (The Tavern of Marechiaro) dates from 2001 and was staged at the Teatro Vincenzo Bellini di Napoli (Naples, Italy). This is the only widely available video recording of this opera. audio recording of an unrelated 1990 live performance exists as a Bongiovanni CD edition (like this DVD, a two-act version) released that same year.]

At the outset of this video, we behold several panoramic views of the interior of the majestic Neapolitan opera house, and then Maestro Fabio Maestri (!) begins deftly conducting his Orchestre del Teatro di San Carlo Napoli. The tempo for this comic opera feels appropriately lively but never hurried. These instrumentalists would make Paisiello proud; their melodious music is blithely buoyant and invariably inviting; and never does orchestra sound out of sync with singers.

The libretto for L'Osteria di Marechiaro is by Francesco Cerlone (1722-c.1812) but is here "revised and elaborated" in, alas, unspecified ways by stage director Roberto De Simone. Perhaps there's been some judicious cutting of scenes and/or dialogue, with the end result that the original version that (according to the aforementioned, cursory citation in Grove's Dictionary) was "performed with a separate Act 3" is now a breezier, two-act affair. Or perhaps the entire original third act is simply omitted. In any case, there's no dramatic need for anything beyond what's here, though I could wish for inclusion of the major character Chiarella in the final scene.

The story in brief (minus the romantic climax!):

The burly, handsome young Count Zampano is actually a simple, good-natured fellow who has somehow gotten himself into the following trifold "girl-trouble" mess. Not only is local gal Chiarella determined to wed him, but, unknown to each other, two not-as-sexy ladies named Lesbina and Dorina (imminent visitors to this seaside section of Naples known as "Marechiaro", which means "clear sea") have the very same objective--the Count is "promised" to both of them. And both will soon arrive to claim what's mutually, er, rightfully, theirs.

Other complicating factors:

The matronly Lesbina--accompanied by her fawningly adoring and equally conniving "servant" Abate--doesn't really care a hoot about the Count himself; she just craves social prestige via marriage to an aristocrat.

Young Dorina doesn't really want to marry the Count; it's entirely her bossy dad's idea. Dorina herself would rather wed the Count's attendant, lovesick young Federico, who was previously imprisoned in, and subsequently banished from, Dorina's district (by her powerful father) but is still keen to have her.

So, how can the hapless Count free himself from this web-like imbroglio and find connubial bliss with his charming Chiarella? Surely it will require nothing less than supernatural intervention to deliver him from one or another version of matrimonial misery with Lesbina or Dorina.

Enter the preternatural presence of one Spiritello, a powerful--albeit silly-looking--genie (nothing like Barbara Eden, alas!) who lends Zampano his potent magic wand to wield when the Count next confronts all his importunate adversaries, with predictably preposterous results in this lighthearted "buffo" (comic) opera first performed at the Teatro dei Fiorentini in Naples in 1769.

Highlighted scene:

The most romantically (yet comically) captivating scene in the whole opera begins at about the 47-minute point: select the "Caro abate" chapter from the main menu and do a bit of fast-forwarding, for, alas, this Hardy Classic DVD's somewhat modest "Scelta Capitoli" (chapter-selection) menu doesn't permit you always to precisely skip to your desired scene or aria. In this scene Chiarella and her beloved Count Zampano engage in a sort of cat-and-mouse game of seduction where the young lady is decidedly the predator while the meekly protesting Count is her amusingly willing prey.

The Count--at Chiarella's insistence--begins unlacing her bodice, as she lies backward across his lap. Shortly, he begins singing his "my gorgeous little girl" aria (in Italian, of course, so thank goodness for the English subtitles!) as Chiarella--her back to the audience--kneels suggestively before him and strokes his thighs before lying invitingly backward upon the floor. Still singing his romantic aria in his fulsome, bass-baritone (and flashing irresistibly funny, intermittently wide-eyed glances at his beloved's every motion), the Count slowly assumes a horizontal posture above the supine Chiarella as she lifts one knee and alluringly pulls up her dress to expose her shapely thigh. Obligingly, the Count tentatively strokes her leg, back and forth....

Lest this begin to sound like a prelude to porn, let me hasten to explain it's all achieved in delightfully good taste with continual snatches of endearing comedy to the accompaniment of Paisiello's tuneful vocal lines and orchestration.

Cast:

Chiarella (comely, uninhibited, young peasant fruit vendor determined to marry the elusive young Count Zampano) - Elizabeth Norberg-Schulz (soprano)

Count Zampano (handsome, burly, likable young Italian fellow entangled with three gals at once) - Filippo Morace (bass-baritone)

Lesbina Galanti (conspicuously buxom, matronly lady to whom the elusive young Count has been "promised", though all she actually wants is an aristocratic title by marrying Zampano) - Gloria Scalchi (mezzo-soprano)

Dorina (not-so-matronly lady, likewise promised the Count's marital hand but secretly in love with Federico) - Marilena Laurenza (soprano)

Abate Scarpinelli (laughably self-serious, wimpy little man, supposedly a "poet" but actually Lesbina's absurdly devoted servant and not-so-secret admirer) - Giuseppe Parisi (tenor)

Federico Onesti (the count's personal attendant, hopelessly in love with Dorina but long forbidden to see her) - Angelo Smimmo (countertenor)

Carl'Andrea (not-too-happily-married, aging tavern keeper, friend and not-so-secret admirer of young Chiarella.) - Giulio Liguori (bass)

Marchese Olivieri (Dorina's dictatorial daddy who's pushing her to marry the Count) - Raffaello Converso (tenor).

Spiritello (an un-bottled genie whose unearthly power proves helpful to Count Zampano vis a vis his importunate, would-be wives and their officiously threatening cohorts) - Giandomenico Cappuccio (countertenor)

Peppariello (servant to the Count) - Biagio Abenante (tenor)

Props: Nicola Rubertelli

Costumes: Odette Nicoletti

Stage Director: Roberto De Simone

Orchestre del Teatro di San Carlo Napoli
Conductor: Fabio Maestri

Notes on the featured performers:

All the featured cast members evince earnestness to interpret their roles authentically and movingly.

Chiarella, the village fruit vendor (appealingly pert to the point of appearing soubrettish), is the star soprano of this opera--albeit her diminished presence in Act 2 is presumably a shortcoming of the original libretto. As played by Norwegian/Italian Elizabeth Norberg-Schulz, Chiarella exudes earthy charisma and charm, with enough sexuality to make me unabashedly admire her quaintly low-cut dress (whose ground-level hem she slowly and seductively hoists twice or thrice) and her recurring physical contact while reeling in the professedly reluctant but actually smitten Count Zampano.

The experienced Norberg-Shulz's acting is impeccable throughout this production. Her "sweet and saucy" character's endearing charm is well nigh irresistible.

Norberg-Shulz's appealingly rich, lyric-soprano voice generally sounds more full-bodied than delicate. She can occasionally deliver snatches of coloratura (flowery, ornamented singing) to pleasing, though not canary-like, effect (as when she's boisterously hawking her wares with the lines "if you want ripe figs" and "if you want sweet grapes" in the opening scene). And don't miss her steady delivery of several unusually deeply pitched (contralto-like) brief passages during her final aria in the "Quanno venne" chapter (about 32 minutes into the opera).

Norberg-Shulz must be getting her vitamins and exercise: she pretty darned convincingly portrays a character perhaps half her age. Not every nearly 42-year-old lady could have looked so fetchingly flirtatious.

The long-maned, mustachioed Count Zampano is played by Filippo Morace (bass-baritone). I can't imagine a more effective actor/singer for this role. Zampano's simple and immediately likable nature comes across readily via Morace's winsome facial expressions and deeply, beautifully robust singing. [If you're tired of hearing the usual tenor (or higher-register baritone) performing the leading-man role, you're in for a treat!] Count Zampano's manly yet gentle personality--masterfully conveyed by Morace--is the perfect foil to his beloved Chiarella's alternately bold and coquettish nature.

Surprisingly, bassy Morace pretty capably sings a couple of falsetto lines after he nervously wanders into the spooky "genie realm" in Act 2. All in all, he merits an extra curtain call for his laudable performance.

Mezzo-soprano Gloria Scalchi is plentifully busty and plenty effective as the rather matronly and prestige-covetous Lesbina Galanti. She looks, acts and sings "just right" for the role, and her character's irrepressible presence--in conjunction with that of her somewhat dourly doting little toady, Abate--makes for much of the comedy in this opera. Scalchi's ample voice is capable of reaching well up into soprano range and sticking there, but her first scene in Act 1 is noteworthy for revealing the deeper part of her tessitura (average vocal-pitch range) in the aria "Caro Abate". Later, she performs the sonic analog to a dazzling pyrotechnic display via soaring, unaccompanied coloratura (runs and trills) as a cadenza within her lovely "lo saro qual pastorella" aria in the first scene of Act 2. From start to finish, she renders all her arias with aplomb.

I wish I could say the same for tenor Giuseppe Parisi as Abate Scarpinelli, but, though his understatedly funny character is actually one of the pillars of this buffo opera (and I'd miss him if he weren't here), his singing sounds--now and again--about as wimpy as his character's mien. Oh, his intermittently unmelodious (and sometimes seemingly off-key) arias are more or less overlookable if you focus on his capably comic portrayal of Lesbina's bootlicking lackey; but I wouldn't much relish an audio-only recording of this performance whenever certain of his unmercifully long passages are featured. Perhaps I'm too harsh. Sometimes he does sing splendidly. But take a listen to (for example) his lengthy solo passages within the leisurely "duet" with Gloria Scalchi near the start of the "Caro Abate" chapter, and let your own ears decide.

Marilena Laurenza does more than a creditable job as young Dorina. While her less glamorous features likely won't land her many of the sexy roles that the likes of Norberg-Shulz have enjoyed, clearly there are countless secondary characters--such as Dorina--she can aptly portray. Anyway, in opera the voice is paramount, and Laurenza's powerfully and beautifully expressive lyric soprano never falters. [The presence of not only Laurenza but also Norberg-Shulz and Scalchi amounts to an embarrassment of riches when it comes to vocally adept ladies.] Laurenza's acting, though hardly mesmerizing, is fully satisfactory for her relatively restricted role here.

Angelo Smimmo (as Federico Onesti) has a rather unforgettable voice, especially during his periodic passages of dry recitative (talky singing or semi-sung speech, often with mere harpsichord accompaniment). His falsetto's tone color strikes me as more "nasally" than that of such countertenors as Andreas Scholl or David Daniels (both of whom I consider more than marginally superior to Smimmo). Nonetheless, that quality does help him stand out, and I find him musically plenty impressive. Dramatically, he's altogether competent but seldom thrilling (e.g., he could have summoned a bit more romantic ardor vis a vis Dorina). Above all, don't miss his delightful duet with Laurenza--pleasingly punctuated by a solo trumpet--in the "Vo solcando un mar crudele" chapter of Act 2.

Incidentally, Smimmo's timbre sounds well suited for various Handelian (or other baroque) "castrati" roles.

Giandomenico Cappuccio--at least when using falsetto to portray the genie Spiritello--sounds somewhat closer to your run-of-the-mill countertenor. [Note: a bit later in the story, Cappuccio also portrays Lesbina's supposedly resurrected husband (a relatively minor character), at which point he sings at a much lower, tenor register; both his singing and his acting are much more impressive at that juncture.] His "weirdly white" tone color works effectively for the supernatural Spiritello character. However, the way Odette Nicoletti--who did an exemplary job with all the other character's costumes--decked out this dude makes him look like one big silly sissy (with a bad fashion sense) instead of a fully "believable" genie. I can't help but wish that a lovely lady (with any tessitura) had been chosen to portray the genie. (Either that, or the "powerful genie" character should've been a dramatically macho male, rather than an insipidly effeminate male.)

All the other cast members (not least basso Giulio Liguori, who's fully believable and thoroughly likable as the earthy, congenial tavern keeper) consistently rate "very good to great" for their singing and acting.

Staging and costumes:

I appreciate that this staging isn't conspicuously "updated" or "time-warped". The props and costumes look reasonably authentically stylized and quaintly appealing, though collectively perhaps a subtle departure from 18th-century reality. The primary setting involves an antiquated, seaside tavern and another, nondescript shop, with a somewhat impressionistic tree and (sometimes) a stepladder between them. This entire "village" scene is, occasionally, appealingly depicted at some distance within a giant "wooden oval" frame.

Regarding this production's movable props, the village "shops" (mere facades) look almost medievally quaint and are sometimes mechanically rotated 180 degrees (to reveal other varieties of shops/props) as the stage lights momentarily dim between scenes. And I like how various large boats seem to glide picturesquely upon unseen water behind the stage whenever certain characters are to disembark at, or depart, the Marechiaro-village locality.

Odette Nocoletti generally did a commendable job with the costumes. For example, Chiarella and the Count look suitably believable as real-world young lovers in mid-eighteenth-century Naples (or, at least, your average present-day American--like me--will think so). And Lesbina's and Abate's complementary duds admirably amplify their comedic acting. By and large, the costumery isn't so colorful or kooky as to seem unduly distracting or inauthentic, yet it sometimes appears a mildly eccentric version of what folks back then probably really wore. In other words, for the rarified realm that is classical/buffo opera, everything here looks "exactly right".

Well, almost everything. The sole exception involves fey Spiritello's aforementioned sissified outfit, which strikes me as not so much amusing as just plain ridiculous. Poor Mr. Cappuccio is made to look as though he'd wanted to dress as a kinky genie for a Halloween party at a gay bar but lacked the sartorial skill to pull it off (not that I can speak from actual experience there). I'll say no more about it, so as to let you be surprised when you behold his goofy getup yourself.

Closing thoughts:

Be forewarned: some of this opera's melodies--especially after your second or third listen--are so pleasingly catchy that you'll find yourself replaying them in your head for days afterwards! I can't make that claim for every operatic composer--not even some of the better-known names.

Viewing this enchanting opera, I can easily surmise why certain Italian patrons, not to mention Russian and French royalty (including Napoleon himself), were keen to monopolize the services of Paisiello. Not till the final year of his rather long life did that composer permanently lose his patronage. [Poor Mozart seldom had it so good.]

I commonly favor late-baroque (e.g., Handel) or Bel Canto (e.g., Rossini) operas; however, if you enjoy either of those general categories, you'll likely have little trouble adjusting to--and delighting in--Paisiello's operatic art, which is arguably even more easily accessible than some of Mozart's. Incidentally, while composing Le nozze di Figaro, "Wolfie" himself was, reportedly, somewhat inspired by Paisiello's magnum opus, Il barbiere di Siviglia (1782). [Of course, the eventual populariity of Rossini's 1816 version of Il barbiere di Siviglia utterly eclipsed that which Paisiello had enjoyed in his heyday.]

L'Osteria di Marechiaro is one of Paisiello's relatively early operas (yet written when he'd already attained considerable compositional skill), and it's certainly not a work you need take extremely seriously--but isn't that the point of opera buffo? Just relax and relish it for what it is: an alternately earthy and far-fetched charmer with (chiefly) a centuries-old, "Italian-village" backdrop. If you want (generally understated) humor, there's plenty of it here. If you want sex, well, there's nothing downright explicit, but charming Chiarella's rather straightforwardly physical flirtations with the now and again wide-eyed Count will surely get you grinning (e.g., at one point during the supine Count's "my gorgeous little girl" aria, Chiarella crouches onto his willing hips). And if you want mellifluous arias and engaging orchestration, listen and learn why Paisiello realized international patronage and popularity in his lifetime.

***

DVD details & specs:

1 disc
Format: full-screen; color; NTSC/all regions
Audio modes: Dolby Digital 5.1; DTS 5.1
Sung in Italian
subtitles (optional): English, Italian, French, Japanese
running time = 164 minutes
Publisher: VAI/Hardy Classic
Released: 2006