[A re-post from our archives, in memorial homage to Renata Scotto, February 24, 1934– August 16, 2023]
Jon Vickers was, and stays, the best Peter Grimes and Otello I ever saw on phase. Both of these characters are tortured; critics and the general public mention “overall dedication” however hardly ever get it with such deep-rooted sensations. While other fantastic tenors– Peter Pears as Grimes, Placido Domingo as Otello– were captivating in these functions and used “total” representations, Vickers looks like if he’s ripping his own heart out. His injuries are so deep that you are lured to avoid your eyes. There ends up being no separation of guy and star. (Each tenor’s endeavor is offered on DVD; when it comes to Domingo as Otello, a minimum of 4 times.)
This Met production is by Franco Zeffirelli and was brand-new in 1972; it is still attractive and reliable and not almost as outrageous or flouncy as his later Traviatas or Turandot. The opening storm is effective, the huge props in Act 2 suggest splendour and significance, the modification from the very first to the 2nd scene of the 3rd act is superbly made with the entry of the Venetian ambassador as extravagant as it must be.
Fabrizio Melano directed this 1978 revival, focusing primarily on the 3 principals, and Kirk Browning directed for tv, making utter sense of the textually intricate, excellent third-act concertato, moving from wide-angle shots to a sickly, sluggish close-up of a lonesome, homicidal, out-of-his-mind Otello, mid-stage, on his throne.
Vickers was a complex vocalist; hardly ever did he kip down a vocally perfect efficiency (when Domingo “took control of” as the go-to Otello, the large Italianate appeal and precision of his singing were significantly invited and talked about). Vickers croons sometimes here; a little bit of hoarseness in some cases goes into, and he fractures on a climactic B-flat in Act 2– and turns it into a drastically precise point, by the method. 90 percent of the time he is on top of his singing video game: the large heft of his voice in “Exultate …” and “Si pel ciel”, not to discuss his denunciation of Desdemona, is frightening. His motions are of a caged monster– I’m lured to call it choreography.
He strides the phase– this Lion of Venice– in an animalistic way. You wish to weep for Domingo’s Moor; you fear Vickers and feel his fall from mild enthusiast in Act 1 (he takes the last 5 notes of the duet– the duplicated A-flats– silently) to remarkably envious madman.
Renata Scotto analyzes Desdemona as no other vocalist I’ve ever heard or seen. Frequently played as a victim/wimp-we-love (see Kiri Te Kanawa), here Desdemona is a female of strength who can’t win; regal of bearing, she attempts to combat back in Act 2 and even in Act 3, however recognizes she’s doomed. We can see her worry, and more, we can see her attempting to conceal it. Her last-act Willow Song is nearly a Mad Scene– she’s transferred. The Ave Maria is beautiful; in reality Scotto remains in excellent voice throughout and she matches Vickers in acting ability.
Cornell MacNeil was a Met stalwart, a great baritone with a magnificent, sounding top. Hardly ever a subtle star, here he is at his finest: maybe the sense of celebration motivated him. The voice remains in great shape– he matches Vickers note-for-note in their duet, and in “Cassio’s Dream” his soft, insinuating singing is as smarmy as it is captivating– and he moves (and leers) with snakelike grace. He really looks conniving; this Iago is constantly believing. It’s not precisely a glamorous noise, however this is a fantastic Iago.
If you desire high-end you need to wait on the entryway in Act 3 of Lodovico, sung by a young James Morris. Jean Kraft, by the method, is the conflicted Emilia. James Levine, at his most powerful and understanding (he loved Scotto), assists make this the significant occasion it is, with the wonderful Met Orchestra a seeming extension of his arm.
This was the very first Met telecast (September 25, 1978) that I tried to tape with my brand-new RCA VCR, an innovation that was younger-than-springtime at the time. I still have that error-laden, foggy, poor-reception tape (I did not have cable television), however bless the Met for lastly opening its archives and for bring back the now 33-year-old artifact to far-more-than-good requirements, both aesthetically and sonically. I saw among this run of efficiencies live as well and left the Met, as did a number of thousand others, shivering. Enjoy this and you’ll see why. I like Domingo too, however this will be the only video Otello you’ll ever require: it’s the one that finest catches the pity and unhappiness. [11/1/2011]
