Raggedy Ann in Aida

"There is no opera in America worth speaking of outside New York City," said the Metropolitan Opera's Rudolf Bing not long ago. When the statement touched off explosions of operatic temper from one end of the country to the other (TIME, Oct. 13), Bing exempted San Francisco and Chicago from his blacklist. But last week the Chicago Lyric Opera concluded a ragged season by staging a production of Aida that made Bing's apologies to Chicago seem entirely unnecessary.

In the past the Lyric has put on many a fine, star-heavy performance, and last week's cast was again impressive: Viennese Soprano Leonie Rysanek as Aida, Italian Mezzo-Soprano Giulietta Simionato as Amneris, Swedish Tenor Jussi Bjoerling as Radames, Italian Baritone Tito Gobbi as Amonasro. But the stage sets looked as though they had been resurrected from an early copy of the Victor Book of Operas: cluttered scenes with every temple, tower and palm frond rendered in tedious detail. And Paris Opera Conductor Georges Sebastian throttled the tempo to a crawl, once even goaded Tenor Bjoerling into striking out for several bars at a brisk clip all his own. The costumes matched the sets: an indeterminate sausage-roll garment for ample Soprano Rysanek, an orange-colored Raggedy Ann wig for Soprano Simionato. a short man's nightgown for the Pharaoh. The company's acting was at best competent, at worst ludicrous, especially Soprano Rysanek's lurching, bosom-clutching assault on the role of Aida.

The singing, which should have been the glory of the performance, was disturbingly uneven. Soprano Rysanek's warm, lambent voice was as beautiful as ever, but she displayed an alarming tendency to soar to high notes and then to wander around dazedly for several bars while she tried to come down again. Bjoerling's lyric tenor lacked the heroic style that the role of Radames demands, and Gobbi was far from his compelling best. Only Mezzo Simionato sang with the range, color and fire that her fans have come to expect of her. The voices of the supporting singers were lost in the huge house. "No wonder he can't sing," said one observer watching the messenger to the Pharaoh noiselessly moving his mouth. "The poor guy has just run all the way from Thebes."

All in all, Chicago's Aida served as an inspiring advertisement for Rudolf Bing's Met.

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