A Fresh Falstaff in Los Angeles

By Michael Walsh

Giulini conducts the masterpiece of Verdi's old age

In opera, the most enthusiastic acclaim goes to the stars--prima donnas and leading men who troop out from behind the curtain to bask in the bravos. By the time the conductor finally gets his turn, many patrons have already rushed up the aisles to grab a taxi. Last week in Los Angeles, though, the audience reserved its loudest cheers for the maestro: Carlo Maria Giulini, 67, returning to the operatic stage after an absence of 14 years.

Every decibel was earned. The production of Verdi's Falstaff by the Los Angeles Philharmonic--cosponsored by

London's Royal Opera House and the Teatro Comunale in Florence--was entirely under Giulini's supervision, from the selection of the singers to the sets and costumes. In Giulini's hands, the final masterpiece of Verdi's old age emerged not as a simple, sometimes cruel romp, but a wise, humanistic view of life's pleasures and follies. Brimming with a youthful freshness and ardor, the seamless music of Falstaff could have been written only by a man well versed in the ways of the world. Giulini's interpretation went straight to the heart of this central paradox: fleet and light when it had to be, yet suffused with touching sympathy for Shakespeare's fat, amorous knight. It was comic in the Dantean sense.

Heading a top international cast, Italian Baritone Renato Bruson was totally in harmony with the conductor. His Sir John was not the lecherous, cardboard heavyweight of operatic cliche but a man of complex emotions--however inappropriately addressed to two married ladies of Windsor After a somewhat tentative start, Bruson's sharply focused voice proved equal to Verdi's demands, from the boisterous "L'onore" monologue at the end of the first scene to the sprightly C major fugue that closes the work.

As Alice Ford, Soprano Katia Ricciarelli sang with a lustrous tone that matched her resplendent blond beauty and sparkling stage presence. Hers is a voice that can both beguile with gentle lyricism and blaze with the incandescence of a high-spirited diva. Other noteworthy performances came from American Mezzo Brenda Boozer, who made a lively Meg Page, and Soprano Barbara Hendricks and Tenor Dalmacio Gonzalez, who sang touchingly as the young lovers. British Director Ronald Eyre kept the action crisp; he was correctly content to execute the composer's wishes, rather than impose a fashionably idiosyncratic view of his own. As Giulini put it before opening night, "In opera the composer does the interpretation of the text. Not that there is nothing for the director to do. There is a lot. But who commands? The composer."

The idea of producing Falstaff originated four years ago, when Giulini became music director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, succeeding Zubin Mehta. He and Ernest Fleischmann, the orchestra's shrewd executive director, agreed that Giulini would lead at least one fully staged opera under ideal working conditions during his tenure. Since 1968, when he performed Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro at the Met, Giulini has turned down all offers to conduct opera in the theater. Accustomed to only new productions at such major opera houses as Milan's La Scala and London's Covent Garden, Giulini admits, "I was a little spoiled."

Why choose Falstaff for his comeback--the ensemble opera par excellence, a piece for connoisseurs--instead of something more glamorous and showy like Aidal Explains Giulini, who was an orchestral conductor before he ever turned to opera: "It needs good singers. Yes. But it is also marvelous for the orchestra. It is a pleasure for every musician to play this opera."

Such concern for his orchestra has marked Giulini's stay in Los Angeles. When his appointment was announced, many wondered how the conductor's serene, spiritual approach to music making would play in the gaudy self-promotion capital of the world. But Giulini quickly established a special rapport with the players. "At our first rehearsal," he recalls, "I told them, 'I'm not coming here as a conductor. I am coming here as a musician to work with other musicians, as a man to work with other men. We will make music together.' " And so they do.

Although the conductor would reject the designation, what audiences in Los Angeles are witnessing is very much Giulini's Falstaff. With its consummate theatrical effectiveness and finely etched details, the performance reflects his years of experience both in the pit and on the podium. Like most great conductors, Giulini prefers to express his philosophy with a stick, not words. "What I have to say," he declares, "I try to say through the music." His views on Verdi have come across most eloquently. --By Michael Walsh

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