Dramatic power, emotional intelligence and cracking tunes
Vincenzo Bellini’s Norma (1831)
An opera of neoclassical grandeur that also contains a compelling and surprisingly modern psychological study of a powerful woman betrayed by a man with whom she is in a transgressive relationship.
The plot
Restive under the yoke of Roman occupation, Druids in Gaul plot rebellion. Norma, their high priestess, urges caution and peace – not least because she has long secretly been the lover of the Roman governor Pollione, who has fathered her two sons.
But Pollione’s attentions have now strayed to a junior priestess, Adalgisa. When this is revealed to Norma, she is enraged and threatens to kill her sons in revenge. Adalgisa stops her, renouncing any claim to Pollione.
Norma finally declares war against the Romans. Pollione is captured and brought before her. Now she has him in her power, she tells him that she could condemn Adalgisa to death for collaboration. But in front of the assembled Druids, led by her father Oroveso, it is her own criminal collaboration that Norma confesses. Sentence is passed: a pyre is prepared and, having persuaded her father to look after her sons, Norma awaits immolation. Humbled by her noble spirit, Pollione joins her in the flames.
Background
Loosely based on a French play that draws on themes in Euripides’ Medea, Bellini’s masterpiece benefits from a strong libretto by Felice Romani. The title role was conceived as a vehicle for the magnificent prima donna Giuditta Pasta, with whom Bellini worked closely on the composition.
After the muted reception of the premiere at La Scala, Milan, in 1831,
Norma enjoyed triumphant success all over Europe – much admired even by Wagner, who generally held Italian opera in contempt.
For mid-19th-century Italians chafing under the yoke of Austrian rule, the plot had obvious political implications: productions today often present the Druids as resistance partisans or guerrilla bands.
What makes it so great?
Despite its rudimentary orchestration, thin harmonies and occasional descents into lovable rum-ti-tum cliché, the score’s wonderfully fluid melodies as well as its emotionally eloquent declamation give this work a vivid dramatic power that was new to Italian opera in the 1830s and still remains potent today.
The title role offers a supreme challenge of both style and stamina for a soprano. It calls for immaculate breath control and lyrical serenity in the celebrated prayer to the moon
The title role offers a supreme challenge for a soprano. Few make the grade
goddess, “Casta diva”; electrically sharp coloratura for her outbursts of rage against Pollione; gentle remorse for her relationship to her children and Adalgisa; and regal dignity for the tragic grandeur of the taxing final scene. Few singers make the grade.
Pollione is an extremely problematic role for a tenor – hard to sing because the vocal line lies very high, and hard to play because his dastardly twotiming make him as unsympathetic as Pinkerton in Madama Butterfly. Adalgisa is also less than gratifying for a mezzo-soprano (or a young soprano whose timbre can contrast with Norma’s darker colours), because Bellini gives her no aria. Instead, she is furnished with a long solo recitative – highly expressive, but not the sort of thing that earns applause.
As consolation, she gets to participate in two wonderful extended duets with Norma – the second of which, “Mira, o Norma”, offers a textbook example of Bellini’s unique compositional gifts. Although Norma’s music is notable for its episodes of rapturous meditative calm, it contains more virile and rumbustious passages. Adalgisa and Pollione have a vigorous duet as he attempts to persuade her to abscond with him, the Druids parade to a rousing march after “Casta diva”; and Norma declares war in a splendidly martial fashion by striking a gong and leading a chorus of almost shocking murderous intensity.
Recordings
The name of Maria Callas, who sang Norma throughout the Fifties, still comes to the fore when discussing this opera, and her deeply felt and subtle interpretation has become legendary. None of her recordings is altogether satisfactory, but all illuminate aspects of her genius: connoisseurs generally opt for one of two live recordings, one from Rome in 1955 (Myto), the other from Covent Garden in 1952 (Warner). The latter piquantly features the young Joan Sutherland in the small role of Clotilde, Norma’s servant.
Sutherland’s 1964 studio recording of the title role (with Marilyn Horne as Adalgisa) offers much viscerally exciting singing but, in comparison to Callas, her mushy diction irritates and her characterisation is limited (Decca). A more mature recording in 1984, with Pavarotti a stentorian Pollione, came after the glorious flexibility and shine of her voice had declined.
For sheer ravishing beauty, though, neither Callas nor Sutherland can match Montserrat Caballé in a recording made at the open-air Orange Festival in 1974 – a sublime performance that she considered the greatest of her career. Jon Vickers and Josephine Veasey provide powerful support as Pollione and Adalgisa and, despite the poor sound, this DVD offers an enthralling experience (INA).
An invigoratingly fresh approach to the opera, based on new musicological research and played on period instruments, can be found on a 2013 recording led by Cecilia Bartoli (Decca). On DVD, another striking modern interpretation of the title role comes from Sondra Radvanovsky, with Joyce Didonato and Joseph Calleja excelling as Adalgisa and Pollione, in a traditional production from the Met directed by David Mcvicar (The Metropolitan Opera).