The Art of the Reviewer - Part 2: Melbourne

When reading the Argus reviewer nothing comes to mind as strongly as Mr Collins of Pride and Prejudice expounding on the excellences and graces of Lady Catherine de Burgh: “Melba’s Desdemona, standing upon a level of uncommon beauty...” He uses sentence construction that was archaic even in 1924: “Surpassing fair and stately is Dame Nellie Melba’s Desdemona.” No encomium is too much: “It matters not to what age or to what country or to what peculiar dramatic quality song belongs; Melba is so great that she can entirely enfold it and make it her own, so that when she comes to express it, it loses nothing of its inherent nature and receives, in addition, the beauty of her vocal utterance and the extreme sensibility of her musical intelligence” (Argus 14/4/24, 10). Describing Rigoletto he achieves vapidity: “The famous quartet came out splendidly and finished thrillingly” (Argus 4/4/24, 12).

The Argus reviewer is in no doubt as to the high virtue of the artform. The opening night of the season proved that “there is a wide and discerning public for the things that really matter” (Argus 31/3/24 9-10). In Tosca, Puccini’s handling of Sardou’s sensational play demonstrated “the ennobling influence of music over dramatic material which is not altogether ennobling” (Argus 2/4/24, 20).

That comment is unusual; he does not have many kind words for many of the works presented by the company. His theme throughout the season seems to be “loathed the opera, loved the performance”. Lucia di Lammermoor is a work “as dead as any mutton, and would have been buried long ago but for the fact that it gives misguided prima donnas the opportunity to discharge quantities of vocal fireworks of a singularly distressing kind” (Argus 1/4/24, 12). “Responsible writers joined in a chorus of lamentation when La Sonnambula was resuscitated in London not long ago, and not without justification” (Argus 9/5/24, 18). Il Trovatore “affords a splendid test of good singing… and perhaps that is what retains it in the favour of the masses long after it has lost its appeal to the more fastidious.” (Argus 28/4/24, 10). He displays a disdain of the showy early Verdi, and prefers the more refined, musically “developed” later Verdi (Argus 14/4/24, 10). But even then Aida is not as quite as good as Otello and Falstaff, although “some good judges think that here, more than anywhere else, Verdi achieved that blend of self-assertion and self-effacement which alone enables true opera to be written…” (Argus 16/5/24, 12) Which makes it sound like good composing is a matter of etiquette and character rather than talent and technical skill.

The Age’s critic, on the other hand, expressed no extreme opinions about performers or works. His articles have the same restraint as today’s reviewers, albeit prompted by good taste rather than the possibility of legal action. He was capable of the subtle pointed remark; in a review of Aida he notes “the high notes the artist gave out in the ensemble were startling in their brilliant shrillness” (Age 16/5/24, 10).

His comments are incisive and short, rather than expansive and baroque; he does wax lyrical when describing Melba’s farewell performance, but that is excusable when you believe you are describing the end of an era (Age 14/10/24, 9).

Like the Argus critic he has a great knowledge of opera, but doesn’t expend it in criticisms of the works. He describes singers’ performances with attention to technique rather than hyperbole. He knows the traditions, but doesn’t hold them as inviolate – in fact he remarks positively on innovation:

Caro Nome probably proved an astonishment to many who have heard it
sung in galloping fashion, with the fioriture thrown off in bravoura style. Last
night it came out quietly and mostly softly. That is as the item should be. An
innocent girl does not, or should not, want to proclaim the name of her lover to
all and sundry. Especially if she happens to be Rigoletto’s daughter. (Age
4/4/24, 9)

He holds opera as highly as the Argus critic: “Melbourne is entitled to the gratification that may be derived from the knowledge that it has shown itself to be not indifferent to the higher form of entertainment”; and he refers to it as “music and story in the highest form.” (Age 21/5/24)

Although he is competent in describing the vocal characteristics of the performances, he seems more comfortable commenting on the plot or stage action. At times he focuses on the physical rather than the vocal aspects. At several points he concentrates on Toti dal Monte’s physical caharacterisation of her roles (Age 26/5/24, 10 and 16/6/24, 11); and after seeing Phyllis Archbold’s portrayal of Delilah he may have needed a good lie down:

The play she made with her arms was superb. As far as arms can they
played the technique of love to perfection. Samson was beyond question caught by
Delilah’s face and figure. That her voice played a big part in his ruin goes
without saying. But with those arms in the first act luring him on, gyrating in
lascivious motion, almost kissing his hard, roughened skin, one felt that, apart
form everything else he was doomed from the outset. When they got closer (in Act
II) they would round him like caressing snakes. And the way the artist let her
body sway in sympathy with her arms was astonishing. (Age 5/5/24, 11)

Quite.