The reviewer for the Sydney Morning Herald is an old hand - he quotes his own review of Musgrove’s production of Faust in Sydney in Dec 1900-Jan 1901 (SMH 17/7/24, 10). His knowledge of opera is deep and wide, and he has similar biases to those we have seen. His articles are marked by a conscious effort to place the Melba season in the context of Australian and world opera, but he never makes excuses about production standards.
He can be flowery: Madama Butterfly has “wonderfully dramatic passages that spring upward like a pyramid of fire, and expire again like a flash of summer lightning” (SMH 10/7/24). At his worst he breaks into poetry but without the fulsomeness of the Argus reviewer. Of Toti dal Monte’s Lucia he writes, “To the apothegm ‘Old wood to burn! Old wine to drink! Old friends to trust! Old authors to read!’ must now be added, at any rate when a Dal Monte warbles, ‘Old operas to draw!’” (SMH 24/6/24, 9)
But his feet are well-planted on the ground, in his knowledge of the works, the singers and performance practices. Rather than using his knowledge to show off he uses it to contextualize the performance. A good example of his approach is review of the Tosca of 24th June 1924. He opens by applauding Tosca as an example of “the realistic music drama of the present day”. He makes a detailed comparison of the libretto with the play by Sardou, and quotes (in French) critics of the original play. He also makes connections between this performance and the 1911 Melba tour, Mary Garden’s portrayal in Chicago, and Sarah Bernhardt’s 1891 Sydney performances of the play. In his description of the performance he pays close attention to the score and libretto: “A swift change in the music to an ‘alegretto grazioso’ of rare and vivacious sweetness then ushers in the stout and bustling Sacristan, a comically, because unconsciously, irreverent piece of commonplace humanity presented with a wonderful multiplicity of perfectly natural but intensely funny detail by Gaetano Azzolini.” (SMH 25/6/24, 13-14)
The Herald reviewer has his biases but is not as sniffy as the Argus writer. Like the latter, he does not like Donizetti, but concedes that his music may give pleasure “provided that the critical is suspended as to its style as a whole for tragic purposes.” (He then bolsters this by quoting Percy Grainger on the need to accept the style of a work’s period.) (SMH 24/6/24, 9) And his opinions can be a little out of date: he refers to La Boheme as “still intensely modern”, in an era which saw Elektra and Wozzeck (SMH 27/6/24, 16). He has little time for one particular segment of the audience: “The audience was composed of the usual ‘first-nighters…” (SMH 10/7/24) is a regular comment. “Numbers of the regular ‘first-nighters’ forsook the opera last night for the polo ball, but this apparently did not affect the attendance…” (SMH 4/7/24, 10)
He holds a high view of opera. In the Tosca review discussed earlier he notes the difficulty in horrifying audiences with scenes of torture: “Music seemingly refuses to lend itself either to the impure or the horrible, whilst readily embodying the aesthetically passionate, the majestic, the pathetic, and the sentimental emotions” (SMH 25/6/24, 13-14). But comments like this are rare. Rather than eulogizing high art, he focuses on practical matters. He takes a shot at the caricature of the average theatergoer, wanting realistic representation and not willing to accept, or unaccustomed to, the compromises inherent in operatic production “The average theatergoer is so unreasonable in his expectations that he may be warned that the Melba Opera Company, not being a circus, does not carry about with it a giant. If such a person were found for the role of Samson the same class of every-day critic would surely remark, 'But he can’t sing!'” (SMH 27/6/24, 16)
He often comments on audience behaviour, revealing something of the audience etiquette of the time. He refers to “the modern code of ‘good form’ which rejects the display of emotion” (SMH 10/7/24). Of a performance of Samson and Delilah he notes “Perfect silence was preserved throughout the opera…”[1] (SMH 30/6/24, 12), and on Carmen wrote “Although a grand opera audience is expected to preserve perfect silence during the action of the work, many of those present on Saturday were unable to control their feelings, and they vigorously applauded at the conclusion of several of the better-known airs.” (SMH 7/7/24, 10)
Like all good journos, he can’t resist a good story. Here he describes Australian tenor Alfred O’Shea’s performance of ‘Che gelida manina’ in La Boheme:
There was, however, a mild outbreak of clapping when Rodolfo
reached the close of the “raccanto,” and someone called “Good shot!” in
penetrating tones from the back of the circle. Both the applause and the vocal
appreciation were immediately hushed down by the more cultivated section of the
audience, but the atmosphere of the audience had been shattered, and not until
Melba launched into “Mi chiamano Mimi” was it recreated. (SMH 27/6/24, 16)
[1] Which IMO is the best way to perform that particular work.
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