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Registrado: 14 Jul 2007 10:33
Mensajes: 8710
Ubicación: Madrid
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 Goyescas es una Ópera en tres cuadros, de menos de una hora de duración, compuesta por Enrique Granados (1867 - 1916) en el año 1915, con libreto en español de Fernando Periquet (1873 - 1940) con melodías tomadas de su suite para piano del año 1911, también llamada Goyescas (subtitulada Los majos enamorados), inspirándose en los cartones para tapices de Goya, a quien admiraba profundamente (consideraba a Goya como "el genio representativo de España").  Goyescas fue estrenada en el Metropolitan Opera House de Nueva York, el 16 de enero de 1916, en programa doble con Pagliacci de Leoncavallo, con Giovanni Martinelli como Fernando y Giuseppe De Luca en el rol de Paquiro, casi nada al aparato. Se trata de la primera ópera en español representada en el MET, con cinco representaciones en su primera temporada. Primera y última, puesto que no volvió a representarse allí; bueno, ni allí ni en casi ningún otro sitio; no es, desde luego, Goyescas una ópera que se haya asentado nunca en el repertorio. Suele achacarse como explicación la endeblez del libreto, que es verdad que no es para tirar cohetes, pero no hay duda de que su música es maravillosa. Crónica del estreno en el New York Times, por Richard Aldrich (1863 – 1937). La verdad es que es magnífica, y creo que merece que la peguemos aquí: Review of Richard Aldrich in The New York Times
Another new opera was produced at the Metropolitan Opera House last evening, the second of the list of novelties for this season. It was "Goyescas," music by Enrique Granados, book by Fernando Periquet. The opera is Spanish in subject and treatment, and great emphasis has been put upon the fact, interesting, but not perhaps of vital or epoch-making importance, that it was sung in Spanish and is the first opera ever to be sung in that tongue in the Metropolitan Opera House. It did not appear that the audience was profoundly moved by that fact. What did appear was that the music apparently greatly pleased the first-night audience, in which the Spanish colony of New York was largely represented.
The Spanish colony most rarely has an opportunity to celebrate the success of a fellow countryman in opera, and took the fullest advantage of this one. There was ecstatic applause after each of the first two tableaux and more at the end of the opera. The singers were again and again recalled. Mr. Granados came frequently; Mr. Periquet came; Messrs. Setti, Spech and Bavagnoli came, and none was left unhonored. Vast wreaths were given the two authors of the opera, a bronze one to Mr. Granados. The applause on this occasion doubtless had much of the fictitious value of first-night applause, to which was added the element of national pride. But there seemed to be evidence to show that the brilliantly exotic little opera-it lasts hardly an hour- had really made an impression an the general public, and that it may turn out to have more than the transitory attraction of many new additions to the operatic list.
It has been amply made known that by the title, "Goyescas," the authors of this opera intend to denote that their characters are such as are to be found on the canvases of the great Spanish painter Goya, who delighted in the national types, both aristocratic and popular. Goya, according to James Huneker's characterization, was "picador, matador, banderillero by turns in the bull ring . . . reckless to insanity, he never feared king or devil, man or Inquisition." He reincarnated the renaissance of old Spain and its art, and as a painter was of diabolic virtuoso skill. It can only be after a manner of speaking that Goya is recalled to the spectators of this opera. The heroine, Rosario, may suggest some traits of the Duchess of Alba, who was closely connected with Goya's history. The "majas" and "majos," popular types, whom he painted frequently, make up the chorus that has much to do in this opera. Their diversion of tossing the "pelele," or stuffed manikin, which Goya represented, is one of the picturesque details of the first tableau. The toreador, Paquiro, the young officer, Fernando, can hardly be claimed as peculiar to Goya or to this opera.
There is no question that the opera is intensely Spanish in its whole texture and feeling; that it is charged with the atmosphere of the country and vibrates through and through with the musical quality of Spain as does no other opera and no other music that has been heard here. The music is Spanish, coming from the brain and heart of a real Spaniard. Spanish music has occupied a curious place since the exploitation of nationalism in music first began, well along in the nineteenth century. Composers of other nationalities have been enamored of Spanish rhythms, Spanish melodic traits, Spanish musical color; Frenchmen, Germans, Italians, Norwegians, Hungarians, Poles and Russians have long found pleasure in utilizing these materials either in transcriptions or in original compositions based on what they have been able to assimilate of Spanish music. But how many Spanish musicians have there been, of cosmopolitan standing, known beyond the confines of the Pyrenees, who have done for their native music what Chopin, Liszt, Grieg, Dvorák, the neo-Russians, have done for theirs? Sarasate did something of the sort in the elegant manner of a virtuoso. Isaac Albéniz did something in a more poetical, more suggestive style, though he saw his native land through the veil of the modern Frenchman. Beyond these two it would be hard to name any Spanish musician who has interpreted Spain for the rest of the world till Mr. Granados came with this full-blooded, passionate utterance, sometimes stirring in its characteristic rhythms and frank melody, sometimes languorous, poetical, profoundly pathetic, subtly suggestive.
The Spain that is embodied in his music is authentic. And yet possessing as it does an intensely national color, what he has written is a personal, individual expression. Nor does he fall into the easy commonplaces to which Spanish tunes and rhythms are so often a tempting invitation. There is here something deeper, more profoundly felt. The Spain that is pictured in "Goyescas" is something very different from the "hot night disturbed by a guitar" that has been ironically said to be the sum and substance of Spain in music. Mr. Granados has a rich and unconventional harmonic feeling, though he does not follow those who are most conspicuous in the exploitation of "modern" harmony. His harmonic scheme is elaborate, and gives a peculiar distinction, warmth and brilliancy to his style. This music has a haunting power. It would be too much to say that the opera is a great contribution to modern art, or even that it approaches greatness; but it is genuine and vital.
The dramatic quality of "Goyescas" is not of outstanding value. The drama is scarcely more than a sketch; there is little action; the development of motive is inadequate, hardly more than indicated. The high-born lady Rosario with her high-born lover, Fernando, appears in the midst of the crowd of majos and majas. The toreador, Paquiro, speaks a few words to her, reminding her of a common ball she once attended, inviting her to go again. Fernando's jealousy is aroused; he tells her that she must go again and with him. Why, and why all the uneasiness, anxiety and despair over it? The high-born couple go to the ball, with what the assembled company considers extraordinary daring. There is considerable talk about rivalry, for which Rosario has given no ground, about valor; and then there is a challenge, though for what reason cooler spirits of the North have difficulty in discerning. In the final tableaux Fernando takes his farewell of Rosario, rushes out to the duel behind the scene, is mortally wounded, returns and dies in his sweetheart's arms. The principal figures of this brief tale have little individuality; they are operatic lovers and little more. The life they have they derive from the vitality of Mr. Granados's music.
There is a short and lively overture. The [first] scene is of surpassing brilliancy; the gathering of people sings the joy of a holiday in Madrid, in a chorus of great tunefulness and verve to which the orchestra adds a brilliant figuration. Mr. Granados leans heavily on the chorus all through the opera, and writes for it with skill and effectiveness. The highly spirited chorus now changes into a welcome' for Pepa, arriving in her dog cart; there is a new rhythmic impulse quite as irresistible as the preceding. There is characteristically insinuating Spanish melody-clinging a little to the Rosalien that perhaps are part of its nature-in the scene where the high-born lady arrives seeking her lover. This is indeed based on a Tonadilla, a popular song. The music of this scene is a remarkable tour de force in vivid color, rapid movement, and vivacious expression.
The intermezzo that preceded the next tableau is an interesting piece of orchestral writing, in which the composer has ingeniously made use of some of his most characteristic tunes with changed rhythms in transformations and combinations. It leads directly to the strongly rhythmed galliard with its insistent triplet figure that they are dancing in the "Baile de Candil," the "lantern-lighted ball," the subject of so much uneasiness, the scene of a rather obscure insult and the ensuing challenge. Here is more local color piled thick, in the dance music and the swinging choruses. The declamatory passages in which Rosario, Paquiro, Fernando and Pepa participate are skillfully treated, accompanied as they are by the constant pulse of the orchestra in the dance rhythm, interrupted only for a time, to close with a still more strongly marked finale, with a mocking solo by one of the men above the chorus and the dancing, in which now the fandango is performed.
It leads into an interlude, which prepares for a very different mood in the last tableau. Rosario is sitting in the garden of her villa and listens to the nightingale, whose song suggests to her pensive reveries about love. The long and sustained air is of beautiful musical quality, certain of its phrases being of much sweeping grace and poignancy. Fernando comes; and the same mood is continued in the succeeding love duet, similar in its general character. There is the brief interruption of the duel, and then Fernando comes back to die. The utterance of the two lovers rises to an impassioned climax, and the end comes in the orchestra breathing a pianissimo. Much of the music of the opera is already familiar to concert-goers of New York, though perhaps not to a large proportion of the opera-goers, through the performance by Ernest Schelling and the composer himself of the pianoforte transcriptions that Mr. Granados has also entitled "Goyescas."
It may be doubted whether the performance of this brilliant and intensely colored little work realizes all that it might be made to yield. It is difficult in certain parts, notably the chorus. The chorus sings its music in many ways admirably, with precision, elasticity, and vigor; and its contribution was one of the most enjoyable features of the performance. There might be question whether a conductor of more subtlety and authority than Mr. Bavagnoli, one who bad gained a more definite and secure knowledge of the score, might not penetrate deeper into its essence, bring out certain finer features; gain something in delicacy and intensity in the orchestra as well as in the choruses, not sacrificing so much to rhythmic swing and sonorities, but securing these without boisterousness and main strength.
The four chief parts were presented competently, in certain aspects admirably, last evening, though not always with the greatest distinction. For the heroine Rosario, Miss Anna Fitziu was engaged, a newcomer to the Metropolitan Opera House. She is in face, figure and personal presence not conspicuously fitted to portray the aristocratic Spanish lady. She showed sufficient familiarity with stage routine, however, and presented a figure at least plausible. Her voice is not notable for warmth or expressiveness; but there were some passages that she sang with success, especially in the last tableau, in her song to the nightingale and her duet with Fernando.
Mr. Martinelli made the best of a part not very intelligently defined in a dramatic sense by the librettist, and sang with fervor. Mr. de Luca imparted a characteristic note to his impersonation of the toreador, Paquiro, and did some praiseworthy singing. Pepa, represented by Mme. Perini, emerges but for a few moments into conspicuousness. She gave a proper spirit to the popular maja, though her singing left something to be desired in beauty of tone and vocalization. None of the singers who took part in this production, singing in Spanish, is a Spaniard; wherefore the perfection of the Spanish accent and diction cannot be guaranteed. It is said that some of it, notably Miss Fitziu's, was not bad. The dancing of Rosina Galli and Giuseppe Bonfiglio in the galliard and the fandango had an immense gusto and allurement.
The management bas done more for the stage setting of this opera than it has for some other of the recent productions. The first scene, representing a popular gathering place on the outskirts of Madrid, is picturesque. There is a suggestion of Lillias-Pastià's well known establishment in the setting of the "lantern-lighted ball." The villa with the garden in the moonlight and the dark row of trees is exceptionally well designed and executed. The opportunity for Spanish costuming was properly availed of. Personajes: Rosario: dama de alta cuna. Soprano. Fernando: joven oficial de la Guardia Real, su amante. Tenor. Paquiro: un torero. Barítono. Pepa: joven tonadillera, novia de Paquiro. Mezzosoprano. Estructura de la obra: Cuadro primero, Pradera de la Florida: 1. Escena 1ª. Paquiro y coro “El pelele”. 2. Escena 2ª. Pepa, Paquiro y coro “La calesa”. 3. Escena 3ª. Rosario, Pepa, Fernando, Paquiro y coro “Los requiebros”. 4. Intermedio. Cuadro segundo, El baile del Candil: 5. Escenas 1ª y 2ª. Rosario, Pepa, Fernando, Paquiro y coro. 6. Final del cuadro segundo. Coro “Fandango del candil”. Cuadro tercero: 7. Interludio. 8. Escena 1ª. Rosario “La maja y el ruiseñor”. 9. Escena 2ª. Rosario y Fernando “Dúo de amor en la reja” 10. Final de la obra, Rosario y Fernando “El amor y la muerte”.  La ópera comienza con una escena llena de luz y color en la Pradera de la Florida, con la Iglesia de San Antonio al fondo, y el río Manzanares a la izquierda; manolas y chisperos mantean un pelele. Paquiro, el matador de toros, se pavonea entre el gentío, dedicando piropos a las majas. Llega Pepa, la novia de Paquiro, en su calesa, siendo recibida con gran algazara. Al poco aparece Rosario, dama de alta cuna, en su litera, acompañada de sus lacayos. Rosario viene a la Pradera para encontrarse con su amante, don Fernando, capitán de la Guardia Real. Paquiro se dirige a Rosario indicándola que va a asistir de nuevo al popular «Baile del Candil», y que le gustaría volver a ir allí con ella. Fernando lo escucha, se encara con el torero y dice que Rosario asistirá sin duda al baile, pero lo hará con él. Pepa, por su parte, molesta, y sintiéndose, con razón, en un segundo plano, promete vengarse de Rosario.  El segundo cuadro presenta la escena del «Baile del Candil»; Rosario aparece del brazo de Fernando, cuyo comportamiento arrogante produce rechazo en el pueblo. Pepa, por su parte, se dirige a él con varias indirectas. Rosario y Pepa se exaltan cada vez más, terminando Paquiro y los majos por abalanzarse sobre Fernando. Rosario se desmaya y Fernando y Paquiro se retan a duelo esa noche a las diez, en un lugar próximo al Palacio de Rosario. Ésta se repone de su soponcio y se retira del baile, acompañada por Fernando. La muchedumbre reanuda sus interrumpidos festejos, sonando el célebre fandango. .jpg/215px-El_Quitasol_(Goya).jpg) El cuadro tercero representa el jardín de la residencia de Rosario, con una frondosa arboleda, viéndose una verja en el fondo. Rosario aparece sentada sobre un banco de piedra escuchando el canto de un ruiseñor al que acompaña con una apasionada canción de amor (la maja y el ruiseñor). Luego se dirige lentamente al interior de la residencia y reaparece asomada a una de las ventanas, en donde Fernando la contempla. Apasionado dúo, lleno de amor y ternura, durante el cual suena la campana que señala la hora fatal del duelo entre el oficial y el torero. Paquiro llega embozado en su capa y hace señas a Fernando, sin que se aperciba Rosario. Fernando abandona a Rosario y sale en pos de Paquiro. Rosario, que sospecha algo grave, le suplica que se quede junto a ella. No lo consigue. Sale corriendo detrás de ambos hombres, escuchando un grito de dolor. Llega tarde. Fernando ha sido malherido por Paquiro. Se acerca a él y consigue llevarlo a un banco del jardín. Fernando muere entre sus brazos.  La versión que he escuchado en primer lugar es la siguiente, disponible en youtube: Orquesta Ciutat de Barcelona (OCB) García Navarro, director Ana María González, soprano Manuel Cid, tenor Alicia Nafé, mezzo Pablo Elvira, barítono María de los Ángeles Miró, soprano, solista en el fandango del candil. Coral Càrmina (dir: Josep Vila) Palau de la Música Catalana Barcelona, 1992 No se entiende prácticamente nada de lo que cantan, sobre todo al coro y a la soprano, y el tenor, Cid, me ha parecido insufrible, la verdad, tremendamente apurado y con una clara tendencia al berreo. De las pocas veces en que he deseado que el rol del tenor fuera más breve ... Las féminas bien y bastante bien también el puertorriqueño Elvira, aunque ya no estaba entonces para muchos trotes. Después he escuchado otra versión, disponible en el espotifí. Goyescas - Enrique Granados, Gianandrea Noseda (1997) Rosario: Carmen González Fernando: Josep Ruiz Paquiro: Alfonso Echevarría Pepa: Maite Arruabarrena Orquesta: Orquesta de Cadaqués Coro: Coral de Bilbao Grabación en directo realizada en el Auditorio Enric Granados de Lérida con motivo de la inauguración de los actos conmemorativos del 700 Aniversario de la Universidad de Lérida, los días 21 y 22 de abril de 1997. Comparado con Cid, Josep Ruiz parece Pavarotti. Echevarría muy flojito. González y Arruabarrena bien. Sorprendentemente se entiende bastante lo que cantan,  . También está disponible en el espoti una tercera versión, que no he escuchado completa aún. Sólo un par de veces el dúo de Fernando y Rosario para ver qué tal sonaba el coreano Yikun Chung. Pues oye, bastante bien. Cantando más que ladrando, y en español además, . Goyescas -Enrique Granados- Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos (2001) Rosario: Raffaella Angeletti Fernando: Yikun Chung Paquiro: David Damiani Pepa: Francesca Franci Orquesta: Teatro Lirico di Cagliari Coro: Teatro Lirico di Cagliari Grabado en directo De esta obra y de su magnífico intermedio nos habló Loge excelentemente aquí. Interludio, que mola también. La maja y el ruiseñor, en la voz maravillosa de Victoria de los Ángeles. Partitura. En las manos de una mujer, el hombre no es más que un pelele.
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