DON PASQUALE & MR MORGAN
A first visit to see an opera is a make or break experience and so, luckily for me, I slept through the first one, a largely forgettable (at least to my young 12 year old mind) Barber of Seville staged by the Welsh National Opera. Perhaps if I had stayed awake through the entire thing I might have been put off the form for life, just like my father was, who found even sleep couldn't save him from the trial of endurance that is watching a Rossini opera. Even to this day I myself haven't quite managed to appreciate or fully understand the allure of Rossini.
Donizetti however is an entirely different matter as was my second visit to the opera to see his Don Pasquale.
English Touring Opera were performing nearby at Cheltenham's Everyman Theatre and my father's long standing friend and business partner Mr Morgan had a sense I might be interested in attending with him. What was it that gave the impression that I might be interested? Possibly my natural curiosity at almost all things cultural which he would have observed on the many, many occasions we'd talked previously.
I rememer the distinct smell of petrol in the air whilst in the company of Mr Morgan back then who has always had a penchant for racing bikes, vintage motorcycles and classic cars along with legendary opera recordings. For some reason, all these things now seem related. Gobbi, Callas, bike chains and gasoline are a most potent fusion when mixed together to create ambiance.
Living in a neo-Gothic convent, Mr Morgan, like Gorodish, wouldn't seem out of place in a French movie from the early 1980's himself, plus one of the great things about going to an opera or cultural event of any description with Mr Morgan back when I was younger was the mode of transport he deployed for our outings. A Citroën DS that looked like something out of a Jean Pierre Melville movie only enhanced the sense of drama and adventure on our way to our planned destinations.
I can remember many occasions, hurtling down to Cardiff, Bristol or London in the Citroën whilst playing Verdi's La Forza at full blast whilst the car moved like a rocket down the motorway into the city. It was pretty iconic and appealed very much to my cinematic sensibility.
There was also something special for me about attending an event such as a play or an opera on a school night. It lent itself well to my natural inclination towards feeling justifably/unjustifiably superior to my classmates and teachers the following day at school, an obnoxious trait, I know. Some may have boasted of seeing Michael Jackson at Wembley, whereas I would boast instead of having watched Johnny Coppin at the Gloucester Guildhall or Don Pasquale at the Cheltenham Everyman.
As I alluded to earlier, first impressions are important and as I gazed upon the 1950's looking set for Don Pasquale I found my assumptions of staged opera as I had previously imagined it challenged by seeing a relatively updated setting for an almost 200 year old opera. This seemed much cooler than the puffy-wigged Barber I'd slept through previously.
Somehow this "modern" interpretation of Don Pasquale made it seem more accessible to my young mind and it reminded me of many of those old Hollywood movies I'd watched after school on BBC2, including, for some reason Elvis Presley's Blue Hawaii and Fred Astaire's You Were Never Lovelier.
It also had an outdoor swimming pool as part of the set, or at least the impression of one and so yet again with my aqua-visual obsession, I was further drawn into this, my second experience of a live opera.
From the razor sharp overture to the initial exchanges between the elderly bachelor Don Pasquale and his consigliere Dr Malatesta, there was an irresistible jauntiness to the music and a flow to the ensuing scenes that it was hard not to be taken in by. As act 2 began, I instantly recognised a mournful Nino Rota like trumpet solo bookended by the rousing quartet Ah E Rimasto that became etched into my heart immediately. Highlight after highlight continued into act 3 with the famous Sillabato duet of the two basses followed by Ernesto's lilting aria Com' É Gentil delivered in a style reminiscent of Ricky Nelson or Dean Martin under Norina's balcony and finally concluding with the sublime duet between the tenor and soprano Tornami A Dir.
After it was all over, I felt a sense of elation unrivalled in my young life up until then, with the possible exception of when I'd watched Superman IV : The Quest For Peace at the cinema which I can barely remember now. I insisted to Mr Morgan that we go see Signor Pasquale again, which we duly did a few weeks later in Bath where the ETO were headed to next on their tour. Thankfully, he was just as ecstastic about the production as I was and thus marked the beginning of many excurisons to the opera and other cultural events we shared and continue to share together.
I firmly believe that it was this seminal experience at the opera which struck me at the perfect moment in my life, with the exact same precision as that iconic apple split in half by William Tell's arrow.
Further more, Mr Morgan lent me his cassette copy of Tito Shipa's famous 1932 recording of Don Pasquale with conductor Carlo Sabajno. Late at night, I would lie in bed listening to this crackly old recording, trying to visualise the incredible production I'd so enjoyed at the Everyman. It wasn't conceit or pretentiousness that compelled me to listen to ancient opera recordings but genuine love for the music of Gaetano Donizetti who remains to this day a fond, eccentric member of my curated genius circle.
So I must thank Mr Morgan for introducing me to this greatest (in my estimation) of art forms and his continued sharing with me of countless occasions of sublime evenings in the opera house and, more recently, in the cinema watching live broadcasts and home viewings on DVD and Blu-Ray.
To paraphrase another Maximus, the treasures we share in this life echoes in eternity.
Happy Birthday Keith!
28th March 2022