I have now given the Opera Rara ‘Don Carlos’ a proper listen and made a few notes and comparisons on the recording. Alongside the new Matheson set, I listened to extracts from the La Scala/ Abbado and Paris/ Pappano sets. As the opera unfolded, I became increasingly frustrated/ disappointed at how random those two sets are, compared to the Matheson, in terms of which version to use in different scenes. With the Opera Rara issue, you get absolutely everything Verdi composed for ‘Don Carlos’ prior to its first performance, even the material he cut after the rehearsals because the performances would have gone on well after midnight.

In Act I, the ‘Fontainebleu’ act, we have the opening orchestral prelude and a ten minute choral scene, which Abbado has as an appendix; Pappano only has the revised two/three minute episode before Carlos arrives. The Carlos of André Turp seems ideal; Domingo for Abbado has, for me, too heroic a timbre for the role. Alagna, for Pappano, has a better suited tone, but almost seems too earnest in ‘Je l’ai vue’. Turp and Edith Tremblay, Elisabeth, duet well together in a reading more urgent than on the rival sets.

In the opening of Act II we hear the Monk of Robert Lloyd, sounding much more impressive than either of his counterparts. When Posa arrives, he has a short solo, ‘Pour ce noble pays’, which only appears on the Pappano set. Abbado’s choice of version for this Posa-Carlos scene is Verdi’s final revision, familiar from any Italian version of the opera; Nucci sounds bland, as a few of us have previously commented – when trying to induce drama, he invariably sounds hectoring in a Dietrich Fischer-Diskau manner. André Turp and Robert Savoie begin the famous part of the duet with beautifully hushed tones.

There are big changes in the famous Philippe-Posa duet. Posa’s ‘Pour mon pays’, also in the Pappano, is a short, French-style march describing the conditions in Flanders. The cabaletta is different too. At this point, Pappano switches to the 1884 revision and has Posa’s familiar appeal to the king, and Philippe’s sinister warnings about the Inquisition. The original version of the duet is more lyrical in style, but ultimately less effective.

In Act III, we have the original chorus and scene between Elisabeth and Eboli, where they swap masks so the queen can go and pray. Abbado has this scene in an appendix, Pappano has a shortened version, minus a verse. The ballet, ‘La Pelegrina’ follows in full. The BBC Singers do a good job at the auto-da-fé, which Verdi didn’t revise at all.

Act IV opens with Philippe’s famous aria ‘Elle ne m’aime pas’/ ‘Ella giammai m’amo’. This made for interesting listening. When I saw the WNO version, I remember being surprised that the opening cello theme was played not by a solo cello, but by a group. Matheson and Abbado also have the cellos playing, with only Pappano opting for solo cello. Julian Budden, in his authoritative three volume ‘The Operas of Verdi’, refers only to solo cello, so I wonder why the different options conductors have taken? I don’t have a score, but wonder if Verdi is ambiguous in his choice of instrumentation. Joseph Rouleau is not a larger than life, imposing Philippe, in the manner of a Boris Christoff (but then, who is?!) but is totally in the role and conveys the introspective side of the character well. I rather like José Van Dam, for Pappano, here, for the world-weary, broken man Philippe appears to have become by this point. Richard Van Allan is a superb inquisitor and matches Rouleau blow for blow. I prefer it to the Ruggero Raimondi/ Nicolai Ghiaurov combination for Abbado, who were better, I felt, in the reverse roles for Karajan’s recording of the four act Italian version.

When Elisabeth rushes in, claiming her jewel casket has been stolen, her short solo in different to what we are used to, appearing on neither rival set. The original version of the quartet is very different – Philippe’s opening phrases and Eboli’s verse are entirely different, whilst Posa’s and Elisabeth’s will be familiar. The quartet goes in an entirely different direction and is much more florid. I can’t help feeling that the revision Verdi made is more successful and concise.

The duet between Elisabeth and Eboli, on Abbado as an appendix, is almost entirely missed out by Pappano. In this version, Eboli explains not only that she loves Carlos, but that she’s committed adultery with the king. In this version, it is Lerma, and not the queen, who comes to take Eboli’s cross and gives her the choice between exile and a nunnery.

The Eboli of Michelle Vilma is pleasant without having the knock-out punch in ‘Ô don fatal’ of a Cossotto or a Baltsa. Neither Lucia Valentini-Terrani or Waltraud Meier are anywhere near being in that league and are not as comfortable in the role as Vilma.

Matheson has the original duet for Carlos and Philippe after Posa has been killed, which Verdi later used in the Lacrymosa of the Requiem. I think this is the best music Verdi discarded in later revisions; it’s the only time father and son really get to sing together. Rouleau and Turp perform well here. There is a short expansion in the Insurrection scene beyond what Pappano gives us, and doesn’t appear at all in Abbado – there are extra lines for Philippe and Elisabeth to sing as Eboli and the mob arrive.

Edith Tremblay is in impressive form in ‘Toi qui sus le néant des grandeurs de ce monde’. Act V has the full version of the finale, which often sounds quite perfunctory in the revised version, almost as if Verdi were in an exam and the invigilator announced ‘five minutes to go – make sure you finish’! This expanded finale appears in the appendix for Abbado, but not on Pappano’s version at all.

The performance was recorded in front of ‘an invited audience’ at the Camden Theatre; they must have been quite selective because, from the sound of the applause, there weren’t a huge number of people there. The acoustic is a little more reverberant than I would like, though not enough to spoil my enjoyment at all.

I thoroughly enjoyed Matheson’s Opera Rara performance and no Verdian should be without it, as it contains all of Verdi’s original ideas. I wouldn’t recommend it as a listener’s sole version, as many of those ideas were improved upon in later versions, but I think it represents a more satisfying solution that either Abbado or Pappano, whose choices vary erratically, at times, between different revisions of the score, almost as if they can’t make up their minds what they want to be. All the singers, native and non-native, seem comfortable in their French diction and well suited to their respective roles. Definitely a set to sit back and revel in, I think. Hope this has been a useful retrospective.

[Hope we haven't gone too far off-topic, Don B. Perhaps the mods might want to move this to a new Don Carlo(s) thread??]