THE MUSICAL WORLD

Dominion, Volume 28, Issue 92, 12 January 1935, Page 19

THE MUSICAL WORLD

(By

“C.J.M.”)

Opera in Rio de Japiero. "F Sharp,” writing'in “The Gramophone,” gives an entertaining description of grand opera in Rio de Janiero. "An opera house seems almost redundant in Rio, which is in itself grand opera on a stupendous scale,” she says. "The tropic of Capricorn and humdrum are not compatible It is surely unusual to drive out of a city that reminds you. if it reminds you of anything else at all, of Paris, and to find yourself ten minutes later in the strange disturbing silence of the jungle. And that Atlantic Ocean with its terrific under-tow and its deafening crash of surf along five miles of sea trout which stretches in beautiful curves — Botafogo, Flamengo, Copacabana —all paved with white marble, and the white sand patterned with sun bathers. There is no such thing as sunstroke, but scarcely a week goes by without a spectacular drowning, in spite of look-out men, rescue boats ami lifebelts. And what, could be more dramatic than the gigantic figure of Christo RedempTor, set on Corcovado, the highest peak of a bewildering jumble of mountains, which are like the dream of a scene painter gone mad? Flood-lit at night, this statue, with arms outstretched, glows up in the sky, a beacon for sailors far out at sea.

Going to the opera is driving through opera. The chorus sits about in gay little cafes, wanders round pleasure gardens charmingly lit, where coloured fountains send up an iridescent spume, and tropical plants with unbelievable foliage fill the air with warm scents. The scene is always set for the principals to come on.

The first opera I saw at the Municipal Theatre was “Walkure.” Here was Fritz Busch, and Teschemacher was playing Sleglinde. Ella de Nemethy as Bruuuhilde, Karin Branzell as Fricka, Walter Grossmann as Wotan. Kipnis as Hunding and Pistor as Siegmund, made up the distinguished cast. "Tristan” and “Walkure” were , the only Wagnerian productions of the season; the rest was entirely devoted to Italian works, with the exception of Mozart’s “Cosi fan Tutti” and “Maria Tudor,” by the Brazilian Carlos Gomez, which was the only other performance I was able to see. This work was considered suitable for the gala show on September 7, Independence Day. The President was greeted with the rollicking National Anthem, and there was a scintillation of Brazilian diamonds as the vast audience rose to its feet. The opera house itself is the most beautiful I have ever seen. It had just been re-decorated in a simple scheme of cream and gold, so newly painted that I still have a cream tip to one of my shoes. A whole row of boxes have now been demolished to make two thousand extra seats which are always full. Between the acts the audience moves picturesquely through halls of many coloured marble, which was brought from Italy, though there is plenty to be found in Brazil. No woman smokes in the entraete (except in the little foyer of her box). Curious how this fact adds to the dignity of such an assembly. “Maria Tudor” was composed tor England, who has yet to see it. It lias little relation to history, and the theme is the love of a peasant girl for a young workman whose head has been turned by the attentions of the Queen. AU ends fairly happily after a remarkable scene in the Tower of London, in which Gina Cigna as Queen Mary and Ebe Stignani as the peasant girl give an astonishing display of vocalism and dramatic power. The work is immensely long, definitely a singers opera, and perhaps the most appropriate finale to a week’s stay at Rlo> extravagantly colourful and shaped as wildly as those mad mountains, Corcovado, Tljuca, and the five “Fingers of God”! Venerable Glee Club.

Twice a month during every winter since the days of the Great Fire of London, 1666, a club has met in the City. Its title, since the middle of the 19th century, has been the City Glee Club, but in the time of Mr. Samuel Pepys, that ardent lover of good music and a convivial “sing-song,” it was known as the Civil Club, and it is more than likely that Mr. Pepys himself raised his voice at its gatherings Right up to these days of mechanical entertainment the club has remained true to the traditions of 1666, when it was founded by a group of City burghers who rejoiced in good voices and liked to exercise them in jovial company

To-day its place of meeting is the London Tavern, iu Fenchurcli Street, where on the first and third Tuesdays of each month throughout the winter a group of City solicitors, shipping clerks, and men in banking and commercial bouses come together to spend a couple of hours singing the rousing glees and madrigals of old England.

Mr. J. A. Brown, of Westcliff-on-Seu, who is in a City shipping olfice and is one of the club’s past presidents, recently told a correspondent of the “Daily Mail” something of its activities. “Just a.s the original members did, wo meet together to sing solely lor our own amusement,” he said. "The club has about 200 members, all City men, but the average attendance is 100.

“We have a high musical tradition, for during generations our singing has been led by a special professional staff drawn from the choirs of the Chapel Royal, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul’s Cathedral, and St. George’s, Windsor. The staff numbers 12. We never give a public entertainment, and we admit on only one night a year, the occasion of the club’s annual dinner. “Each member is entitled to bring two guests to meetings of the club, and they tire our sole audience, if one can ■ use that expression, for. as I said, we i eally *ing only for our own enjoyment. Nevertheless, we have to pay t ntertainmem tax. Each member pays a subscription of £l/11/6 a year. | out of which 6/10 is paid in enter- : tainment tax. and we rather resent Laving to pay that tax 1 “The Lord Mayor of London is al- j ways the honorary president of the i (lub. and once every year he pays it ! an official visit. Some famous singers have belonged io tie club, notably I Sims Reeves, who more or less began i bis career as a member.” Sydney and Opera. Writing of Sydney's reaction to the Fuller opern season at the Tivoli Theatre, the musical editor of . the “Sydney Morning Ilernld” passes some interesting comments. Opern. ho says, is not the sort of thing one “drops in” fo see, as one drops into the pictures | for an hour or two as a relaxation from < business in the city. It is something much more vital and ambitious than . that. It must be taken seriously or not nt all. But to take it seriously does not I mean to regard it as a duty. That is a mistake which has been made in a good many speeches and printed articles that appeared before the season opened. People are urged to go to the opera tor the good of their souls. Opera means

culture, they were told. If the present season failed, following .on the boxofiice disasters in Melbourne, opera would not be heard again in Sydney for a generation. It was, therefore, meet that musical enthusiasts should rally round Sir Benjamin Fuller and his singers as though they were conducting a crusade.

All this was very praiseworthy; but it was bad psychology. If there is only one thing above all others which rouses the passive resistance of Sydney’s population, it is being asked to take part in an artistic crusade. Not one person in a hundred goes to the opera out of a sense of cultural duty. (Social obligation and fashion are quite other things. They enter into all branches of the flrts). Nor is it desirable that peo- , pie should sit through operas solely iu ■ order to uphold culture, and to assist Sir Benjamin Fuller financially iu his courageous enterprise. The real reason why people should flock to the Tivoli Theatre is because they will enjoy themselves so much when they get there. Admirers of Cecil B. de Mille who have been excited by the spectacle in “Cleopatra” will see something more genuinely spectacular in “Tannhauser” and “Aida”; and the effect on the stage is enhanced by brilliant colour, which as yet is denied to Mr. de Mille. Picturegoers who have been entranced by Grace Moore singing her snippets from “Madame Butterfly” in “One Night of Love” will find that the shadows pale into insignificance‘ beside the reality of music and acting which clothes "Madame Butterfly” on the Tivoli stage. There is too much talk about the cultural side of opera—to great a reverence for the dry bones of tradition as exemplified in the widespread demand among musicians that operas should be sung in foreign tongues. (During last century the foreign fetish reached such proportions that English composers had to have their works performed in London with Italian texts). Even the prefix “grand” which is placed before the word “opera” has a spice of absurd pretentiousness about it. Not until the plain man takes opera, to his heart and regards it simply as a more serious and worthy form of the musical comedies which so delgiht him at present. can opera really become a permanent institution in this country. The season at the Tivoli Theatre is a magnificent beginning. Sung in English, it can be understood and appreciated by everybody.