Witty, fun, intoxicating film of Johann Strauss II's popular operetta, based on a stage production from Vienna State Opera; this is a showcase for the entire cast, but most especially Eberhard Wächter as the insufferably boorish Gabriel Eisenstein, and Gundula Janowitz as his long-suffering wife. Open the champagne, have yourself some torte, and enjoy this delectable comedy from Vienna.
The gypsy Azucena (Fiorenza Cossotto) takes revenge for her mother who was accused of putting a curse on one of the old Count di Luna's two sons: she decides to abduct the younger child and throw it in the flames. But when she is about to carry out this fatal act, the gypsy sacrifices her own child and keeps the old Count’s son, whom she names Manrico (IL TROVATORE, Plácido Domingo). Later, as adults, the troubadour Manrico and the Count di Luna’s elder son (Piero Cappucilli) do not know each other, but become rivals for the beautiful Leonora (Raina Kabaivanska). Manrico succeeds in winning the young woman’s heart, and she sacrifices herself for him, deceiving the Count’s son. Mad with jealousy, the latter orders the execution of the troubadour in front of his mother. Azucena reveals to him that Manrico was his brother. This legendary performance of Giuseppe Verdi's most successful opera was recorded at the Vienna State Opera under the baton of Herbert von Karajan.
Live performance from the Vienna State Opera, 6 May 2010.
Recorded at the Vienna State Opera house in 1989, this staging of Richard Strauss and Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s Elektra is one of the glories of live opera on film, deserving of eternal availability. The DVD picture has great clarity, despite the darkness of Hans Schavernoch’s set design. Other than the cliché of a huge statue head, toppled on its side, the set manages to be suitably representative of a decaying palace as well as an imposing, theatrical space, dominated by the mammoth body of the statue from which the head apparently dropped, draped with the ropes that seem to have enabled the decapitation. Sooner or later most of the characters cling to and twist around those ropes, an apt stage metaphor for the remorseless repercussions from the murder of Agammenon by his unfaithful wife Klytämnestra and her paramour, Aegisthus. Reinhard Heinrich’s costumes capture a distant era while sustaining a creepily modern look — part Goth, part homeless, part Spa-wear.
