Marie revisited

As fixation and obsession and all their cousins are very much the stock in trade of this blog, I'm returning again to Patrizia Ciofi's Marie in La fille du régiment. I have more to say, especially having watched her again this evening.

She's an extraordinary little creature. Off the top of my head, I can't think of another among my favourites who looks so downright strange when she sings. Quite frequently she actually looks like she's in pain. In repose, she's rather lovely, in her redheaded mouse kind of way, but the act of producing That Voice distorts her face something shocking. And yet she makes a virtue of this. She looks weird, but she looks interesting — and even without the sound on, the way she looks when she's singing makes it plainly evident that something important is happening. Adding to the appeal is the fact that her external contortions aren't reflected in what's going on internally; her face might be twisted but her voice isn't. Patrizia isn't always the easiest singer to watch but she's unfailingly exquisite to hear. Besides, there are moments when the unusual physicality of her singing only helps to heighten its intensity. In the final ensemble, for instance, she and Tonio reprise "Salut à la France" with as much fervour as they can muster. When Marie's high notes emerge from Patrizia, they look like a scream but they don't sound like one — they're just thrilling and passionate pristine high notes, with the force and fire of a scream, perhaps, but none of the ugliness or strain.

The other aspect of her performance which warms my heart is in a sense not really a part of her performance at all. It's the response from the audience. Without wishing too much to dismiss or denigrate the audiences of my adopted country, it disappoints me sometimes to find that rapturous applause, shouting, stomping and so on tend only to come in response to something overtly virtuosic. Loud and fast, in other words. Emma Matthews' Konstanze only received an exceptional ovation for "Martern aller Arten", though her gifts were (I thought) on lovelier display in "Traurigkeit". Frank Peter Zimmermann was incredible in the Berg Violin Concerto, but those who stood were only moved to do so by the preposterously difficult showpiece he gave as an encore. I've no doubt this is the case in many many other places too. But at the Teatro Carlo Felice, at least, the audience is just as enthusiastic and adoring in its response to Marie's fireworks-free "Il faut partir" as to her more coloratura laden moments. Yes, they go wild for Juan Diego's high Cs, but there's as much appreciation here for beauty and depth of expression as there is for vocal acrobatics. Tonio gets to sing the "hit" but come the final curtain, Marie is just as warmly received, if not more so — whether the same would be true here (now that Joanie's long past taking on the title role) I honestly don't know. Though, let's be fair — if Marie is Patrizia Ciofi, I don't imagine any audience could fail to go crazy for her every phrase.