Today was my birthday and I spent it mainly in two activities that I'd rank among the greatest joys in life. I went out to dinner at a fine Spanish restaurant here in Rhode Island, with my nearest and dearest: my wife, my sister-in-law, and three of my adult children. Before that, during the afternoon, I watched and listened to this magnificent filmed version of what is, in my opinion, one of the most perfect works of art ever created: I Paliaccio. Certainly, it is the indisputable masterpiece of composer Ruggiero Leoncavallo (1857-1919).

Historical Background: Ruggiero Leoncavallo was part of the neo-Italian school of composers that also included Puccini, Mascagni, and Giordano. He had been born in Naples, April 23rd, 1857. He studied piano as a child and entered the Naples Conservatory where he was further educated in piano (by Benjamino Cesi), harmony (by Michael Ruta), and composition (by Lauro Rossi). Soon, Leoncavallo had completed his first opera, Chatterton, and it was accepted for production at Bologna, but the impresario absconded before the opera could be staged, bankrupting the company. Leoncavallo was then compelled to earn his living as a piano accompanist for café concerts, traveling to England, France, Holland, Germany, and Egypt. When he returned to Italy, he wrote music for the libretto I Medici, but the company that had commissioned it failed to follow through on producing it. Three years passed and Leoncavallo, angered, turned to a rival company, Casa Sonzogno. While awaiting a promised production of I Medici by Casa Sonzogno, Leoncavallo wrote both the libretto and the script for I Pagliacci, all in just a few weeks time. The premiere took place in Milan on May 21st, 1892, conducted by Arturo Toscanini. It was so successful that I Medici was staged in the same theater on November 10th, 1893, but was not so well received. Leoncavallo went on to write many other operas, but none as beloved or magnificent as I Pagliacci.

I Paliacci was written in the so-called verismo style which had been introduce by Mascagni in Cavalleria Rusticana (1889). In fact, both of these magnificent short operas were submitted for the same prize competition sponsored by the publisher Sonzogno. Mascagni's brilliant one-act piece took the top prize, though there is evidence that I Pagliacci might have been favored instead had it not been in two acts, which violated the conditions of the contest. In any case, both operas went on to triumphant premieres and are now thoroughly ensconced in the opera repertoire. The second production of I Paliacci took place at the Teatro Costanzi in Rome in 1893 on a double bill with Cavalleria Rusticana and the two have been inseparable companions ever since.

The Director – Franco Zeffirelli: Zeffirelli was born in Florence and studied architecture before turning to filmmaking. He worked as an assistant to four of the greatest Italian directors: Antonioni, De Sica, Rossellini, and Visconti. In his formative years, Zeffirelli gained experience in theater, cinema, opera, and television. Zeffirelli is known especially for his spectacular sets and mastery of stage movements, strengths that have served him well in his work with cinematic adaptations of operas. Zeffirelli's first opera experience came with La Traviata, which he staged on several occasions. Soon, he was being requested to oversee productions in the most famous European and American opera houses, including the Metropolitan in New York, the Staatsoper in Vienna, the Opera House at Covent Garden in London, the Opera House in Paris, and the Teatro alla Scala in Milan. In the last of those theaters, his productions of La Boheme and the diptych of Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci became particularly famous. Among his most successful filmed versions of operas are La Traviata (1982), Otello (1986), Carmen (1995), and Il Trovatore (2001).

The Story: The opera is divided into a prologue and two acts. The prologue is preceded by an overture. In stage productions of the opera, the overture is performed with the stage curtain closed, but for the film production, Ziffirelli adroitly uses the time to set the atmosphere for the story. A group of children and adults have gathered in the village of Montalto, in Calabria, around 1865, to watch the performance of a group of traveling minstrels. During the overture, four clowns entertain the children with mime and tumbling routines. In the prologue, the clown Tonio appears in front of the curtain, introduces himself, and apologizes for coming out on stage alone. "I'm not here to say our tears are false," he says to the wide-eyed children. Actors and actresses are real people with real feelings. When the author of the play wrote the music and the words, "Real tears flowed while he wrote." Tonio adds, "We are men of flesh and blood. Like you, we breathe the air of this orphaned world."

Act I is divided into four scenes. The traveling players, led by Canio (Plácido Domingo), have arrived in Calabria in time for the Feast of the Virdin di Mezzagosto. Canio is accompanied by his wife, Nedda (Teresa Stratas), the clown Peppe (Florindo Andreolli), and the deformed player Tonio (Juan Pons). A lively crowd gathers to greet them in the village square. Canio tells the villagers that the first performance will be at eleven that evening. Meanwhile, Canio watches jealously over his lovely young wife, Nedda, who he rescued, as an orphan, off the streets. Canio ominously tells the villagers "The theater and life are not the same thing." If Nedda is unfaithful to him on stage, that's for the entertainment of the audience, but offstage, it would be another matter altogether.

In Scene 2, Canio goes off with some villagers to the inn. Nedda sings the plaintive aria Oh! Che volo d'augelli, expressing the longings of her restless heart. Tonio, overhearing her beautiful song, screws up his courage to reveal to Nedda his desire for her. "I know I'm ugly and deformed," he says, "and arouse only scorn and derision, but I too have dreams, desires, and a beating heart." Nedda firmly rejects his entreaties, advising him to save them for the stage, when he's amusing the crowd with such pitiful faces. He persists in pressing his unwanted attentions until she is forced to cut his face, saying, "Tonio, you have a heart as foul and ugly as your body." Tonio runs off, swearing revenge.

In Scene 3, we discover that Nedda is secretly in love with a man of the village, Silvio (Alberto Rinaldi). Silvio is so full of ardor for his beloved that he chances a meeting in broad daylight, while Canio is occupied at the inn. He implores Nedda to run away with him later that night. Nedda declares that it would be folly. Silvio says that he will dream of her forever. Tonio returns, lurking a short distance away, unseen by Nedda and Silvio and says, vilely, "I've caught you, whore!" as he anticipates the moment of his revenge. Silvio and Nedda sing a love duet in which Silvio asks why she has taught him Love's magic if she is going to leave him. She finally surrenders her heart to him forever, saying "I give myself to you." They embrace passionately.

In scene 4, Tonio has gone to fetch Canio, revealing Nedda's infidelity. Canio momentarily spies her with Silvio and races forward, but Silvio escapes over a wall as Nedda briefly delays Canio. Canio pushes her aside to pursue her lover. Nedda, left alone with Tonio confronts him and he is delighted to acknowledge his part in exposing her romance, saying, "I do what I can, but next time I expect to do better." Canio returns, his prey having gotten away and demands that Nedda reveal the name of her lover. She refuses and the incensed Canio is about to stab her with a knife, but is subdued by Beppe and Tonio. Tonio has other plans. He urges Canio to bide his time, saying "He'll be back. It's necessary to pretend in order to succeed." It is almost time for the show to begin anyway. Canio must put on his costume and makeup. Left alone, he moans, "I must act while I'm so wretched." Looking at himself in the mirror as he starts to apply his makeup, he declares, "Thou art not a man, you're a jester." Canio then sings what is, in my opinion, the single most passionately intense aria in all of the operatic literature: Vesti la giubba. "Put on your motley, the paint, and the powder. The people pay and want to laugh. So, if Harlequin steals your Columbine [characters in the play about to be performed], laugh, Pagliaccio, and they'll applaud. Turn your tears and anguish into a joke, and your sorrow into a grimace. Laugh at your broken love and the grief that poisons your heart." The act draws to a close with Canio sobbing. The orchestra continues for several seconds after Canio voice has been reduced to a whimper and concludes on the throbbing base note of a single cello.

During the overture to Act II, Zeffirelli has his camera poised on Nedda, who is nervously pacing and contemplating whether to run away immediately or go through with the scheduled performance and await her rendezvous with her lover later that night. Finally, she opts for the latter course. Her fellow cast members are relieved to observe her beginning to apply her makeup. Scene 1 finds the joyous crowd arriving at the makeshift theater and taking their seats. Tonio greets them loudly, "Walk up, walk up, I say." The clowns once again amuse the crowd, as they did during the Act I overture.

As the final scene (Act II, Scene 2) opens, the performance of the troupe of players begins. Nedda plays a character named Columbine, Beppe is Harlequin (Nedda's lover), Canio is Punchinello (Nedda's husband), and Tonio plays the part of Taddeo (a clown). The play begins with Nedda alone on stage, which is set up as a small dining room. She declares that her husband will be coming home late that night, so she anticipates being called upon by her lover, Harlequin. Harlequin (Beppe) appears off to the side of the main stage and, in a musing kind of aria, declares that it is "the lover's hour." Columbine (Nedda) sings that it is time to give the signal and pulls a heart-shaped trinket from her garter belt.

Taddeo (Tonio) arrives instead and (like Tonio in real life) ponders whether to tell Columbine of his love for her, which, he says, "could even move rocks." He's brought a chicken for her dinner and, delivering it, also declares his love. Columbine rejects him (again mimicking the earlier life events), mocks him, and whacks him over the head with the chicken. Harlequin arrives just in time to spare Columbine further embarrassment with Taddeo. Taddeo declares, "Heavens. They're in love. I give my blessing. I'll keep watch."

Harlequin and Columbine sing a sprightly lover's duet. She declares, "Look, my love, at the splendid supper I have prepared." He replies, "Look, my love, at the divine nectar I have brought you." Harlequin hands Columbine some sleeping pills, instructing her, "Take this sleeping-draught. Give it to Pagliaccio before he goes to sleep; then we'll run away together. Tonio rushes in to warn the lovers, "Look out, Pagliaccio is here. He knows everything." Columbine tells Harlequin to flee, adding, "Tonight and forever, I am yours, love!" Canio (dressed as Punchinello) enters just in time to hear Columbine's parting words to her lover. "My God," he says, "the very same words" [that she had said to Silvio that morning.] Canio, trying to play his part, says, pointing toward the table, "There are two places here." Columbine tries to throw her husband off by claiming that the second was for "the fool Taddeo – only!" Taddeo, backing her up, declares, "Believe her. She is pure."

Canio, in great agitation, sways back and forth between the real calamity in his life and that of the play. "Do not trifle, false woman," he says, "I am also a man. Tell me his name! I'm not Pagliaccio. I'm the fool who took you off the streets, a starving orphan." A thrill runs through the awestruck audience and they sing in concert, "This play is so true to life!" Silvio, who is seated in the midst of the audience near the back whispers, "I can hardly bear it." Canio continues, "Your careless spirit has no heart. You are unworthy of my love. I want to crush you beneath my food in disgust." He throws her to the ground. The audience shouts, "Bravo!" "You'll stay here and tell me your lover's name," demands Canio. Nedda desperately tries to resume the play, taking up the blithe tune of the dinner duet. Hoping to satisfy her jealous husband, she declares, "The man was only poor Harlequin." Having none of it, Canio declares ferociously, "You still defy me!" The audience, enthralled yet uneasy, wonders, "Are they in earnest?"

Nedda, sensing her destiny, responds, "I am not a coward. My love is stronger than your anger." She runs into the audience but Canio catches her and stabs her. As she collapses, she inadvertently cries, "Help, Silvio!" Silvio rushes toward her but Canio cries out, "So, it's you!" and stabs him to death as well. Behind them, on the stage, Taddeo (Tonio) declares with satisfaction, "La commedia è finita!" The comedy has ended!

Themes: Virtually all of us have had the experience of being in a state of despair or agitation, from some terrible life experience, yet having to go about our daily activities, whatever those might be. It's a challenge for anyone, no matter what his walk of life. That conflict between emotional pain and the necessity of continuing to function is perhaps more essentially difficult for those whose work is to entertain, especially if the form of entertainment is comedy. There's an extraordinary paradox and discord in having a job that entails making others laugh if one is suffering emotional torment inside. Certainly, it is a conflict that has been addressed in many films, plays, and pieces of literature, but nowhere more profoundly than in I Pagliacci. Canio gives full vent to that wrenching paradox, in his great aria at the close of Act I.

Then, secondly, I Pagliacci lays bare the issue of the overlap between reality and those imitations of reality that we call plays or films. In the prologue, Tonio destroys the fourth wall between the actors and the audience by talking to us about the real feelings of actors and authors that go into artistic realizations. Art overlaps with real emotions. Later, in Scene 1 of Act I, Canio articulates a seemingly opposing viewpoint, when he declares, "Theater and life are not the same thing." Nedda may "cheat" on him in the play to amuse the audience, but he will not tolerate as much in real life. Then, in the final scene, the bewildered audience is unable to determine whether they are watching incredibly believable performances or real life events. How could they know? Canio, himself hardly knew, oscillating as he was on the very precipice between reality and playacting.

Production Values: The libretto for I Pagliacci was based wholly or in part on an incident that occurred during Leoncavallo's childhood in which a man coming out of a local theater was stabbed to death by a pair of brothers. The dispute was over a woman and the presiding judge in the trial was a Leoncavallo. There may or may not have been another source. When I Pagliacci was first performed in Paris, its author/composer was promptly sued for plagiarism by Catulle Mendès, whose dramatic dialog La femme du Tabarin bears striking resemble to the second act of Leoncavallo's opera. Leoncavallo steadfastly denied awareness the play and the suit was dismissed for lack of evidence.

In any case, Leoncavallo produced both text and music as dramatically poignant as any ever constructed. It deals with raw passions directly and effectively. It explores, as well or better than any other work of art, the oft-visited issue of the relationship between a play and reality and the real and pretend emotions of performers. The story proceeds simultaneously on three planes of drama: (1) the framing prologue and final line of dialog (as well as audience reactions to what they are watching in the final scene), (2) the story of the lives of the troupe of performers, and (2) the play within the play. The libretto's construction is nothing short of brilliant, especially when two or all three of the dramatic layers suddenly merge at the climatic moments.

Franco Zeffirelli is certainly one of the greatest directors of filmed versions of operas. His skillful touch is most evident, in this production, in how he uses the time during the two overtures (to Act I and Act II respectively). During the first overture, he establishes the atmosphere for all that will follow. During the second overture, he has Nedda sit before her mirror to apply her makeup, recalling and mirroring Canio's struggle at the end of Act I. Though Nedda doesn't give voice to her pain, we are made to feel it ever so acutely.

Plácido Domingo is one of the so-called "three tenors" (along with José Carreras and Luciano Pavarotti), who have sometimes performed together internationally, to great acclaim. He has performed at least 119 different tenor roles from the opera repertoire, more than any other tenor in history, and the range of his repertoire is exceptional as well. He has performed in every major opera house in the world. He was born in Madrid to parents who were zarzuela performers. The family moved to Mexico when Plácido was just eight. There he studied voice and piano at the Mexico City Conservatory. He made his debut at Monterey in La Traviata and later spent two-and-a-half years with the Israeli National Opera. His performance here in I Pagliacci is flawless, both vocally and dramatically.

Teresa Stratas, who plays Nedda, is one of the world's great sopranos. She began voice lessons at twelve and sang Greek popular songs on the radio at age thirteen. She made her professional debut as Mimi in La Bohème at the Toronto Opera House in 1958. She debuted the next year at the Metropolitan in New York as Pousette in Manon. She became something of a fixture at the Metropolitan, while also been engaged as a guest artist at the Bolshoi Opera, the Vienna State Opera, the San Francisco Opera, the Berlin Opera, and the Bavarian State Opera. She is uncharacteristically lithe for a diva and is ideally cast is cinematic versions of operas where credibility as a love interest is relatively more important than on stage. She complements her rich, smooth lyric soprano voice with stage presence and personality and ability to communicate dramatically.

Juan Pons, who played Tonio, the baritone role, made his debut in 1980 at the Teatro alla Scala. He is highly regarded, internationally, and has performed as a guest at the Metropolitan and in Paris, Barcelona, Vienna, Zurich, and Japan.

George Prêtre conducted the Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala of Milan for this filmed version of I Pagliacci. Prêtre is world renowned as a conductor, both for the operatic and symphonic repertoire. He was born in 1924 in Douai, France, studied at the Conservatoire National Supérieur in Paris, and made his debut as a conductor at age 22 at the Marseilles Opera. He became the principal conductor of the Paris Opera in 1956 and remained there for seven years. He also conducted several seasons at the Metropolitan Opera in New York and appeared frequently at La Scala in Milan. In 1966, he became director of the Paris Opera and made guest appearances thereafter with many of the foremost European orchestras. In 1986, he was named Principal Guest Conductor of the Vienna Symphony Orchestra. He remained active conducting the great international orchestras up to at least 1999, when he was already seventy-five years of age.

Bottom-Line: This is the fifth in my monthly series of reviews of my twelve favorite opera videos. Although I can't name any one opera as my very favorite, I Pagliacci would certainly make the cut down to the final irreducible list of about five. The libretto is a work of inspiration – a level of inspiration, in fact, that Leoncavallo was never again able to match. There are perhaps 10-12 composers of classical music who suffered that unfortunate fate of being far better known for their one preeminent masterpiece than for everything else they wrote. That potential seems more particular to music than any of the other arts.

I can't recommend this opera too highly, first, for its sheer dramatic intensity and, second, for the unmatched illumination of two great issues relating to the arts and artists: (1) the overlap between reality and stage works; and (2) the difficulty of being simultaneously a person and a performer. This particular version offers outstanding performances and staging. The film is in Italian, of course, with English subtitles and has a running time of 70 minutes. You can purchase this rendition of I Pagliacci either by itself on VHS (which is where I've posted this review) or in combination with Puccini's Il Trittico (see Listing).


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You may also enjoy my other opera reviews:

The Barber of Seville
La Bohème
Boris Godunov
Carmen
Carmen (Dance Version)
Don Giovanni
Lucia di Lammermoor
The Magic Flute
I Pagliacci
Rigoletto
La Traviata (Strada)
La Traviata (Moffo)
Il Trovatore
Turandot


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You can easily access my other opera reviews using the following lists:

Top-Twelve Film Versions of Operas
Metalluk's Twenty Best Pre-Romantic (Baroque & Classicism) Operas, on DVD
Metalluk's Twenty-five Best Italian Romantic Period Operas, on DVD
Metalluk's Twenty Best Non-Italian Romantic Period Operas, on DVD
Metalluk's Thirty Best Operas of the 20th-Century, on DVD
Metalluk's Best Opera from Each Decade of the 20th-Century, on DVD

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older