Cecilia Bartoli in Recital—Pure Magic

By Eman Isadiar

Each season, many artists of international stature sell out UC Berkeley’s Zellerbach Hall. But few can do so in the winter’s heaviest downpour, and none on the afternoon of the Oscars.

That is, none other than the legendary mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli.

Cecilia Bartoli makes a single, sold-out stop in the Bay Area on her world tour honoring Maria Malibran. (Photo: Uli Weber / Decca)

The Bay Area’s love affair with Bartoli began 18 long years ago when she made her West Coast début as an emerging young talent on the very same campus. Following a single appearance in 2005, Cal Performances presented Cecilia Bartoli in recital last Sunday, now as a seasoned artist at the peak of her brilliance.

Loyal fans braved the inclement weather, many traveling from afar to hear Bartoli’s program titled Maria Malibran’s Salon Romantique with pianist Sergio Ciomei.

Hot on the Trail of Maria Malibran

One might ask, “Who exactly is Maria Malibran, and what relation is she to Cecilia Bartoli?”

Apparently, Malibran was a superbly gifted 19th century singer, whose untimely death at the age of 28 may well have robbed the world of one of the greatest mezzo-sopranos of all time. She is credited with starring in the 1825 production of Rossini’s Barber of Seville in New York—the first opera ever to be performed in America.

Aside from her flawless vocal technique, Malibran is also remembered for breaking free from male domination, pursuing a life on her own terms.

As we first saw in Arie Antiche and more recently in Opera Proibida, Bartoli has once again brought a scholarly approach to her new topic of research, this time the great Maria Malibran. She is the central theme of Bartoli’s current world tour on the heels of a hugely successful concert with the Orchestra La Scintilla in 2007, the release of her two latest albums and a double DVD set.

Performance Highlights

The program opened with “La regatta veneziana”: three light-hearted songs in Venetian dialect written during Rossini’s curiously late creative surge long after his operas. Bartoli’s trademark facial humor was the perfect ice-breaker as she sang in what must be a strange-sounding country accent to the native Roman.

Then followed a variety of songs by Bellini and, again, by Rossini—both contemporaries and collaborators of Maria Malibran. This portion of the recital seemed to alternate in mood between playful and somber.

In one of the recital’s unforgettable highlights, Bartoli struck a deeply emotional chord with Bellini’s “Dolente immagine” ("Sorrowful Image"), which she delivered with heartbreaking tenderness.

Another magical moment came after intermission in Donizetti’s “Amore e morte” (“Love and Death”), which was also tragic. This particular piece revealed Bartoli’s unique ability to inhabit her music, as she remained visibly affected by the song’s poignant content long after the applause.

The music that followed was decidedly more cheerful with another song by Donizetti,“La conocchia” (“The Distaff”), which had more eyebrow humor in yet another exaggerated accent—this time Neapolitan. Then came more satirical late Rossini, leading to the recital’s climax at the end of the program.

The Show-Stopper

The four final pieces were the consummation of the program’s theme: the beautifully lyrical “Havanaise” and “Hai luli” composed by Maria Malibran’s sister, the provocative “Yo que soy contrabandista” (“I’m a Smuggler”) by her father, and the show-stopper by Maria herself: “Rataplan” (the sound of beating drums).

In a stroke of pure originality during the last piece, Bartoli’s brilliant accompanist Sergio Ciomei—a remarkable artist in his own right—slyly slipped a page of sheet music inside the piano between the dampers and the strings, creating a rattling noise vaguely resembling the sound of a military snare drum.

Secret Ingredient

Though Bartoli’s rapid staccati and delicate runs and ornaments boggle the mind, her distant, heavenly pianissimo is what tugs at the heartstrings. Her unmistakable timbre is free of the incidental breathing noises of mortal human air pipes. Then, there is her sharp artistic wit and warm, authentic personality.

While a select group of divas can dazzle audiences in lavish opera productions, Cecilia Bartoli comes to us with a dose of something different—a secret ingredient of unknown origin.

Perhaps it is the palpable sincerity in her voice, the mysterious personal connection to each of her listeners, or her complicity with the audience as a whole. Whatever the nameless element, Cecilia Bartoli is bona fide star material of the type that crosses our galaxy only once in every generation.

A Touching Farewell

The end of the program brought a series of delightful short encores: “Caro, ti voglio tanto bene” by Ernesto De Curtis, “Les ramparts de Seville” from Bizet’s Carmen, and the syncopated and lively “Canto Negro” by Xavier Montsalvatge.

Bartoli left her star-struck public with a fourth and final encore, again by De Curtis.

Making eye-contact as though with each person in the audience, she bid a soul-stirring farewell with the song “Non ti scordar di me”—“Oh Forget Me Not.”

The invisible supertitle to the crowd’s feverish applause read: “Non ci scordiamo” (“We Shall Not Forget”).

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Eman Isadiar teaches piano at the Peninsula Conservatory and writes about music in the Bay Area.