Pietro Mascagni
Isabeau

A composer of many souls, Pietro Mascagni had a special feeling with Romanticism, which unfortunately not many people are aware of. Indeed, there is not "only" the sublime Guglielmo Ratcliff among the Romantic works of the Livornese master; on the other side of the coin, we find Isabeau. Comparing these two works point by point makes sense because they are two works so antithetical in everything apart from the general definition that a comparison is extremely fascinating and helps to better understand the stylistic evolution of Mascagni himself. First of all, they are two completely opposite ways of understanding Romanticism: as passionate, "sturm und drang", white-hot is Ratcliff, as delicate, symbolist, and idealistic is Isabeau. One is full of youthful enthusiasm, the other of stylistic refinements from a mature composer; one is immediate, maximizing closed forms, the other fluid, structured as a single body. The contrast between Guglielmo and Folco, the male protagonist of Isabeau, then, could not be sharper and harsher in terms of psychological connotation and vocal style required.

One of the strengths of Isabeau is undoubtedly the very refined libretto by Luigi Illica which, starting from the famous British legend of Lady Godiva, brings to life a deeply poetic and symbolic story, without giving up the human characterization of the two protagonists, who are very well defined psychologically and, particularly in the case of Folco, in stark contrast to certain theatrical clichés; remarkable is also the use of a deliberately archaic lexicon, which further emphasizes the temporal placement lost in the mists of the past, in the vague and distant era of legends. Both protagonists, adolescents, have vaguely androgynous personalities, on one side Isabeau, firm in her ideal of chastity that can easily be interpreted as an affirmation of her individuality, a rebellion against the role that, as a woman and king's daughter, would be imposed on her by reason of state; her firmness and proud dignity make her a character no less statuesque than Turandot or Brunhilde. Proof? In the second act, the famous ride in dishabille, imposed on her by her father as punishment for refusing all her suitors, she does not protest, accepts the humiliation without batting an eyelid, and does not even sing, she is simply a stage presence, powerful, capable of stirring the sycophantic and cowardly adulation of the populace and the pure and ardent love of Folco. Folco, a boy of humble origins but idealistic, dreamy, poetic, like the falcon he offers to Isabeau as a gift, flies high, higher than social conventions, is not afraid to admire Isabeau in all her splendor, railing against the cowardice disguised as devotion of the commoners and is willing to pay the price; this naive and candid heroism greatly distinguishes him from the likes of Turiddu, Guglielmo Ratcliff, and Osaka, mascagnian protagonists driven by more or less murky passions. In the end, the two lovers find in death the happiness and triumph that reason of state denies them in life; this is an evident point of contact with Andrea Chenier, which also has a libretto by Illica, albeit with extremely different characters, setting, and themes.

Those who approach Isabeau expecting great arias and epic instrumental passages are already off on the wrong foot, personally, I am convinced that with Isabeau Mascagni's primary goal was not success but full, complete artistic satisfaction: this work is a mosaic of scenes, of moments, harmoniously arranged to form a very detailed image, but this image is seen through the enchanted and elusive eyes of a dream. Simply, it is not a work made to garner easy accolades, yet it abounds in extremely suggestive and evocative moments, of melodies among the most beautiful ever written by Mascagni; the initial announcement by the herald, accompanied by trumpet blasts, the delightful violin solo and bucolic chorus that announce Isabeau's entrance, Folco calling his animal alter ego, with the music suddenly changing, becoming a lively, tinkling, epic ride. All this only in the first act, then those martial and malevolent echoes in the chorus with which the people threaten lynching anyone who dares admire Isabeau, and Folco doesn't care, openly defying it with a variable, dynamic aria, full of variations, quickly moving from indignation to the joyful celebration of his Isabeau's beauty; and still, the two-voice chant, accompanied by the organ that opens the third act, soaring high in that extended finale, bursting with emotion, infused with the ineffable mystery of death and love.

To get a general idea of the spirit of this work, perhaps it is enough to simply listen to the symphonic interlude of the second act, which serves as the background for the ride, and compare it with the intermezzo of Cavalleria Rusticana and with the Dream of Guglielmo Ratcliff: the immediate impact is not as vivid, but, besides a typically mascagnian twilight melancholy, one can perceive a majesty and a versatile dynamism reflected throughout the opera, which goes from the evocatively medieval sounds, often very sweet, sometimes even relaxing of the first act to that emotional explosion of the third, through a perfectly constructed ascending climax. A clear step forward compared to Iris, which, despite many criticisms at the time, garnered much more audience acclaim, and, my dear readers, allow me: how trite, sentimental, affected, and complacent appears the much-vaunted La Bohème, an unmovable pillar of the standard repertoire, in comparison. The "my" Isabeau was recorded in Utrecht in 1982, in a provincial theater, with an entirely Dutch cast, lacking big names but doing justice to Mascagni's wonderful music far better than certain supposed opera superstars of today could hypothetically do, largely forgiving even certain accents and not exactly impeccable diction (especially by Adriaan Van Limpt, the excellent tenor who plays Folco, who nevertheless manages to perfectly embody the poetry and boyish enthusiasm of the character). The last Italian recording (moreover a selection...) available on the market dates back to 1962, interpreters Marcella Pobbe and Pier Miranda Ferraro. Sad, very sad.