This new Orfeo version of Fibich’s Sarka is very timely, coming as it does so soon after Janacek’s long-neglected version of the same story in Sir Charles Mackerras’s brilliant, revelatory recording for Supraphon (4/01). Where Janacek’s project was frustrated by the author of the original play, Fibich, some 10 years later in 1896-97, completed this much more extended version, and had instant success. Sadly, he died only three years later in 1900, up until then regarded as the rising hope of Czech music after Smetana and Dvorak. This Sarka promptly became a popular piece in Czech opera houses, clocking up over 250 performances in the next half-century. It was Fibich’s success that effectively blocked appreciation of the Janacek in 1925, when finally it was revised and reached the stage in Brno.
Fibich was aiming to write a Wagnerian opera, with obvious echoes of Tristan and Isolde in the big love duet for Sarka and Ctirad, the knight whom she falls in love with against her will. In the libretto there were Wagnerian echoes too – of Parsifal when in Act 1 Sarka’s arrow brings a falcon down, or of Walkure in Act 2 when the cries of ‘Heja!’ from Sarka’s fellow Amazonians come as a Czech equivalent of the Valkyries’ ‘Ho-jo-to-ho!’. Later in both Acts 2 and 3 the forest murmur sequences clearly look back to Siegfried. Though the idiom is only fleetingly Wagnerian, it is music of big, bold gestures, brilliantly orchestrated, with clear Czech flavours in sharply rhythmic writing as well as in some melodic contours, which tend to echo Smetana rather than Dvorak.
As in so many grand romantic operas, the weakness lies in thematic material that only fitfully sticks in the memory. Turn to any Dvorak opera – I have just been reviewing his Vanda – and the difference in memorability is instantly apparent. Fibich in his relatively expansive treatment of the story certainly fills in the character of Sarka more fully than Janacek. She emerges more clearly as a maverick, wild creature who enjoys upsetting not just men but all those around her.
The downside is that – maybe in echo of Wagner again – the story is held up by wordy monologues from each prinicipal in turn, something which becomes the more evident when set alongside the crisp Janacek treatment. Act 1 in particular is very slow to get going. Conversely, the end of the opera is confusing and rather perfunctory. Though the lovers are happily united, Sarka wilfully rejects true love: terrified by the ghosts of her former friends and colleagues, newly slaughtered, she tears herself away from Ctirad, and throws herself into a ravine.
This remains a piece well worth hearing, particularly on disc. Sylvain Cambreling conducts a strong and purposeful performance, recorded live in good, well-balanced radio sound – complete with applause at the ends of acts. It may not always be as idiomatic as the Czech version on Supraphon, but the impact is just as great.
The shining glory of the performance is the electrifying portrayal of Sarka by Eva Urbanova – who also sings the title-role on the disc of the Janacek version. She is a fire-eater who brings the drama to life on her every entry, vocally exploiting the widest expressive range, abrasive but well-controlled in her big outburst, yet with exquisite moments of gentle singing in her love music. Next to her, Eva Depoltova on the Supraphon version is conventional in her posturing and vocally often raw.
Urbanova also sounds more like a youthful heroine, and youth is certainly on the side of the Czech tenor who takes the role of the hero, Ctirad. Janez Lotric, like Urbanova, has a characterful Slavonic voice yet with focus and beautifully clear and unstrained. The veteran, Vilem Pribyl, on Supraphon, is a stylish Ctirad, but he makes a less believable hero.
Supraphon’s trump card comes in the form of the outstanding Eva Randova as Vlasta, Sarka’s leader, and Vaclav Zitek as Prince Premysl, Ctirad’s leader. Orfeo’s Vlasta, Ida Kirilova, on the other hand, sings with a rapid Slavonic flutter, which quickly grows obtrusive. As Premysl, the youthful baritone Dalibor Jenis may not be as characterful as Zitek, but it is a satisfyingly strong, clear performance. Chorus work is first-rate on both sets.
On balance the Orfeo set has the edge, with digital sound another advantage, but what a pity it does not include Randova’s magnificent Vlasta. The Czech libretto comes with English, French and German translation, not always provided in Orfeo opera sets