This is—by far—the longest version of this work ever recorded, reaching in length almost Wagnerian proportions. That is because Cambreling has used the Oeser edition virtually complete. This restores many passages of appreciable merit—Nicklausse's three airs, each of them a delight, the characterful trio for Hoffmann, Nicklausse and Coppelius in the Olympia act and the quartet (in place of the septet) in the Giulietta act, here given authentically last—but it also means the restoration of a great deal of music, especially in the Giulietta act, of very little interest or inspiration. This version was presented in 1980 at Miami under Antonio de Almeida, the conductor responsible for discovering much of the forgotten or discarded material. What makes the opera seem even more extended here is the inclusion of the Guiraud recitative—Bonynge on Decca opted for dialogue; nobody seems to know what the composer really wanted, but Offenbach commentators now seem to lean towards recitatives. What does seem certain is that Oeser, as with his Carmen edition, has not done the composer concerned much service by restoring to circulation inferior music that the composer would probably have excluded when he got the work on the boards. Bonynge, working pre-Oeser, rightly took cognizance of the work Arthur Hammond had obstrusively done on the score many years ago for the Carl Rosa company and this produced a sensible compromlse.
Then Cambreling's conducting could hardly be more different from Bonynge's. He is, in almost every piece, more deliberate in tempo than his predecessor, sometimes startlingly so, as in the chorus just before the doll's aria, and he is even more attentive to detail than Bonynge. He had his own very acceptable Brussels forces under him—the choral singing is particularly vital and pointed, a great help in overcoming some of the mauvais minutes in the Prologue and Epilogue. He makes everything possible of the key ensembles in the last two acts, working them up to the right fever of excitement. Indeed, the sense of a theatrical event is palpable all the way through, but he cannot always overcome the disadvantage of including so much second-rate music.
The cast is on the whole a strong one. Jose van Dam is, predictably, a model of the right style in the four evil incarnations, sardonic as Lindorf, fantastic as Coppelius, sinister as Dr Miracle, menacing as Dapertutto. By the way, Dapertutto's Diamond aria is included along with the other corrupt number, the septet, in an appendix—van Dam sings it magnificently and it is grievously missed in its customary place in the Giulietta act. Shicoff, sounding uncannily like Domingo in voice and accent, is a sensitive and ardent Hoffmann, rather more keen than his model to sing in a half-voice, but sometimes inclined to be too lacrymose, as in his romance in the Giulietta act, where he cannot efface memories of the likes of Tauber, Patzak and Gedda—tenors today seldom caress a vocal line as did their predecessors. Shicoff's French is variable.
In the greatly extended dual role of Nicklausse/Muse, Ann Murray sings, as on stage, with wit and feeling—and in faultless French. As in the 1980 Covent Garden staging, Serra is a precise and flexible Olympia and nicely suggests in her phrasing the mechanical nature of the character she's portraying. For the only time in my experience Olympia doesn't wind down in mid-song—no doubt the idea is unauthentic but it is now part of the tradition of playing the work, and amusing to boot, so why not include it? Jessye Norman almost justifies the extra music for Giulietta in a role very well suited to her luscious tone and manner.
The luxurious casting continues with Rosalind Plowright as Antonia but in this case I thought a mistake had been made. The role-doesn't require a big spinto soprano such as hers, but a sympathetic lyric. Plowright, though she is always inside the role, makes heavy weather of what should be effortless, particularly as regards high Bs and Cs. Robert Tear is miscast in the comic roles—his account of Franz's couplets is slightly embarrassing in its efforts at humour, a genre that doesn't come easily to this tenor. They call for just the droll manner Cuenod brought to them on the Decca set. The actor Jacques Charon (Decca) is a wittier Spalanzani than Alexander Oliver, who sounds too tetchy. In both these roles the sound of Francophones tells. Kurt Rydl is excellent in the bass parts and Thierry Dran, who might almost have sung Hoffmann, makes his mark as Nathanael. Jocelyne Taillon is an experienced Mother.
The recording, made in the Palais des Beaux Arts, Brussels, is very well balanced, clean spacious but not too reverberant. I prefer it to the slightly overblown Decca, but I feel that the older set remains the safer recommendation. It contains all the music you really want to hear on two, as against EMl's three, CDs. It has dialogue rather than the heavy recitatives. And it has Dame Joan Sutherland easily encompassing all four heroines. One thing we know is that Offenbach wanted the same singer, if possible, in all the female roles. But anyone who feels he must have every note Offenbach wrote for this work—and some he did not—will have their needs more than adequately satisfied by the new version.'