My favorite memory of "Cinderella" is.... a mistake...

As I mentioned in last week's post, I was cast as Don Magnifico in a 1997 production of Rossini's La Cenerentola by Virginia Commonwealth University's Opera Theater. One especially pleasurable moment from those performances has led to a minor OPERA MYSTERY that nearly drove me nuts in trying to reconstruct it for you Gentle Readers.

The moment I always savored most came in the great Quintet of Act 1. This ensemble, like all of Rossini's elaborate set-pieces for multiple characters, is structured like a multi-movement instrumental work such as a sonata or concerto. 

The first section is in C major. In a vigorous Allegro theme, Cenerentola begs her stepfather (me!) to let her go to Prince Ramiro's ball along with her two step-sisters. 

Magnifico lashes out at her, calling her lazy and hurling threats against her as the Prince (in disguise) fumes and Dandini (pretending to be the Prince) cautions against abusing the servant girl. Magnifico claims that Cenerentola is not his daughter and thus cannot attend.

The second section, marked Moderato in the key of E flat, features the philosopher Alidoro, bearing a census document certifying that Magnifico has three daughters. Pressed to explain how it is that there are only two in the house, Magnifico blurts out that the third daughter died.

Now we come to the third "movement" of the Quintet, and the moment that has baffled me in reacquainting myself with this opera. Employing a device common to many Rossinian Act 1 ensembles, there is a "freeze" while all characters express their private reactions to Magnifico's dramatic announcement and speculate about what will happen next.

Back in 1997 I got to begin this section with a solo line consisting of a theme in A flat Major that is then repeated by the other characters one at a time. The English translation of the text reads:

On the ecstatic faces of this one and that one, one can read the whirl of their thinking that sways, doubts, and  remains uncertain. (Translation courtesy of my Italian friend Mariangela Rodilosso. Grazie, cara!)

I always looked forward to that moment, even more than either of my arias. It was a moment in which a frenetic musical texture suddenly quieted and the spotlight momentarily fell on me; it was up to me, in that moment, to "keep the show rolling" and sing with grace and wit. I was conscious of the importance of not letting my castmates down; not letting the energy flag with a limp utterance. I relished that responsibility. 

I can only compare it to being on a football team and being the one player who's got the ball; who the rest of the team is counting on to advance it down the field; to NOT "drop the ball".

I have not seen or heard any of this music in the intervening 22 years. As I've now turned my attention to preparing for my upcoming classes and lectures on the opera, I leafed through the piano-vocal score in search of that phrase.

Then something weird happened.

I found it, but it was marked as Dandini's line, NOT Magnifico's. I stared in disbelief:

What?

Was I crazy? DANDINI SINGS IT??? There is no doubt in my mind: in 1997, I, Glenn Winters, Your Humble Blogger - I sang that line. But how? Why?

This was confounding. I sent an email to Melanie Kohn Day, the Musical Director of VCU's Opera Theater, both in 1997 and now, in the hopes that she could 1) confirm that my memory is correct, and 2) explain the mystery.

Have you ever emailed someone and been frustrated when they didn't reply immediately? Melanie's a busy person, yet I confess that, irrationally, I checked my inbox every 10 minutes to see if she had any answers, so great was my need to know.

(Side note: that I was in such a state of frustrtion over a matter that 99.9% of humanity would consider to be trivial and of no real importance, is proof that I was a doctoral student. It just doesn't get more "doctoral" than this, folks. The amazing thing is that I'm limiting myself to a mere blog post and not a 200-page scholarly dissertation...)

I started thinking about editions of music.

There is a website called the International Music Score Library Project (imslp.com). It's an online archive of classical scores in the public domain. Quickly going online, I looked for vocal scores of Cenerentola and clicked on the 1878 piano-vocal score published by Ricordi. I scrolled down furiously until I came to the A-flat section. And there it was: MY LINE, just as I remembered it:

"D. Mag." it says; "D. Mag". I KNEW IT! I'M NOT INSANE!

It turns out that the assignment of this line to Magnifico was a typo.

A typo.

A simple error that was corrected in the revised critical Ricordi piano-vocal score of 2004, the one that (of course) Virginia Opera, as well as all opera companies world-wide, now use routinely.

The irony to all of this is that this moment of music - this mistake - this phrase that had no business coming out of my mouth - was by far my favorite moment in the entire opera. I still bask in the memory of it.

There's probably a life-lesson to be learned here, but I'm darned if I know what it is.....