Don Giovanni: Gazzaniga vs. Mozart

So - Gazzaniga versus Mozart. Your first thought, possibly:

"Gazza who?"

What - you don't have an extensive collection of the works of Giuseppe Gazzaniga (1743-1818) in your personal compact disc library??

Gazzaniga: first, but not best

Yeah, neither do I...

I do have, however, a disc of highlights from Gazzaniga's entry in the lengthy list of works devoted to the subject of Don Juan: Don Giovanni Tenorio, which premiered in Venice in February, 1787. This date places Gazzaniga's opera some seven months earlier than Mozart's masterpiece, the subject of my next several posts.

Gazzaniga's libretto was supplied by Giovanni Bertati. Many commentators have speculated that Lorenzo da Ponte, Mozart's collaborator, "was familiar with" or "may have known" Bertati's work.

That's a bit like saying the producer's of the current CBS re-boot of Magnum, P.I. "may have been familiar" with the Tom Selleck original of the 1980's.

A quick comparison of the two men 's work makes it clear that da Ponte relied heavily on Bertati; many scenes are exactly parallel, with parallel numbers. Read da Ponte's memoirs, however, and you'll find Bertati unacknowledged; he produced Mozart's text, it would seem, in a glorious rush of coffee-fueled inspiration.

Whatever! In fact, other than re-wording the arias and ensembles, da Ponte's most original contribution was the fleshing-out of the dramma giocosa to full-length dimensions with the addition of a couple of scenes; namely, from the beginning of Act II. These include the episodes in which Giovanni and Leporello exchange clothes; Giovanni's serenade "Deh vieni alla finestra"; and Leporello's disguised wooing of Elvira. Bertati's scenario resumes when Giovanni and Leporello encounter the statue and invite it to dine.

 The good thing about the similarities between the two operas is the opportunity for side-by-side comparisons of the two composers. It's instructive in that Mozart's vastly superior skill-sets as a musical dramatist stand out in stark contrast to those of Gazzaniga, who is revealed to be a competent mediocrity.

Having said that, it's important to clarify something: Gazzaniga's aim was NOT to create an immortal, timeless masterpiece of cosmic grandeur and real-as-life psychology. His intent was to treat the Don Juan subject more or less as all previous dramatists had: as a low-comedy sex romp. Sexual licentiousness was not considered an appropriate topic for elevated drama. It was up to Mozart to transform the material into an art-work for the ages.

Let's be content with three examples. In all cases, the links displayed will take you to YouTube tracks of the individual numbers.

EXAMPLE ONE: LEPORELLO
First up: the opening arias for Giovanni's servant. In both cases, the operas' overtures are followed by solos for Leporello (in Mozart) and Pasquariello (in Gazzaniga). In both cases, the disgruntled side-kicks are griping about having to stand guard while Giovanni canoodles with beautiful women; they're sick and tired, they want you to know, of being underpaid, sleep-deprived servants.

What strikes you about Pasquariello's "La gran bestia è il mio padrone"? Is it horrible? Are the orchestration, vocal writing or musical materials amateurishly unlistenable? No, not really. To the casual listener, Gazzaniga sounds fine; one might even mistake his music for Mozart. They certainly share essential elements of style. But in what way does it characterize Pasquariello? The music seems awfully generic: a buffo aria out of central casting.

Now listen to Leporello's version, "Notte e giorno faticar"; Mozart's skill at making every note dramatic rather than merely pleasant pops right out. The orchestral introduction alone accomplishes two things. First, this figure describes what Leporello is physically doing.

Mozart could not be clearer: Leporello is pacing back and forth. To be honest, it drives me crazy when, in performance on stage, the artist stands without pacing. The physical action is mandated by the theme. Why ignore Mozart's image of the impatient servant? 

Second, it also depicts a peasant's heavy footsteps; this man is no graceful aristocrat. So there is wit in the elegant orchestral flourish at his words "Voglio far il gentiluomo" ("I want to be the fine gentleman"). In mere seconds, Mozart has deftly drawn a vivid sketch: a lowly peasant pacing back and forth with heavy footsteps who dreams of rising above his station. That, by the way, is a fantasy that he briefly experiences at the top of Act II when he wears Giovanni's finery.

EXAMPLE TWO: ELVIRA

I wrote about Elvira's brilliant aria "Mi tradi" in another post a few weeks ago, and I'll have more to say about her in a future post.  But again, it's highly instructive to compare this number to Gazzaniga's version, a perfectly lovely cavatina entitled "Povere femmine". 

Gazzaniga's effort has a lot going for it: it's a model of Classical restraint, formal balance and graceful vocal writing. But, perhaps even more so than in the Pasquariello aria, the word "generic" really fits. Listen to the aria again: what in this music is specific to Elvira's situation? Couldn't this music be equally appropriate for a song in praise of Nature ("Ah, the beauty of the verdant meadow and the leafy forest"), or a contemplation of the goodness and mercy of God?

You bet it could.

Mozart, on the other hand (and as noted in that post about Mozart arias) came up with a truly brilliant stroke of genius: a musical figure that, in performance clearly suggests a looping, circular contour.

As this figure is repeated over and over and over throughout all sections of the Rondo structure of the aria, the cumulative effect is stunning. We hear, with our own ears, that Elvira's mind is running in circles: "I hate him... I love him... I hope he dies... I hope he takes me back". She's like a hamster racing endlessly on a treadmill. She can't make it stop; she can't let go. 

This particular performance has the useful feature of presenting the musical score unfolding in real time as the music is played, thus allowing you to visually see the "loop motif" recur, sometimes in the voice, sometimes in the woodwinds, sometimes in the strings. (The aria begins at about 1:52 following the recitative.)

Find me a better example of an abstract musical figure absolutely nailing an obsessive-compulsive disorder and I'll give you a cigar.

Finally, let's check out:

EXAMPLE THREE: THE STONE GUEST

What factors that led Mozart to treat the damnation of Giovanni with such utter gravity, with music that can still inspire terror, will be the subject of another future post. But it's worth noting that I don't fault Gazzaniga for failing to invest his statue-man with music of cosmic mystery. His goals were modest: a tuneful, entertaining sex comedy.

But GOOD GRIEF - I'm sorry, but even on those terms, this music is INEPT. The Commendatore's first words begin at about 1:05 of the statue scene. There is no attempt by our composer to give the creature any kind of unearthly or even spooky utterance. This statue sounds pompous, stuffy and boring. He sounds like the mayor of a small town at a ribbon-cutting ceremony speaking to a gathering of citizens for the opening of a new strip mall. He sounds like a corporate CEO giving the quarterly earnings report at a board meeting. Hey, Gazzaniga: TRY HARDER.

One of Mozart's achievements in his version of this scene, one I think is often overlooked, is his creation of a non-human musical language for his Commendatore. The creature is not given conventional melodic lines; his utterances are stiff and mechanical. Pay attention to the disjunct, angular contour of the statue's lines "Ferma un po'! Non si pasce di cibo mortale chi si pasce di cibo celeste". The statue can speak, but sounds a bit like the disjointed speech of robots in vintage TV shows. It's extremely creepy.

In short, Gazzaniga's failure is in mistakenly thinking that it's the job of the libretto to define character and tell the story, whereas his role was limited to providing conventionally pleasant music that people would enjoy. 

But that's backwards! This is OPERA, where it's the music that tells you what's going on more clearly and evocatively than mere words can ever do. Mozart's entire score is an object lesson in how to infuse every number - and even every note - with dramatic and psychological meaning.

Two similar libretti. Two dissimilar composers. It makes all the difference between hackwork and a masterpiece.