Raina Kabaivanska

Experience the landmark 1983 production of Puccini's Madama Butterfly, presented in the beautiful open-air setting of the Arena di Verona and starring Raina Kabaivanska, Lorenzo Saccomani, and Nazzareno Antinori under the direction of Giulio Chazalettes and the baton of Maurizio Arena.

The gypsy Azucena (Fiorenza Cossotto) takes revenge for her mother who was accused of putting a curse on one of the old Count di Luna's two sons: she decides to abduct the younger child and throw it in the flames. But when she is about to carry out this fatal act, the gypsy sacrifices her own child and keeps the old Count’s son, whom she names Manrico (IL TROVATORE, Plácido Domingo). Later, as adults, the troubadour Manrico and the Count di Luna’s elder son (Piero Cappucilli) do not know each other, but become rivals for the beautiful Leonora (Raina Kabaivanska). Manrico succeeds in winning the young woman’s heart, and she sacrifices herself for him, deceiving the Count’s son. Mad with jealousy, the latter orders the execution of the troubadour in front of his mother. Azucena reveals to him that Manrico was his brother. This legendary performance of Giuseppe Verdi's most successful opera was recorded at the Vienna State Opera under the baton of Herbert von Karajan.

Opera is an inherently theatrical medium that does not lend itself readily to the realism of film treatment. The shining exception is Puccini's Tosca, an action-packed melodrama that unfolds in three taut and gripping acts like the meatiest of Hollywood films noir. And unlike most operas, these three acts are set in three very specific Roman locales. Thus this 1976 film takes place in the church of Sant'Andrea della Valle (Act 1), the Palazzo Farnese (Act 2), and the Castel Sant'Angelo (Act 3).

Filmed version of Verdi's opera.

Opera's most popular double bill, fondly known as Cav and Pag, can be a tawdry mess or, as in this performance of Pagliacci, a searing experience. Its power derives from an all-star cast headed by tenor Jon Vickers in the double role of betrayed husband, Canio, and tragic clown, Pagliacci. He’s a singer who blurred the division between reality and stage illusion in every role he assumed, thus taking an opera about that thin line between real life and stage artifice to heightened levels of intensity. Vickers is a force of nature, his big, brawny voice suffused with emotion. Here, his phrasing, textual precision, and timbral colorations expand the scope of the opera, making a moving tragedy out of Leoncavallo’s verismo melodrama.