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The [first performance] of the opera season in Brooklyn is always noticeable for something that the Metropolitan conspicuously lacks - a gathering of the clans; otherwise that friendly, even intimate, renewal of relations in which no golden horseshoe figures, but much family and neighborly good-will. Thus it was that while a large audience assembled ostensibly to witness the rather faded charms of "La Traviata," that was by no means all of it - else the constantly lessening artistry of these productions by the Metropolitan might have caused regret.

That is what happens when the life goes out of a famous house and only the shell remains. There is a marked absence at present in New York of the vitality and enthusiasm which so infused the Chicago Company's performances here and even the San Carlo's. Except for the large orchestra, and that not any too well conducted, nor with adequate opportunities for its full expanse, there is but little to lure one to Broadway.

Lucrezia Bori was the Violetta last evening. For a time this young Spanish prima donna, a product of the Gatti-Casazza reign, both before and after the trouble with her voice, promised something extremely good. But maturity has not broadened her vision, nor deepened her insight, if last night's performance is any criterion. She seemed more a comedienne, in her interpretation of this part, once so nobly sustained by Frieda Hempel and even by Galli-Curci, though at the close of the ballroom scene she rose for a moment to something like tragic import. Too many aimless gestures marked her play while her voice is but a poor substitute for the luscious bel canto that still survives in vocalists banished to London from what should be their rightful home. Why such songbirds should be compelled to bury their incomparable art in recitals across the sea when New York starves for them is inexplicable.

De Luca, an old war horse, warranted not to take too rapid a pace, did well last evening as the elder Germont, while Gigli's admirable tenor, growing constantly in grace and power, made the most of the melancholy opportunities that lie in the role of Alfredo. Bada as Gastone and Annanin, the physician, took their cues with the sure touch of experience.

Probably the most brilliant moment of the occasion was that in the gypsy and toreador chorus and ballet of the third act, which introduced Rosina Galli, with Bonfiglio, in a delightfully skillful and stirring Spanish divertissement, where red petticoats flew and nimble feet clicked and stamped and twinkled in true Andalusian style.

Search by season: 1922-23

Search by title: La Traviata,

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