Stolen, Gestohlen, Rubato

In January 2019, a video of the Uffizi Galleries in Florence shows its director dramatically affixing a framed black-and-white photo of a painting on a wall in a gallery.  Around the photo in bold red lettering is the word “stolen” in German, Italian, and English along with a caption that explains that the original work of art was stolen by Nazi soldiers during World War II.

The painting is “Vase of Flowers,” a still life by the 18thcentury Dutch master Jan van Huysum. It is an oil on canvas, 47 x 35 cm.  The Grand Duke Leopoldo II of Tuscany bought “Vase of Flowers” in 1824 to hang alongside other Dutch still-life paintings for the newly created Palatine Gallery in the Pitti Palace.  It hung in the Room of the Putti of the Pitti Palace, which is overseen today by the Uffizi.

In its place now is the provocative photograph, which is part of the Uffizi’s social media campaign to pressure Germany into stepping into the dispute over the stolen painting. Eike Schmidt, the first foreign director of the Uffizi and himself a German, made a lengthy “Appeal to Germany for 2019” on Twitter which said, among other things, that “Germany has a moral duty to return this painting to our museum.”

The painting has been in the hands of a German family that is possibly related to the soldier who took the painting during the war.  For decades there have been “on and off” negotiations between Italian authorities and agents of the family.  Last year (2018) a representative for the German family offered to return the work in exchange for about 500,000 euro (about $567,000).

This prompted outrage and action.  Italian prosecutors and the special elite division of the Carabinieri that investigates art theft, have opened investigations into the movement of the painting since it was taken from Italy.  They are also evaluating whether the family’s request for money could be viewed as extortion.  “What belongs to the Italian state has to be returned to the Italian state,” stated the commander of the Carabinieri’s art theft unit.  And Schmidt stated firmly, “We’re trying to get the German family to understand that we are not in a legal position to buy something that according to Italian and international law we already own.”

The appeal has now moved to the German government, which has not yet responded.  Under German law, legal claims for stolen property cannot be made after more than 30 years.  This German statute of limitations means that when property is in private hands, there is no legal way to force its return, and no basis for government intervention. For many years Israel and Jewish groups lobbied Germany to carve out an exception for items looted in the Nazi era, but this never became law.

Mr. Schmidt claims that generating publicity over “Vase of Flowers” should make it difficult for the German family that holds the painting to try to sell it.  “Thanks to the dramatic photo in the Room of the Putti, people will never forget that this work of art was stolen.  And thanks to the publicity on social media, no one would be able to say ‘I purchased this work in good faith.’”

Posted in Arte, Comunità ebrea, English, Firenze, Foto, Italia, La Gente, Storia, Toscana | 2 Comments

Serate di apertura

La ricezione da parte del pubblico delle prime dell’opera è sempre stata notoriamente imprevedibile.  Per esempio tre delle opere italiane più famose: Il Barbiere di Siviglia, La Traviat, e Madama Butterfly sono stati clamorosi fallimenti nelle loro serate di apertura.  Forse nessuno è stato più sorprendente di quello di Madama Butterfly.  La sera del 17 febbraio 1904 al Teatro alla Scala di Milano, tutti—dal compositore ai musicisti d’orchestra, al pubblico–si aspettavano un grande trionfo per il compositore di La Bohèmee La Tosca.

 All’inizio il pubblico accolse Madama Butterflysilenziosamente; e il silenzio da parte del pubblico italiano era, nel migliore dei casi, qualcosa di minaccioso.  Più tardi, nel primo atto, ci furono grida di “Quello è da Bohème … dacci qualcosa di nuovo”!  Sibili salutò il sipario del primo atto, e il secondo atto fu costellato da lamenti, fischi e oscenità.  Le recensioni non furono molto migliori; nel suo inimitabile sobrietà, ilTimes di Londra riferì che l’opera era stata “ricevuta piuttosto freddamente”.

Puccini era disorientato e affranto; affrontò l’esperienza con un linciaggio.  Annullò le altre esibizioni in programma al Teatro alla Scala, anche se dovette sostenere un ingente pagamento.  Apportò una serie di revisioni all’opera, compresa la divisione del secondo atto in II e III atto e l’introduzione di un’aria rimorso per ammorbidire il tenente. Tre mesi e mezzo dopo, la versione rivista fu rappresentata a Brescia sotto la direzione musicale di Arturo Toscanini.  Fu un enorme successo.  Il pubblico adorò lo scenario sin dall’inizio e richiese numerosi bis per le arie ed altri numeri musicali.  Puccini poté finalmente salire sul palco per fare un lungo inchino insieme ai cantanti.

Ma perché il clamoroso fallimento della prima?  Il cast fu considerato assolutamente di prima classe.  Alcuni pensarono che certi rivali di Puccini avessero organizzato dei gruppi per metterlo a disagio.  Altri sostenevano che l’argomento dell’opera fosse sgradevole: un ufficiale della marina americana mette incinta e abbandona un’ adolescente giapponese, che poi si suicida. E altri ancora sottolineano la natura del pubblico operistico italiano che non ama nulla di meglio che esprimere le proprie opinioni in modo inequivocabile.

Nel 2016, La Scala ha messo in scena la versione originale di Madama Butterfly (che raramente si è vista), forse come un atto simbolico di contrizione.

 

Posted in Abitudini, Differenze culturali, Foto, Italia, Italiano, La Gente, Milano, Musica, Storia | 2 Comments

Opening Nights

Audience reception of opera premieres has always been unpredictable.  For example, three of the most popular Italian operas today—The Barber of Seville, La Traviata, and Madame Butterfly—were resounding failures on their opening nights.  Perhaps none was more striking than that of Madame Butterfly.  On the evening of February 17, 1904 at Teatro alla Scala in Milan, everyone – from the singers, to the orchestra players, to the stagehands – confidently expected nothing short of a great triumph for the composer of La Bohème and La Tosca.

At the outset, Butterfly was greeted with silence; and silence from an Italian audience was an ominous thing at best.  Later in the first act, there were cries of “That’s from Bohème…Give us something new!”  Hisses greeted the first-act curtain, and the second act was peppered with groans, boos, catcalls, and obscenities.  The reviews were not much better; in its inimitable understated manner, The Times (London) reported that the opera had been “received rather coldly.”

Puccini was bewildered and heartbroken; he compared the experience to a “lynching.”  He canceled the other scheduled performances at La Scala even though he had to fork over a hefty payment.  He made a number of revisions to the opera, including dividing the long second act into Acts II and III and introducing a remorseful aria to soften the lieutenant.  Three and a half months later the revised version was staged in Brescia under the baton of Arturo Toscanini.  It was a huge success.  The audience loved the scenery at the outset and demanded numerous encores for arias and other musical numbers.  Puccini was finally able to go onstage and take a lengthy bow along with the singers.

But why the resounding failure of the premiere?  The cast was considered absolutely first-class.  Some people surmised that rivals of Puccini had organized groups to embarrass him.  Others cited the opera’s subject matter:  An unsympathetic American naval officer impregnates and abandons a Japanese teenager, later driving her to suicide.  And still others point to the nature of Italian opera audiences who love nothing better than to express their opinions unmistakably.

In 2016, La Scala staged the rarely seen original version, perhaps as a symbolic act of contrition.

 

Posted in Abitudini, Arte, English, Foto, Italia, La Gente, Milano, Musica, Storia | 2 Comments