ROSSINI: Cenerentola (La) (Cinderella) Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868) La Cenerentola On 29th February 1816 Rossini signed a contract with the Teatro Valle which obliged him from October of the same year to be in Rome and there to provide the music for a new libretto, the work to have its première on 26th December. Rossini was first able to come to Rome in the middle of December, as the première of Otello had been postponed. At the same time the choice fell on the fairy story of Cinderella, for which Jacopo Ferretti’s libretto, based on Charles-Guillaume Etienne’s Cendrillon, provided the foundation. Within a few days Rossini composed one of his finest operas, taking the overture from La gazzetta (Naples 1816) and part of the final aria Nacqui all’affanno from the aria Cessa di più resistere written for the opera Il barbiere di Siviglia (1816).

The leading performers at the première were Geltrude Righetti Giorgi as Cenerentola, Giacomo Guglielmi as Don Ramiro, Andrea Verni as Don Magnifico, and Giuseppe De Begnis as Dandini. The bass at his disposal for the rôle of Alidoro did not meet Rossini’s demands, and he therefore let his collaborator Luca Agolini have the aria Vasto teatro è il mondo. At the new performance in 1820 this aria was replaced by Rossini’s Là del ciel nel’arcano profondo, since he could now count on the eminent singer Gioachino Moncada as Alidoro; this aria is also sung here in the present version. In addition to Vasto teatro è il mondo Agolini also wrote the recitative of the chorus at the beginning of the second act, as well as Clorinda’s aria Sventurata! Me credea, which we have omitted. La Cenerentola: Interplay of Intelligence and Fantasy We do not know why Gioachino Rossini was tempted to tackle the most classical, most popular of fairy stories, Cinderella.

From a composer who normally shunned realistic actions and rhetorical sentiment in his search for an ideal beauty, suspended somewhere outside the banality of everyday existence, we might have expected a poetic reading of the story, interwoven with abstract fantasies and enlivened by the play of imagination. What could have been more appropriate, therefore, than a story about fairies, elves, Prince Charmings and angelic creatures, struggling with the forces of evil in pursuit of the ultimate triumph of good? Here at last was a subject that would free the composer from the need to explore psychological interpretations, something that was foreign to his nature, and avoided the dangers associated with situations that were ill suited to the aristocratic reserve of his muse. Instead, when Rossini received the libretto by Jacopo Ferretti based on Etienne’s Cendrillon, he took the opposite course.

He replaces the fairy godmother of the story with a knowing and wise tutor; he transforms the tender protagonist into a victim bullied by two stupid half-sisters and a wicked, arrogant father; he changes the routine figure of the tenor lover into a lover capable of real passion and outbursts of generosity; he complicates the simplicity of the story by introducing a character, Dandini, who instead of limiting himself to the old device of disguises, ventures into meta-theatrical situations, delving into the labyrinth of the subconscious. This preference for a realistic interpretation of the fairy tale, spurning the opportunity to undulge his propensity for the abstract, is yet again evidence of Rossini’s intelligence, something which never ceases to surprise. Rossini realised that, with his kind of limpid, sun-lit music, from which the subtle contrasts of chiaroscuro are absent, it would be difficult to project in an imaginary world of fantasy the evanescent figures of the fairy story. So he uses day-to-day actions and real characters in order to achieve the miracle of transforming the topoi of the buffo genre into the absolutes of poetry.

It is not by accident that in L’italiana in Algeri the climax of an entertainment of elegant refinement is reached in the comic ceremonies of the Pappataci. To this intuitive instinct Rossini here adds the calculated disorder of madness, mixing without restraint dramatic elements that seem irreconcilable. The hysteria of Clorinda and Tisbe, a symmetrical and stylized representation of robotic vacuity, contrasts with the sad humanity of Cenerentola; she and Ninetta in La gazza ladra are the truest and most moving characters of all Rossini’s works. In the edgy figuration of Allegri, Concertati and Strette Clorinda and Tisbe find perfect mechanisms for the frenzied expression of their stupidity, while Cenerentola is sympathetically characterized through sincere and moving music of a kind rare in Rossini’s operas.

Her path to happiness is marked by a vocal progress beginning with the ingenuous simplicity of the exit canzonetta Una volta c’era un re, a subconscious and consolatory anticipation of her own life story; passing through the gentle, dreamlike music of the duet with Ramiro, Un soave non so che, where the woman in her awakes; through the dramatic pages of the quintet Signore, una parola, where a conscious rebel is born; through the proud affirmation of Sprezzo quei don, where true nobility of feeling is expressed; through the generous plea of Ah, Signor, where the feeling of infinite goodness emerges, finally culminating in the truly regal Rondo Nacqui all’affanno. The sweetness of so many of Cenerentola’s melodic phrases sits perfectly alongside pure bel canto vocalism, enriching the latter with pathos, and achieving an ideal balance between dazzling, headlong virtuosity and singing which vibrates with the intensity of it sentiments. Cenerentola is, from beginning to end, a character of opera seria who stands out precisely because she is contrasted with characters of the opposite type.

Also belonging to opera seria are the characters with whom she establishes a positive rapport: Prince Ramiro, who will reveal to her the magic of love, and the worthy Alidoro, who directs his pupil Ramiro to the right choice of wife. The duet between Cenerentola and Ramiro constitutes a remarkable prototype of those wonderful fateful meetings in which love is suddenly born, that are the principal element of lyric opera. As often happens in Rossini’s love duets, the two young people do not speak directly to each other or touch each other, but the spark released is so strong as to make Cenerentola drop the dishes she is holding. Then Ramiro and Cenerentola sing independently of their own emotions with a tenderness, an intensity and restraint that leave no doubt as to the cause of their beating hearts. Cenerentola, guided by her feelings, plays the cards of a female seduction that is more credible and more convincingly articulated than that of Rosina, skilfully alternating frailty and haughtiness, tenderness and pride, sadness and happiness.

In the present recording Alidoro sings an extended aria of great difficulty, Là del ciel nell’arcano profondo, that Rossini wrote for a performance of Cenerentola in December 1820 at the Teatro Apollo in Rome. At the première in January 1817 at the Teatro Valle Alidoro had a much more modest aria, Vasto teatro è il mondo, written by Luca Agolini, Rossini’s collaborator in the opera as well as the composer of the unaccompanied recitatives. Rossini had probably refrained from composing the more taxing aria because the singer available to him could not guarantee a level of performance in line with the importance of the occasion. When he was able to count on the excellent Gioachino Moncada in the repeat performances of 1820, Rossini wrote for the Alidoro a tripartite aria, preceded by a long accompanied recitative that calls for superior bel canto technique and a fine high register, difficult to reconcile with the rest of the rôle, conceived for a real bass. Rossini had Luca Agolini write two other numbers of less weight: the knights’ chorus Ah!

Della bella incognita that opens the second act in an appropriately dramatic manner, and an aria for Clorinda, Sventurata! mi credea, here omitted so as not to affect the symmetry of the rôle with that of Tisbe. Cenerentola does not succeed in establishing a dialogue with her step-sisters Clorinda and Tisbe, blocked at the outset by their indifference and contempt, nor does she find any return of affection from her father, although she seeks it desperately up to the final bars of the opera, when she invites him to share her triumph. With Dandini the contact remains deferential and polite, yet distant and formal. The impossibility of communication is rendered by Rossini with an inspired device: when Cenerentola, after her appearance at the palace, turns with accents of great nobility to the supposed prince, Dandini finds no better way of answering than by repeating in caricature the same vocal figurations and identical repeats. This is an irresistible comic invention to imitate an aristocratic tone that is alien to him, but it is also the admission of an existential emptiness, the monologue of a person who does not exist.

Don Magnifico too is a character from opera buffa, but of a different code from that which marks Clorinda and Tisbe: his gargantuan boasting, plebeian exuberance, selfishness and the maliciousness of decadent nobility put him in the category of comique significatif, indicating a type to be found again in the songs of Spaccanapoli, far removed from the abstract and mechanical world of the comique absolu, in which Cenerentola’s step-sisters drift around. This mixture of styles, this cohabitation of characters who belong to planets far removed from each other, rather than giving rise to an unconvincing patchwork of heterogeneous ideas, has created a masterwork of exceptionally expressive tension and coherent organic unity. The variety of emotions forced Rossini into a giddy whirl of musical inventiveness, stimulating to the maximum a creativity which rebelled against the normal paths which logic would have dictated, resulting in flashes of originality, unexpected developments, and surprises that open up the rules of melodramatic dramaturgy.

No one is surprised that the search for the ideal bride, solemnly proclaimed in the kingdom, should be limited, with a contemptuous challenge to good sense, to a girl possessing every goodness and virtue and two step-sisters who are sinks of vice. Nor is it surprising that Cenerentola enters the competition, the only feminine presence, in a kingdom inhabited solely by men, an absurdity certainly brought about by the absence of a female chorus at the commissioning theatre, but accepted by Rossini without demur, happy to challenge yet again the rules of common sense. It is difficult to classify this opera. To reject the usual category of opera comica and to place it in the genre of opera semiseria is just juggling with words. The description dramma giocoso assigned to it by Ferretti, and the classification Mozart and Da Ponte adopted for Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte, is nearer the mark. La Cenerentola is, however, a key opera for investigating and focussing on the principal characteristics, the expressive potentiality of Rossini’s music, and his unique capacity to adapt to the most disparate situations without ever sounding the wrong note and without ever losing the significant force of the work.

It is one of the few operas that we are always ready to listen to, as each time it is able to recreate the wonder and freshness of its perfect symmetry, one of the few where Rossini did not have recourse to selfborrowing, to his usual parodies. The literary text, considered without the transfiguring help of the music, is manifestly the fruit of clever work, but it is lacking in higher inspiration. As support for Rossini’s theatrical work, however, it shows itself to be ideally suited to the inspired course of his musical invention, intelligently and happily devised to making the sparks fly that light up so many parts of the opera. In the second act sextet Questo è un nodo avviluppato, for example, the music preserves the onomatopoeic character of the words, so that the ‘intreccio’ (plot) of this ‘nodo avviluppato’ (tangled knot) ‘sviluppa’ (disentangles) and ‘inviluppa’ (tangles up), ‘sgruppa’ (unties) and ‘raggruppa’ (ties up again) in an amusing tongue-twister that seems never ending.

The uniformity of the cadenced movement that proceeds with the unconcern of a steam-roller to overwhelm every musical rule and to create an effect of hypnotic suspension, is brought to life again with the entry in canon of the voices and the sudden flashes of rapid fourths that leap up and down, entrusted in turn to different characters. Then the inexorable drumming resumes up to the closing cadences, accentuated by the customary crescendo and electrified by a richer use of instrumental inventiveness. There is a fine example of how Rossini succeeds in obtaining the effect of immobility, of a total arrest of events, paradoxically by recourse to movement. The contradiction is achieved by enclosing the musical discourse in a framework of strict symmetry, where the forward propulsion is cancelled out by turning in on itself, as happens with the uniform motion of a spinning-top. This results in an accumulative weight of emotion that creates in the listener an indescribable tension that usually explodes into liberating applause – a provocation that demands the iconoclastic genius of Rossini and gives pleasure to the listener, invited consciously to take part in this game of intelligence and of fantasy.

Alberto Zedda LA CENERENTOLA (Cinderella) - Unity of vision and ensemble spirit with the x-factor UNITY OF VISION AND ENSEMBLE SPIRIT WITH THE X-FACTOR Photo by Neil Mackenzie based on the fairy tale Cendrillon by Charles Perrault. Directed by Lindy Hume Conducted by Music Wyn Davies A New Zealand Opera co-production with Opera Queensland Accompanied by Orchestra Wellington and the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra at St James Theatre, Wellington From 9 May 2015 to 16 May 2015 Reviewed by Michael Gilchrist, 10 May 2015 A good deal has been made in the publicity for La Cenerentola of the serious dimensions of this classic children's tale – for fear, perhaps, that we might mistake it for a Disney-like excursion into fantasy land. That's reasonable. More importantly though, stage director Lyndy Hume has thoroughly grasped the principle that unless the oppositions and contradictions in the structure of the story are properly displayed, the comic release from those tension won't fire. It's not so much that the story won't be worthwhile or engaging – it won't be funny.

Equally the principle plays back the other way. Setting free the comedy is the best way to sharpen the contradictions, give the story depth and create emotional satisfactions. A clear eyed focus on this dynamic, from the stage direction and throughout the creative team, is undoubtedly what makes this production such a splendid and inspired success. It has a very sure sense of structural tensions and everything sparks in that setting. The programme notes contain several essays on the origins of the Cinderella story and indeed it is a version of an apparently universal myth that begins with the first oral cultures. The contemporary popularity of the Brothers Grimm's tales and others had brought quite an awareness of the power of these stories and there were several attempts to set them to music before Rossini and his librettist Ferretti displaced all competition with their version in 1817. For Claude Levi-Strauss, “mythical thought always progresses from the awareness of oppositions toward their resolutions … two opposite terms with no intermediary always tend to be replaced by two equivalent terms that admit of a third one as its mediator.” Cinderella is just such a term. From the opposition between life and death we progress to two terms – earth and sky.

Ash and cinders that float upward from hearth fires into heaven mediate between earth and sky. Versions of the myth are gendered both ways. The female figure seems to have been more associated with North America and the ash boy with Europe. Which is why the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins is so cheerful – and why kissing him brings such good luck. The other oppositions that occupy the earliest myths are still here in Cinderella, too, shedding light on more contemporary dialectics. From the first, we have struggled to reconcile the idea that humans come from one thing - the land - with the knowledge that we come from two, in sexual reproduction. So, in this story we have the sense of privilege of the landed gentry and a radical under-rating of familial relations, embodied in Cinderella's aristocratic family going so far as to declare her dead. They have a kind of visceral belief that humans have some inherent, natural quality that should dominate social relations. On the other hand, the prince (in the role of his own valet) is persuaded to put the highest value on kindness – a virtue which, in this story, remains very close to its origins in the recognition of kinship.

The Prince, having fallen for Cinderella, is furious at the attitudes of Cinderella's family in denying her. She mediates on their behalf because, after all, they are family. But it is never quite clear that her father overcomes his extraordinary reluctance to fulfil her dearest wish – that he acknowledge her as his daughter. From the outset it is clear we are in good hands with this Opera New Zealand / Opera Queensland co-production. The opening scene in the Prince's library establishes the Dickensian setting. An inventive and very assured piece of business, mischievously alluding to Victorian pornography, keeps us amused while the overture is played. Then the set opens up in spectacular fashion and we enter the underworld of the poor and oppressed. The opening chorus is perfect. The sense that the cast's comic unconscious has been unleashed, while working within a strong surface structure, is palpable. This is no doubt enhanced by Tairoa Royal's choreography which has everyone moving together with a kind of anarchic ease, making the rhythms of the music and the words come alive.

A baby tossed in the air at regular intervals seems to make the perfect exclamation point over this entirely worthy but somehow completely unpredictable citizenry, seething with tensions and potential, poised between peril and celebration. The audience hasn't forgotten the significance of this child when right at the end of the opera, Cinderella, moving regally through the crowd, briefly nurses the lucky infant. The sense that something has been saved from a knife edge is sudden, unexpected. You can't plan this sort of ironical pay off. Everything in this production is oriented toward one end: telling a compelling story. Every element makes a memorable contribution and the funnier it is, the better it succeeds. The choreography, as mentioned, is expert. When choreography is as well integrated as this, its value in comic opera can't be overstated – something perhaps first demonstrated in American director Peter Sellars' productions of Mozart operas in the 1980s. We could, if anything, have seen more of it. Everything makes better sense once bodies are in motion. The set design and construction is outstanding. When Don Magnifico's Emporium opens up into a little shop of horrors we feel completely immersed in this melodramatic world.

The storm scene, tied to a nightmare of Cinderella and her fears of annihilation, is seamless and effective, adding effortless depth to the comedy. The cast are consistently exemplary. The two sisters, Clorinda and Thisbe, are played by young local talent Amelia Berry and Rachelle Pike respectively. They threaten to steal the show with superb acting and effortless vocal control. Some of these comic tropes are familiar but these two lift them to a new level with Pike showing a particularly gifted fluency. As Cinderella's father, Don Magnifico, Andrew Collis is no less masterful as a totally believable buffoon with a kind of dangerously determined streak running through his alcoholism. Bass Ashraf Sewailam is all class as the philosopher father figure to Cinderella and her prince, his acting sure and his voice smooth and supple. Marcin Bronikowski, playing the prince Don Ramiro's valet, again moves beautifully while displaying a stand-out baritone. Connoisseurs of singing in this register will find the quality of this singer's tone a rare treat indeed. In the role of Don Ramiro, John Tessier is completely convincing, with a lovely tenor voice that manages the very high notes required in the role with ease.

As Cinderella, Sarah Castle manages this demanding role with wonderful integrity of character in her acting and a very impressive mastery of the incredibly demanding runs and coloratura effects of the part. Earlier in the piece I wonder if she is giving the role sufficient vocal weight but her displays at the climax are dazzling and she maintains a very beautiful tone throughout: expressive, sincere and natural. The all-male chorus are, as usual, hugely impressive in both singing and acting. Special mention must be made of the bearded maids and the comic business, which relies on great precision to appear entirely accidental. Musical director Wyn Davies appears to be in his element and the orchestra performs with a relaxed verve and pleasure in the music and its contrasts that is entirely in keeping with the whole feeling of this extraordinarily unified production. There is a little imbalance, with the orchestra overpowering the singers just a little in the earlier scenes but no doubt this will be fine-tuned as the season progresses. Altogether, this is a hugely successful production with a rare unity of vision and ensemble spirit. At times you can't help feeling that a hit song in the mix would just put the icing on the cake although there are many beautiful tunes.

But the creative team are right, I think, to rate the opera so highly. It works so well as a whole; it has a structural dynamism that is superbly brought out here and it is very sure footed in its narrative right through to the end. This version, though, is something special. It has the x-factor. The show lifts off as a whole: every element and every participant is supporting the others. Don't miss it. Those on both sides of the Tasman who are wise enough to attend will remember a splendid night out. _______________________________ For more production details, click on the title above. Go to Home page to see other Reviews, recent Comments and Forum postings (under Chat Back), and News. La Cenerentola - Festival of International Opera of the Americas La Cenerentola Michael Borowitz, Conductor Rolando Salazar, Assistant Conductor La Cenerentola is two acts of sheer delight by Gioachino Rossini. The libretto was written by Jacopo Ferretti, based on the fairy tale Cinderella. Composed at the age of twenty-five it is considered to be some of his best solo vocal and ensemble writing.

The story has been altered due to the constraints of “magic”, but is still an enchanting story filled with breathtaking musical moments and hilarious antics from the entire cast of characters. It is truly a timeless classic fairytale spun in delightful yet magical fashion by the genius, Rossini. La Cenerentola — Opera Saratoga Libretto by Jacopo Ferretti Based on the fairytale by Charles Perrault Opera Saratoga opens the 2015 Summer Season with Rossini’s beloved version of Cinderella. Based on Perrault’s timeless fairytale, La Cenerentola features plenty of magical enchantment; the ridiculous, over-the-top situations and toe-tapping melodies that you expect from the master of comic Italian opera; and heartfelt emotion to bring together this story of forgiveness and true love. The ultimate rags-to-riches tale, it's a Cinderella story... but not quite as you may know it!

Opera Saratoga is proud to present the company debuts of five extraordinary singers in La Cenerentola: Metropolitan Opera mezzo-soprano Sandra Piques Eddy sings the virtuoso title role alongside tenor Andrew Owens as Prince Ramiro, baritone John Brancy as his valet Dandini, David Kravitz as her wicked step-father Don Magnifico, and Ryan Kuster as the mysterious philosopher Alidoro. Gary Thor Wedow also makes his company debut conducting this new production by Artistic and General director Lawrence Edelson. Sung in Italian with English text projected above the stage. La Cenerentola is an ideal opera for families! Matinee performances are recommended for children 6 and older. Evening performances are recommended for children 12 and older. PERFORMANCE DATES Lighting Designer: Jeff Bruckerhoff SYNOPSIS In this variation of the traditional Cinderella story, the wicked stepmother is replaced by a wicked stepfather, Don Magnifico. The Fairy Godmother is replaced by Alidoro, a philosopher and the Prince's tutor. Cinderella is identified not by her glass slipper but by her bracelet.

ACT 1 Angelina ("Cenerentola") is forced to work as the maid in the run-down house of her stepfather Don Magnifico. While his two mean, idle daughters, Clorinda and Tisbe, try on their gowns and jewelry, Cenerentola sings a ballad about a king who found his wife among common folk. A beggar comes calling. Clorinda and Tisbe want to send him away, but Cenerentola offers him bread and coffee. Courtiers arrive to announce that Prince Ramiro is looking for the most beautiful girl in the land to be his bride, and is on his way to pay them a visit. Prince Ramiro arrives, disguised as his own valet in order to observe the women without them knowing. He is immediately struck with admiration for Cenerentola and she for him. Cenerentola has to leave when her stepsisters call her. Don Magnifico enters and Ramiro tells him the Prince will arrive shortly. The "prince" is actually Dandini, Ramiro's valet in disguise. The stepsisters arrive and fawn gleefully over Dandini, who invites them to a ball at the Royal palace.

Don Magnifico tells Cenerentola that she cannot accompany them to the ball, despite her pleading. Before leaving, Ramiro notices how badly Cenerentola is treated. His tutor, Alidoro, who had been at the house earlier disguised as the beggar, arrives still wearing his rags and asks for Don Magnifico's third daughter. Magnifico denies she is still alive, but when Alidoro is left alone with Cenerentola, he tells her that she will accompany him to the ball. He throws off his beggar's clothes and identifies himself as a member of Prince Ramiro's court, telling her that heaven will reward her pure heart. The stepsisters and Don Magnifico arrive at Prince Ramiro's palace, with Dandini still posing as the Prince. Dandini offers Magnifico a tour of the wine cellar, hoping to get him drunk. He then disentangles himself from the family and tells Ramiro how stupid and obnoxious the two sisters are. Ramiro is confused since Alidoro had spoken well of one of Magnifico's daughters. Clorinda and Tisbe enter and impatiently pressure Dandini to declare his "princely" choice.

Without committing himself, Dandini ponders the question "Whom will the rejected sister marry?" and suggests Ramiro as a possible husband. Believing him to be a mere valet, the two sisters reject Ramiro as a despicable choice and insult him to his face. Alidoro announces the arrival of an unknown, lavishly dressed yet veiled, lady (Cenerentola). All sense something familiar about her and feel they are in a dream but on the verge of being awakened with a shock. Act 2 Don Magnifico, Clorinda, and Tisbe are in a room of Ramiro's palace. Magnifico frets over the unknown woman who threatens the chance for one of his daughters to marry Prince Ramiro. The three leave and Ramiro enters, smitten with the unknown woman who resembles the girl he had met that morning. He conceals himself as Dandini arrives with Cenerentola and tries to court her. She turns Dandini down politely, telling him that she is in love with his valet. Ramiro steps forth and declares his love for her.

She then leaves giving him one of a pair of matching bracelets and saying that if he really cares for her, he will find her. Encouraged by Alidoro, Ramiro calls his men together to begin searching for her. Meanwhile, Dandini confesses to Don Magnifico that he is really Prince Ramiro's valet. Magnifico becomes highly indignant, and Dandini orders him out of the palace. At Magnifico's house, Cenerentola, once again dressed in rags, is tending the fire and singing her ballad. Magnifico and his daughters return from the ball in a vile mood and order Cenerentola to prepare their supper. A thunderstorm rages. Dandini suddenly appears at the door to say that Prince Ramiro's carriage has overturned outside and brings him into the house. Cenerentola fetches a chair for the prince and realizes he is Ramiro. He recognizes her bracelet and the couple are reunited. Don Magnifico, Clorinda and Tisbe are furious. Angered by their cruelty to Cenerentola, Ramiro threatens to punish them, but Cenerentola asks him to be merciful.

As Cenerentola leaves with her prince, Alidoro thanks heaven for the happy outcome. In the throne room of Ramiro's palace, Magnifico tries to curry favor with his stepdaughter, the new princess, but she only wants to be acknowledged as his daughter. Cenerentola asks the prince to forgive Magnifico and the two stepsisters. Her father and stepsisters embrace her as she declares that her days of toiling by the fire are over. OPERA SARATOGA - 19 ROOSEVELT DRIVE, SUITE 215 - SARATOGA SPRINGS, NEW YORK 12866 PHONE: (518) 584-6018 - FAX: (518) 584-6775 Gioachino Rossini - La Cenerentola - Ouverture (Alberto Zedda) - YouTube Gioachino Rossini - La Cenerentola - Ouverture (Alberto Zedda) Want to watch this again later? Sign in to add this video to a playlist. Need to report the video? Sign in to report inappropriate content. Rating is available when the video has been rented.

This feature is not available right now. Please try again later. Uploaded on Nov 16, 2008 It has been a while since I've replenished my current collection of Rossini's comical music, so I decided to return to it with my personal favorite excepts from the maestro's version of the archetypal story of a young woman living through impossible torment before being rewarded for constance: Cinderella. "La Cenerentola", premiered in 1817, was almost immediately (after an initially lukewarm first night, though) a popular success and, moreover, never entirely passed out of the operatic repertoire during the time when operas of Rossini's period were out of favor, reaffirming its' charm over audiences of both centuries. It still remains one of Rossini's best known works and for good reason: the piece provides us with tauntingly realistic treatment of the original story made only more stunning by some of Rossini's most lyrical passages and explosive comical moments.

Interestingly enough, the work strays as far away from the original prototypical story: don't expect fairy godmothers and glass slippers here (the slipper is replaced by a bracelet (in order to comply with current moral standards and not show the ankle), by which the Prince recognizes Cinderella at the end of the opera); Perrault's famous fairy tale is stripped of virtually all supernatural characters and events in this very loose adaptation of it, making for a much more down-to-earth but nonetheless rewarding story of how "goodness triumphs". On a side note, the replacement "fairy godmother" - Alindoro - actually seems to be a sort of an echo of the original supernatural calling forth, in Act Two, a storm that forces Ramiro to seek shelter in the castle of Don Magnifico, so the question of just how much is the story "realistic" remains very much alive. Still, we are faced by a much more truthful reexamination that only serves to highlight the sheer immorality of what Cinderella has to suffer through.

The original story itself is no piece of Christmas pie: the heroine (or to cite her proper name as used in the work, Angelina) suffers continuous indignities from her relatives (here, her father and two stepsisters) during the whole work, only being acknowledged, rather unsatisfyingly, at the very end when her family has no other options. But Rossini's adaptation uses an even more heart-breaking story: the gorgeous Act One quintet has Don Magnifico, Angelina's own father, swearing, right before his daughter, that she is dead. We are not shown how Cinderella's life was before the beginning of action but this episode alone paints such a deeply moving tragedy: the young woman simply wants acceptance, nothing more, and her final triumph is rather enigmatic, what will come of her relationship with her family? Still, Rossini's music, in spite of this, paints a story that one believes from the beginning to the end, one truly hopes, by the very final coda, that all will end in happiness.

I'm going for a recording that is perhaps not as common as, for example, renditions centered on the heroines of Berganza, Baltsa, Larmore or Bartoli: a 2004 live recording under the leadership of the Rossini trouper, Alberto Zedda. Featuring good sound and clear orchestration, as well as a balanced ensemble, it remains my personal favorite, in spite of all the other renditions available. As I'm trying to concentrate on relatively obscure pieces or, at the very least, on the pieces not as often cited as the "hits" :), the selections include the following: the overture (to set up a suitable opening for the other pieces), the superb Quartet/Quintet and the magnificent Finale from Act One; Don Magnifico's third aria and, finally, the first movement of the penultimate Sextet. Let us press on forward to the first piece.

The overture, like several other famous orchestral piece by Rossini (including the seemingly hand-in-glove "Il Barbiere" opening), includes material recycled from earlier operas - in this case "La gazzetta", "Il turco in Italia" (which I will post after I've finished posting all the pieces from the present work) and "La pietra del paragone". But it doesn't really matter. The result is a thoroughly enjoyable confection that seems fully appropriate for this slightly sentimental, slightly comical opera. The overture falls into the usual Rossini shape with a slow introduction followed by a little symphonic allegro that, though lacking a development section, is loaded with surprises, including an extended crescendo that serves as the closing theme, an opening theme that proceeds stagily in fits and starts and a delightful turn on the piccolo in the recapitulation of the second theme. Hope you'll enjoy :)!

La Cenerentola - Live in HD (DVD) - Met Opera | DVDS | Met Opera Shop La Cenerentola - Live in HD (DVD) - Met Opera Item# 1000004401 History "Irresistible" (Opera News) rising-star mezzo Elina Garanca triumphs as Rossini's Cinderella in this delightful Metropolitan Opera production. "As close to pure joy as you will find in a big-time opera house" (New Yorker), conquering audiences and critics alike, "Garanca has a gorgeous voice that she uses with exceptional skill, melting tenderness; but when the part calls for coloratura fireworks, she unleashes a flawless technique and ringing high notes of impressive power" (Associated Press). Filmed in High Definition Widescreen. La Cenerentola (2 DVD) Region: Region Free, Worldwide Gioachino Rossini’s La Cenerentola Rossini’s charming version of the Cinderella story brings unexpected realism to the beloved fairy tale by having the lovers find each other without the help of magic.

The opera premiered in 1817 and since the bel canto revival in the mid-20th century has become one of the composer’s most frequently performed works. ALL PURCHASES SUPPORT THE METROPOLITAN OPERA. FOR MORE INFORMATION VISIT METOPERA.ORG Customer Service For assistance, call (212) 501-NoSkype3482 About Us Shop Membership Gift Cards DVDs CDs For the Home Accessories Apparel New Arrivals Specials Newsletter Sign-Up Close and Continue Shopping Receive Our News and Updates Sign up and stay informed! Music, gifts, upcoming sales, special events, and artist appearances happening in the store-we'll bring it all to you. your email information Shop More Music and Gifts Close and Continue Shopping Shop More Music and Gifts The Met Opera Shop Personal Shopping Service Can't find the music you need? Our specialists will help you select the perfect opera CDs and DVDs. They can also place orders for hard-to-find music while guiding you to the best recordings available. Looking for a special gift? Our personal shoppers have great gift ideas for every occasion. The Met Opera Shop offers a wide array of jewelry, apparel, home décor, and more.

We also offer gift wrapping and will ship almost anywhere in the world. Please tell us what you need. We are here to help! Simply fill out the form and a Met Opera Shop Specialist will contact you within 48 hours. your information *required La Cenerentola \ Den Norske Opera & Ballett Stefan Herheim forbereder Rossinis La Cenerentola. Produsert av T.M. Rives Ta en kikk bak scenen og se hvordan kostymene til La Cenerentola lages! En annerledes Askepott! Animasjon: Live Bergitte Molvær / Illustrasjon: Ingun Redalen White Det var en gang et eventyr. Og som alle eventyr handlet også dette om godhetens seier. Men avhengig av hvem som forteller og hvem som hører på, forandrer eventyr seg. Da komponisten Gioachino Rossini valgte Askepott som tema for en ny opera som trollbandt publikum i Roma under karnevalet i 1817, var forutsetningene for fortryllelsen helt andre enn en gang for lenge, lenge siden.

På samme måte fremstår Askepotts troverdighet langt mer eventyrlig i dag enn for 200 år siden. Skal godheten seire, må man stadig våge spranget fra asken til ilden. Første akt Askepotts forfengelige stesøstre Clorinda og Tisbe krangler om publikums gunst. De blir avbrutt og lar seg provosere av Askepotts sang om en konge, som blant tre mulige bruder valgte den uskyldsrene. Alidoro, prins Ramiros fortrolige rådgiver, kommer forkledd som en fattig pilegrim for å sette de tre pikene på prøve. Stesøstrene vil jage ham ut, men Askepott byr ham på frokost. Budet om at prinsen vil gifte seg med den vakreste piken i landet setter alle i fyr og flamme, og vekker omsider også faren i huset: Don Magnifico, baron av Monte Fiascone.

Han er bankerott og pålegger døtrene å vinne prinsens hjerte og føde ham rikelig med kongelige barn for å redde familiens ære. Mens alle pynter seg og venter på prins Ramiro, dukker han selv opp i en kammertjeners habitt. Slik håper han å kunne kaste et uforstyrret blikk på brudeemnene. Han støter på Cenerentola og de forelsker de seg umiddelbart i hverandre. Stesøstrene roper på den angivelige tjenestepiken, som må løpe før hun rekker å fortelle Ramiro hvem hun egentlig er. Prinsen kommer med sitt følge – men i virkeligheten dreier det seg om Ramiros kammertjener Dandini, som er beordret til å spille hans kongelige høyhet.

Jo mer Don Magnifico, Clorinda og Tisbe smigrer og bekrefter «prinsens» eksalterte tilnærmelser, desto mer holder Dandini dem for narr. Når Cenerentola ber om å få bli med på slottet, skjeller Don Magnifico henne ut. Alidoro dukker opp i ny forkledning og etterlyser husets tredje datter, på grunnlag av folkeregisteret. Don Magnifico påstår at hun er død, jager alle på dør og følger prinsen til slottet sammen med døtrene sine. Alene med Cenerentola åpenbarer Alidoro seg som himmelens sendebud. Han lover henne belønning for hennes godhet, gir henne to armbånd, kler henne i en praktfull kjole og sender henne i en firspent vogn til slottet. Ved hoffet nøler ikke Don Magnifico med å utnytte gjestfriheten.

Han lar seg utnevne til vinkjellermester, dikterer nye lovverk og setter seg godt til rette på tronen. Ramiro og Dandini er en smule forvirret; Alidoro har snakket så varmt om en av Don Magnificos døtre, men i Tisbe og Clorinda ser de kun to latterlige hurper som er villige til å gjøre alt for å få prinsen. Dandini bedyrer at han umulig kan gifte seg med begge og foreslår at kammertjeneren hans tar den som blir til overs. Pikene blir rasende og faller først til ro da Alidoro kunngjør en tilslørt skjønnhets ankomst. Hennes skikkelse og selvbevisste tale bergtar hele hoffet. På prinsens anmodning kaster hun sløret. Alle mener å gjenkjenne Cenerentola, men ingen forstår hvordan det kan ha seg. De går til bords med lumske følelser.

Pause Andre akt Don Magnificos drøm om å bli kongelig er sterkere enn frykten for den fremmede skjønnheten. Tisbe og Clorinda føler seg ikke truet av én som ligner på en tjenestepike. I fortrolighet forteller Cenerentola Dandini at hun ikke er forelsket i ham, men i hans kammertjener. Ramiro overhører samtalen, trer frem og ber om hennes hånd. Hun tar bestemt avskjed etter å ha gitt ham ett av sine to armbånd: Hvis han virkelig elsker og akter henne, skal han lete etter motstykket. Fast besluttet på å finne den fremmede, befaler Ramiro Dandini å avslutte maskeraden og kaste ut baronen og døtrene hans. Den degraderte kammertjeneren furter og hevner seg for tapet av prinsestatusen ved å holde Don Magnifico for narr så lenge som mulig.

Illsint over bedrageriet drar baronen og døtrene hans hjem, hvor Cenerentola venter. Ved hjelp av et uvær steller Alidoro i stand en ulykke: Ramiros vogn bryter sammen rett utenfor Don Magnificos hus, hvor prinsen dermed må søke tilflukt. På armbåndet gjenkjenner han Cenerentola, som først nå forstår hvem som er den virkelige prinsen. Ramiro vil straffe Don Magnifico, men Cenerentola ber ham være nådig og tilgir selv stefaren. Først under bryllupet begriper den nye prinsessen at hennes ulykkelige dager i grua virkelig er forbi, og at med et snipp, snapp, snute, er også hennes eventyr ute.

Slave, morder eller prinsesse: Askepott gjennom tidene Alexander Meier-Dörzenbach Når vi tenker på Askepott, har vi først og fremst et bilde av en mistet glassko og en god fe – men akkurat disse ingrediensene mangler i Rossinis opera om Askepott. Her er det hverken magi eller glassko. For fortellingene om Askepott er langt mer sprikende enn det vi vanligvis møter i eventyrbøker og filmer, og gir et mangfoldig og variert bilde av kvinnen gjennom alle tider. Historien om Askepott har eksistert i over 3500 år og i nesten alle kulturer. I oldtidens Egypt ble den greske piken Rhodopsis solgt som slavinne til en gård ved Nilens bredd, der hun snart ble gjort til spott og spe fordi hun var annerledes.

Istedenfor glatt, svart hår og brune øyne, hadde hun lyse lokker og grønne øynene, og huden hadde en lys teint istedenfor den solbrune fargen man finner hos egypterne. Den eneste gleden i livet hennes var dyrene: småfuglene som spiste av hånden hennes, den lille apekatten som hoppet opp på skulderen hennes og flodhesten som steg opp av den gjørmete elven når Rhodopsis sang og danset langs elvebredden … En kveld så gårdsherren henne danse lett, men barbent ved elven og ga henne et par sandaler av rosegull. Men dette førte bare til økt misnøye hos de andre slavene. Da faraoen skulle holde hoff i Memphis, ble alle fra kongeriket invitert, men Rhodopsis ble pålagt så mye arbeid at hun ikke kunne gå.

Isteden satt hun ved Nilen og vasket klær og sang samtidig en sørgmodig vise for seg selv. Denne gjentok hun så ofte at selv flodhesten ble irritert og la i vei med et plask så voldsomt at skoene hennes ble gjennomvåte av vannspruten. Men ikke før hadde hun lagt dem til tørk på en stein, så stupte en falk ned og nappet til seg en av sandalene. Denne fuglen var i virkeligheten guden Horus, som nå fløy til farao Ahmose og la den delikate skoen i fanget hans. Faraoen lot derpå alle kvinner i riket prøve den smekre skoen, men den passet ingen. Nå ble kongeskipets ametystfargede silkeseil heist og faraoen stevnet ut for å lete langs Nilens bredder – der han til slutt fant Rhodopsis – som ikke bare passet skoen, men også hadde den andre.

Han gjorde henne til dronning, selv om dette først førte til bestyrtelse blant folket, ikke bare fordi hun var slavinne, men hun var i tillegg en fremmed. Til dette svarte faraoen: «Hun er den mest egyptiske av alle, for hennes øyne er grønne som Nilen, hennes hår er lyst og sart som papyrus og hennes hud er rosa som lotusblomsten – hun gjenspeiler det vakreste i dette landet." I denne fortellingen finner vi elementene vann, jord og luft gjennom den gjørmebadende flodhesten og den flyvende falken – men den så vesentlige ilden i fortellingen mangler. For både for Askepott, Cinderella, Cenerentola, Cendrillon, Aschenputtel, Cenicienta, Külkedisi og Aschenbrödel er det ilden, det fjerde element, som har gitt navn til historien – enten i form av ild eller som den mørkbrente asken.

Likevel er dette først lagt til i den europeiske versjonen, mens for eksempel det nære forholdet til dyrene også finnes i den kinesiske varianten. Under den senere del av Tang-Dynastiet i Kina, cirka år 850, ble historien om Ye-Xian, piken som ble behandlet så dårlig av stemoren og stesøstrene, nedtegnet. Hun fant en venn i en gullfisk, som hun alltid delte den lille matrasjonen sin med. Den misunnelige stemoren så hvordan fisken vokste og trivdes, og en dag tok hun den og serverte den til kveldsmat til familien. Da kom en gammel mann til Ye-Xian og rådet henne til å oppbevare fiskebeinene og be dem om hjelp når hun måtte ha behov for det.

Da vårens fest skulle avholdes, ba hun om en praktfull kjole og gullsko, men da hun ankom festen og så at stefamilien hennes også var der, løp hun forskrekket ut igjen og mistet i farten en av skoene. Nå lot herskeren reise en paviljong for den lille, dyrbare skoen, og alle kvinner strømmet til for å prøve den. Siden fiskebeinånden var stum så lenge de to skoene ikke var sammen, stjal Ye-Xian gullskoen, og ble tatt på fersk gjerning. Men i samme øyeblikk som hun tok på begge skoene, forvandlet hverdagskjolen hennes seg til den vakreste festkjole. Herskeren gjenkjente hennes skjønnhet og tok henne umiddelbart til kone.

I kinesisk sammenheng symboliserer fisken rikdom og fruktbarhet, og den delikate, tapte skoen har en helt spesiell betydning: I over 1000 år var bittesmå, sammensnørte lotusføtter gjenstand for fetisjtilbedelse. De symboliserte kvinnen og var samtidig en metafor for harmonien og kjærligheten mellom mann og kvinne. Mens kvinnen selv ble til et sterkt hemmet objekt for begjær gjennom den forkrøplende fotbindingen. Fysisk brutalitet finner vi også i brødrene Grimms kjente versjon av fortellingen om Askepott fra begynnelsen av det 19. århundre.

Da de slemme stesøstrene hakker av seg stortå og hæl for å passe i den bittelille skoen, kurrer duene: «Kongesønn god, kongesønn god, den skoen så hardt hennes fot må klemme; den rette brud sitter ennå hjemme.» Mot slutten av eventyret får begge stesøstrene endatil som straff hakket ut begge øynene, slik at de taper synet og må leve med sin blodige blindhet resten av sin levetid. Ikke før 30 år etter Rossinis død, i 1897, blir brødrene Grimms eventyr utgitt på italiensk. For operaen er derfor to andre adapsjoner av større betydning: Den allment kjente versjonen av Charles Perrault, samt den første europeiske, italienske og sågar napolitanske versjonen av Giambattista Basile: «La gatta cenerentola» («Askekatten»).

Dette er den første dags sjette historie (1,6) i eventyrsamlingen Pentamerone som ble publisert etter hans død i 1636. Her blir den adelige Zezólla - som er blitt forvist til ovnen av stemoren - til et askevesen med tilknytning til ild, om enn bare i navnet. Men i motsetning til i de andre versjonene har hun for en stor del selv bidratt til dette: Hun er ikke særlig begeistret for den første stemoren sin og sørger for å rydde henne av veien ved at hun forsettlig brekker nakken på henne med et tungt kistelokk! Så istedenfor den tolerante engelen har vi her en morder som sørger for at faren gifter seg med lærerinnen hennes, som imidlertid viser seg å være en «slem» stemor med mange egne barn.

I denne versjonen av fortellingen møter vi også magi og trolldom samt årsaken til kampen om den berømte glasskoen. Den mistede tøffelen, som ifølge napolitansk dialekt heter «chianella», blir i den italienske versjonen omdøpt til «pianella»: En slags oversko med høye hæler og pelsbesetning som gjorde det mulig for damer å stige ut av vognen og gå noen skritt gjennom vinterens sørpe uten å ødelegge kjolen sin. Zezóllas sko er besatt med gråverk (den sobellignende vinterpelsen til ekorn) – på fransk heter det «vair». Mange antar nå at det foreligger en overføringsfeil i Charles Perraults berømte versjon Cendrillon, ou La petite Pantoufle de Verre fra 1697.

«Vair» (gråverkpels) og «verre» (glass) er homofoner og slik kan den komfortable pelsgamasjen ved en feil ha blitt til en skjør og poetisk uanvendelig tøffel av glass... Men det hadde ikke vært særlig 'eventyrlig' – når alt kommer til alt er glasskoen det eneste som ikke forvandles tilbake etter det magiske midnattsslaget, og ikke mindre viktig: Den unike passformen til det skjøre glassfottøyet viser hvor spesiell Cinderellas sko er, siden en pelstøffel uten problemer kan utvides til å passe en større fot. I sitt eventyr introduserte Perrault ikke bare den gode fe som gudmor, han skapte også magien rundt gresskarvognen med de seks musehestene, som gjennom Disneys filmversjon fra 1950 har etset seg inn i den kollektive hukommelsen i generasjoner.

Til tross for hans litterære anerkjennelse innen den ellers muntlige eventyrtradisjonen, er hans moral likevel fylt av bitende satire – man kan ha både intelligens, skjønnhet og noblesse: «men det hjelper slett ikke kun å være i besittelse av det - på veien gjennom livet vil dere bli utestengt dersom dere ikke har en forbindelse som hjelper dere å ta det i bruk.» Så uten gode forbindelser nytter hverken talent eller gode egenskaper – dette gjaldt like mye til Perraults tid ved Ludwig XIVs hoff som i dag.

I moderne versjoner, som for eksempel i Hollywood-suksessen Pretty Woman, fungerer Askepott som ironisk referanse: Prince Charming er også den gode feen, som istedenfor tryllestav er utstyrt med et gullkantet kredittkort som tryller frem den moteriktige forvandlingen - og Askepott er ikke iført skjøre glassko, men knehøye gatepikestøvletter i størrelse 41. Julia Roberts spiller også hovedrollen i filmen Notting Hill, der vi møter eventyret om Askepott med en kjønnsvri. Innen samme tiår finner vi dessuten Drew Barrymore i hovedrollen i Ever After: A Cinderella Story, der hun mestrer å blåse både intelligens, handlekraft og vilje inn i den ellers så fåmælte, vakre eventyrfiguren. Men disse celluloidillusjonene fra slutten av det 20.

århundre blekner hvis man tenker på historien om nåtidens trolig mest berømte operasangerinne, Anna Netrebko, hvis første jobb var å feie gulvene i Mariinski-teateret, der hun bare få år senere startet sin strålende karriere som Susanna i Mozarts opera. I dette tilfellet ville nok eventyret endt med ordene: «og hun sang som en gudinne alle sine dager ...», mens virkeligheten nok snarere oppleves som en berg-og-dalbane-tur mellom markedsføringens glans og elendighet, kulissesladder, PR-arbeid og forventningspress.

Etter å ha stukket seg på en forgiftet tein under spinningen, venter Tornerose i dyp, bevisstløs søvn på det reddende kysset, og Snøhvit ligger pent og pyntelig i glasskisten hjemme hos de syv dvergene til prinsen kommer – riktignok har heller ikke Askepott mye å si i eventyret, men det virker som hun har store forventninger til livet og nyter hvert minutt av det til klokken slår midnattsslaget. Og at den skjøre glasskoen er det eneste hun har igjen av magien, kan tolkes som en påminnelse til oss om at selv de skjøreste, mest utopiske drømmer er verdt å holde fast ved – selv om de kanskje ikke kan trylle bort livets realiteter til evig tid ... Alt som glitrer Av Christine Koht Det er kjolen som gjør det. Kjolen er beviset.

Den magiske kjolen avviser de overlegne, fødte prinsessene og plukker ut den ekte, hun som er prinsesse av sjela og hjertet: Diana, Askepott og alle vi andre som vet at det var noe vi burde vinne fordi – vel, fordi vi fortjener det, akkurat som l’Oreal og alle verdens eventyr sier. Jeg tegnet sånne prinsesser og sånne kjoler da jeg var barn, jeg også – hun liknet ikke mye på meg, den prinsessen, siden jeg var liten og mørk og rund og hun var tynn og blond. Det var ikke for mange prinsessekjoler å få tak i heller, i Asker på 70-tallet: bolleklipp, brun-og-beige-stripete gensere så syntetiske at det gnistret av dem. Jeg ble ikke tynn og blond, for noen barnslige eventyrdrømmer går ikke i oppfyllelse og skal det ikke heller.

Men alle eventyr handler om overgangen fra barn til voksen, om å bli den du egentlig er og det går ikke hvis ikke hjertet og barnet får bli med. Så jeg elsker fremdeles prinsessekjoler. Og da mener jeg ikke noe underernært og stålgrått fra et kjølig motehus, men fargesprakende, overdådige, struttende bløtkaker fulle av rysjer og glitter og tøys. Vi lever så kort og skal være døde så lenge, hvorfor i all verden skal vi kle oss i grått og beige? Fordi grått og beige betyr makt. Grått og beige og stramt og smalt betyr kontroll. Og er det noe vår tids adel – direktørene, styrelederne, hr-sjefene – uansett kjønn skal utstråle, så er det kontroll. Kontroll i tanke, ord og gjerning forteller du om med vann, salat og sylskarpe snitt.

Rysjer gjør ikke noe godt verken for bunnlinja eller powerpoint-presentasjonen. Så verden tappes for farger. Ta en titt i en klesforretning nær deg eller i et kjøkken du kjenner: hvitt, grått, svart med en og annen prikk eller telysholder som eneste fargeklatt til kontrast. Og det når vi faktisk har en hel regnbue å ta av. Bare deprimerte barn velger sånne farger når de skal tegne. Og hva som er i veien med småjenter som velger «den lille sorte» kjolen orker jeg ikke tenke på engang. Så fordi jeg ikke har kontroll som mål og fordi jeg heier på alle verdens glupske og ildfulle jentesjeler, fortsetter jeg å gå for prinsesse-utstyret, komplett med tyll og fjas. Noen av oss må jo det. Det er så innmari mange av de andre.

Nå er det sjelden sant, det Disney-aktige eventyrbudskapet at bare du drømmer hardt nok og er trofast nok mot den drømmen, så kommer yndige småfugler og mus og syr vinnerkjolen din. Det er en fortelling som for tiden går sin seiersgang også for voksne, på konferanser og i coaching-bøker: følg drømmen og suksess kommer. Men det stemmer jo ikke. Det er ikke sånn det foregår, drømmer er skjøre og går i knas på alle kanter rundt oss, enten de handler om prinser eller din egen lille oppstartbedrift. Men noe fortjener alle, noen prøvelser kommer vi oss gjennom med hjertet i behold, de fleste av oss, og det skal anerkjennes og feires. Og kjoler er faktisk magiske. Jeg stripynter meg så snart jeg får sjansen og vil iherdig anbefale ballkjole til hverdags. For visst skjer det noe da.

Ikke nødvendigvis noe sånn ute i verden, strutteskjørtene mine får alltid terningkast én av kjolepolitiet. Men innvendig. Innvendig bobler og bruser det, innvendig seirer prinsessekjolen alltid. Innvendig gir kjolen og jeg fingeren til all adelens kontroll og det blide barnehjertet springer ut i fryd. La Cenerentola (2 CD) - Abbado | CDS | Met Opera Shop La Cenerentola (2 CD) - Abbado Item# 1000007164 La Cenerentola (2 CD) - Abbado Composer: Gioachino Rossini Release Date: November 14, 2006 Conductor: Claudio Abbado Chorus: Scottish Opera Chorus Label: Deutsche Grammophon This recording of Rossini’s enchanting Cinderella story was Claudio Abbado’s first opera recording, and featured Teresa Berganza and Luigi Alva.

“a triumph…the kind of directness and authority which the young Abbado manifests here is most welcome…[His] mastery is such that in the big ensembles the characters are propelled brilliantly into life…Berganza is a sure-footed and sympathetic Cenerentola.” - Gramophone Gioachino Rossini’s La Cenerentola Rossini’s charming version of the Cinderella story brings unexpected realism to the beloved fairy tale by having the lovers find each other without the help of magic. The opera premiered in 1817 and since the bel canto revival in the mid-20th century has become one of the composer’s most frequently performed works.

Question: La Cenerentola is an opera by Gioachino Rossini based on which fairy story?
Answer: Cinderella