Norman Mittelmann Interview with Bruce Duffie . . . . . . . . .

Baritone Norman Mittelmann

A Conversation with Bruce Duffie

Norman Mittelmann (25 May 1932 – 17 March 2019) was a Canadian operatic baritone who had an active international opera career from the 1950s through the 1990s. A winner of the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions, he performed periodically at the Met from 1961 through 1984. Primarily active with opera houses in Europe, he was a resident artist at the Grillo-Theater in Essen, Germany (1959–1961), the Deutsche Oper am Rhein (1960–1964), and the Zürich Opera (1964–1982), in addition to appearing frequently with other opera houses internationally as a guest artist. His voice is preserved on several live complete opera recordings from the 1960s and 1970s.

Born into a Jewish family in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Mittelmann graduated from St. John's High School in his native city. During high school he was a member of the Winnipeg All Star High School Football Team. He first studied singing with Canadian soprano Doris Lewis in Manitoba, before entering the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia on a full scholarship in 1950 at the age of 18. At Curtis he was a pupil of Martial Singher, Vladimir Sokoloff, and Richard Bonelli. In a 1961 Opera News interview he credited Singher with establishing the core of his technique, and enabling him to be successful professionally.

After completing his studies at Curtis in 1954, Mittelmann pursued graduate studies at the Music Academy of the West in Montecito, California in 1955 and 1956 where he was a pupil of Lotte Lehmann. He made his professional opera debut in Santa Barbara in 1956, portraying Count Almaviva in Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro and Harlequin in Richard Strauss's Ariadne auf Naxos in productions directed by Lehmann. That same year he performed in the United States premiere of Darius Milhaud's David at the Hollywood Bowl. In 1958 he portrayed Marcello in Giacomo Puccini's La bohème for his first opera appearance in Canada in a production mounted by the Canadian Opera Company (COC). He later returned to the COC in a critically lauded portrayal of the four villains (Lindorf, Coppelius, Dappertutto and Dr. Miracle) in Offenbach's The Tales of Hoffmann in 1967, a production both in Toronto's opera house and at Expo 67 in Montreal.

In 1959 Mittelmann won the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions. However, he chose to delay his offered contract with the Met to pursue work in Europe. From 1959 until 1961 he was a principal artist at the Grillo-Theater in Essen, Germany. He made his debut at the Metropolitan Opera House as the Herald in Richard Wagner's Lohengrin on 28 October 1961; and continued to perform periodically at the Met through 1985. Other roles he portrayed at the Met included Amonasro in Aida, Don Carlo in La forza del destino, Donner in Das Rheingold, Faninal in Der Rosenkavalier, Gunther in Götterdämmerung, the High Priest in Samson et Dalila, Jochanaan in Salome, Kothner in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, Mandryka in Arabella, both Silvio and Tonio (in separate performances) in Pagliacci, and Valentin in Faust. His final appearance at the Met was on November 18, 1985 as Shaklovity in Modest Mussorgsky's Khovanshchina.

Mittelmann was a resident artist at the Deutsche Oper am Rhein from 1960 through 1964. He left that position to join the roster of resident artists at the Zürich Opera through 1982. A frequent guest artist with opera houses internationally, he also performed leading roles with the Bavarian State Opera, the Berlin State Opera, the Lyric Opera of Chicago (debut as Ruprecht in Prokofiev’s The Fiery Angel in 1966), the Paris Opera, the Royal Opera, London (debut as Germont in La traviata in 1965), the Teatro Colón, and the Vienna State Opera. In 1970 he created the role of Daniel in the world premiere of Paul Burkhard’s Ein Stern geht auf aus Jaakob at the Hamburg State Opera. He performed in several productions with the San Francisco Opera from 1972 until 1979, appearing as Amonasro, Barnaba in La Gioconda, Germont, Nelusko in L'Africaine, and Rodrigo in Don Carlo. In 1983 he performed the role of Shishkov in the United States premiere of Leoš Janáček's From the House of the Dead with the New York Philharmonic. His final opera performance was in 1991, although he continued to work as a concert performer for several more years.

Mittelmann lived in retirement in Palm Springs, California where he sold real estate and owned and operated a restaurant.

In the fall of 1982, baritone Norman Mittelmann returned to Chicago for The Tales of Hoffmann by Offenbach. He sang all four of the villainous roles, just as he had done when the work was previously given in 1976. Between performances, he graciously took the time for a conversation.

People who have seen some of my other interview transcripts know that they often include photographs of commercial recordings by the guest. These LPs and CDs can help locate examples of their artistry. A few of the photos even show the image of the composer or performer. These days, many of them can be found on YouTube, or various streaming services, as well as in libraries (both public and university). Sometimes the older discs turn up in used-record stores, and a few are even still in the current catalogue. However, in most cases I have tried to shun non-commercial (or pirate) recordings, though some eventually get licensed and are legally published by major companies.

I bring all this up because in this case, while setting up for our conversation, we talked a bit about the subject, and Mittelmann said, “I think the black-market trade for some things is very positive because, even though it’s not money in the pocket of the singer, and it’s racketeered, some singers who were famous for specific roles, never recorded them.” This, along with the fact that Mittelmann did not make commercial audio records, has caused me to include photos of a few of non-commercial issues on this webpage. He also appeared in three films.

As usual, names which are links refer to my interviews elsewhere on my website.

After a couple of minutes, we were ready to begin the interview . . . . .

Bruce Duffie:   Let me start by asking about Verdi. Do you like to be considered a Verdi baritone?

Norman Mittelmann:   I’m not really a Verdian baritone. Years ago, when I was singing in Europe, a famous coach heard me sing, and he said I was one of the few who had the true quality of the Verdi baritone, with that dark sound. But in my complete career, I have been very fortunate. I consider myself an all-round baritone, rather than just a Verdian baritone. Even though I’ve majored a great deal in the Italian repertoire, I have sung German and French opera, and I consider it a real privilege and luck that I have that capability.

BD:   Tell me about some of your roles. You have sung Nabucco?

Mittelmann: I’ve sung practically every one of the Verdian heroes, and the surprising thing is that I went to Europe in 1959 specifically pursuing a Wagnerian career. So I went there, and they transformed me into a Verdian singer. I don’t mean that they transformed me into it, but they changed my way of thinking because immediately when I got to Europe, the first two operas that I did were La Forza del Destino and The Girl of the Golden West. So that changed my complete picture. Then there was a slow quest, what I call the Italian Art of Singing, including the style, etc., and that necessitated even more intensified study.

BD:   Did you fight this idea at first of moving into the Verdi repertoire?

Mittelmann: No, I didn’t because when I went over in 1959, I didn’t think that I was really the right age to begin the Wagnerian roles, even though I had a special leaning towards it. I liked it very much, and then I started working with one of the old baritones, Enzo Mascherini, who just passed away. I became like a son of his. Things didn’t go too well for him in life, and we got together on a very close relationship. I progressed into the Verdi field with constant work. I was fortunate enough to have Zürich Opera for seventeen years as my base, and I would always start my roles there. It wasn’t my choice, but I was lucky that Hermann Juch and Nello Santi were there. It’s wonderful to have the opportunity to try out roles in a place like Zurich... although, I can’t say that some houses don’t count. Every house counts.

Enzo Mascherini (6 August 1910, Florence - 29 July 1981, Livorno) was one of the leading baritones of his generation.

He studied in Florence with Titta Ruffo and Riccardo Stracciari and made his debut there in 1937, as Giorgio Germont in La traviata, and also sang at the premiere of Gian Francesco Malipiero's Antonio e Cleopatra, in 1938. He made his debut at the San Carlo in Naples, in 1939, and at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan, in 1940. He appeared in two legendary performances opposite Maria Callas, the first at the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino in 1951, as Montforte in I vespri siciliani, under Erich Kleiber, and on opening night of the 1952-53 season at La Scala, as Macbeth, under Victor de Sabata. He also appeared there in La bohème (with Giuseppe di Stefano, 1952), La favorite (1953), Faust (with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, 1954), Don Carlos (with Callas, 1954), and, again, La bohème (conducted by Leonard Bernstein, 1955).

After the war, he began an international career, appearing in Paris, Vienna, Prague, London, Mexico City, Rio de Janeiro, Chicago, San Francisco, etc. In 1946 and 1947, Mascherini appeared at the New York City Opera, in La bohème, La traviata (with Dorothy Kirsten), Pagliacci (as Silvio, later as Tonio), Rigoletto, Andrea Chénier, and Il barbiere di Siviglia.

He made his debut at the Metropolitan Opera on 7 December 1949 as Marcello in Giacomo Puccini's La bohème with Bidu Sayão as Mimì, and Ferruccio Tagliavini as Rodolfo. He performed in several other roles at the Met during the 1949-1950 season, including Germont in La traviata (with Licia Albanese as Violetta and Jan Peerce as Alfredo), Lescaut in Manon Lescaut (with Richard Tucker as Des Grieux), Valentin in Faust (with di Stefano in the title role), and the title role in Rigoletto (with Erna Berger as Gilda). He also went on tour to South Africa in 1951.

A fine singing-actor with a powerful voice and solid technique, he taught in Florence after retiring from the stage.

[Vis-à-vis the photo shown at right, see my interview with Nicola Rossi Lemeni (at left, wearing the crown)]

* * * * *

Hermann Juch (1908-1995) was a lawyer, but he also studied singing, piano, and composition. Between 1945-55, he was General Manager of the Vienna State Opera. Then from 1956-64, he was the manager of the Deutschen Opera am Rhein Düsseldorf-Duisberg, and from 1964-75 he headed the Opera in Zurich.

Nello Santi (1931-2020) was General Music Director in Zurich from 1958-69, and returned as a guest to conduct there for many years. He was succeeded as GMD by Ferdinand Leitner from 1969-84.

BD: Are audiences in some houses a little more receptive to experiments?

Mittelmann: They know that, and they’re receptive. There are too many things that are being tried out in the top places, rather than being tried out to really assimilate with the role. I was very lucky in Zürich because they have operas in French, Italian, and German.

BD:   Since it’s a house you knew, were you more comfortable there?

Mittelmann: I don’t think that I was comfortable. I’m always very nervous. I’m always like a thorough-bred who wants to do his best job all the time. So the tension is always there.

BD:   Are you tense even before a fiftieth performance of a show?

Mittelmann: It’s not the role, it’s facing the audience. It’s the excitement of coming out to the audience. That’s a special kind of an excitement. Your adrenaline starts going, and there’s a certain amount of nervousness that is required to make your body function in the proper manner which will prepare you for your performance.

BD:   Does your day-to-day life affect tonight’s performance? If you go to the opera house and stub your toe?

Mittelmann: The surprising thing that I have found, and I’ve spoken to many people about it, would be to have a very calm day-to-day basis, but that is an impossibility for anybody. There’s no one that’s alive that could truthfully say they have a calm day-to-day basis. But surprisingly enough, when it comes to performing, you might want to call it self-hypnosis. I find that whatever things happen, when it comes to the time of the performance, they just disappear from your mind. They don’t stay there. Even when, as you said, you stub your toe. Until the performance is finished, they don’t occur to you again.

BD:   You just focus on the performance?

Mittelmann: Yes, unless something is absolutely unbearable, and if it’s that bad you just don’t perform. I had the weirdest thing happen in Hamburg. We were doing La Forza del Destino, and that afternoon I had gone to a restaurant and eaten a steak. I bit my tongue, so in the middle of the performance, my tongue started bleeding again. No one knew that it was bleeding. I had to go to the hospital at the end.

BD:   If they didn’t know it was your tongue, they might think you were bleeding from the throat, and that can be very dangerous.

BD:   Despite these things, do you enjoy singing?

Mittelmann: I enjoy performing.

BD:   Ah! An interesting distinction.

Mittelmann: I enjoy roles that encompass acting and movement, and not being static.

BD:   Would you be happy as a dramatic actor?

Mittelmann: I’d love to also be a dramatic actor. To me, performing is much more fulfilling than just singing. But I love to sing.

BD:   You’d rather be on the stage than, say, in a Lieder recital?

Mittelmann: I’ve spoken to many people, and they feel very much the same. Many people don’t realize that being on the stage in a Lieder recital is much more difficult than performing in costume and make-up, because all these things tend to direct your attention to becoming another person. You might say it’s transforming into a dual personality. Even in rehearsals it’s never the same as when you get into costume and make-up.

BD:   Is the dress rehearsal different from the performance because of the full house?

Mittelmann: You’re already transformed in the dress rehearsal. Nowadays, most of the time in the dress rehearsals you’ve got an extra performance that you’re not getting paid for, because in Italy the critics come, and here in America the patrons are always at those performances. [Thinks a moment, then muses about a special role] I’ve had a great success with one role, which is Falstaff. I actually did Ford here in Chicago (in 1968) after I had done the title role.

BD:   Usually, it’s the other way around.

Mittelmann: That’s right, but I did Ford here because Tito Gobbi was singing Falstaff (and also directing). To me that is one of the roles which encompasses everything, both the singing and the acting. Some people who haven’t seen me perform, talk about the age that one expects in this role, but I think it has more to do with acting rather than just having to be old.

BD:   Do you find it difficult as Falstaff to carry around all the extra weight?

Mittelmann: No, not at all. I spring back and forth, and jump up and down. Usually, when I’ve finished at the end of the opera, I feel I can start all over again. That’s how much I really enjoy doing it. I also enjoy doing Scarpia, where it’s not just singing. It really encompasses a complete idea.

BD:   Do you do a lot of movement as Scarpia, or do you wait, as Gobbi says, to weave a web and let Tosca get ensnared?

Mittelmann: I don’t know what Gobbi says about it, and I don’t know exactly what I do. But he directed me in Tosca after I’d done the role for some time, and he said that I was the only person he had seen who could replace him!

BD:   What a compliment!

Mittelmann: It was a very high compliment.

BD:   You say you don’t know exactly what you do. Do you throw yourself so much into the part that it just becomes natural?

Mittelmann: No, but I go into something with a preconceived idea. Scarpia reminded me of the olden day Germans, those who were in the Second World War. The aristocracy of Germany were really great aristocrats, great lovers of art, and completely the epitome of culture on the top level. Yet they were absolutely insane when it came to the atrocities that occurred. They always had their moments where they burst forth into insanity, and this is the way I always had a preconceived idea of Scarpia. He was always suave and completely amicable, yet he breaks through with insanity. They called him a noble man from down in Naples. But whatever he was, he acquired everything. When he was the chief of police, he also had the insanity. I try to have preconceived ideas, but the difficulty is when you’re working with a real good preconceived director.

BD:   I was just going ask how the different directors affect your ideas. [Vis-à-vis the recording shown at right, see my interviews with Carlo Bergonzi, George Shirley, Anna Moffo, James McCracken, Lenus Carlson, and John Nelson.]

Mittelmann: My problem has always been that I ask too many questions, and I try, in many respects, to persuade the director to move in my way of thinking. This has a lot to do with my interest in theater. Yet it’s very bad, because it’s easier for a person to work with somebody who has no idea and is more flexible.

BD:   When you’re thinking about signing contracts, do you stay away from directors that have too many ideas?

Mittelmann: No, because there’s always something to learn. It’s always great to work with people like Otto Schenk, for instance, who answers me with firmness of his ideas, and then you find out he’s really right! [Both laugh] Just because you have an idea, it doesn’t mean that it’s correct. There’s always something to learn.

BD:   You don’t need to go into specifics, but have there been times in your career when a director has said to do something, and you said no because you felt it was completely wrong?

Mittelmann: No, no! You subconsciously may feel that way, but I’ve never come across that, and I’ve never gone against the wishes of the director. I may not do it as whole-heartedly as he would like... [Both laugh]

BD:   But you try it?

Mittelmann: Well, you do it! This is his Regieoper, as they call it. It’s his direction, so you do it.

* * * * *

BD:   Let’s go back to Verdi. Tell me about some of the roles.

Mittelmann: I’ve sung Rigoletto, Nabucco, Don Carlo, La Forza del Destino...

BD:   Do you have any trouble with the hunch in Rigoletto?

Mittelmann: No. Many times, they put it into the costume. As to my interpretation, the director liked my Rigoletto, and I liked my Rigoletto, but the critics didn’t. They thought it wasn’t an Italian Rigoletto because I didn’t go around shrieking. I did more of the pathos, and the loss and the relationship between the daughter and the father, and maybe some people don’t understand that.

BD:   Do you have a daughter?

Mittelmann: Yes, I’ve two daughters.

BD:   Do you find then when you’re singing one of the great father-daughter duets, that any of it hits too close to home?

Mittelmann: [Thinks a moment] One time it came through, when I was doing Simon Boccanegra, and I sang to my daughter [sings the word tenderly as it drops the octave] Figlia. It’s a very interesting point that you’re making. Somebody told me many years ago, that if you feel, then your audience doesn’t feel. You must project to the audience a feeling, but if you yourself are feeling this, the audience is not feeling it. The audience is not suffering if you yourself are suffering. Sometimes I see young people with tears in their eyes, and they get into a state where they feel that. But if you get tied up in your own interpretation... do you understand what I’m speaking about?
mittelmann

BD:   Yes. You are eating up all the feeling, and not letting any of it get out to the audience.

Mittelmann: That’s right! You are taking that feeling, but you are not projecting that feeling. It’s projection. You have to project the feeling. You can’t have that feeling yourself.

BD:   Do you have to be a little bit outside the character?

Mittelmann: I don’t know if you want to call it being outside the character, but you have to make the joy and the pathos very obvious, so that the audience will receive it. It’s sometimes called the Stanislavsky Method. This isn’t something original I’m talking about. [Pauses a moment] Anyway, the Verdi things have been wonderful. Verdi is the most beautiful to sing. You’re playing a character. If you’re talking about Rigoletto, there’s no reason to start feeling that this is your daughter. You don’t have to go that far. You have to project the fact that this is your daughter, and you’re feeling great pathos with this individual.

BD:   I just wondered if there was any more identification for you because you have daughters.

Mittelmann: No. In all truthfulness, I don’t relate to anybody. The only people that I relate to are people in the street. I’ve always been that way. I like to observe people, and I find a few people that I notice the way that person is! You can’t really relate to some of the old-fashioned characters.

BD:   Do you ever peep through a hole in the curtain to watch the audience as they come in?

Mittelmann: [Laughs] Oh, no, no, no, no! That’s just on the street.

BD:   Tell me about Nabucco. He seems like such a controverted character.

Mittelmann: Well, I can’t really tell you too much about him.

BD:   He’s there, and then goes mad, and then he gets zapped back into reality.

Mittelmann: You’ve answered it! You can start drawing parallels to the Bible, but I don’t think there’s really any cause to do it. When Sena Jurinac was doing La Traviata, somebody asked her if she read The Lady of the Camellias. She said no, she didn’t bother. She was doing a character in an opera.

BD:   Do you ever go back to the plays to research the characters?

Mittelmann: I’ve done it on rare occasions. I did it with Falstaff, but the Shakespearean character of Falstaff is not the same as the opera. It’s completely different. First of all, why go back into studying certain things when it’s not in the libretto? This is what you’re doing. You’re performing this libretto. You’re not performing something that took place in history. You have to perform exactly what’s taking place in the work you’re doing.

BD:   Perhaps some actors think that they can convey more meaning through their research.

Mittelmann: Yes, but it could be wrong because what’s being asked for is what’s being presented, and some of the things they’re reading about are not in the libretto. There’s no reason to convey something that really is not in the opera they’re doing.

BD:   Have you done Iago?

Mittelmann: Yes, in fact I did it in Vienna with Jurinac and Wolfgang Windgassen [DVD shown at left]. That’s a great character.

BD:   How evil is Iago?

Mittelmann: He’s a manipulator. He is directing what happens to Otello.

BD:   He’s not the devil?

Mittelmann: He’s not the devil per se. He is the same as some people in life. There are people in life that are manipulators. There are people who are being manipulated by Rasputins, and Machiavellis, or things of that nature. We have them all the time. They’re with us in the twentieth century, and they were with us years ago, and it’s always the same thing with them.

BD:   Did you sing this role in German?

Mittelmann: Yes, I sang it in German.

BD:   Do you like doing roles in translation?

Mittelmann: At the beginning when I started in 1959, I had no choice because that’s the way it was. But as I progressed into theaters like Hamburg and Munich and Vienna, where opera was done in the original language, I was not asked for translations any more.

BD:   Do operas work in translation?

Mittelmann: I think they work in translation. They don’t mean one hundred per cent the same thing all the time, but for the most part, the audience doesn’t know the difference. You could be singing Greek, and the sound would be different, but...

BD:   [Playing Devil’s Advocate] There are purists who argue that certain vowel sounds have to be on certain notes, and if you change the vowel sound in any way, it destroys the whole opera.

Mittelmann: I don’t go that deep into thinking about that. German is a very singable language, and pure French singing is not a very singable language. How many great French singers are there? Truly, it has to do not with the singer, but with daily sound-making [speech patterns].

* * * * *

BD:   Do you enjoy singing in French?

Mittelmann: I like singing in French. I like singing in French, and I’ve been very lucky that I can sing it. I even like singing in Russian, as when I did Shaklovity in Khovanshchina (in Chicago in 1969 and 1976, both times with Nicolai Ghiaurov as Ivan Khovansky). I found Russian to be very singable, and very beautiful.

BD:   Did you translate it for yourself as you went along, or did you learn it syllable by syllable?

Mittelmann: I had to learn it phonetically. I wouldn’t lie to say that I know Russian. [Laughs] I’d love to know Russian. It would be marvelous.

BD:   While we’re speaking about Russian, tell me about Onegin.

Mittelmann: I’ve done Onegin in German and Italian.

BD:   But not in Russian?

Mittelmann: Not in Russian.

BD:   Would you like to do it in Russian?

Mittelmann: I wouldn’t have anything against doing it in Russian. It is a wonderful opera. It’s called Eugene Onegin, but as far as I’m concerned, I don’t think it’s a great role. I’ve done Arabella all over the world. I’ve done Mandryka at La Scala in Italian, and that was catastrophic.

BD:   [Surprised] Why?

Mittelmann: They always talked about it being done in German, but they never did. I sat for one month and couldn’t do anything but learn the Italian. It was unbelievable. Mandryka is a very difficult role, a very strenuous role, and all the honors go to Arabella. In Eugene Onegin, even though it’s very strenuous, it’s a funny kind of character. It’s strange... people are very responsive to unsympathetic characters. They don’t like you! The public becomes very much taken up with the character.

BD:   Do they project that onto you personally?

Mittelmann: No, they don’t like the character because at the end of the opera, they feel he got what he deserved. Gremin comes out and sings one aria, and he gets great response from singing that one aria. Lensky is the same thing. He has one beautiful aria. I don’t even think that Tatyana gets the response as much as Gremin and Lensky.

BD:   Not even after her Letter Scene?

Mittelmann: No! I don’t think she even gets the adulation she deserves. Eugene Onegin is very difficult due to the fact that it’s got these changing of scenes. It’s very difficult to put on, and it’s also a very difficult opera for audiences to watch and participate in. It keeps going, one scene after the other with lots of scene changes and lots of costume changes. There is, in a manner of speaking, really no continuity with the opera even though it’s continuous. [Pauses a moment] I’ve done other Russian operas, including Prince Igor.
mittelmann

BD:   Which role did you sing?

Mittelmann: Prince Igor, the title role.

BD:   Do you like that opera?

Mittelmann: I like Prince Igor. It’s an opera that I’ve done many times, but I don’t think it would ever be done in America.

BD:   Why?

Mittelmann: I don’t know. I just don’t think it would be a great opera here. But since Chicago did Khovanshchina, they could do Prince Igor.

BD:   We had it here in 1962. It was a couple years before I started going to Lyric, but I have read about it, and saw the photo of Boris Christoff when he came out with a live falcon on his arm! [To see a photo of Christoff with the falcon, click HERE.]

Mittelmann:   It’s great. There’s the Polovtsian Dances and, of course, everybody can also relate to Kismet. The Bordin is a good opera.

BD:   Is the public responsible for not wanting more different operas? We seem to want the same old things over and over again.

Mittelmann: Basically the public is not really responsible. There are two factors involved. If you were putting on opera like in Europe on a daily basis six or seven days a week, you could afford to have operas that are not as successful as others.

BD:   When Lyric does seven operas in their season, do they have to have seven hits? [Vis-à-vis the recording shown at right, see my interviews with Eva Marton.]

Mittelmann:   With this French opera [Contes d’Hoffmann], they’re mixing some more things in. But it is very difficult on a short-term basis of three or four months, to come before the Board, and say they’re going to be doing Prince Igor, or for instance, [pauses a moment to think] what is the Ravel opera called?

BD:   L’Enfant et les Sortièges.

Mittelmann: No, the funny one.

BD:   Oh, L’Heure Espagnole! [Lyric did that work [along with Carmina Burana] in 1965 with Teresa Berganza, Alfredo Kraus, and Sesto Bruscantini, conducted by Jean Fournet.]

Mittelmann: Right, L’Heure Espagnole. The audience has no idea what it is, and you’ve got three months to fill a large amount of seats, so you really cannot afford to take a chance. In Europe, the opera house is supported by the city. Dr. Juch said, “The objective of the opera house is not to necessarily have hits, as much as educating the people,” and that was his approach. His objective was to bring things to the people who wouldn’t otherwise have a chance to hear them. But when you’re playing six days a week, you’re going to have some bombs.

BD:   Have you been involved in a bomb or two?

Mittelmann:   Sure, we’re involved in bombs. When we did L’Heure Espagnole, we would have rehearsals, and all the participants were dying of laughter. It’s a funny story about a woman who hides her lover in the clocks, and the husband is too old to do anything about it. She was always saying that her clocks had to be serviced, and the guy I played was the dumb mule driver who was carrying the clocks. She’s really young, and it’s really a funny thing. Every rehearsal we were rolling on the ground because it was a comedy. Then came the audience, and they didn’t laugh! We expected the house to come down from laughter. Funnily enough, there was laughter in the wrong places. That was the weird thing. We were laughing in some places, and they were laughing in other places. But I say it’s a bomb because it wasn’t really a high, high success.

BD:   Was it sung in French?

Mittelmann: No, we did it in German because it was done in Zürich, and they wanted the people to understand the jokes.

BD:   That’s too bad. I’m sorry that wasn’t a success.

Mittelmann: Some of the world premieres I’ve done have been rather bombs. In Hamburg I was in a work by Paul Burkhard, who composed ‘Oh, my Papa’ that Eddie Fisher made famous. He did all those operettas as well. He wrote a Christmas opera, Ein Stern geht auf aus Jaakob, and the world premiere was in Hamburg (in 1970). No one booed, or threw stink bombs, or demonstrated, or did anything like that. I have not been in opera performances where that has happened, but I’ve been to works which were not public-pleasers. That was the greatness of Rolf Liebermann. [Liebermann (14 September 1910 – 2 January 1999) was a Swiss composer and music administrator. He served as the Artistic Director of the Hamburg State Opera from 1959 to 1973 and again from 1985 to 1988. He was also Artistic Director of the Paris Opera from 1973 to 1980. During his tenure in Hamburg, he commissioned 24 new operas, including The Devils by Krzysztof Penderecki, Der Prinz von Homburg by Hans Werner Henze, and Help, Help, the Globolinks! by Gian Carlo Menotti.] When he believed in something, he fed it to you intravenously. Not only was it presented one year, but he wanted to make sure that it was presented the next year again! Have you ever heard of Gottfried von Einem?

BD:   Yes. Did you sing in his Dantons Tod?

Mittelmann: Yes, with Marilyn Zschau. She was my lover. I liked doing that one, but I don’t like doing most modern operas. I’ve got a very large repertoire. Einem was getting ready to do Der Besuch der alten Dame [The Visit of the Old Lady], and was thinking of me. I’m happy he didn’t. In the end, Eberhard Waechter did the role.

BD:   It’s not something you can hum afterward.

Mittelmann: No, no, no, no, and that’s the sad thing. That’s the problem with modern opera. If it’s too melodic, it’s old-fashioned, so it has to be completely distorted. I really don’t know what the answer is because it’s an unfair thing. [We both then mentioned having subjected our wives to several world premieres, which they hated.]

* * * * *

BD:   Let’s talk about Wagner.

Mittelmann: I like Wagner.

BD:   I’m sorry that you don’t sing more of his works.

Mittelmann: I am also very sorry that I don’t sing more Wagner.

BD:   You’ve sung Gunther. Have you done Hollander?

Mittelmann: I’ve never done Hollander. I’ve studied it, and I’m dying to do it. I’ve done Parsifal (Amfortas), and Donner in Rheingold. [Broadcast cast lists for Rheingold and Götterdämmerung are shown at left. See my interviews with Jerome Hines, Martina Arroyo, Mignon Dunn, Erich Leinsdorf, and Nathaniel Merrill.] Years ago, I was asked to do Hans Sachs, but I gracefully pulled out at the time. Now I think that I’d be ready for many of these ventures, and I would like to start doing the Wagner roles.

BD:   Do you have them ready enough that you could prepare them in a couple of months?

Mittelmann: I don’t think that I could prepare them in a couple of months. because it’s a lot of preparing, especially Sachs. I spoke to Hans Sotin about Sachs, and I asked him if there was any amount of money that is enough to sing Sachs, and he said no! [Both laugh] I feel almost the same.

BD:   Tenors feel that way about Siegfried.

Mittelmann: I don’t think Siegfried is as long as Sachs.

BD:   Is it heavy and tiring?

Mittelmann: I don’t care if it’s heavy and tiring. I’m talking about the length, and the amount of singing. It really is an enormous role.

BD:   Tell me about Gunther. How weak is he?

Mittelmann: He’s just as weak as many of the characters such as I’ve done. Look at Wolfram in Tannhäuser. If somebody is very weak, the Germans call him Waschlappen [wash cloth]. Wotan is strong, but Gunther is weak. Hagen is also strong.

BD:   Can you play Gunther too weak?

Mittelmann: I don’t think so, but here we’re going again. Sometimes the actions that are being performed today are not acting actions. For instance, I’ve done productions where Wolfram stands there with his harp, and he never moves his hands. The way many of the Wagner roles are done today, you’re basically just standing. As Birgit Nilsson has said, you need comfortable shoes! [Both laugh] You’re not really acting. If you’re getting a normal realistic production, you are maybe acting, but if you are doing these modern ways of doing them, you’re not moving that much. You are standing on the stage like figurines that sing. Wieland Wagner (the grandson) brought in this new concept, and now there isn’t much moving going on in (Richard) Wagner. I think it’s not right. If you’re doing a performance, then you should perform to the fullest. Why do you have to stand there and become a figurine? If you’re saying something, you have to move your hands. There has to be a certain amount of action. That’s why this new way lent itself with Wagner, because there isn’t that much action going on.

BD:   A lot of it is just narration.

Mittelmann: Right. When you’re doing things like Tristan, you see them sitting on the ground, but they’re talking.

BD:   Can you do much acting as Amfortas?

Mittelmann: You can act only in suffering. You project the suffering.

BD:   Then in the last scene, when Parsifal touches you with the Holy Spear, can there be a celestial glow?

Mittelmann: I don’t know if you can make a celestial glow. [Both laugh] Many of the criticisms that are given to opera singers are done unjustly, because if the director wants something done this way, and he gives them this much of an area to move with it, there is a border, so what can they do?

BD:   You’re restricted?

Mittelmann: You’re restricted when this is the way the director wants it done. Then a critic comes and says Norman Mittelmann didn’t do this or that.

BD:   Do you find that you’re taking the heat for the directors’ mistakes?

Mittelmann: In many cases, if there’s a criticism as to how something is done, and the director specifically wanted it done that way, it’s unjust that a critic should be critical of what the artist is doing because that’s the way the director wanted it done.

BD:   A critic should say, “It was too bad that the director made Norman Mittelmann do only this kind of movement.”

Mittelmann: That’s right, and after the premiere, the director is not there, but the director wanted the lines said exactly this way, and he wanted the mood exactly this way. We’re not living in an age where you perform the way you want. If you perform the way you want 100%, and if you interpret a role 100% the way you want, then you should be responsible, but you aren’t.

BD:   We’re living in the age of the director.

Mittelmann: You said it! [Both laugh]

BD:   Is this too bad?

Mittelmann: [Shrugs] It’s been a funny movement. Mascherini used to tell me about what was still left over from the olden times. In Italy, at rehearsal the Italians were all dressed up with a shirt and tie. He’s got a suit on with the jacket around his shoulders. That is how he’s coming to work! How can you work looking like you’re going to a dinner party? It’s pretty difficult, but that’s left over from the time when number one was the singer, number two was the conductor, and number three was the director. Then in the time of Toscanini, we moved the conductor to be number one, then number two was the singer, and number three was the regisseur [director]. Now we are in an age where number one is the director, number two is the conductor, and number three is the singer... unless it’s very special where it would be Luciano Pavarotti, or Placido Domingo. It may all move back again...

BD:   I was going to ask if it is going to change again?

Mittelmann: It may. I don’t know. Many of the well-known directors have a great deal of power, and that power sometimes means that really great conductors don’t work with them because there’s too much ego. Then it becomes a competition.

BD:   There’s a conflict between these two?

Mittelmann: Yes, there can be a conflict sometimes. I’m just generalizing. I don’t know if that’s really ever the case.

BD:   Have you worked in a production where the conductor has also been the director?

Mittelmann: Never. [Vis-à-vis the recording shown at right, see my interview with Jon Vickers.]

BD:   I just wondered because Karajan does the directing himself.

Mittelmann: There’s lots said about that, too, but I’ve never been involved in it.

* * * * *

BD:   Let me ask about the French repertoire. You’ve done The Tales of Hoffmann. What other French roles have you done?

Mittelmann: I’ve done Hoffmann, and I’ve done Gounod’s Faust.

BD:   You sang Valentin?

Mittelmann: Yes, but that was years ago. I’ve also done the Meyerbeer L’Africaine [CD shown below-left], and I’ve done The Damnation of Faust.

BD:   Was that staged, or in concert?

Mittelmann: A concert. There isn’t that much French repertoire that’s really available for me to do.

BD:   Do you like playing evil characters?

Mittelmann: Very much. I like playing evil characters. I like playing them because they’re characters. It doesn’t have to be an evil character. It’s a character, whereas when you are playing a normal kind of a person, the scope isn’t as large.

BD:   Portraying evil is more of a contrast from normal, whereas you can’t accentuate the normal qualities.

Mittelmann: There’s not that much to bite into, to work with. When you’re playing Falstaff, that’s a character. When someone is playing Osmin [in Seraglio], that’s a character. When you’re playing Boris Godunov, that’s a character. It doesn’t have to be evil, but you have to be playing a character.

BD:   There’s more meat to it?

Mittelmann: That’s right. It’s much more exciting.

BD:   So, it is more satisfying for you?

Mittelmann: For me, there’s no question about it.

BD:   Are there roles that simply have lots of pretty music?

Mittelmann: [Thinks a moment] That’s a funny thing. I’ve sung Posa in Don Carlo a lot, and to me the Schiller Marquis de Posa is a much more fascinating individual than Verdi’s.

BD:   Yes, a lot of the Schiller has been stripped away, or happens off-stage.

Mittelmann: Yes. I don’t call the Verdi image a marvelous character role, but some of the music tends to make that character more interesting. It’s one of those roles which is very placid in the same scope as Il Trovatore. Di Luna has never been one of my favorite characters.

BD:   [Gently protesting] But it’s got such a nice aria [Il balen].

Mittelmann: That aria alone is what I’m talking about, standing there and just singing. That, in itself, is not what I enjoy doing. I would rather do an aria like the Credo of Iago. That to me is saying something.

BD:   Would you rather kill or be killed on stage?

Mittelmann: That’s a psychological question! I can’t give an answer. [Thinks a moment] Probably I’d rather kill somebody because it would be acting. There probably would be something very interesting leading up to it. Although I wasn’t killed when I did Simon Boccanegra, I love the death scene in that opera. That was one time my daughter was crying because she got very involved. The older of my two daughters likes opera, and she felt that I had died, and she was crying. In that case I enjoyed dying. I think Posa’s dying is ludicrous. Some people stand up, sing the aria, and then fall down.

BD:   If you were directing it, how would you continue that scene after he gets shot?

Mittelmann: Just the way I do it. He gets shot, he falls on the ground, and he sings his aria lying on the ground. He doesn’t do it all lying because he’s helped up by the tenor. But he wouldn’t do it standing up, which I’ve seen.

BD:   What about the death of Scarpia? Do you make that true agony?

Mittelmann: Yes, it’s great agony. [Vis-à-vis the recording shown at left, see my interviews with Shirley Verrett, and Simon Estes.]

BD:   Do you work with the soprano to try and get her to hit you at a certain place, or does it matter?

Mittelmann: No, they’ve hit me in various places. Just where it comes, that’s all. As long as the knife has...

BD:   A rubber blade?

Mittelmann: Sometimes they’ve even not had a blade.

BD:   Are you ever afraid that you’re actually going to get hurt?

Mittelmann: I’ve been afraid lots of times. When I did La Forza del Destino, they got a professional fencing master. I came in there and went [makes a fencing noise] and those guys ran off. [Much laughter] I came in there like a shot, like one of these wild guys. But I’ve never been really injured.

BD:   Have you ever been hit by a piece of falling scenery?

Mittelmann: No. I’ve jumped out of the way. I hurt my ankle, but I’ve never had blood except for that time I bit my tongue. That was the most serious.

* * * * *

BD:   Are you optimistic about the future of opera?

Mittelmann: As long as there is a fantasy, there’s always going to be opera.

BD:   Opera is a fantasy?

Mittelmann: There are lots of people whom I have met who go three times a week all year. But yes, I think opera is getting stronger in America anyway. It’s just unfortunate that one needs so much money. The arts are getting stronger all the time, and opera is going to live!

BD:   Even though we don’t particularly care for the new operas?

Mittelmann: The new operas are being played for a very short time.

BD:   Is there a place on the stage today for the really old works, such as Monteverdi and Handel?

Mittelmann: [Thinks again] We’re talking now about something which I have said for many years. When you are presenting an opera which was written to be performed in a hall for 400 or 600 people, there is no place for it in a house that seats 3,000 or 4,000 people. They were also special singers who sang Monteverdi, Handel, Mozart, Rossini with pure agility. When you go to the Munich Residenz Theatre, and other little halls, it’s a completely different thing. Unfortunately, because of the times, the singers have to sing other roles. Today these singers can’t sing in the modern world because their voices are not large enough. In the olden days, they could have sung because they were singing in halls of 400 and 500 people. Those people had the agility and the flexibility. But many of the operas have been put aside for very good reasons. To say they are boring is too harsh, but some are very stagnant.

BD:   Should they not be brought out and dusted off once in a while?

Mittelmann: I don’t know. Maybe if they were presented in the right kind of atmosphere it could be all right, but when you listen to Gluck and things of that nature, you enjoy the purity of sound, and also the purity of the music. It’s nice to hear that calmness, but will people sit through that? I did a Gluck opera, Iphigenie. There are some great things, but people in this world today are too nervous to sit through that.

BD:   Is television helping the cause of opera?

Mittelmann: Television is publicizing opera, and people are having an opportunity to see things that they never saw before. I think it’s very good. Here again, we’re talking about the misfortune of not being able to bring opera five or six days a week in Chicago. If it was, it would probably be subsidized partially or a great deal by the city. Inevitably, you would probably get an educational program where the school children would start coming to opera. When you start exposing children at a very young age to opera, you’re going to find those people are going to be regular opera-goers later on.

BD:   What’s a good opera for kids to start with? [Remember, this conversation was held in 1982, long before everyone was addicted to their phones!]

Mittelmann: Maybe not Nabucco or Tristan, but The Magic Flute, or Abduction. You start with fantasy things.

BD:   Simpler and brighter operas?

Mittelmann: Brighter operas and fantasies, and things of that nature. Those are wonderful, but I don’t think that will ever be the case in America. It could happen, but I don’t think it will.

BD:   [Being optimistic] Maybe if the kids are used to watching the tube, they’ll stumble on an opera.

Mittelmann: Yes, but this is a discussion we’ve had a great deal. It’s the responsibility of the parents to bring culture into the house. If the parents don’t have any culture, then it’s very hard for kids to acquire the higher sphere. It would help if the mother or father listen to opera recordings, or Saturday afternoons from the Metropolitan Opera once in a while. There are also symphonic things. When there’s an interest in culture, some of that’s going to rub off on the kids.

BD:   There needs to be cultural awareness?

Mittelmann: Cultural awareness. Have their kids study the flute, or play the piano, or take ballet. They have to get music into their lives.

[At this point, Mittelmann needed to go to another appointment. I thanked him for the discussion, and he said he was very pleased to be able to chat with me.]

See my interviews with Renata Scotto, Stefania Toczyska, John Del Carlo, Bruno Bartoletti, and Lotfi Mansouri

This conversation was recorded in Chicago on September 23, 1982. This transcription was made in 2023, and posted on this website at that time. My thanks to British soprano Una Barry for her help in preparing this website presentation.

To see a full list (with links) of interviews which have been transcribed and posted on this website, click here. To read my thoughts on editing these interviews for print, as well as a few other interesting observations, click here.

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Award - winning broadcaster Bruce Duffie was with WNIB, Classical 97 in Chicago from 1975 until its final moment as a classical station in February of 2001. His interviews have also appeared in various magazines and journals since 1980, and he now continues his broadcast series on WNUR-FM, as well as on Contemporary Classical Internet Radio.

You are invited to visit his website for more information about his work, including selected transcripts of other interviews, plus a full list of his guests. He would also like to call your attention to the photos and information about his grandfather, who was a pioneer in the automotive field more than a century ago. You may also send him E-Mail with comments, questions and suggestions.