Shirley Verrett

The annual Tony Award broadcast provides the only filmed record of Broadway's best for audiences to experience as if they were front-row-center on opening night. This second compilation of great musical moments from the Tonys features another dazzling array of stars and performances. Hosts Lauren Bacall, Bebe Neuwirth, Brian Stokes Mitchell and Jerry Orbach introduce these one-of-a-kind performances and share their personal Broadway and Tony memories.

This was a 1988 revival of a 1971 production that teamed Domingo (Vasco da Gama) and Verrett (Selika - both then very much in their prime) in Meyerbeer's discursive swan-song. Seventeen years on, they are more statuesque than sexy, but both give larger-than-life performances that contain moments of completely thrilling vocalism. The casting is very strong, with the exception of Justino Diaz's Nelusko, which has strong presence but not much vocal allure. As Inez, Vasco da Gama's fiancee and rival for Shirley Verrett, Ruth Ann Swneson sings with great beauty and has impressive stage presence, very much holding her own in the confrontation with Verrett in the last act. Domingo is refulgent of tone and dramatically convincing, and he and Verrett strike sparks. She really comes into her own in one of the most preposterous mad-scenes in all opera, where she is slowly poisoned by the scent of a giant tree, contriving to make this dramatically truthful and even moving.

Claude D'Anna's film of Verdi's Macbeth is a gloomy affair, stressing the descent into madness of the principal villains. It's acted by the singers of the Decca recording of the opera (with two substitutions of actors standing in for singers) and the lip-synching is generally unobtrusive. The musical performance is superb, conducted by Riccardo Chailly with admirable fire, and sung by some of the leading lights of the opera stages of the 1980s. Shirley Verrett virtually owned the role of Lady Macbeth at the time, and she delivers a terrific performance, the voice equal to the role's wide register leaps and it's suffused with emotion, whether urging her husband on to murder or maddened by guilt in the Sleepwalking Scene. Leo Nucci's resonant Macbeth may lack the ultimate in vocal color and steadiness (his last notes of the great aria Pietà, rispetto, amore are wobbly) but he compensates with intensity in both singing and acting.

While the rest of the Hebrews bewail their fate, Samson alone trusts in God's promise of liberty. Abimelech, the Philistine satrap of Gaza, enters to mock the Hebrews' God, proclaiming the superiority of Dagon, and the Hebrews are afraid of him. But calls them to show some defiance, so Abimelech attacks Samson with his sword. Samson seizes the sword and strikes him dead. The Hebrews scatter and the High Priest of Dagon appears, cursing the Hebrews. When a messenger reports that the Hebrews are ravaging the harvest, the High Priest forms a plan to use Delilah to overcome Samson's strength. Delilah's beauty is such that Samson can't resist her for long. She begs to know the secret of his supernatural strength, but he refuses, though he says he loves her. Delilah betrays Samson by having some Philistine soldiers seize him and throw him into a prison in Gaza, where his hair is cut off.

A stellar cast brings Puccini’s spellbinding opera to life, seizing every opportunity to thrill the audience. Luciano Pavarotti is Cavaradossi, the painter and political revolutionary in love with the beautiful and famous singer Tosca (the riveting Shirley Verrett). Rome’s diabolical chief of police, Baron Scarpia (Cornell MacNeil), wants Tosca for himself—but he underestimates the fury of a woman in love. With torture, murder, and a suicide in its final moments, Tosca packs more dramatic punches than most other operas—and this classic telecast captures them all. James Conlon conducts in a production by the incomparable Tito Gobbi, one of the great Scarpias of the 20th century.

In this documentary portrait prepared for the anniversary of Ludwig Van Beethoven's 200th birthday, Leonard Bernstein illustrates his analysis with excerpts from his performances of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Major and the Ode to Joy from the Ninth Symphony.

To play Beethoven's music is to give oneself over completely to the child-spirit which lived in that grim, awkward, violent man. Without that utter submission it is impossible to play the Adagio of the Ninth. Or, Heaven knows, the first movement. And the Finale? Most of all! It is simply unplayable unless we go all the way with him, as he cries out "Brüder!" - Leonard Bernstein