This unique production of 'Tosca' brings together the intimacy of film and the genuine excitement of live performance. There's something compelling about actual, live singing that just can't be duplicated by lip-synching, no matter how accomplished. Usually the trade-off is that a live performance has to take place in the artificial environment of the stage, and we have to give up the 360° view that's normal to film. In 'Tosca', we have a real live opera taking place like a movie. It very often works; the only complaint I have is that there was a little too much in the way of photography from strange angles. There were a lot of shots of the singers looking up from waist level - too much, in fact. A little of this goes a long way, and is artistically satisfying; too much becomes oppressive. I started noticing how often I was looking up the performers' nostrils. I suspect that this was only partially due to artistic considerations; I think that the low angles were also intended to conceal the presence of cameras and lights, and since this was a live performance, it showed a lot of ingenuity. However, photography has its own grammar, and shooting from a low angle inevitably brings with it an emotional charge that didn't always match the action being portrayed. It's one thing to photograph Scarpia from below when he's standing on Cavaradossi's platform, sizing up the situation and devising a plot to trap Tosca - he's powerful and dominating, and it makes sense that he should be towering over the scene. But it makes no sense to photograph Tosca from the same angle when she's collapsing in grief as she listens to Cavaradossi's screams.
The three main performers are all excellent. This was the third and last of Domingo's filmed versions of Tosca, and while he's in good voice as usual, he seems a little stout and stolid for the role. He looks much less like a revolutionary artist than like a respectable burgher. As an actress Malfitano is awfully good, and her big eyes are full of expression. Her Tosca is not a strong woman - she's a sensitive, highly-strung artist, and no match at all for Scarpia, who can afford to play games with her because he knows that his victory is inevitable. The way she stumbles across the darkening room when Cavaradossi is dragged away to be executed is heartbreaking; she's like a drowning butterfly. Raimondi's Scarpia is a masterpiece - a bottomless well of cruelty and selfish appetite, and yet also unspeakably attractive and exciting. The first time he makes a move on Tosca, in the church, he hovers over her like a vampire; every emotional surge in Tosca produces a wave of excitement in him, and by the end of Act II, the two of them are like a fireball rolling downhill. Unlike most Scarpias, he at least gets a kiss out of her before the end, and she's left so shaken she can hardly walk to the table to pour herself a drink to steady her nerves. It obviously isn't just disgust and horror that she's feeling; he's really stirred up something in her, and she's as terrified of her own feelings as she is of him. When she stabs him, it really is as if she's beyond thinking - he convulsively drags her along with him in his death throes, and expires in a blood-soaked, hysterical coital nightmare. It's no wonder that the third act portrays Tosca as verging on, if not actually tipped over the edge into insanity. Her death is perfect, and the way I've always imagined it - bloodied, dust-covered, and hair wild, she's like a hunted animal with no escape. This 'Tosca' has some of the most satisfying moments opera can provide.
9 out of 9 found this helpful