The release of “I Lituani” by Accentus Music is a revelatory achievement. Premiered in 1874, the opera presents itself as a medieval-themed “Aida,” complete with a triumphal ballet and a somewhat untempered penchant for musical hyperbole. Yet, above all, it firmly positions Amilcare Ponchielli as a transitional figure between Verdi and Puccini. This in itself is a feat, as Ponchielli’s Lithuanian odyssey demonstrates the continuity, rather than the disruption, of Italy’s generational shift.

Between Generations… and Traditions

Ponchielli is very much a child of his time, and though not an innovator, he picks up on the (slightly redundant) language of Italian unification. After all, the Lithuanians serve as a symbol for the nation’s own path toward newly found independence. Like many of his contemporaries, Ponchielli thus operates under the guise of historic precedent. However, his exoticism is not as consequential as Verdi’s, and while his melodies are perpetually in motion, they never quite achieve the malleability that, in “Aida,” balances out the pharaonic bombast.

His detractors have called Ponchielli’s music epigonal, and despite its best efforts, “I Lituani” is precisely that: a highly efficient and pleasurable spin on grand opera that, in its component parts, borrows from the very best inspirations. For instance, who would not unequivocally recognize in “Pietà dei sofferenti” the ostinato model of Verdi’s “Miserere?” The choral scenes also bear the signature of Verdian writing, as they build toward a homophonic climax, particularly in the preghiera.

Conversely, “I Lituani” is interspersed with captivating clins-d’oeil to the Germanic tradition that, time and again, foreshadow orchestral developments in the works of Puccini and, specifically, Alberto Franchetti. One notices delayed resolutions, and the integration of instrumental preludes into the musical facture; the percussive allegro impetuoso, for example, is not a sinfonia but, in barely 40 seconds, sets the atmosphere for the opera’s concluding act.

Yet Ponchielli does not dip into the German composers’ jargon out of aesthetic necessity, much less ideological conviction. Rather, he seeks a Meyerbeerian expression of grand dramatic effect. The magniloquent conclusion to “Delle immortali vergini” is a case in point: “I Lituani” ends with a proverbial bang!

‘Otello,’ ante litteram?

The libretto, by Antonio Ghislanzoni (another parallel with Verdi), does not even try to tie up loose ends; it is functional, grandiose, and designed to please. Chronological and other lacunae get swallowed up by the proliferation of mass scenes surrounding the awe-inspiring presence of Corrado Wallenrod, Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights. Yet what his fellow Teutons do not know is that Corrado – whose real name is Walter – is but an impostor, a Lithuanian loyalist who has infiltrated the ranks of his people’s oppressors to orchestrate their destruction from within.

On paper, the plot sounds awfully Macchiavellian, but whether Adam Mickiewicz’s “Konrad Wallenrod” – its literary forerunner – is truly congenial to operatic staging remains doubtful at the very best. Still, the libretto serves its purpose, and in addition to the stock-type hero-turned-martyr, it finds an emotional anchor in the opera’s faithfully suffering Aldona.

She is a relative of Verdi’s Leonora (from both “Il trovatore” and “La Forza del destino”), whose splendid lyricism sharply contrasts with the declamatory inflections and impassioned climaxes of her tenor counterpart. The overall trajectory is clear: Ponchielli’s vocal phenotypes move towards the dramatic constellation of Verdi’s “Otello.” In this, Corrado Wallenrod is a distant ancestor to the verismo-style tenor, and Kristian Benedikt, a notable Otello himself, leaves no doubt as to the Teutonic Master’s musical kinship.

A perfect example is provided by the somewhat macabre brindisi of “Alla tua morte bevo.” Not only does it prominently feature a Neapolitan chord – itself a Verdian device – it also foreshadows the vocal athleticism required for the notoriously muscular “Ora e per sempre addio,” its equivalent of sorts. Benedikt, as Corrado Wallenrod, soars with the melodic line; his spinto-heavy instrument replicates the orchestral swell, with which it reaches a series of intermittently sharp climaxes. His attack is not altogether smooth, and Benedikt now and then betrays an unwonted tonal strain that should not distract, however, from the grandeur – if not outright opulence – of his character.

Jūratė Švedaitė-Waller, as Aldona, similarly relishes the undulations of Ponchielli’s melodic line, whose emphasis on the middle register, in “Come lugubre,” vaguely anticipates Desdemona’s “Canzone del salice.” Her voice lies somewhere between a lirico spinto and, in parts, a dramatic soprano, defying any straightforward attempt at categorization.

Filling in the Gaps

The supporting characters are equally capable, and while none stand out for any particular reason, the homogeneity of “I Lituani’s” soundscape fully rests on the unimpeachable musicianship of its soloists and, significantly, its conductor.

Petras Bingelis proves Italianate in his approach but balances the predominance of the melody with a sophisticated interest in orchestral color. The Kaunas State Choir is excellent, yet from a production standpoint, it is deeply regrettable that the accompanying booklet does not dedicate a page to the musicians. Nor does it specify which version of “I Lituani” is performed. Ponchielli notably made adjustments to the score by the spring of 1875.

Still, the Accentus release marks a milestone, and must be commended for its colossal ambition to revive a hallmark of operatic historicism from near-oblivion. It fills in an epistemological gap that may shift perception of the links between Verdi and Puccini. The release will hopefully also spark interest in Stefano Gobatti’s “I Goti” from 1873, which falls within the same thematic – and, one assumes musical – category as Ponchielli’s “Lithuanians.” They are, after all, but a puzzle piece in Italy’s cultural panorama – though a highly enjoyable one!