All “Normas” are a spectacle, but some are more spectacular than others—or so the Orwellian  adage might go. Marina Rebeka, for instance, set the bar for dramatic intensity in her fiery CD  release from last year. By contrast, Melody Moore’s portrayal on EuroArts—though  dignified—leans toward restraint. 

That is not to slight Moore or—indeed—any of her colleagues. As Norma, she commands a  luxurious, malleable instrument, well-rounded and gently poised. Her coloraturas may not be  flawless (but whose are, outside Sutherland?), yet there perspires a stylistic maturity in every  phrase—one that stands at the opposite pole of Rebeka’s impetuosity.  

Moore presents an exalted mother, whose “Casta diva” radiates introspection befitting a  supposedly chaste priestess. But that restraint comes at a cost: the drama tends to remain  under-fleshed–or, to put it differently: Moore prioritizes balance and purity, notably in the final  cadence (“Deh! Non volerli vittime”), where she sustains Bellini’s canto fiorito with serenity  rather than operatic display. 

This choice aligns with many historical precedents. Does it imply the present “Norma” veers toward the conservative? Not necessarily; Melody  Moore follows in the footsteps of opera’s grandes dames and, by all evidence, does not seek to  revolutionize a discography that counts 127 entries on Operadis alone. 

At the helm of the Transylvania State Philharmonic, Pier Giorgio Morandi conducts with care.  He is sensitive to the singers but his tempi lack ebb and flow. The “Sinfonia,” for instance,  misses bel canto elasticity, and a high point such as Norma’s public confession (“Son io…”)  remains slightly pedestrian. 

It is certainly not unusual for conductors to keep the score tight; but when, for example, the  suspension just before “Qual cor tradisti” is dispatched–rather hurriedly–his generally reflective  tone foregoes the opportunity to punctuate the drama. 

The cast performs at a high level. Stefan Pop, as Pollione, impresses with a steely sound  reminiscent of the full-blooded proconsuls from the 1950s. On the flipside, his declamatory “Me  protegge, me difende” feels a touch unidiomatic, though he grows into the part, and his cries of 

“Il ferro, il ferro!” carry real urgency. By the end, he even shades the final duet with a fine mezza  voce and the proverbial, if slightly histrionic, tear in the voice (“Sublime donna, io t’ho perduta”). 

Roxana Constantinescu offers a compassionate Adalgisa with a fast vibrato and finely  calibrated transitions from tenderness to solidarity–though her idiosyncrasies occasionally get in  the way of bel canto fluency (for instance, in the flourish of “Norma, ancor vi regnerà”). Adam  Lau brings cavernous authority to the Druid Oroveso, and Noemi Modra lends pristine color to  the part of Clotilde. 

This new “Norma,” then, lands in the musical middle ground: delightful in parts–particularly  when the title character unfolds her honeyed, if somewhat reserved, warmth–but hampered in  others by its aversion to risk. Morandi errs on the side of caution, and with the authority of  tradition, keeps the score free of emotional hubris. 

That predictability, if you will, is both a limitation and a strength. Listeners who favor balance  and clarity may well prize it–though faced with the choice, I might lean toward a more dynamic  approach.