From the archive, 13 March 1924: Gianni Schicchi, Puccini's comedy opera
In "Gianni Schicchi", which will have its first production in Manchester this evening, Puccini is to be seen in a new light. He has dried his old lugubrious tears; he has indeed now got into his eyes the quizzical glance of the man of the world. "Gianni Schicchi" is a "rogue's comedy" in which vaunting sentiment and the long face of piety are made the butts of delicious mockery.
Pathos, we all know, is likely to merge into comedy if pushed far enough; similarly, over-indulgence in sentimentalism leads to cynicism. From this latter point of view "Gianni Schicchi" with its astringent, man-of-the-worldish bantering, was bound to come in time out of the Puccini who composed "The Girl of the Golden West". It would seem, in fact, that Puccini is developing his genius as he grows old, even as Verdi did; hot Italian blood is cooling in him and a mellow flavour of humanity entering his mind. Verdi, after a long artistic life given over mainly to blood and tears and gloom, wrote "Falstaff"; Puccini also has found his way to sane witty comedy after years and years spent in the encircling gloom of melodrama. But the transformation that had to happen in Puccini before be could write "Gianni Schicchi" might even be said to have been more remarkable than the change which landed Verdi from the dark air of "Otello" into the luscious sunshine of "Falstaff".
For one thing, Verdi took longer than Puccini to achieve his aesthetic modulation; more important still, Verdi all his life had contrived to put into his music from time to time a healthy virility which kept him from the gushy sentiment of the worst parts of Puccini. The astounding point about the music of "Gianni Schicchi" is that it has pace and nimbleness. Rarely in the past has Puccini's music moved lightly and briskly. It has had usually a clogged motion; its great trick has been the trick of languorous cadence. Sentimentalism, of course, must breed a sluggish spirit - just as wit insists on lightsome speed. And "Gianni Schicchi" actually does reveal a deft-fingered Puccini; this is music which returns for its informing spirit to a saner tradition of Italian opera than the "popular" tradition, the tradition of Rossini's "Barbiere." Puccini in this little opera - it flashes by in 48 minutes - is true to the old native gift of Italy for the comedy of genial roguishness.
The libretto, as well as the music, is easy to follow. And words, action, and music seem to have been brought into being, together - at a single prompting of the imagination. There are some brilliant ensemble passages immediately the opera begins; the squabbling of the relatives, the cross-play of their tongues is expressed in music that has as much of acidity as it has of speed. Yet despite its cynicism the opera leaves no sour taste in the mouth at the end. Puccini sees his rogues and humbugs as folk who provide so much juice and flavour to the human comedy. "Gianni Schicchi" is mellow with the kindly tolerance of a man of the world who has lived long enough to take and like his fellow-men as he finds them. Because of this little masterpiece we can forgive Puccini for much.