Dame Joan Sutherland e o 25 de Abril

Já sei que ninguém, ou quase ninguém, vai ler este post. Pacienciazinha, como eu costumo dizer. Quem sabe da minha paixão por ópera sabe, por arrasto, da minha paixão pela voz desta senhora. Só cantou em Portugal uma vez, uma única, tinha eu treze anos. Escusado será dizer que não a vi. Três récitas da Traviata, a 18, 21 e 24 de Abril de 1974. Como pontaria, não se pode pedir melhor! Falei disso num post antigo, especulei um pouco, na ignorância do que teria acontecido:

O facto de só ter havido três récitas da Traviata da Sutherland, a última das quais a 24 de Abril, faz-me pensar que deviam estar agendadas pelo menos mais uma ou duas, e que foram canceladas por motivos óbvios. Estou a imaginá-la no hotel, na manhã seguinte, certamente querendo saber das críticas... e os militares todos na rua. Duvido muito que os jornais se tenham lembrado de que a maior soprano do mundo tinha cantado na véspera em S. Carlos...

Há uns tempos consegui arranjar a autobiografia dela – uma compra anedótica. O livro está esgotado na Amazon, chegou-me às mãos através de outros livreiros (Alibris, registem o nome, é gente da maior confiança). Uma hardcover em segunda mão e absolutamente impecável que me custou menos de cinco dólares, as despesas de correio foram um pouco mais elevadas. Não sei quanto custará o empolgante relato autobiográfico daquela pessoa ex-ligada ao presidente do Porto, mas é de certeza mais caro...

Verdade seja dita, o livro da minha querida Dame Joan é decepcionante. Ela é tão boa senhora que não diz mal de ninguém, é sempre tudo gente extraordinária (e eu à espera de juicy details acerca de cabrices de bastidores, de duetos penosos com tenores de bafo empestado de álcool, graças a Deus quase sempre mais baixos do que ela, etc...), limita-se praticamente a contar o que cantou, com quem e onde. Mas conta como foi a sua passagem por Lisboa, valha-nos isso! Eis a resposta da grande Dame Joan Sutherland à já famosa questão “Onde é que estavas no 25 de Abril?”:

«Adam [o filho] came home from Aiglon for his Easter holidays, then flew off to Lisbon to stay with a school friend, soon followed by us [ela e o marido, o maestro Richard Bonynge] for our performances of La Traviata. We had chosen to stay at Estoril and travel the few kilometres along the coast to rehearsals at the lovely Teatro Nacional de San Carlos. [sic]

I was very happy to have sent my own costumes from the Australian 1965 tour in advance as the production was extremely stark, the same chairs appearing in every scene, whether in Violetta’s house or Flora’s party. The chorus gowns were not too inspiring and I was also happy to have the new wigs made for the Who’s Afraid of Opera series. Alfredo Kraus was Alfredo Germont and it was, as always, a great pleasure to work with him and Giorgio Zancanario as Papa Germont.

Rehearsal time was very short and we worked on Good Friday evening and Easter Monday. On Easter Saturday and Sunday [13 e 14 de Abril] we did some sightseeing to Sessimbra, Setubal, the Pink Palace, and Sintra and attended a bullfight, finding it very exciting and quite a spectacle. The bulls were not killed in Porugal we were assured. [ao menos isso, ai o que eu odeio tourada!]

Adam had joined us at our Estoril hotel [só podia ser o Palácio] and was very upset that he was not permitted to enter the Casino there, due to his being under age. He was further aggravated when told he could not enter the theatre without a dinner-jacket on the opening night of La Traviata [dantes era assim] – the only performance he could attend as he was flying back to Switzerland the next day for his final term at Aiglon. He ultimately sat in a stage box which still had a grill from the last century to screen those not wanting to be seen in the theatre. He thought that was very special. He had on a business suit and tie but rules were rules, even for the son of the prima donna and conductor.

We were entertained by Ambassador Kelly and his wife Margaret at the Australian Embassy and found them a delightful pair. I still see Mrs Kelly in Australia occasionally.

The final performance was held in the large nineteenth-century circus arena [o Coliseu] which had a greater audience capacity than the lovely theatre – and an odour of animal excrement and sweat. [?!] This was not so noticeable on stage but almost overpowering in the dressing-rooms. However, the audience was wildly appreciative and the curtain calls were very numerous [sempre modesta, foi o delírio!], and we arrived back in Estoril in the early hours of the morning very tired and happy.

What was our surprise and alarm when our charming driver telephoned about 8 a.m. on the next day to tell us there had been a Revolution around 2 a.m. and no one could leave the country. All flights were cancelled and we would have to stay. We then heard from Ambassador Kelly who was very calm and practical, telling us that in his opinion it would all quieten down in three days and we’d be able to leave. The border was closed for three days and we sat in Estoril and enjoyed the fine food there and surrounding towns.

Regina Resnik was preparing a production at the San Carlos and was confined to her Lisbon hotel, with cannons pointing from the square at her windows and some firing guns [?!]. She was very anxious and was glad of our reassurance via our Ambassador that the crisis would be over in three days. He finally facilitated our exit from a chaotic airport.»

Regnery Publishing, Inc. – Washington, DC
Copyright © 1997 by Joan Sutherland

(com a devida vénia, e esperando não estar a meter-me em sarilhos)