Let me confess straight out that I am an avid fan if Italian verismo. I know that many purists of the musical elite would consider my tastes to be vulgar and unrefined, a product of that school of sensationalism which swept through Europe at the turn of the century in both art and literature. Yet, for me, what makes opera so enjoyable are all those screams, shrieks, sobs and outbursts of manic hysteria which I have come to associate with all of my favorite and best loved operas.

While, of course, I respect Gluck and Mozart, I can never get excited over Euridice lost in the Underworld, nor Papagano catching birds. I can't love them because they are not real. Now, the Countess in Nozze Di Figaro is very real but too civilized for my tastes. If, however, she took a hatchet in her hand and started swinging it at the Count, screaming that she would hack him into a thousand pieces for his infidelity, she would easily win over a devoted admirer.

If I had the choice on any given night of attending a Cosi Fan Tutte with a superlative cast or an Andrea Chernier with merely a competent one, there would be no doubt as to my decision. Giordano wins hands down. The Mozart is much too cerebral, too sophisticated and refined. The characters are too polite and forgiving. While the husbands go of to war, the wives merely dab the corners of their eyes wiping off a bit of mascara. It's as Austrian as a Demel's pastry but it's not Italian verismo.

How can one possibly get excited over Fiordiligi and Dorabella whose love is so tame and fickle that it enkindles little compassion and less remorse? Where is the heartrending passion which would make them follow their loves into the battlefield rather than to be left at home alone? Where are the sobs, the cries, the beating of the breasts, the renting of garments? What kind of Italians are these people?

I offer Mozart my full apologies. He was working within the musical conventions of his time. For the eighteenth century he was truly radical dealing with themes which were shocking and provocative for his time, but it was not verismo. Too bad for me that he was born a hundred years too early.

In Andrea Chernier it is a different world altogether. This is the French revolution where heads were being chopped off and people were parading wildly in the streets screaming for liberty, justice and blood. When Madelona, a poor defenseless widow, gives up her only son to the war effort, one can feel the pain and anguish of such a maternal sacrifice. What mother who has lost a son to war can sit with a dry eye through her aria?

There is hardly denying the intensely dramatic impact which accompanies the final duet between Chernier and Maddalena. She has made the ultimate sacrifice of exchanging her life with that of a condemned prisoner just to die together with Chernier, the man she loves. In our present age, riddled with divorce and property settlements, cynicism and infidelity, how rare and beautiful is the tryst of these two lovers as they proclaim at dawn, "Viva la morta insieme!"

You can have your Cosi with its chauvinistic lesson about the fickleness of woman. I'll take my idealized romance of a woman who would sacrifice her life for the man she loves. This brings up an interesting point about verismo. It's not so realistic after all. The heroes and heroines often act completely out of proportion to a given situation, basing their reactions almost completely on an idealized emotional response. Within the course of one evening a character can span the entire gamut of emotions from love to hate, from jealousy to revenge, from sadness to joy. Any one of these characters would become a perfect subject for depth analysis but what redeems them is their willingness to endure the impossible in the hope of achieving the probable without paying much attention to the consequences of their actions. In this sense perhaps they are very real indeed!

If verismo is anything it is melodrama taken to the extreme. It is extravagant theatricality where everything is exaggerated and blown out of proportion. Character development plays second fiddle to a bloody plot and violent physical action overrides calm

discussion. Contrived motivations and psychological insights have no place in verismo where hot-blooded raw emotions and unchecked passions take center stage.

My first introduction to verismo occurred when I was about eight years old and I ventured to enter my home in the early afternoon. Suddenly, I heard a woman scream hysterically, "Hanno ammazato compare Turridu!" the cry of pain was so real that, at first, I thought it was our next door neighbor beating her children again. Then I heard the scream a second time and I thought it was Giuseppina, the lady who lived upstairs being beaten by Mario the Butcher. I was seized with fear only to be consoled by the reality that the voice came from the radio and was not another installation of neighborhood violence.

Several months later I found my mother in tears listening to the radio. I approached her and asked, "What the matter?"

"Mimi sta morendo?"

I didn't know who Mimi was at the time but in a few moments a man's voice began crying her name piercing the air with pathetic sobs. A chill crept down my spine as if I were present to a man deep in sorrow and was helpless to be of any consolation. The ominous chords which followed made it clear that his grief was beyond consolation, his despair heartrending. It was then that I was hooked on verismo.

It is precisely these helpless cries of agony, anger, despair and desperation which give verismo its unique charm and appeal. A seasoned verismo fan is willing to forgive a badly sung aria with misplaced notes, tenors who go sharp and basses who sing flat providing the moments of rage and maledictions are delivered with the proper venom and malice. In other words, the lure of verismo lies not in the arias but in those famous one-liners. A badly sung duet between Santuzza and Turridu can be redeemed if "Del ira tua non mi cura" is spit out with demonic vengeance. In return, Santuzza's curse on Turridu's Easter Sunday, "A te, la mala Pasqua," can evoke greater thrills that a well-placed high C.

The list of one-liners in verismo is impressive and, if properly delivered, can shape a whole scene. Fedora's "Loris, dove sei?", Canio's "Il nome or la sua vita!", Adriana's "Scostate, melipone son io!", and madalena's impassioned evocation of Chernier's name as he is condemned to death all make their mark effectively if powerful chest tones hurl them at the audience with the force of tomahawk missiles. Who is there among verismo fans who has not sat through a whole second act of Tosca and not waited to hear her delivery of, "E avanti a lui tremava tutta Roma."?

In verismo people just don't get angry, they get even. This creates a catharsis of sorts especially if social convention has confined one to lead the life of an underdog. In everyday life we must observe the rules of social decorum and refrain at times fromspeaking our true mind for the sake of social harmony and acceptance. But, in versimo there are no such restrictions. Nedda can whip Tonio's face and scream, "Mi fai scivo and rebrezzo." (Incidentally another great one-liner.) but in the same act Tonio gets his chance to get even by betraying her to Canio. The methods of revenge have been elevated into an art. Archibaldo in L'Amore Dei Tre Re chokes Fiora to death for her infidelity to his son, then proceeds to poison her lips to capture her lover.

In verismo the characters may be great lovers but they are all bad losers. In fact, they play to win. Have you ever tried playing poker with Minnie, The Girl of the Golden West ? don't forget, this is the same girl who reads the Bible to the miners. Evidently she never got to the commandment about cheating. Speaking about one-liners, Minnie's second act, "Tre assi e un paio" is one of the best.

With all of these negative vibes floating around about Italian verismo, it is interesting to note the role religion plays in the life of some of operas greatest assassins. We can possibly forgive Minnie for cheating at Polka in La Fanciulla del West. After all, one can argue that the law of love is more important than honesty with a deck of cards, but can we say the same about murder and suicide? Tosca, for example, can pray that she never caused harm to a living soul, has placed flowers at the foot of the Madonna and implores God for an answer to her suffering. Five minutes later she stabs Scarpia relentlessly and is kind enough to drop a crucifix onto his prostrate dead body. Santuzza likewise can raise her voice in praise of the Risen Christ in the Regina Coeli on Easter Sunday only to vent a curse on Turridu ten minutes later and bring about his demise by disclosing his affairwith Lola to Alfio. Then she has the operatic gall to embrace Mamma Lucia with "Oh, madre mia!" - Ah, verismo!!

When one attends a performance of a verismo opera, there is a catharsis in knowing that some people in the world have it much worse than you. Who would ever want to trade places with any one of these characters? Canio has a young bride who flirts with another man and plans to elope with him. Santuzza is a helpless, pregnant Sicilian girl whose boyfriend is carrying on with a maried man's wife. Maurizio loves Adriana so dearly only to be publicly embarrassed by her recitation of Phaedra. We leave the theater grateful that our troubles are nowhere near theirs in magnitude and thankful that they are not our next door neighbors. These characters are all larger than life and seem to leap off the stage and say, "You think you've got problems? Listen to mine!" - and we DO! - Ah, the power of verismo!