Gabriela Beňačková owned the title role for decades; she is in her prime here, her creamy soprano even silkier than on the excellent Suprahon recording. Her “O Lovely Moon” is very good, and she gets even better as the evening wears on. When she prepares for a climactic note, there is often the tiniest pause, and her voice opens like a sped-up video of a flower blossoming. It may be a calculated mannerism, but it thrills every time. Randova, too, is at her considerable best, but having one singer double as the witch and the foreign princess is an oddity. It was probably meant to equate the two characters, who appear only in separate acts. The witch is usually a heavy mezzo, nearly a contralto, and the princess a soprano—Dolora Zajick and Eva Urbanová on the Mackerras recording—so the doubling is a challenge that Randova meets successfully, but I don’t think it adds anything to the drama. Perhaps the visual aspects contributed more on stage. Like his female compatriots, Dvorsky is in fabulous form; his ringing tenor reminiscent of Corelli, ready for Cavaradossi or Radames, complete with a hint of sob. Nesterenko, imported from Moscow rather than Prague, is a surprisingly weak link, occasionally sounding like a fish out of water; much of the role seems a poor fit to his voice, yet his second-act “Woe! Woe!” is thrilling, as his rock-solid bass cuts through the orchestra. It all ends in sheer glory, as Dvorsky matches Beňačková’s impassioned singing note for note. Crooning his final lines comes as a surprise, but it’s not out of place as the Prince dies in Rusalka’s embraces.

Neumann was an uninspired but capable conductor who knew his Dvořák; everything moves smoothly along, and the drama is never slighted. Mackerras does provide more concentration and a tighter whole on his Decca/London recording from Prague. The Vienna orchestra is rich and warm; the fine recording does it even more justice than it does the soloists, who are slightly more distant. There are occasional hints of minor interference, as if a voice were mumbling in the background (try disc 1, track 9, after 1:20 to see if it bothers you), but they are only momentarily distracting; there are a few audible footsteps and other background noises. The audience is silent, barring a cough or two, until each act is over.

There are about 21 minutes missing: the scene of the gamekeeper and the turnspit that starts act II has been cut, as have the wood nymphs dancing in act III. In other words, cut to the chase, and get on with Rusalka’s troubles. The second act was cut in the theater, too; Orfeo offers no clue about the third. There are notes in German, English, and French but no texts in any language, despite the claim on the back of the box. One might put up with this for Carmen or La Bohčme, but who among us knows every line of Rusalka? Such omissions prevent this from being one’s only recording (that’s Mackerras/Fleming), yet it remains a great night at the opera; this was an evening when almost everyone was “on.” Perhaps it’s unkind to ask for more.

James H. North, FANFARE