GIUSEPPE VERDI: RIGOLETTO & LA TRAVIATA RIGOLETTO: (Recorded 1990) Pavarotti, Wixell, Gruberova Wiener Philharmoniker Riccardo Chailly - conductor (Directed by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle) Decca 4400714019 ££££ LA TRAVIATA: (Recorded 1995) Gheorghiu, Lopardo, Nucci Orchestra and Chorus of the Royal Opera House Georg Solti - conductor Decca 4400714319 ££££

Decca's releases of their superb video recordings are essential purchases.

Rigoletto and La Traviata date from Verdi's middle period and were both premiered at Venice's La Fenice in the early years of the 1850s. The 1851 premiere of Rigoletto was a success, although critics and audience alike did not immediately understand it. La Traviata, in 1853, was even less of a success, its failure due in part to its contemporary nature: it sought to reflect the hypocrisy and petty-mindedness of a society that, rather than accepting and understanding a person's true identity, was prepared to condemn and stigmatise on the grounds of social standing alone.

Both Violetta, the heroine of La Traviata, and Rigoletto have honed their public image to suit their profession, he as the hunchback court jester, sneering and leering at the courtiers who fall out of the inner circle of the Duke of Mantua, she as a beautiful, flippant and cynical Paris courtesan. But both have a secret life away from their respective courts. Rigoletto is a devoted father to Gilda, and the whore Violetta yearns for love and respectability. Both are outsiders, physically living in the centre of their universes, but morally and metaphysically inhabiting a higher and purer world than those who seek their entertainment, and the dramatic tension in both operas comes from the way in which their identities conflict with the role they play in public.

Both DVD re-issues, Decca's releases of their superb video recordings are essential purchases. Rigoletto is directed as a film by Jean-Pierre Ponnelle, whose production magnificently evokes the corruption and decadence of the court of a young nobleman intent on pleasure and instant gratification. Filmed on location in various Renaissance palazzi, with sumptuous costumes and atmospheric scenes, the viewer is immediately plunged into a dark world of intrigue and betrayal. The most evocative section, set in Sparafucile's house and surroundings – the lashing rain and foreboding storm – is made much more real in a film than is ever possible in the theatre. Luciano Pavarotti's sunny, unforced Italian tenor is an ideal Duca. He catches a genuine playfulness and lightness of touch – essential in this role, since the Duke is not evil, merely careless – and performs with a style that he all but abandoned in the opera house. Under the harsh glare of cine cameras, Edita Gruberova is perhaps not physically suitable for the role of Gilda, but she is played most sympathetically and sung with such morbidezza that, from this viewpoint, her casting is ideal. Her coloratura singing in 'Caro nome' is unmissable – an essential lesson in style. The Swedish baritone Ingvar Wixell, in the title role, does not command a naturally Italianate Verdi voice – it is somewhat lacking in colour and nobility – but he phrases and rises to the climaxes of Rigoletto's music with great intensity. Riccardo Chailly conducts impeccably.

This Traviata turned its star, Angela Gheorghiu, into an overnight diva. BBC2 famously cleared its schedules at the last minute to broadcast the performance live, and we are fortunate that the occasion was recorded for posterity and is now reissued. Solti was, incredibly, conducting Traviata for the first time. The production by Richard Eyre is traditional, which, in itself, is a virtue when considering that the psychological relationship between Violetta, Alfredo and Germont père is so well defined. Gheorghiu is vocally radiant: hers is an essentially lyric instrument which handles the coloratura of Act One deftly and with great feeling – throughout one recalls the style and heartbreaking phrasing of her compatriot Ileana Cotrubas – and she rises to the dramatic intensities of the remaining two acts with considerable skill. She does not quite deliver the overwhelming tragic stature which Callas, Scotto and Cotrubas found in Violetta, but hers nevertheless remains one of the great interpretations. Frank Lopardo is rather dry-voiced and wooden as Alfredo, but he brings out his essential callousness and vanity. Leo Nucci brings sternness to Germont père together with a hint of compassion both in the gambling scene and in his confrontation with Violetta. Solti's conducting, however, is surprisingly heavy-handed and driven.

Opera on the television screen was so often a third-hand experience and was never going to compete with opera on stage or on CD. With DVD this has become possible, and I unequivocally recommend these absorbing releases.

Allan Bevis