When writing about Karajan's DG Don giovanni a year ago I concluded that, if CD was what you wanted, then Haitink's EMI version was the one to go for, until Sir Colin Davis's was available in that form. Well, not it is, and it has confirmed its unique qualities; but CBS have thrown down the gauntlet by transferring Maazel's recording on to Compact Disc as well. Just how much of a challenge does it offer?
This, of course, is the Don Giovanni of the silver screen. The recording pushes the star soloists forward and the orchestra back; and whereas Davis's orchestra is very much a forceful, omniscient protagonist in its own right, Maazel's offers altogether more superficial excitement. His rapier-like chords and aggressive energy are prone to enervation, simply because Maazel concentrates on short-lived dramatic vraisemblance at the expense of style. Listen to the accompaniment to ''La, ci darem'' or ''Or sai chi l'onore'', or to the dragging of the Act 1 Quartet, and you'll see what I mean.
Maazel's soloists have a strong, zoom-lens presence which is initially exciting, but eventually tiresome. Ruggero Raimondi is, at last, the true Latin lover, gobbling his Italian, his women and his food with a truly ''barbaro appetito''. There is that famous bloom on the voice, the sensuous presence; but Raimondi relies on this at the expense of detail. His Giovanni is simply not as Allen's chilling seducer (Haitink). I enjoy his double-act with Leporello, though: Jose van Dam's is a superb creature of flesh and blood, a change, if you want one, from Richard Van Allan's ubiquitous but irresistible manservant.
Donna Anna sweeps in like a tornado: with Edda Moser all the furies, and a good many of the vowels as well, really are let loose. There is perhaps no need, though, for the voice to be tremulous with hysteria all the time, especially when this Elvira, Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, is still underpowered. Six years on from singing for Sir Colin, she points with more definition, and certainly finds the ''aspetto nobile'' of her role, but hardly plugs into the power of her every phrase, as does Maria Ewing for Haitink.
Davis, though, gives her more help than Maazel. He expands her comparatively narrow repertoire of response with orchestral playing of predictable vibrancy and Mozartian instinct. With playing which works so hard under each voice, and judges so excitingly every change of tempo and temperature, each voice is encouraged to pay closer attention to the words. For this reason, Martina Arroyo's Donna Anna has the edge over Carol Vaness's still powerful portrayal for Haitink, and Burrows scores over Keith Lewis (Haitink) in sheer vividness of phrasing.
I prefer, on the whole, Davis's tempos to those of Haitink. He takes more risks; his Andantes never sink into Larghettos, and Mozart's orchestral halo round the music of Donna Anna and Don Ottavio never becomes over-bright. And—one of the great tests of any Don Giovanni—in the Act 1 finale, Davis creates a wonderfully paced crescendo of chaos out of the dance's form.
The great strength of Haitink's performance remains its recitatives: no other recording quite matches their perception and impetus; and no other performance, it has to be said, faces us with such a chilling final handshake and such a blood-curdling descent into Hell.'