Chausson - Le Roi Arthus (Paris, 2015 - Webcast)

Ernest Chausson - Le Roi Arthus

L'Opéra National de Paris, 2015

Philippe Jordan, Graham Vick, Sophie Koch, Thomas Hampson, Roberto Alagna, Alexandre Duhamel, Stanislas de Barbeyrac, François Lis, Peter Sidhom, Cyrille Dubois, Tiago Matos, Ugo Rabec

Culturebox - 28 May 2015

There's nothing too complicated about Graham Vick and Paul Brown's concept and sets for this production of Chausson's Le Roi Arthus (King Arthur) at the Paris Opera. Evidently with Vick, it's not going to be period King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table wearing suits of armour, but then Chausson's opera has very little to do with the myth or even adherence to traditional characterisation. Except in one respect. It's really nothing more than a variation on the common opera theme of the illicit love affair that betrays a king, and really if it wasn't set as King Arthur, the characters here could be replaced by others without any significant changes. Like King Marke, Tristan and Isolde for example.

That hardly seems like a fair comparison, but it's a valid one, since Chausson's opera - his only opera and one that is rarely performed - does wear its Wagnerian influences heavily. Lancelot's love affair with the Queen Guinevere takes place in secret in the second scene of Act I, the couple intensely wrapped up in their love for one another as Lyonnel (Kurwenal) looks on worriedly, aware of the consequences of them being discovered by the king. Their declarations of love approaches a peak where they sing of their profound divine ecstasy and how the rest of the world seems like a confused dream, just as Mordred (Melot) rushes in, catches them in the act and is struck down by Tristan... er, I mean Lancelot.

Despite the evident aspirations to match these sentiments with Wagnerian through composition and sweeping crescendos of large orchestral forces; despite a few Ho-he-Ho-ho's and a labourer (Steersman) lament at the start of Act I, Chausson's score never even comes close to the soaring transcendence and ecstasy of Wagner. The comparison that is begged is unfortunate, for were it not for a libretto that is rather dull and domestic, having none of the profundity of Wagner's philosophical weight and poetic expression, Le Roi Arthus does actually have a musical force of its own or of a particular French post-Wagnerian tradition (Franck, Massenet) where it sits rather better.

The disparity between the musical qualities of Le Roi Arthus and the narrative of the libretto are unfortunately all too apparent in the production at the Opéra National de Paris. Graham Vick can't find any real conceptual element to grasp onto other than the rather domestic nature of the drama. Arthur's Britons are more like Glastonbury hippies who, after defeating the Saxons, rope their swords into a circle and build a flat-pack house for their King. Scattered books speak of the disarray that follows, and a red plastic sofa speaks of the lust that upsets the cosy atmosphere of the happy family. Is there any deeper level to be drawn out here that Vick is missing by not setting it in Arthurian times? I don't think so.

It's well worth applying more attention however to Philippe Jordan's conducting of the orchestra of the Opéra National de Paris. Divided into three acts with two scenes each, all separated by symphonic interludes, Jordan reveals more than the superficial Wagner similarities that the narrative leads one to hear. Aside from the symphonic interludes, the scoring and performance of Arthur in Act II, Scene II suggests a closer affinity with Golaud from Pelléas et Mélisande, or even King Phillip II from Verdi's Don Carlo. That kind of wealth of influence and reference is there in Chausson's scoring, and Jordan brings out the whole dynamic and range of the possibilities that are there in the music.

If only it was all put in the service of something worthwhile, as the characterisation in Le Roi Arthus seems to have no real-life foundation or insight of its own. Arthur has none of the complexity of Phillip II and is indeed little more than the kind ruler (in chunky wool cardigan) suffering the anguish of suspicions and cruelly betrayed by his closest friend and his wife. Lancelot is all conflicted between love and duty, struggling over questions of honour and nobility, but prone to being swayed by the machinations of a woman. And, yes, that's about the level that Guinevere operates on, having no qualms about her actions, able to brazenly carry on with Lancelot and lie to Arthur, manipulating both men away from their finer nature.

Within the restrictions of those poorly defined personality traits, the cast nonetheless perform admirably, all of them well suited to this repertoire. Written as it is, you can even indulge Le Roi Arthus as being the only way you'll ever hear Sophie Koch and Roberto Alagna singing Tristan und Isolde. Koch fares better in the Wagnerian stakes as she has such experience and ability in the mezzo-soprano roles. She brings a thrilling intensity here to a wonderfully scored but ultimately rather thankless role. While it's clear that Alagna could never sustain the demands of a Tristan and is stretched at the more intense parts of Le Roi Arthus, he's in his element as the romantic hero and consequently terrific in the main as Lancelot. Thomas Hampson's voice isn't as robust as it once was, but he is still commanding here as Arthur and particularly impressive in his 'Ella gaimmai m'amo' scene.

It's in Arthur that there is some room to expand on the themes of Le Roi Arthus as being a little more than run of the mill domestic drama. The aforementioned scene does see Arthur's world implode, his abandonment by Guinevere and his betrayal by Lancelot cutting deeply, hitting a strong king at his weak point. In it he sees the collapse of everything he has strived to achieve, leaving the way open only to death. He calls out to Merlin, seeking power beyond what is human, but Chausson's score - as rich as it is and as all Parsifal-like as it gets to in the Third Act finale, is inadequate to take the piece to that other level where that work, Tristan und Isolde, Don Carlos and Pelléas et Mélisande all reside.

Links: Culturebox

Gounod - Faust

Charles Gounod - Faust

Opéra National de Paris, 2011

Alain Altinoglu, Jean-Louis Martinoty, Roberto Alagna, Paul Gay, Tassis Christoyannis, Alexander Duhamel, Inva Mula, Angélique Noldus, Marie-Ange Todorovitch

Opéra Bastille, Paris – 16th October 2011

When is Gounod’s Faust not Gounod’s Faust? For many people who think they know the opera well, I’m sure that they would find the new 2011 production for the Paris Opera unfamiliar in many respects – but the question is historically a great deal more complicated than that. A great admirer of Goethe’s work, Gounod had been planning an opera on Faust for almost thirty years, but between finally starting work on it in 1855, it receiving its first production at the Théâtre Lyrique in Paris in 1859 in a heavily cut form, and its appearance at the Paris Opera, many subsequent revisions were made to the work.  With additional arias inserted later to suit singers in productions around Europe, with the whole work revised again by Gounod in 1866 to eliminate spoken dialogue and make it a fully-fledged opera, it can be difficult to determine what exactly is the true form of Gounod’s Faust.

Faust has probably been debased even further over the intervening years. A popular favourite, the dramatic representation and any sense of coherence has often come secondary to ensuring that the crowd-pleasing songs, marches and waltzes showcasing the extravagance of the orchestration, the singing and the famous setpieces meet audience expectations. Many operas have scenes of iconic power, but are there any with quite so many in each act as Faust? With its initial meeting between Faust and Mephistopheles, the Fairground waltz and the Ivan the Terrible soldier’s march in Act 2, Marguerite’s Jewel song in Act 3, Valentin’s duel in Act 4 and the Walpurgis Night debauch in Act 5 – to name just a few of the stand-out moments – Gounod’s Faust is one long procession of memorable moments, drama and melodrama, mixed up in meditations on love, romance, nihilism, philosophy and religion. With so much to cover and so many expectations to meet – and with such a history of cuts and revisions – there’s not however much sense of coherency in Faust, and there’s little that bears resemblance to the original work and themes of Goethe.

How much of the opera is as Gounod intended is difficult then to determine, but it has certainly been molded a great deal by the necessity of meeting the demands and conventions of the French Grand Opera tradition. That’s how it’s traditionally presented, that’s how I am familiar with it, and that’s pretty much the way it was played at the fine Royal Opera House production directed by David McVicar broadcast in HD around the world just a few weeks ago. Surprisingly then, few of the familiar conventions were adhered to in the Opéra National de Paris’ new 2011 production at the Bastille directed by Jean-Louis Martinoty and conducted by Alain Altinoglu (after the departure of Alain Lombard early in the production). If there is some inevitable disappointment that all the old favourites aren’t played out quite as you remember them or would like them, the new Paris Opera production is at least a brave attempt to restore some of the true qualities of the work back to its original form. If you are going to radically rework a familiar opera however, you need to have something else to pique the interest of the audience, and while that is admirably achieved here to a certain degree, some of the decisions are nonetheless questionable and some of the staging is quite curious.

The staging, as is often the case at the Bastille, appears to be aiming to fill the large stage with as much impressive set design, spectacle and colour as possible, rather than being quite so faithful to the demands of the opera. In the case of Faust however, there are certainly plenty of showcase scenes to merit the spectacle, and some of them really have an impact. The main body of the stage – as it was with McVicar’s production last month – uses the scientist’s study as the basis for the whole opera. Here, the semi-circular raised rows of bookcases are a constant reminder – while there is often not much else to remind you in the opera – of the desire for knowledge, experience and answers that has ultimately led the doctor Faust into a bargain with the demon Mephistopheles, selling his soul for a life of abandon and debauchery that, up until her dramatic sacrifice and salvation, almost also claims the pure and innocent soul of Marguerite.

Great vertical use is made of the stage, with huge crosses and an enormous skeleton descending down to the stage, as well as raising figures and objects, and no small amount of smoky dry ice from “down below”. If some of the choices are curious, not exactly naturalistic and perhaps not quite how we are used to seeing Faust depicted –the aforementioned skeleton and Marguerite’s bed covered in greenery and forming part of the garden scene some of the stranger elements – they all at least fit into the main themes and concepts of the battle between good and evil, science and nature, knowledge and the purposes that it is turned towards.

Some of this works however and some of it doesn’t. The skeleton forms one of the best effects during the waltz during the fair of Act II, whirling and trailing ribbons over Mephistopheles as he leads the dance beneath. On the other hand, Roberto Alagna’s transformation from old academic to young man isn’t the most inventive. Employing an actor who lip-sync mimes to Alagna’s off-stage singing, it avoids the tricky transformation (clevery done in quick change mode by Vittorio Grigolo in the ROH production) – but Alagna makes enough of an impression when he does appear to make up for this. Valentin’s death also lacks traditional impact, since he has no sword and is struck by Faust with an oblique blow (which indicates of course that it is Mepistopheles behind the action), but the extraordinary manner of him dying standing on his feet is quite striking.

Another reason for the seemingly deliberate lack of traditional impact however is the measured tempo of Alain Altinoglu’s conducting of the Paris Orchestra which avoids all the usual added punchy emphasis, sounding almost like how one would approach Wagner’s German Romanticism more than how we are accustomed to hearing Gounod played. The playing of the orchestra was marvellous and, although one misses all the usual tics, this more thoughtful and lyrical approach did however cast an entirely different perspective on the work and indeed worked marvellously with the romantic and religious elements that dominate it. The opera unfortunately still has many gaps and lapses of dramatic continuity that prevents such an approach from fully coming together, so it wasn’t entirely satisfactory, raising perhaps more questions in the curiosity and unfamiliarity of the staging instead of making it any clearer or coherent, but it was a welcome approach nonetheless.

Even if the dramatic action or the musical interpretation didn’t always play into the hands of the singer looking to make an impression in these great operatic roles, the singing was nonetheless wonderful. Roberto Alagna was in fine shape physically for the role and in good singing voice also. Personally speaking, I don’t find him the most charismatic of performers, but by the same token he’s not show-offy, he does have a beautiful tone to his voice and always delivers a flawless singing performance. You couldn’t ask for more from a Faust. Inva Mula, who I last saw singing wonderfully in the Paris Opera’s revision and restoration of Gounod’s almost forgotten Mireille (on Blu-ray), is in even finer voice here as Marguerite, her French pretty much faultless, her singing glorious, appropriate and in keeping with her character. Paul Gay didn’t always carry the kind of seductive charm of Mephistopheles or sound entirely firm on the lower register, but his performance was warmly received by the audience, as was Tassis Christoyannis – an excellent Valentin, even if he wasn’t given much leeway with the role.