Fauré - Pénélope (Strasbourg, 2015 - Webcast)

Gabriel Fauré - Pénélope

Opéra National du Rhin, Strasbourg - 2015

Patrick Davin, Olivier Py, Anna Caterina Antonacci, Marc Laho, Élodie Méchain, Sarah Laulan, Kristina Bitenc, Rocío Pérez, Francesca Sorteni, Lamia Beuque, Jean-Philippe Lafont, Edwin Crossley-Mercer, Martial Defontaine, Mark Van Arsdale, Arnaud Richard, Camille Tresmontant

ARTE Concert - October 2015

Rarely performed, Fauré's 1913 opera Pénélope has the reputation of being one of those old-fashioned works that no longer has a place on the modern stage. The start of the twentieth century has proved something of a wilderness for lost operas, with many of those works of post-Romanticism and verismo attempting to prolong the opera tradition never really taking hold. The horrors of the Great War would soon make much of the opera compositions of this period irrelevant when set against a changing and increasingly dissonant musical landscape. A few works are only now beginning to regain a foothold, and although Fauré's Pénélope is perhaps not yet one of them, it is certainly an opera that has been unjustly neglected if this fine new production at the Opéra National du Rhin is anything to go by.

One of the main criticisms levelled against Pénélope to account for its obscurity is that the libretto is rather wordy and not terribly dramatic. The story of the return of Ulysses 'in patria' may be Classical in origin, but as Monteverdi shows and as is evident in the rarity of Gluck's Telemaco, the story is by no means inherently lacking in dramatic conflict or emotional resonance that can be heightened for an opera. It is true that René Fauchois' libretto for Fauré does have a lot of recitative and not a great deal of dramatic action for at least the first third of the work. Much of this first Act consists of little more than Penelope's suitors pressing their case for her hand in the absence of her husband Ulysses who hasn't returned from the Trojan war. Without really involving the principals, the suitors presenting their case at length to Penelope's handmaidens, it's a slow start that doesn't really engage the audience.

There's not a great deal that director Olivier Py can do with this, but he makes an effort to make it work on the stage by at least introducing Ulysses into the drama during the overture. Py recognises that Ulysses is the key to unlocking the emotional heart of the work (which is Penelope), and shows the returned warrior early enough for you to recognise what is at stake and what his imminent return will mean for both of them. Py actually does a lot more than this, but he does so without introducing any extraneous elements or imposing any obvious conceptual twist on the work. It's actually a surprisingly faithful adaptation.

What's is impressive about Py's direction here is the faith he has in the work itself. He clearly doesn't feel that it needs to be reworked and reinterpreted. He doesn't attempt to bring any great drama out of the opera for the sake of stage presentation either, but trusts in the quality of the music itself to makes its presence felt. And he's right to do so. Musically Pénélope is not a forcefully driven piece, but rather more like a Debussy mood piece; wistful and floating, the music constantly shifts as if taking the part of the confused Penelope herself, building itself up like the lace tapestry she is sewing before undoing all the work and starting again.

Yet it can also be forceful and insistent, which corresponds with the attitude and behaviour of the suitors, and there's an edge of desperation too in Penelope's holding on to the belief that Ulysses will return. There's also undoubtedly an erotic charge behind these emotions on the sides of both parties, along with all those suggestions of delayed gratification in the completion of the tapestry, but it's hard to really say you get a sense of that from Fauré's music itself. The music does have a sensuous quality, but it also has a slightly sinister and unsettling edge that is brought out and highlighted here by Py showing the suitors pawing over Penelope's handmaidens and scarcely able to keep their hands off the Queen either.

Mood is definitely the strong point of Py's production with its typically darkened stage and black wooden constructions by Py's regular set designer, Pierre-André Weitz. The rotating construction gives the impression of constant movement that reduces the otherwise static 'talkie' nature of the work, and according to Py there's an attempt to relate Pénélope to the time it was written and to the political inclinations of the composer, but this is by no means evident without reading the production notes. The set is more abstract than naturalistic (a bed in an open room on a tower instead of a view from a hill and a curved steel bar taking the place of Ulysses' bow, for example), but there are a few little cut-out tableaux sets at the start of Act II done in the style of the director's Dialogues des Carmélites that open the stage up a little. Ulysses' voyage to Crete is recreated in this way and the reminiscence of his romance with Penelope is acted out by youthful doubles.

For all the criticisms of the libretto then, Pénélope is by no means unworkable as a staged opera production. Other than the slowness of the first act and rather too much time given over to filling out the roles of the suitors and other secondary characters, the libretto is actually quietly suggestive and poetic in how it explores the situation and builds tensions and mood around it. Although very different musically, it's hard not also to think of Hofmannsthal's libretto for Strauss' Elektra, in how it sustains a similar dark foreboding, in how it plays out the arrival and recognition scenes, and in how it all serves to move towards the huge release of the climax of the work. Again Pénélope is quite different in how that conclusion plays out musically, but Py's staging of the arrival of Zeus on the stage captures just how impressive that ending is, and how magnificently it has been structured and arranged to get to that point.

The influence of Wagner is probably more in this approach to the monologue delivery and the dramatic structure rather than in any overt musical referencing. In the singing at least, Pénélope requires singers of Wagnernian stamina, if not necessarily Wagnerian singers. The title role was actually written for Lucienne Bréval, a soprano noted for the roles of Brünnhilde and Kundry, but Anna Caterina Antonacci assumes the role superbly and with great presence. It's another triumph for Antonacci. Belgian tenor Marc Laho has a Heldentenor-like quality as well as the lyricism required here for Ulysses; his delivery clear, resonant and expressive. Conducted by Patrick Davin, the wonderful musicality and lyricism of the work are made apparent, as well as its hitherto unsuspected dramatic qualities, contributing to make this new production of Fauré's rare work something of a revelation.


Links: ARTE Concert, L'Opéra National du Rhin

Gluck - Iphigénie en Tauride (Geneva, 2015 - Webcast)

Christoph Willibald Gluck - Iphigénie en Tauride

Grand Théâtre de Genève, 2015

Hartmut Haenchen, Lukas Hemleb, Anna Caterina Antonacci, Bruno Taddia, Steve Davislim, Alexey Tikhomirov, Julienne Walker, Michel de Souza, Mi-Young Kim, Marianne Dellacasagrande, Cristiana Presutti, Wolfgang Barta

ARTE Concert - 4 February 2015

Gluck's musical reforms for opera are still recognised as important to the art form today, as to a certain extent is the primacy of the drama in his subjects. Composed in 1779, Iphigénie en Tauride is rightly regarded as the best example of the application of Gluck's approach to opera as drama. It's not so much that it's about putting plot and action at the centre of the work or applying a fluid through-compositional approach that integrated recitative and reduced the ornamentation of arias. The real innovation that can be seen in Iphigénie en Tauride, above and beyond these other significant reforms, is the psychological depth that the work contains.

So although Iphigénie en Tauride innovatively opens without an overture, plunging us straight into musical evocation of a storm, and even though it is Greek mythology, there's a human element underlying it that might not have been so evident in previous operatic explorations of these classical subjects. That's not a character that is lacking in the works of Handel or in other notable Baroque opera seria composers of course, but in moving away from the individual expressions of emotional turmoil in the ornamented da capo arias, Gluck does find a greater dramatic wholeness that is less academically tied to structure, less interchangeable in generic sentiments, and more willing to explore real personalities and interaction between people.

In Iphigénie en Tauride, the central relationships that draw out the themes of the drama are between Iphigenia and Orestes, and between Orestes and Pylades. The significance of this is most evident in the initial encounter between Iphigenia and Orestes, neither aware of who the other is, each believing the other dead. Without quite taking the musical language as far as Richard Strauss would take it some 150 years later in Elektra, this scene nevertheless explores just as incisively and vividly that same background, the sense of loss, horror and devastation that has visited the house of Agamemnon. Similarly, Orestes' scenes with Pylades explore the theme of friendship which might not be traditionally a strong emotional theme, but here Gluck makes it so and also - since one of them will die for it - makes it tense and dramatic at the same time.

And thereby, makes it human and not just some elaborate ancient tale of violence and revenge out of mythology involving long wars and the will of the gods. Some of the elements of Lukas Hemleb's production for the Grand Théâtre de Genève perhaps emphasise this division (mythology/human drama) and the links between them by using life-size puppet doubles for the characters. Claus Guth used a similar technique in his 2001 Zurich production of Iphigénie en Tauride as a device to psychoanalytically explore those divisions in the personalities of the characters, but Hemleb's intentions appear to be different, extending it to the nature of the drama within the opera itself. In as far as this is relevant to Gluck's treatment, it does undoubtedly emphasise the composer's particular way of exploring the conflict between actions and feelings beyond the traditional opera seria format.

Visually, the production has a strong presentation in Alexander Polzin's set designs that give a distinctive look and feel to each of the three acts without straying too far from its Greek theatre origins. A semi-circle stone amphitheatre in Act I, with most of the chorus all carrying dummies with identical masks, gives that impression of a Greek drama being played out as well as it being a temple, a place where the High Priestess Iphigenia and her followers sacrifice any foreign visitor who unwittingly arrives on the shores of Tauris. Act II closes in on the human drama of the friendship between Orestes and Pylades, by taking place mainly within a small confined space at the back of the temple/amphitheatre set. Act III is mostly empty stage and darkness, but a wider perspective shows the temple hanging above, with stalactites hanging dramatically over the drama that is impressively reaching its conclusion.

The puppets and doubles can be a little over-elaborate and not strictly necessary as an assist to Gluck's already highly evocative musical score. In Act II they can even almost work against the simplicity of the scene, when you not only have Orestes and Pylades in a cramped cell, but two life-sized puppets of them and two handlers as well. Essentially however, the purity of the Greek drama with its morally instructive dimension and the place of humanity within it are well served by the set designs. The singing, fortunately, also plays towards this purity and wholeness of drama and expression, without over-elaboration or unnecessary ornamentation. These are mythical characters and this is Greek drama on a grand scale, but the singing here really gives these larger than life figures a relatable human quality.

In this respect Anna Caterina Antonacci is outstanding as Iphigenia. Her voice holds firm, her characterisation is strong, the sense of trauma she has endured is credible, as is the dilemma she must face. That key scene meeting between Iphigenia and Orestes is played superbly and sung for all the import that is within it. Her brother Orestes here is sung by Bruno Taddia, and sung well, but it's more than a little overacted by comparison. On the other hand, how else are you expected to inhabit someone who is so consumed with guilt over the killing of his own mother Clytemnestra, and still in shock from her murder of her husband and his father Agamemnon? The singing is strong too in the other roles, with Steve Davislim's Pylades establishing a strong connection Orestes. Hartmut Haenchen's conducting of the musical performance was fine, but didn't bring out the vivid colours that are there in Gluck's score.

Links: ARTE Concert, Grand Théâtre de Genève

Berlioz - Les Troyens

Hector Berlioz - Les Troyens

Royal Opera House, Covent Garden 2012

David McVicar, Antonio Pappano, Anna Caterina Antonacci, Fabio Capitanucci, Bryan Hymel, Eva-Maria Westbroek, Brindley Sherratt, Hanna Hipp, Barbara Senator, Robert Lloyd, Pamela Helen Stephen, Jihoon Kim, Ashley Holland, Ji Hyun Kim, Lukas Jakobski, Daniel Grice, Ji Min Park, Adrian Clarke, Jeremy White, Ed Lyon

Opus Arte - Blu-ray

It’s ironic that Berlioz’s epic creation based on Virgil’s 'Aeneid' was never performed in full during the composer’s lifetime, yet we’ve had enough opportunities now to view the work to realise that Les Troyens is unquestionably a masterpiece. Having had the opportunity to see several productions however, it’s also possible to see why the opera would have been such a tricky proposition to stage in the first place. It’s a vast, all-encompassing work, one that not only demonstrates the complete range of the composer, but one that also takes in the considerable musical studies, theories and passions that were as much a part of the lifework of Hector Berlioz. Written over two years (1856-58) for the Paris Opéra (the only house with the resources to possibly stage it), Les Troyens was a deeply personal undertaking that drew from the composer’s childhood imagination-inspiring readings of the ‘Aeneid‘ and his love for the Shakespearean epic drama. It proved however to be too ambitious an undertaking for the city’s major opera house and eventually only a cut-down version of the second part of the five-act opera was performed at the Théâtre Lyrique.

Now we have Blu-ray releases of no less than three complete productions of Les Troyens to be able to judge the quality of the work.  Previously we had the revelatory 2003 Châtelet production in Paris (in an impressive account conducted by John Eliot Gardiner) and the rather less successful attempt to modernise the opera by La Fura dels Baus in the 2009 Valencia production. A comparison between the two suggests that if it’s not a case of less is more (that’s something that you couldn’t say about Berlioz’s writing here), it is nonetheless a work where it’s necessary - and difficult enough - to strike a balance between the extravagance and dynamic of the distinct styles of the two parts of the work, while at the same time also living up to the epic grandeur that it represents. Trying to impose an alternative reading or concept on top of Les Troyens (much less one as misguided as La Fura del Baus’ Trojan Horse computer virus concept) is risky and likely to conflict with the intentions and tone of the work. David McVicar therefore had quite a challenge in this new major production of the work for the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and while it didn’t exactly meet with universal critical acclaim at the time, the weaknesses in the production seem rather less pronounced when viewed at home.

The fact that David McVicar and set designer Es Devlin go for their familiar industrial Steampunk style in the first act with weapons and military uniforms that are clearly not related to the ancient Greek setting proves to be neither here nor there. As ever with McVicar, the detail is less important than the overall impact, and both the Troy and Carthage scenes aim for a mood and grandeur of scale that is commensurate with the work itself. The tone of the first half is inevitably dark, the celebrations of the Trojans at the departure of the Greek army after ten years of siege short-lived, giving way to ceremonial mourning for the loss of so many great warriors, dire premonitions of doom from an increasingly hysterical Cassandra, and the mass suicide of the Trojan women as the warriors flee for Italy, the city having been breached by the Greek soldiers through the ruse of the horse. It’s the huge mechanical construction of the Trojan Horse that is the imposing image of the first half and it’s suitably impressive. If the direction is otherwise fairly static in this section, it at least allows attention to be drawn to the magnificent musical construction of the first two acts, and it gives plenty of room for Anna Caterina Antonacci to dominate as Cassandra.

As directed for the screen, the frequent use of close-ups here goes some way towards focussing on those strong points in the tone that was effectively established and in highlighting the qualities of Antonacci’s mesmerising performance, even if the actual staging and the power of the singing aren’t quite up to the demands of the music itself. Fortunately, most of The Fall of Troy section relies on choral arrangements of celebrations and lamentations and these also come across wonderfully. The strengths and weaknesses within Les Troyens and the difficulty of coping with them in a staged production are emphasised here by the treatment of the rather different second half. The warmth of tone and presentation of the Trojans in Carthage section is in marked contrast to the darkness of the first half, but Berlioz’s arrangements are no less epic in his depiction of the utopian society of Carthage under the rule of their beloved Queen Dido. Even Bryan Hymel, who doesn’t quite manage to rise above the dramatic power of the Troy section as Aeneas, seems to find the North African climate more to his liking. The challenges of the second half of Les Troyens however lie in the presentation of those sentiments, and that isn’t quite so well achieved as the first half.

Again, there is no faulting McVicar and Es Devlin’s approach to the stage design. Carthage is laid out in all the epic grandeur and warmth that is suggested in the score. While there’s much that’s beautiful about Berlioz’s scoring for these scenes, all the ballets and the celebratory love-fests can be a little bit too much - the rush into battle with Iarbas and the Numidians the only confrontational element in the first part and even that is given only a cursory treatment. The dances and celebrations can also be particularly difficult to stage in a way that retains the interest of an audience who has by that stage already had very nearly a full evening’s worth of Grand Opéra. As Dido, Eva-Maria Westbroek sings beautifully and is excellent at conveying the dilemma of the Carthaginian Queen over her feelings for Aeneas and her promise to remain faithful to the memory of her dead husband. Westbroek has a fullness of tone and sufficient power in her soprano, but not quite the necessary colour that you would normally get from a mezzo-soprano in the role. This is particularly noticeable for the lack of sufficient and complementary contrast that ought to be there in her 'Nuit d’ivresse et d’extase infinie' duet with Hymel - a key moment in their relationship which never really comes across here as it should.

Allowing for the longeurs in Act III and the inability of the director to make them sufficiently interesting, there is however still a lot to enjoy musically and in the singing during the final three acts and it's all superbly put across by the Royal Opera House Orchestra under Antonio Pappano’s direction. In addition to the strong performances of Hymel and Westbroek, there are some beautiful sounds coming from Brindley Sherratt’s concerned Narbal and Hanna Hipp’s devoted Anna, both providing the necessary counterweight to Dido’s mental disintegration in the closing acts. Masterfully orchestrated in musical and dramatic terms by Berlioz, Hylas’s song of longing for home at the beginning of Act Five is sweetly sung by Ed Lyon, the lure of the seas and the call of Italy urged by dark forces of the ghosts of the dead Trojans, combining well with the frisson of betrayal between Dido and Aeneas that is more strongly characterised than their romance. That ensures that the conclusion at least is sufficiently tragic.

The Royal Opera House's Les Troyens is handsomely packaged for its 2-disc Blu-ray release. The two discs are contained in a digipak that is slipcased with a large booklet with several programme-length articles and a full detailed synopsis by David McVicar. The four and a half hour opera is evenly divided across the two discs, not according to the two distinct parts. Disc One has the first three Acts, which takes in Fall of Troy (Act I and II) the first act of The Trojans in Carthage (Act III). Disc Two has the final two Acts (IV and V). Antonio Pappano provides introductions at the start of the opera and during the 'interval' sections (Before Act III and before Act V). The opera can be played with these introductions included or without. There is also a featurette that looks at Es Devlin's set designs, an excerpt from Pappano's 'Insights' look at the opera and a Cast Gallery. The BD is all-region, subtitles are in English, French, German, Spanish, Japanese and Korean.

Verdi - Un giorno di regno

Giuseppe Verdi - Un giorno di regno

Teatro Regio di Parma, 2010

Donato Renzetti, Pier Luigi Pizzi, Guido Loconsolo, Andrea Porta, Anna Caterina Antonacci, Alessandra Maranelli, Ivan Magri, Paolo Bordogna, Ricardo Mirabelli, Seung Hwa Paek

C-Major

Popular wisdom would have it that Verdi was not entirely at home in the genre of comic opera, and history more or less backs this up.  You could say that it took him all his life to get to the stage where he was capable of bringing the full wealth of his talent and ability to the genre in his magnificent final work, Falstaff.  It's possible also though that it took that length of time for Verdi to get over the abject failure of his first attempt at comic opera writing with his second work, written when he was 26 years old - Un giorno di regno.

A 'melodramma giocoso in due atti' - a comic melodrama in two acts - there are indeed some operatic conventions found in Un giorno di regno that one would not associate with the typical Verdi opera (harpsichord-accompanied recitative!), but unfortunately - in as much as they prove to be inappropriate for comic writing - there are also touches that are very much characteristic of the composer.  In Verdi's hands neither prove helpful to the making the opera work, but a strong stage production and good singing at this very rare performance of Un giorno di regno at the Teatro Regio di Parma make this a fascinating experience even if it can't quite go as far as rescuing the reputation of Verdi's early failure.

There's not much one can do however about the fact that the comedy element of Un giorno di regno is really not that funny in the first place.  Set in France, around 1733, the Chevalier Belfiore is staying at the Château of Baron Kelbar in the guise of Stanislas, King of Poland, while the real Stanislas secretly leaves the country to return to defend his throne.  Belfiore wants to drop the disguise as soon as possible, since the baron is about marry his widowed niece, the Marquise del Poggio, to Count Ivrea.  Belfiore is in love with the Marquise, but since he has disappeared to take on the role of Stanislas, she believes that he has abandoned her - although the king looks strangely familiar to her.  To add further confusion to the romantic complications, the baron has planned for a double wedding to marry his daughter Giuletta to the Treasurer, La Rocca.  Giuletta however is in love not with La Rocca, but with his nephew Edoardo, who loves her in return, but is poor and therefore an unsuitable match.

It's a standard comic set up of the romantic complications that arise from arranged marriage mismatches and secret or hidden identities of characters in disguise.  The twist in Un giorno di regno, which could be translated as 'King for a Day', is that Belfiore realises that he can take advantage of the powers that he has been temporarily gifted with on the blessing of Stanislas, and has the ability to make some royal commands and appointments that will sort out the business between Giuletta and Edoardo.  As for his own romantic situation, well, he can only hope that his "reign" will end in time for him to reveal his true identity and claim the hand of the Marquise.

It's not a plot that is entirely bereft of comic potential.  Rossini had to make much out of thinner material than this, and Verdi seems to have at least learned that much from Rossini, scoring with vigorous arrangements that build in tempo towards explosive ensemble finales.  Verdi however lacks Rossini's lightness of touch, and what would be an amiably riotous situation in a Rossini opera, rises into a rousing bombastic declamation in Verdi's hands.  While it's fascinating to see just how Verdi develops those situations in his own distinctive way - particularly with a view to what comes later in the composer's career - they prove however to somewhat work against the comic potential.  In one scene, for example, where the young love has been frustrated by the plans of others for personal and political gain, you can hear Verdi straining for the melancholy tragedy of Don Carlos or La Traviata, instead of playing up the comic element of the contrast between La Rocca drawing up military plans while the real "enemy", Edoardo, woos his intended Giuletta.  The music is gorgeous and cleverly arranged, but it doesn't really establish the right kind of buffo tone that is required by the situation.

Neither really does the stage direction.  The best thing you can say about Pier Luigi Pizzi's direction is that it is unobtrusive and doesn't draw attention to itself in any way that detracts from the musical drama.  It's generically opera period in design and costumes, with columns, bookcases and tables that reflect the mansion locations and gardens, and it's well arranged as far as putting figures into the right places and keeping the dramatic action flowing without too much standing around going on.  It doesn't however attempt to add anything to the comic situations that might enhance or even improve the weaknesses in Verdi's musical direction.  The stage direction gets the balance right to the extent that it flows along wonderfully without it ever jarring in any way, taking you along with the flow, but it's not particularly adventurous and this opera could use an injection of a little more humour.

Fortunately, the singing is all-around terrific, giving as fine an account of the work as you could hope for.  The younger singers come over best, Alessandra Maranelli's sweet sounding mezzo-soprano and Ivan Magri's strong but lyrical Edoardo working well together, finding a good balance between the Verdi sound and the Rossinian.  The others however are just as good - Guido Loconsolo as Belfiore, Andrea Porta as Baron Kelbar, Anna Caterina Antonacci as the Marquise and Paolo Bordogna as La Rocca, all managing to bring a degree of character to their roles, singing well, working with each other and with the comic-timing of the piece.

Un giorno di regno is the second release in the 'Tutto Verdi' series from C-Major, a collection that is made up of performances of all Verdi's opera work recorded at the Teatro Regio di Parma.  Some trailers for other works in the collection are included on the disc, as well as a visual introduction/synopsis for Un giorno di regno.  The quality of the HD image and sound - in PCM Stereo and DTS HD-Master Audio 5.1 - is marvellous.  The Blu-ray is all-region, with subtitles in Italian, English, German, French, Spanish, Chinese, Korean and Japanese.

Berlioz - Les Troyens

Hector Berlioz - Les Troyens

Théâtre du Châtelet Paris, 2003

John Eliot Gardiner, Yannis Kokkos, Peter Maniura, Anna Caterina Antonacci, Susan Graham, Ludovic Tézier, Laurent Naouri

Opus Arte

Presented across two dual-layer BD50 Blu-ray discs, Berlioz’s adaptation of Virgil’s The Aeneid is truly an epic undertaking, both in terms of the production and the opera itself. His penultimate opera, Les Troyens is considered to be the composer’s masterpiece, and indeed it brings together all the elements and the variety that is characteristic of Berlioz’s range, from darkness to light, from blood and thunder to tender lyricism, with rousing choruses, dramatic singing performances, musical interludes and dance sequences.

Despite that, the opera was never performed in full during the lifetime of the composer, the first two acts dealing with the fall of Troy to the Greeks despite Cassandra’s highly emotive premonitions of doom, excised in favour of the Trojans in Carthage section of Acts 3 to 5. There is certainly a strong division between the two parts, with many of the principal’s inevitably dying at the sacking of Troy at the end of Act 2, including Cassandra and her lover Choreobus (Hector already dead before the start of the opera nevertheless makes a highly effective appearance at the start of the Second Act in the form of a projected apparition), but it’s hard to imagine the opera feeling complete without the darkness and the powerful impact of the first half. Anna Caterina Antonacci, in particular, showing what the role of Cassandra has to offer the opera as a whole, a striking contrast to Susan Graham’s Dido, who dominates the second half, though no less effectively.

As the surviving Trojans flee, they receive temporary shelter in the North African city of Carthage established recently by exiles from Tyre, under the rule of Queen Dido. Both exiles, the respective leaders of the two tribes, Aeneas and Dido, find comfort for their loss in love for each other, but only until the gods remind Aeneas of his duty to lead his people to Italy. In contrast to the opening acts, the second half of Les Troyens consequently covers a wider range of emotions and the musical accompaniment is likewise as broad and as colourful as the set designs for Carthage, the tone darkening again at the end in a manner that echoes the restored opening of the opera.

The 2003 production at the Châtelet in Paris is accordingly spectacular, the stage filled with movement and action, but never cluttered, the score dominated often by the power of the choral writing, but individual roles are strong and the performances are exceptional, Gregory Kunde a fine Aeneas to stand alongside Antonacci and Graham. Everything about the production, the orchestra under the direction of Sir John Eliot Gardiner, is of the highest order, every single scene offering something of fascination and wonder, whether it is in the music, the singing or the staging. But, particularly in this full version of Les Troyens, there is an overall impression of completeness here. Total opera.

Les Troyens is perfectly presented on Blu-ray, the division between the two parts of the opera much better than on the 3-disc DVD edition. Act 1 and 2 are on the first disc along with the extra features, the other three acts on the second disc. Image and sound can hardly be faulted, the audio presented in PCM 2.0 and DTS HD Master Audio 5.1. The tone on the surround track is soft and warm rather than clean and precise, but the dynamic range is nonetheless excellent, handling the extremes well, and it is well suited to the arrangement. The hour-long documentary features contributions from the main performers and makes some interesting observations, but is over-long, being mostly made up of a complete walk-through of the synopsis by John Eliot Gardiner, illustrated with extended sequences from the opera.