Giacomo Meyerbeer - Le Prophète
Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse - 2017
Peter
Flor, Stefano Vizioli, John Osborn, Kate Aldrich, Sofia Fomina, Mikeldi
Atxalandabaso, Thomas Dear, Dimitry Ivashchenko, Leonardo Estévez
Culturebox
Opportunities
to see a Meyerbeer opera are still rare enough, and rarer still the
chance to see a Meyerbeer opera treated appropriately and played well.
Once considered to be the foremost opera composer of the early-to-mid 19th
century, admired by Wagner and Verdi alike, Meyerbeer's operas can now
be hard to appreciate as musical dramas of any kind of depth or
substance, but as the Toulouse production of Le Prophète bears out,
given the right kind of treatment they can still impress and entertain
an audience.
One of the issues with Meyerbeer is that his
old-fashioned Grand Opéra style doesn't bear up well to modernism or
revisionist reworkings, and it seems to sit better in the period and in
the manner it was originally composed. Which can be a drawback in that
it leaves Meyerbeer behind as a composer only of historical
interest and his works as kind of museum curiosities, but perhaps
there's a place for that; there's certainly an audience for it. And
perhaps done correctly, there might even be some other qualities and
depth that can be drawn out of the work. Le Prophète at least has some
promising elements to it in that respect.
Thus far
however attempts to drag Meyerbeer into the 20th or 21st century haven't
been entirely successful. Despite the wonderfully operatic character
of their stirring high melodramas, the historical religious conflict of
Les Huguenots proved resistant to modernisation, the gothic horror of
Robert le Diable gained little if anything from ironic detachment, and
high seas adventure of L'Africaine almost sunk under the weight of an
exotic love story blown up to epic proportions. Le Prophète is back in
the historical religious melodrama of Les Huguenots, but this time
Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse play it more closely to the work's
strengths and original intentions.
But certainly not play
it down or with any kind of ironic detachment. Set in the 16th century
in Dordrecht and Munster, Le Prophète has something of an edge in its
drama of popular insurrection and religious conflict. The common people
working in the fields under the feudal rule of Count Oberthal are
growing increasingly dissatisfied with their enslavement and stirred by a
group of Anabaptists wanting to overthrow the ruling order, they are
ripe for insurrection. What they really need is a strong charismatic
leader to spur them into action and the Anabaptists recognise the
character of David in Jean de Leyde, a man who even has Joan of Arc like
dreams and visions. He could be the prophet who leads the people to
their emancipation.
Jean however is unwilling to join
them in their cause as he is engaged to be married to Berthe, and his
mother Fidès has just given her blessing to the union. It still needs
the permission of Count Oberthal, and in true operatic fashion, the bass
Count stands between them and their happiness. Outraged, Jean accepts
the role the Anabaptists offer, stirs the people to revolution against
the nobility, reignites their passion to finally take Munster by force,
and becomes prophet-king, ready to ascend to the throne of Emperor. But
is this what he really wanted, and what has happened to his beloved
Berthe and his mother Fidès? Well, there it gets all operatic again.
It's
almost a shame because Le Prophète is actually quite a dark story, and
not just in its violent rebellion and overthrowing of the feudal system.
Each of the characters also has a personal reason for their actions
that is not entirely idealistic or altruistic. One of the Anabaptists
who recruits Jean to their number is actually a disgruntled former
employee of the Count Oberthal who holds a grudge against his old
master. Jean de Leyde too is motivated by vengeance against the Count
for taking Berthe from him. The female roles are less motivated by such
slights, but in a way they too demand violent retribution, which of
course comes at a cost.
There are possibilities, deeper
motivations and lessons to explore in the opera, and Stefano Vizioli's
production does that exceptionally well. It retains much of the grand
historical epic quality of the work in the simple set designs, allowing
space for grand crowd scenes, ceremonial arrangements, with an eye
towards stylisation that is never intrusive. Bodies are strung up,
prisoners are executed, and the image of a disembowelled cow hanging
above the inn where Jean works in Act II and other abstract 'crowning'
images hint at that darker side. It doesn't try to impose a dark
character on the work as much as work along with its dynamic, even if
that means lightening the character during some of Meyerbeer's more
over-the-top arrangements.
You almost get the impression
that Le Prophète is something of a self-defeating opera. One moment it
paints a dark and bloody scene of violence, rape and execution, and the
next moment you have a ballet followed by a disguised Oberthal indulging
in a drinking song with his enemies. That's fine for fitting in with
the dining schedule of the Paris Jockey Club, but it does tend to
interrupt dramatic progress. On the other hand this is Grand Opéra,
this is the light and shade and the dynamic you expect, and it does have
its own peculiar character. Vistoli has no problem playing to this,
including the ballet and even playing it up as a ballet when others
would cut it or try to rework it to fit in with an overall darker tone.
The
justification for this is that Le Prophète is indeed 5 Act Grand Opéra at its
finest, Meyerbeer pulling out all the stops and mustering all forces,
with huge rousing choruses, ecstatic harps, religious chanting, some
solo organ playing and blistering arias. There's confirmation here in
Toulouse that aside from gravitas, what Meyerbeer and Grand Opera need
above all else is specialist singers who can do it justice. That means
someone like John Osborn in the title role, and he handles the demands
exceptionally well. Kate Aldrich however gets some of the best arias
and situations as Jean's despairing mother Fidès, and she is just
amazing here. Sofia Fomina ensures there is no weakness at all in the
trio of principals, giving an outstanding performance as the enraptured
and devastated Berthe. This is an impressive production and if nothing
else, impressive is exactly what you expect from Grand Opéra.
Links: Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse, Culturebox
Gaetano Donizetti - La Favorite
Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse, 2014
Antonello Allemandi, Vincent Boussard, Kate Aldrich, Yijie Shi, Ludovic Tézier, Giovanni Furlanetto, Alain Gabriel, Marie-Bénédicte Souquet
Opus Arte - Blu-ray
There are any number of Donizetti operas to choose from that deal with similar sentiments, but for sheer overwhelming swooning romanticism, La Favorite - the composer's 1840 four act French Grand Opéra - is hard to beat. Performed in its original French version at the Théâtre du Capitole in Toulouse - it's more often played in the Italian translation when it's played at all - it's given a simply gorgeous production here under the direction of Vincent Boussard that matches the warmth and the sweeping beauty of Donizetti's score and arrangements.
The subject of La Favorite has all the necessary qualities that enable such a deep, romantic treatment. It's an epic romance and an impossible love with a historical context increasing the stakes that involves the king, threatens the very fate of the nation and even has the Pope getting involved. The nature of those sentiments are fully laid out and explored in the first Act. Highlighting the fact that religious matters underlie and add to the complications that arise, Act I takes place in 14th century Spain in the monastery of St James (and to complete the construction Act IV also returns to the monastery), where a young monk, Fernand, has fallen in love with a mysterious woman. Fernand ignores the advice of his Superior Balthazar and prepares to leave his office. If he doesn't act, he knows that he might otherwise never know true happiness. All of this is accompanied by lush arrangements that capture the sweep of the cruel injustice of fate, accompanied by fervent prayers to the heavens. Giuseppe Verdi, take note.
The reason why Fernand's love is an impossible one, is that the enigmatic lady is Léonor, the "favourite", mistress of King Alfonse XI of Castille. This is also an impossible love that threatens the nation, since the King wants to divorce the Queen and thereby risk the displeasure of the Pope. Unaware of the identity of the mysterious woman he has fallen for, Fernand is taken blindfolded after leaving the monastery to meet her secretly on the island of Leon in the second scene of Act I. Warned by Léonor that cruel fate means their love can never be and that he should forget her, Fernand joins Alfonse's army where he distinguishes himself during the battles with the Moorish invaders. Fernand - still unaware of Léonor's identity and position - asks the king for her hand as a reward for his bravery. It's then that Alfonse becomes aware that his mistress has a lover.
The subject of La Favorite has all the necessary qualities that enable Donizetti to explore familiar subjects in a deeper way with a more romantic treatment. Donizetti had of course already written a number of royal historical intrigues in his Tudor trilogy of Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda and Roberto Devereux, but the tone of La Favorite is quite different. There's less of the wild contrivance and heightened emotions of bel canto singing here, the French grand opéra giving Donizetti the opportunity to adopt a more sombre tone that explores the fatalistic nature of the drama. The subject and the treatment of it here mean that the opera works almost in abstraction as a study of guilt and betrayal, but the vivid score is tied closely to the drama, which is similarly well-constructed and developed even as it elevates the highly romantic situations and fervent declarations.
Whether it's a reflection of the composer writing specifically for a French audience to a French libretto, or whether it's evidence of a growing maturity in his writing, La Favorite is indeed a more substantial work from Donizetti in this respect. There's a stronger dramatic inclination shown in the writing that is closer to Bellini and it's not hard to see that the work would form a model for many of Verdi's historical romances, even bearing comparison to Don Carlos (not coincidentally also a work written for a French audience) or at least La Forza del Destino. It's also worth noting that Wagner was a fan of La Favorite and transcribed an arrangement of the work for piano, and one also, I believe, for two violins. Echoes of the themes from Donizetti's La Favorite can even be heard in Der fliegende Höllander.
Philippe Boussard's direction of this extraordinarily beautiful production of La Favorite for the Théâtre du Capitole in Toulouse matches the sentiments of the work well, the simple elegance of the designs, costumes and lighting also reflecting the near-abstraction of the themes explored in the work. The sets and the stage are left fairly bare, with only really a few silhouetted arches in the background, yet much is done with light, colour and with elegant costumes designed by Christian Lacroix. With reflective surfaces and shimmering costumes, the stage is awash with crepuscular colours and luminous light. As well as looking terrific, the stage setting gives all the space and ambience required to set the essential mood and character of the piece. The melodrama practically demands that the characters in La Favorite express their feelings as if their lives depended on it, and the cast here sing it much the same way.
Although he doesn't speak the language, Yijie Shi handles Donizetti in French just as well as he does for the Rossini Italian repertoire, his lovely light lyrical tone just perfect for this work. Kate Aldrich gives an intense account of the opera's mezzo-soprano leading role as Léonor, again with good facility for the French language and with great dramatic impact. Ludovic Tézier's baritone is as smooth as ever as Alfonse, sounding very comfortable in the role, even as he exudes the menace or at least the threat to the happiness of the unfortunate couple, but Tézier ensures that there is sympathy too for his regal dilemma. This is just ideal casting. Conducting the Toulouse orchestra, Antonello Allemandi weaves purposefully through the rich and varied moods of the score, with a lightness of touch that belies the force of the dramatic tone.
The Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse production of La Favorite is released on Blu-ray by Opus Arte, and it is an absolute joy that this splendid production has been recorded so well and presented so impressively in High Definition. Visually, the production is a wash of subtle colouration, and it's handled marvellously in the transfer with terrific detail, clarity and definition in the low-lit scenes. The audio tracks are also fine, allowing you to hear the detail in Donizetti's scoring for this work. The BD includes a 38-minute collection of interviews with the main cast, Allemandi, Boussard and Christian Lacroix. The BD is all-region, subtitles are in English, French, German, Japanese and Korean.
Philippe Hurel - Les Pigeons d'Argile
Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse, 2014
Tito Ceccherini, Mariame Clément, Gaëlle Arquez, Aimery Lefèvre, Vincent Le Texier, Vannina Santoni, Sylvie Brunet-Grupposo, Gilles Ragon
Culturebox - 20 April 2014
Tanguy Viel, a French crime writer known for cinematic references in his books - Hitchcock notably being a key figure of influence - employs very clear cinematic techniques as the librettist for Philippe Harel's first opera work, Les Pigeons d'Argile (Clay Pigeons). Making its 2014 premiere at the Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse, the subject of the opera - a reworking of the Patty Hearst case - and the genre almost demands a cinematic treatment, which inevitably gives rise to the question of whether Les Pigeons d'Argile wouldn't have been better suited to the screen than the stage.
The relationship between opera and cinema, of music and drama working closely together, was recognised right from the earliest days of the new medium. Prokofiev, Strauss and Korngold were among the earliest adopters of the new artform, not just composing film soundtracks, but also incorporating cinematic effects and montage techniques into their works (Strauss's Intermezzo for example being made up of cuts of short scenes rather than traditional longer acts). By and large however, cinema and opera have tended to follow their own separate paths over the course of the 20th century, with only the occasional experimental collaboration made in the use of film and video in stagings and even more rarely seeing any adventurous compositional influence on the musical language employed.
It's only relatively recently that we've seem modern opera look at cinema as something to be embraced wholeheartedly into opera. Beyond the composition of traditional soundtracks and the translation of films into opera (most notably Brokeback Mountain), Philip Glass has for example also collaborated in the creative process of filmmaking through the fusion of music and image in films like Koyaanisqatsi and Powaqqatsi. Glass has however also taken cinema into the opera world in bold works like La Belle et La Bête, scoring an opera to the rhythm and montage of Cocteau's classic film with opera singing placed on top of the existing dialogue. More recently Michel van der Aa and David Mitchell's Sunken Garden incorporated live singing performances that interacted with actors in filmed sections.
The importance of cinema on Les Pigeons d'Argile is evident right from the prologue. Opening with a shoot-out in a hangar, pre-recorded filmed footage is projected to show a more realistic cinematic version of what is being acted live out on stage. What is significant about the opening scene however is not that it's just a way to make a shoot-out and car-chase action sequence more realistic than could ever be achieved on a theatre stage, but that it's a set up for that very cinematic narrative device of the flashback. Act I and II then go back to look at the sequence of events that lead up to this scene, with Act III considering the aftermath.
This is not particularly revolutionary in terms of how it affects the composition of an opera piece, since the tone of the music and even overtures have long - since Wagner at least - been used to foreshadow dramatic developments. In terms of strict plot development, there's not much here either that wouldn't be better suited to a film screen. Based on the kidnapping of Patty Hearst, it's a story of love and revolution, a textbook case of Stockholm Syndrome. In Les Pigeons d'Argile, Patricia 'Patty' Baer is the daughter of a millionaire industrialist kidnapped by left-wing revolutionaries who comes to sympathise with their aims and joins them in extremist activities like robbing banks.
The laying out of the plot is fairly conventional, as it the manner in which the characters are drawn. There's not a great deal of depth or subtlety in how the two sides of the "class struggle" are viewed here. The use of guns has already been established by the prologue, and it's while viewing a media arranged shooting of clay pigeons on Bernard Baer's estate that the two young Marxist revolutionaries Toni and Charlie hatch their plan to kidnap the daughter of the millionaire and aspiring politician.
The prologue, where Toni's father is shot by the police while helping his son escape, also highlights the fact that the opera is concerned not so much with the political ramifications of the class struggle as with the psychological questions surrounding Patty's Stockholm Syndrome behaviour and Toni's rebellion. That's seen as having a lot to do with fathers. Toni's father Pietro is an "old socialist", a small time village activist who has never really had any thought of changing the world. Fond of his wine, the old man is an embarrassment to his son, but wants to find a way to redeem himself. In the past he and Bernard Baer were friends, but each went separate ways. Baer too however - although less strongly characterised - also wants to win the approval of his daughter, and believes it can be done though his wealth and success.
On the side of the younger generation, there's not a lot of insight or originality of observation here either. The children want to break away from the ideals of their parents and a corrupt system that defines their roles, hoping to set up a "new constitution". Their desire to keep personal feelings separate from their ideals is however shown to be unrealistic. Charlie is unable to keep "love and revolution" separate (we are told frequently in a repeated motif), and jealousy creeps in when the childhood friendship between Toni and Patty is rekindled, leading her to sell-out the revolutionaries to the chief of police. I'm not sure why Charlie's position between love and revolution dominates over the family, class and generational differences, but that seems to be the intention of the creators, perhaps as a way of reflecting the unpredictable element of human feelings.
This however comes at the cost of failing to adequately explore the other characters, with Bernard Baer in particular being neglected. As an opera, Les Pigeons d'Argile ought to be able to bring a greater depth to the characterisation than is evident from the superficial cinematic nature of the expositional dialogue and compressed shortcuts of the storyline. Viel's dialogue for the libretto is sung mainly as parlando recitative, and the singing voices at least bringing full intensity to the emotions and the situations. Harel's score accompanies and underlines the sentiments, emphasising declarations with short phrases and exclamatory flurries, but it doesn't succeed in establishing an overall distinct musical tone for the piece or give the subject any wider dimension.
As a theatrical performance however and purely as a drama, there's much to enjoy in Toulouse's world premiere presentation of the work directed by Mariame Clément. The singing from all the principal singers is exceptionally good, Gaëlle Arquez in particular standing out as Charlie, who tends to take the centre stage in the work. Aside from the magic-camera on-stage projected footage (projections of hand-held cameras show the characters in real-world setting rather than on the stage) and even simulated freeze-frames of action, the filming and editing of the performance also adopts a cinematic approach, using split-screen techniques to capture simultaneous action. Little of this however is as innovative as the combination of film and opera could and ought to be.
Links: Culturebox, Théâtre du Capitole de Toulouse
Richard Wagner - Rienzi
Théâtre du Capitole, Toulouse, 2012
Pinchas Steinberg, Jorge Lavelli, Torsten Kerl, Marika Schönberg, Richard Wiegold, Daniela Sindram, Stefan Heidemann, Robert Bork, Marc Heller, Leonardo Neiva, Jennifer O'Loughlin
Opus Arte - Blu-ray
Amidst the abundance of Ring cycles being wheeled out this year, the Wagner bicentenary has also provided a good opportunity to revisit and reconsider many of the composer's earliest works. This has resulted in a well-received production of Die Feen at Leipzig and a fine new recording in Frankfurt of Das Liebesverbot for CD, confirming that there is much merit in these works even if there is little of the familiar Wagner in them. The same could be said of the Meyerbeer-influenced five-act Grand Opéra style that Wagner employs in Rienzi, but composed around the same time as Der Fliegende Höllander, there are fascinating hints of the style that would develop in the composer's later music dramas. This is something that is brought out very skillfully in this 2012 production from the Théâtre du Capitole in Toulouse.
In contrast to Philipp Stöltzl's production of Rienzi for the Deutsche Oper (the only other production released on DVD and Blu-ray) which went for bombast and grandeur to match the parallels drawn between the rule of Cola di Rienzi (1313-1354) and more recent historical dictatorships (most evidently Hitler and the Third Reich), the Toulouse production here sets out a more melancholic and mournful tone in Pinchas Steinberg's conducting of the work's famous Overture. There's also a sense of plaintiveness and maybe even defiant resistance, but that could be suggested more by the imagery that is projected here, showing images of the fall of the Berlin Wall as well as other popular uprisings in Paris, in China, in South Africa and right up to date with the Arab Spring.
There are however no other such modern references to be found in this production, which settles thereafter for a more generalised non-specific period, but one that has echoes to Wagner's own time. The Overture is all about setting the tone, and this one succeeds in bringing it back closer to the sentiments and intentions of the original work. As fascinating as Philipp Stöltzl's production was in relating the work to its historical legacy (most notoriously as Hitler's favourite opera), this production takes it back to Wagner's left-wing leanings and the revolutionary activities on the streets of Dresden that would see him forced into exile for a significant part of his life. This is a Rienzi that is still concerned about the nature and the exercise of power, but Wagner's position as a revolutionary on the side of the ordinary citizen - most evident in its huge choruses - is more clearly drawn here.
As the Deutsche Oper production demonstrated, any production of Rienzi is going to be defined by the decisions on what cuts are made to it, since the full five-act work would be almost impossible to perform (and I'm not even sure a definitive version of the work exists). The first thing to go is usually the superfluous Grand Opéra ballet sequences, but otherwise, the Toulouse production is a more intact or integral version than Stöltzl's. If the musical treatment and the theatrical intent are quite different, this production is nonetheless still very much stylised in its own way. Closer to the 19th century than medieval Rome (or indeed the Third Reich), the panstick-whitened faces remind one of a futuristic silent movie like Metropolis. In its striving for an ideal society that rules with benevolence and with balance for the needs of its people, this might not be far off the mark in striking the right tone for Rienzi.
There is however nothing as visually striking as Metropolis in this minimally decorated production. The Toulouse stage is not a large one and considerable space is needed for the massed choruses that take to the stage regularly throughout each of the five acts. That's not to say that the production doesn't hold attention however. The costumes are appropriate to help define the characters and succeeding in setting the people apart from the uniformly-dressed political factions (you can scarcely distinguish between the Orsini and the Colonna, which is perhaps the intention). The lighting is superb, and the production works well enough to bring across what can be a fairly static opera largely comprised of pronouncements and declarations.
The singing too commands attention. The vocal writing is less bel canto in Rienzi than in Wagner's previous work, the Bellini-influenced Das Liebesverbot, but the roles are no less demanding on the singers, pointing towards the style of expression and continual flow that is found in later Wagner works. All of the singers deal with the demands exceptionally well, if not always with a great sense of personality, but then the characterisation is somewhat limited in this work. Torsten Kerl has made the role of Cola di Rienzi something of his own and he brings out a more human side to the character here. Marika Schönberg is a good Irene, but doesn't make as much of an impression in the role as Camilla Nyberg did in the Deutsche Oper production. In the trouser role of Adriano, mezzo-soprano Daniela Sindram however probably gives the stand-out performance, with a deep, soaring and expressive delivery that helps considerably in bringing some much needed life to the work.
It's this kind of performance that demonstrates that there are many facets in Rienzi that are still worth exploring. Rienzi is an opera that you want to be rediscovered as a misunderstood and neglected masterpiece, but it just never seems to live up to what we expect of a Wagner opera. The promise of the wonderful overture asserts itself on occasion like a leitmotif throughout the work, but it never seems to deliver on its promise. Rienzi may yet be capable of being revitalised into something greater, but despite the best efforts of production here, this one still doesn't quite overcome the problems inherent within the work.
As you would expect, the High Definition presentation of Rienzi on Blu-ray from Opus Arte is most impressive. The image is clear and captures the production well. The audio PCM Stereo and DTS HD-Master Audio 5.1 tracks are fine, but there's some reverb in the stage ambience that dulls the sound a little. Without the LFE on the PCM track the singing is somewhat clearer, but the surround track has its benefits in a better distribution of the orchestra. The BD also has almost an hour's worth of interviews with the production team and the singers. Torsten Kerl deals quite frankly with the thorny issues of Wagner's controversial statements and the work's legacy in the Nazi era, but there are also interesting thoughts on the value of the work itself and the difficulties of performing it from the conductor and director.
The BD is full-HD, dual-layer BD50, region-free, with subtitles in English, French, German and Korean.
