Dante the opera, Palazzetto Bru Zane

Benjamin Godard's opera Dante rarely heard but causing quite a sensation.  In January this year, it was heard at the Prinzregententheater, Munich, and later at the Opéra Royal de Versailles, Paris, and broadcast throughout Europe.  What a delight!  This was the first performance odf a modern edition of the orchestral score, produced by the  Palazetto Bru Zane.

Godard (1849-1895), like many French composers, resisted Wagner and the cult of Bayreuth.  Dante (1890) is lyrical drama in the French tradition,  a fin de siècle descendant of Massenet, Thomas  and Gounod, though not  a precursor of Debussy, whose Pelléas et Mélisande was to premiere only seven years after Godard's early death 12 years later.   Dante and The Divine Comedy are so well known, there's no point rehashing them here. Godard's Dante , though,  is also interesting because it suggests a connection between Dante and Goethe's Faust.  In this Dante we can hear echoes of Gounod's Faust, of Berlioz's The Damnation of Faust and even of Boito's Mefistofele: All are part of an interest in the Gothic Imagination and its fascination for the demonic and macabre beneath-surface lushness.  One might also consider Baudelaire Les Fleurs du Mal and the etchings of Gustav Doré, which I've used here.

While Godard certainly can whip up a beautiful storm, helped by the exceptionally good performance,  Véronique Gens is easily the finest specialist in late French Romantic repertoire,and brings the very tricky role of Béatrice to life with the lustrous timbre of her voice, and the poise with which she negotiates the range in the part.  No wonder Dante would go through hell for her!  Béatrice (and Gens) so dominate this opera that it would be hard to imagine a performance without the beauty of Gens's singing.  The rest of the cast is superb too. Edgaras Montvidas sings Dante, Rachel Frankel sings Gemma (Béatrice's friend), and Andrew Foster Williams sings the Shade of Virgil.  Ulf Schirmer conducts the Bavarian Radio Orchestra. All too often rarities like Dante are spoiled by mediocre, lacklustre performances  by conductors who rely on the fact that audiences don't have a point of reference, and fall for the safe and bland, which doesn't do the music justice. Godard isn't a genius, which is all the more why this performance is so good. Ulf Schirmer isn't the kind of conductor who gets away with things because he has no competition.  Everything I've heard him conduct is geared towards the specifics that make a composer individual.  Not all that many condutors have that gift. Palazzetto Bru Zane is to be congratulated on going for the best, without compromise.  This Godard Dante is being released on CD, An essential purchase, I think.

Please read the notes prepared by the Palazzetto Bru Zane, HERE. probably the best source so far on the composer and on the opera. I quote "Godard’s opera, composed in 1890, skilfully juxtaposes political developments – crowd scenes in Florence and the feud between Guelphs and Ghibellines – and the expression of medieval courtly love. In the opera Gemma, a young girl married to the protagonist out of duty and then abandoned, becomes the close friend of the beloved woman, Beatrice, of whom she is also the secret rival. The most remarkable aspect of this opera, though, is the insertion of a ‘Vision’, a kind of synthesis of the Divine Comedy set to music. Act three thus ranges between an imaginary Hell and Paradise, with sections bearing titles such as Apparition de Virgile Chœur des Damnés, Tourbillon infernal, Divine Clarté, and Apothéose de Béatrice . Godard here appears at the peak of his melodic inspiration and his overall compositional mastery, in a style that swings between Gounod and Massenet. The vocal quintet called for in the opera perfectly captures all the heroic and expressive potential of singers well-versed in Wagner and Verdi."

Glyndebourne Purcell part 1 bawdy bard

Here is a short post with links about the Glyndebourne production of Purcell's The Fairy Queen. FULL REVIEW HERE. Or click on the label at right for Glyndebourne or Purcell.

I'm still too exhausted after last week to do the production justice, but please look again at this blog tonight or tomorrow and I'll make it worth the wait. OTOH look who was singing : Andrew Foster Williams, who sang Zebul so well in Jephtha the previous night. Again, he turns a small role (Hymen, the Goddess of marriage) into something memorable. So I will write more later.

First, a DOWNLOAD from Glyndebourne where Edward Seckerson talks to the director Jonathan Kent and to the designer Paul Brown. Music clips, too. This is fairly long and detailed but all the better for it. "English music is bawdy" So spend a bit of time on this excellent podcast.

For my complete review please (with production pix) see HERE
or click on Glyndebourne or Purcell on the label list at right
Then reviews by Melanie Eskenazi, Edward Seckerson and Tim Ashley.
Click on the surnames to read what they've written.
And also read about the version at the Proms 2009 HERE

Jephtha 2 McCreesh Gabrieli

Two different Jephtha's this year. The performance on 24th June was higher profile because it took place at the Barbican Hall, which attracts a bigger audience than the first, which was with John Mark Ainsley at St George's, Hanover Square – off the beaten track, but a Handel place, which pulled the more specialized devotees. Read about it HERE

Jephtha is not a prissy subject. The Israelites are struggling for survival so Jephtha the warrior makes a deal with God. Which is not smart because sometimes you get what you want but not how you want. Jephtha must pay for victory by sacrificing his daughter Iphis.

Paul McCreesh conducted the Gabrieli Consort and players with verve, so orchestrally this was excellent.The long passages with no singing whipped along with energetic vigour.

It wasn't quite so great a night for singing. Mhairi Lawson's Iphis is charming but Iphis is a formidably strong personality : she's not her father's daughter for nothing, so more punch perhaps was needed. Hamor was sung by Daniel Taylor, whose looks are perfect for a counter tenor - angelic but slightly scary, like a young Simon Rattle with attitude. Pity the voice was very uneven, but credit to him for realizing it wasn't his day. It's more worrying to me when a singer has a bad day and doesn't notice. I don't follow that school of thought that demands perfection every time.

The interesting thing about this repertoire is that good performances are perfectly adequate but extremely good ones somehow reach parts "beyond". For example, the treble part which is usually nicely sung, as William Docherty's Angel was. But every now and then you hear a boy soprano with that something extra that stuns so much that the memory lingers so you're spoiled for perfectly decent singing. Mark Padmore's Jephtha was note perfect, but tonight he wasn't soaring to great heights of colour. I waited all evening for that divine aria "Waft her angels through the skies", where a voice can take off, "far above yon azure plain", but tonight it didn't quite soar to glorious heights. No dis to MP but this is why I love this aria so much : This is John Mark Ainsley in a whole other stratosphere. Video is lovely too


Yet Zebul, sung by Andrew Foster Willliams, was darkly nuanced. It's not the biggest role in this oratorio, but singing like this expands the part by building in extra depths. Christianne Stotjin was impressive, particularly in the first part. But the choir! The Gabrielis were augmented by members of the Wroclaw Philharmonic Choir: expressive singing, quite the match for the raw energy McCreesh gets from his players.

After nearly 4 hours of Handel, I drove home through traffic jams and diversions all the way. Then set out early next am for 5 hours of Purcell at Glyndebourne and another long drive back because I got hopelessly lost. Usually I can navigate by instinct, like a homing pigeon, but this time was far too tired to fully function.

So log in tomorrow when I'll tell you what The Fairie Queen at Glyndebourne was like. WOW!!!!!! The memory of it kept me jived up and awake - more stimulating than caffeine.

Pelléas et Mélisande Independent Opera Sadler's Wells

Everything Independent Opera does is distinctive. It's a tiny company, but visionary. Pelléas et Mélisande is a challenge even for big houses, but this isn't the kind of company that's daunted. This Pelléas et Mélisande would do credit to much bigger houses. What Independent Opera lacks in money it makes up with imagination and creativity. Talent like this is far rarer than we appreciate. If the big companies take note of Independent Opera, all of us could be in for some of the most vibrant opera in Europe.

There’s hardly any stage space in the Lilian Baylis Theatre at Sadler’s Wells, and the audience seats are so steeply raked that it’s claustrophobic. But claustrophobia is central to the plot. This set, by Madeleine Boyd, uses horizontal plinths which bear down oppressively. Wings, rafters and mechanics are fully visible, a striking illustration of life in this castle, which is repressively formal, organized like an industrial machine. Allemonde is not a happy kingdom. This set reminds us that dungeons and subterranean passages lurk below, Maeterlinck’s metaphor for the subconscious. We catch brief glimpses of the servants who make the edifice function.

This too, is an integral part of the plot even though the roles are silent, for Allemonde is kept alive by scores and scores of underlings who serve in suppressed anonymity. Remember this, for it’s important and pertains to the “surprise” ending this production reveals ! Arkel and Geneviève can’t even walk freely at first but are propelled by machines. When Mélisande enters his life, Arkel can suddenly walk again, albeit with sticks. Geneviève’s costume (also by Boyd) is a statement in itself, a bizarre contraption that makes her look like a piece of ornate Victorian furniture. Her skirt is like a cabinet, brightly polished but strictly compartmentalized. It’s a symbol of the alienated rigidity which Mélisande’s presence shakes to the core.

Independent Opera productions sell out fast, but the company can’t afford really big name singers. Instead, it seeks out the best new talent. Several careers have flourished as a result. The singers here certainly aren’t unknowns, but chosen with care. Andrew Foster-Williams has appeared internationally, at ROH, ENO, WNO and Opera North. He’s vocally very assured but even more interestingly, he gets unexpected depths from Golaud. This production is unusual because it explores the relationships between the men.

Golaud’s emotionally retarded, with a history of clumsy relationships. Foster-Williams makes Golaud’s sexual interest in Mélisande very clear. This adds to the suppressed aggression beneath the surface calm. When they'd met, Mélisande had cried "Ne me touchez pas !", but all Golaud can do is touch her. This Golaud is a man who expresses himself violently because he can’t deal with complex emotions. One of the most striking images in this production is when Golaud strokes Pelléas tenderly and combs his hair. It’s a charged moment. It's not erotic so much as Golaud trying to understand "normal" feelings in his inept way, feelings he knows come naturally to his brother. This is a fascinating characterization, supported by the tenderness that wells up in the music, which speaks for him what he cannot express in words.

This Mélisande, too, isn’t a pallid victim, but, portrayed by Ingrid Perruche, a sexually vibrant woman. Maggie Teyte, one of the great Mélisandes, said that in her time “the characters were so STRONG (her emphasis)……modern performers (in 1958) have taken out all the blood”. She may be mysterious, but she’s a creature of instinct and feeling, who dares push the boundaries. That’s why she leans, dangerously, over the well (significantly called the Fountain of the Blind) and loses her ring. No wonder Pelléas is both terrified and attracted. Vocally, she has enough richness to bring out the sensuality in the part, and visually, she’s voluptuous. The "Rapunzel" scene with Mélisande’s hair, symbol of erotic power, is almost impossible to stage literally, so it’s hinted at in this production obliquely. Perruche’s hair is long enough, wildly curly and free. In the tower scene, Pelléas follows a golden thread. It’s simple but conveys the musical imagery well. It’s strong, yet fragile, and could snap at any time. Later, on her death bed, Mélisande is covered by a silken blanket in exactly the same shade as her hair. It’s a beautiful detail, implying much about the mystery that surrounds her persona.

Thorbjørn Gulbransøy as Pelléas is convincing as a lover because he can convey Pelléas as a full personality, who can stand up to a strong Golaud. His is a beautiful voice. He’s young, he has good experience and potential. Frédéric Bourreau’s Arkel was extremely well developed too. Although he’s old, he’s mentally sharp, and understands subtleties Golaud can never grasp. He’s seated in a wheelchair, but the voice that arises is steady, firm and clear, drawing attention even when he’s silent – a counterpart of sorts to Mélisande herself. Indeed, Arkel comes into his own in the deathbed scene, where Golaud crumbles. Bourreau gives us a glimpse of what Arkel might have been in his prime, expanding the character by the depth of his portrayal.

And the “surprise” final scene ? As Mélisande breathes her last, four of the women who have been working in the shadows all along appear. “Who has summoned them?” cries Golaud fearfully, but no-one knows. No longer are they mere servants, barely seen. Now they stand around Mélisande like dignified Angels of Death, profoundly powerful and moving. Golaud is an emotional illiterate because he’s like Allemonde as it was, a clockwork mechanism operating on auto pilot. Does it mean change ? These women represent another way of being, more attuned to Mélisande, and they defy the King. Does it mean change ? We know that outside the castle the populace is starving, ready for revolt.

Even the sickly baby materialises as a little girl. Mélisande says “elle va pleurer aussi”, but that could mean many different things. Perhaps the girl will grow up and repeat the mysterious cycle ? Small as this detail may be, it’s an important because it reminds us that we still have no idea where Mélisande came from or who she really was.

Further evidence of Independent Opera’s flair for innovation is the orchestration. This was a specially commissioned instrument version of Debussy’s score, made by the composer Stephen McNeff. Since Debussy’s music is exquisitely detailed, it was a daunting proposition. McNeff was struck by the way Debussy ”creates a constantly moving soundworld by layering and doubling, adding and taking away”, not so different in spirit from chamber music. McNeff reduced the numbers to 35 from 50, keeping the central solo parts intact, so what we hear captures the essential quality of the original. It also means that this opera can, in future, be performed in smaller theatres. Yet again, Independent Opera thinks outside the box. That’s why it’s worth paying so much attention to.

http://www.independentopera.com/index.html