Baroque Odyssey - 40 years of Les Arts Florissants - Barbican review

Baroque Odyssey - major retrospective at the Barbican, London,  honouring Les Arts Florissants.  "This gala performance at the Barbican Hall celebrated those 40 years of performances and pioneering, taking us on a tour of the Baroque, starting in England and then hopping across to the Channel to conclude in France. With a flourish, Christie invited the three trumpeters (Guy Ferber, Gilles Rapin, Serge Tizac) of Les Arts Florissants and percussionist Marie-Ange Petit to welcome us with a vibrant, surging fanfare. The Sinfonia to Act 3 of Handel’s Atalanta introduced the rest of the instrumentalists, the violins (led by Hito Kurosaki) standing, the string sound beautifully tender and warm, and enriched by sweet oboes (Peter Tabori and Machiko Ueno) and dynamic theorbo (Thomas Dunford). Zadok the Priest was characterised by fluidity, as lovely long bow strokes swept the waves of harmony onwards, indeed almost seeming to catch out the Choir of Les Arts Florissants who leapt to their feet just in time for their stirring choral entry. Christie coaxes, rather than ‘conducts’: his performers clearly know what he wants and how to create it, and the ensemble camaraderie was plain to see", writes Claire Seymour.

Please read the FULL REVIEW HERE in Opera Today 

This concert and tour co-incides with the release of a special edition recording  by Harmonia Mundi

 

Si vous vouliez William Christie : Airs Sérieux et à boire vol 2

"Si vous vouliez un jour..." Volume II of the series Airs Sérieux et à boire, with Sir William Christie and Les Arts Florissants, from Harmonia Mundi, following on from  the highly acclaimed "Bien que l'amour"  Volume I. Recorded live at the Philharmonie de Paris in April 2016, this new release is as vivacious and enchanting as the first. Christie and Les Arts Florissants are already working on Vol III, and will be giving a recital at the Wigmore Hall in London on 29th January.  "Si vous vouliez un jour..." brings together airs de cour by Marc-Antoine Charpentier,  Étienne Moulinié, Michel Lambert and Sébastien Le Camus, "Having displaced the polyphony of the Renaissance chanson in the musical landscape of the day, the air de cour, with its clear melodic lines, simple form, and expressive possibilities, soon became an indispensable component of aristocratic entertainment and served as a musical platform for much of the poetry of the day, which ranged from courtly songs (air galant) covering the gamut of amorous states, to air de ballet (often framed as formal expressions of praise), by way of drinking songs (air à boire), devotional songs (air spirituel), and so on." writes Thomas Leconte in his programme notes.  The air de cour thus contributed to the rise of a sophisticated socio-literary culture which prized the musical equivalent of the art of conversation (bien dire), seen at its apogée during the reign of Louis XIII. With its vivid expressiveness, the genre was an important link in the chain of events leading up to the creation of French-language opera,. "The first attempts at setting French plays integrally to music" he continues,"– be they of courtly or pastoral inspiration, such as Les Amours d’Apollon et Daphné by Charles Dassoucy (1650), Le Triomphe de l’Amour by Marin de La Guerre (1654), and La Pastorale d’Issy by Pierre Perrin (1659) – consisted chiefly of juxtaposing several airs, loosely connected together by what would, in the skillful hands of Lully, become the recitative". 

This collection begins with the Petite pastorale H. 479 by Charpentier from around 1676, which is partly created by assembling pre-existing musical fragments, notably those taken from the prologue to Molière's Le Malade imaginaire (1673), interspersed with airs sérieux, and extended by instrumental ritornellos.  In this Petite pastorale, Alcidon and Lysander, (Reinaud Van Mechelen and Cyril Auvity) joust by exquisite singing, accompanied by harpsichord (William Christie). Hardly the weapons of "real" shepherds !  Pan (Lisandro Abadie) - the god of merriment -  unites them and they sing in unison "Laissez, laissez là sa gloire ! Ne songez qu’à ses plaisirs !"  Also included in this collection are all five scenes from his pastoraletta Amor vince ogni cosa, H. 492 for five voices which shows the impact of Italian cantata.

Étienne Moulinié (1599-1676) was an early master of the courtly air, inheriting older traditions, as evidenced by two airs de boire, Amis, enivrons-nous du vin d'Espagne en France, a cheerful part song for male and female voices and Guillot est mon ami (1639) where polyphonic style is adapted for decidedly non-religious purposes. It ends with gleeful laughter, a nod to its folk song origins. Moulinié's  Enfin la beauté que j'adore, (1624) is an air de cour reflecting troubadour style.  By the mid 17th century, the genre developed in different directions. The air galant became more personal,  morphing into the air sérieux, the art song of literary salons, where, as Leconte notes,  "the art of conversation was practiced according to the new codes of behaviour and courteousness which appealed both to the heart and the mind". The air sérieux favoured simple, strophic structure, almost ballad form, but much more refined and elegant : songs of love, longing and  emotional poise.  Vos mépris chaque jour me causent mille alarmes, by Michel Lambert (1610-1696) epitomises the style. A tender accompniment (violins, viola da gamba and theorbo) cradles the singer, the counter tenor Cyril Auvity) who sings expressively but without excess. Sans murmurer  from 1689, is a part song for three male voices, while Amour, je me suis plaint cent fois and J’aimerais mieux souffrir la mort  also include the female singers Emmanuelle Negri and Anna Reinhold, demonstrating the flexibility of the form. Laissez durer la nuit, impatiente aurore, (Anna Reinhold) and Oh ! que vous êtes heureux (Emmanuelle Negri) are airs by Sébastien Le Camus (c. 1610-1677), proving that, in 17th century artistic circles, lighter female voices filled a worthy role.

Le Jardin de Monsieur Rameau - Les Arts Florissants

Le Jardin de Monsieur Rameau with Les Arts Florissants, directed by William Christie, reissued as part of a series by Harmonia Mundi.   Like a garden, where different plants are combined for maximum display,  this recording is a bouquet of selections from Rameau, Gluck, Campra, Pignolet de Monteclair, and others, arranged to highlight the variety of 18th century form.  In this delughtful bouquet or sounds, well known perennials blend with relative rarities and dramatic colours alternate with the more discreet : an excellent introduction to the rest of the Harmonia Mundi series reissuing Les Arts Florissants recordings. This selection was first heard during the Rameau anniversary year when Les Arts Florissants  were joined by soloists  (Daniela Skorka, Emilie Renard, Benedetta Mazzucato, Zachary Wilder, Victor Sicard and Cyril Costanzo) from their academy, Le Jardin de Voix. Michel Pignolet de Montéclair's Jephté, (1633) was written a hundred and twenty years before Handel's oratorio on the same subject. The opera was based on a biblical text, at a time when the concept of combining religion and theatre was controversial.  Thus the Overture is surprsingly exuberant, the mood reinforced here by the air "Riez sans cesse!" with its jolly chorus, the orchestra singing along, repeating the melody, followed by a more decorous trio "du quel nouveaux concerts". where the woodwind consort sounds delightfully archaic.  Swiftly the mood changes back to more typical adventures in classical antiquity. Les Arts Florissants combine the well-known  "Quel doux concerts" from Rameau's Hippolyte et Aricie (1733)  (which Christie conducted at Glyndebourne), with "Quelle voix suspend mes alarmes" from Hercules mourant (1761) by Antoine Dauvergne.  This latter is lyrical yet elegaic, the strings in the orchestra sweeping gracefully decorated by woodwinds.

Religion  allegory and comedy ! The miniature Cantate rien de tout (the Cantata of Nothing at all" by Nicholas Racot de Grandval, pits mock elegance with wit.  The singer duets with flutes "Quoi!" she shouts then bursts into laughter and changes her tune (literally) into dance accompanied by bells like the bells on the shoes of a folk dancer.  The strings attempt to  restore decorum but to no avail.  "Aimiez-vous!" the singer cries and the orchestra wells up forceful chords.  Frilly trills and a short sharp ending "Rien de tout!"

More high spirits with three airs from La vénitienne, a comédie-ballet from 1768, by Antoine Dauvergne. Cyril Constanzo sings the qdrunkard who dreams up a drama : the orchestra explodes with thunder and wind effects.  Gradually the drunk falls into a stupor the winds and strings singing mock lullaby. The theme continues with extracts from Gluck's L'Ivrogne corrigé (1760). Glorious sound effects in the orchestra - baroque taste was not genteel but audacious.  Expressive ensemble singing (punctuated by percussion) the low male voices delightfully "drunk).   These mini-scenes are mixed by pieces by Rameau on similar themes. Les Arts Florissants and Christie conclude with a combination of André Campra's L'Europa galante (1697)  and Rameau's Les fêtes d'Hébé (1739) both opéra-ballets with allegorical imagery.   More Rameau too with selections from Dardanus. First  the rousing "Hâtons-nous, courons à la gloire", the orchestra zinging with energetic buzz behind the heroic tenor.  Low strings and winds introduce the récit "Voici les tristes lieux", followed by "Mais un nouvel éclat" and "Les biens que Venus nous dispense" which prepares us for Les Fleurs from Les Indes Galantes where the voices twine together in graceful harmony.

Rameau Maître à danser William Christie

Rameau : Maître à danser with William Christie and Les Arts Florissants in the famed production at Le théâtre de Caen, from 2014,  still (just) available on Culturebox.  Notice, Maître à danser, not master of the dance but a master to be danced to: there's a difference.  Dance is movement, formalized into art.  Dance encapsulates the values of the baroque, where art meant civilisation, refinement over nature, orderliness over abundance.  Rameau was a music theorist as well as a composer, his music shaped by the values of his time. The pulse of dance invigorates his music, and informs its intricate patterns.  We can hear it animate the music. Now, fortunately, thanks to extensive modern research, we can also watch music being danced to, in stagings that reflect the spirit of the period.

In this performance, Christie presents Daphnis et Églé  (1753), written as a private entertainment for Louis XV and his court at Fontainebleau, after days spent out in the forests hunting for game. Context is relevant. It also commemorates the birth of a royal princes, and dynastic continuity.  The King wanted to be amused, but the show also had to flatter his image of power.  Thus both pieces present Happy Peasants, acting out simple, innocent lives, their peaceful idylls made possible by the benevolence of the King.   

Daphnis et Églé is basically a masque for dancing,  Daphnis (Reinoud Van Mechelen) and Églé (Élodie Fonnard), shepherd and shepherdess, are friends who gradually fall in love over a sequence of 16 tableaux.  Daphnis flirts with a stranger, singing a lovely air. Églé drags him away.  Cupid appears, with wings and a wooden bow and arrow.  Daphnis presents  Églé  with a bow. Later, heavily "pregnant, they embrace as happy peasants dance around them.  Van Mechelen and Fonnard are familiar names on the French baroque circuit. Fonnard's particularly pert and dramatic  and Van Mechelen has good stage presence. The first performance of this piece in 1753 flopped, apparently because the singers were duds. Fonnard and Van Mechelen are good. They're delightfully fresh.  But singing is only part of the dramatic whole, contrary to modern notions about the past.  There isn't much of a plot, and what narrative there is unfolds in stylized symbols. In the final sequence, Églé carries a doll, representing a new-born babe. Louis XV and his Queen, with their infant prince, would have been flattered.Contrary to modern assumptions, the singing, though beautiful, does not take precedence over all else.  Baroque values emphasized balance and natural order, ensemble not diva-ism.  Van Mechelen has a lovely passage "Chantez ! Chantez", garlanded by woodwinds that sing like birds, bringing "nature" into the proceedings, and the idea of natural purity. The long dance sequences, punctuated by simple percussion, emphasize the orchestra over the singers.  Indeed, the chorus has almost as much to do as the singers.   

Daphnis et Églé works well when its slender charms aren't overwhelmed by excess opulence. Daneman's staging reflects this innocence, A simple cloth is held up on sticks to suggest  peasant theatre.  Alain Blanchot's costumes (organic dyed fabric?) show the shepherds and shepherdesses in what would have been normal 18th century costume for their class, ie "modern" for the time. Daneman has worked with Christie since their first Hippolyte et Aricie together some 20 years ago. 

This stylized simplicity is of the essence, since The King wanted to portray himself as father of his people, a populace too childlike and naive to object.  Little did he know what would happen in 1789!

 Françoise Denieau choreographed. Each of these danced sequences represent a different type of dance. Fans of early dance will enthuse about the finerMdetails, and the names of each type of dance, the arm movements and the position of feet.  Baroque dance stemmed from athletics aristocrats practiced to keep fit and to fence. It's more stylized than 19th century ballet, and, serves the music. It isn't over-elaborate, since the purpose of the piece was conceptual idealism.  It feels like hearing the score come alive. When the music takes precedence, there are some lovely moments.  The Three Graces appear, in skimpy flesh coloured chemises, their arms held in expansive gestures. A young man dances with them. I'm not sure "who" he represents, but his graceful agility is a joy to watch.  

I first heard Christie's  Maître à danser  live at the Barbican in 2014, soon after the Caen premiere, together with another miniature, marking the birth of a second young prince, who would become the ill-fated Louis XVI.  In London, I think we got a truncated version of the two pieces, but I can't remember exactly.  Please see my other posts on Rameau's Zaïs HERE. and on  Pigmalion and Anacréon HERE

Handel Israel in Eygpt William Christie Prom

Handel's Israel in Egypt with William Christie and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment at the Proms in the Royal Albert Hall, a performance space big enough to create the sense of occasion that made the oratorio a favourite with 19th century audiences.  The first recording, made at the Crystal Palace Exhibition in 1888 with 4000 voices, is hard to listen to, but even with modern technology one wonders what a chorus of thousands would have sounded like  in the circumstances.  Fortunately, modern performance practice emphasizes quality, not quantity. William Christie and the Orchestra of the Age oif Enlightenment are Handel specialists par excellence.  Even by their high standards this was wonderful. Period inspired practice highlights the music itself, illuminated and remade anew. This performance seemed to glow, the voices ringing pure and clean, the orchestra alert and alive.

Sombre, regular drum rolls "raise the curtain" to the drama,f or Israel in Egypt is a drama, despite the Biblical context.  The choral writing in the First Part unfolds like a grand procession: note the phrases in the text, repeated in succession, suggesting massed forces. No need for a cast of thousands: Handel's already written panorama into his score.With the Choir of the Age of Enlightenmnet, we can hear the individual voices in the crowd. An important consideration, since much of the beauty of the piece depends on the blending of voices,and patterns in the musical line. When the chorus then explodes in uniso -  "Come ! Come!"-  the effect is highly charged.  When the clear, piping solo voice emerges from the tumult, it's extraordinarily moving. The voice is pure, yet vulnerable, like the young, isolated Joseph, perhaps, and the spirit of the people of Israel, in exile, yet uncowed.  When the chorus returns, a single horn is heard, unaccompanied. Again, the beauty and validity of period instrumentation.

If Part 1 is a deeply felt, personal Requiem, Parts 2 and 3 are, as William Christie says in the interval broadcast, "Hollywood. We're essentially creating a vast fresco of plagues, and also the extraordinary exit of the Jews from Egypt. So it's a travelogue, as big as anything Cecil B De Mille could have created."   The second part begins with a recitative, the tenor Jeremy Budd describing the new, brutal Pharaoh who "turned the waters into blood", that last word pronounced with theatrical emphasis.  Then the aria for counter tenor, Christopher Lowrey: "blotches and plagues, on all man and beast". Florid decorative lines, gruesome subject.   Zingy, zig zag lines from the strings, underpinned by timpani and brass, vividly evoking magnificent forces.  Another sudden switch: the choir sing in hushed tones.  Darkness falls on the land: high male voices contrast with low basses.  The zig zags become ostinato, the voices matching forcefully.  A soprano enters, strings dancing around her. This extended lyrical interlude suggests that, despite the violence surrounding, purity will triumph.  The parting of the waves of the Red Sea, no less, even now in the age of cinema and computer-aided design not an easy task to achieve,  And Handel does it with sound. Vigorous playing from the OAE, and technicolor singing, gently fading into serenity.

Israel has now escaped Egypt: Part 3 is celebration. "The Lord is my Saviour" sang  the sopranos (Zoë Brookshaw and Rowan Pierce), the first of a series of lovely set pieces followed by an extended  trio of male voices (Jeremy Budd, Dingle Yandell and Callum Thorpe). In the choral passages, the balance between male and female voices was particularly impressive, the temporary hush broken by blinding light of the second section, which then elides into finely parted cells where single voices intertwined, itself followed by an energetically rhythmic sequence in which each different voice group sings in unison, garlanded around each other.  Christopher Lowrey's solo aria stood out.  Passages decorated by flurries displaying technique need to be kept clear like this.  Part of the beauty of baroque style is fluidity and translucent clarity of line. The use or non-use of vibrato s in itself a red herring, seized upon by those who don't get the aesthetics of style.  Again, the waters of the sea part and the miracle is recalled in recitative, the striking song of the soprano and the heady excitement whipped up by choir and orchestra,  Gosh, I love the sound of period percussion, so earthy and "human".  And so Israel and Egypt ends as it begins, with drums: the three parts, each so distinctive, are inextricably united.
 

Glyndebourne Cavalli Hipermestra - bizarre but pointed

Glyndebourne and baroque opera are almost synonymous. Indeed, the modern revival of interest in the baroque owes much to Glyndebourne and its values of eclecticism and excellence. Francesco Cavalli's Hipermestra was an ideal start to the 2017 season. Cavalli operas, like La Calisto and L'Oromindo, are so well known that they're almost standard repertoire, but Hipermestra is so obscure that this production is only the second since the original premiere in 1668.  With William Christie conducting (and acting) and Cavalli specialist Emőke Baráth singing the title role, this Glyndebourne first is unmissable. Get to it while you can.  Graham Vick's staging, with sets by Stewart Nunn, is audacious, but then, that was the spirit of the baroque age, when Europe was discovering new worlds, in every sense. Cavalli's penchant for sex, cross-dressing and double entendre make Hipermestra an anarchic riot.  Stay home if you're timid, but there's nothing timid about Cavalli.

The plot alone is so bizarre that only fools could mistake it for reality. A prophecy warns Danao, King of Argos, that he'll be killed by his son-in-law. His solution? To marry his 50 daughters to the 50 sons of his brother Egitto, and get the brides to kill their husbands on their wedding nights.  What Freud might have made of that, who knows?  Nonetheless the girls are so gullible that they widow themselves willingly, without question. Except for Hipermestra, who has the hots for Linceo, and he for her. Dad isn't pleased and puts her in prison.

Although the plot is implausible, music makes it art. The ensemble, nine members of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, were seated in front of the stage, which was decorated with an arch of pink balloons.  The mass wedding at Argos is kitsch, but the music is not.   Quietly, a figure in white joins the team: William Christie dressed anonymous, conducting from the keyboard, in full view.  Throughout this production, musicians appear on stage, blending with the proceedings. Violinist alone, then with violist, then two theorbos of different kinds, and later, Christie himself arising from the stage machinery, interacting with the singers before scrambling down to the pit.  Integrating music with drama in this way is sophisticated, conceptually, but Glyndebourne audiences are sharp enough to understand that opera is theatre, not reality TV!  Musicians should be seen more often, for without them, opera would not be what it is.

Whatever Argos is, it's a place where extreme ideas are made possible by extreme power. Hence the oil rigs and ostentatious consumerist extravagance of the palace made possible by wealth, and the barbed wire that keeps people under control.  The allusions to Arab and/or Central Asian oligarchs may be offensive to some, but are aimed at the rulers, not the people they rule.   Thus is set the context for the wars that explode after Linceo escapes and takes his revenge on Danao, blaming Hipermestra.  Eventually, the whole region is destroyed. So much for wealth and power, when it is exercised by stupid people.  Linceo blames Hipermestra for infidelity,  Arbante and his minions stir confusing sub-plots,  Hipermestra wants to die and Linceo thinks she's dead.  Everyone making assumptions without checking facts.  That's the point of bthe plot and sub-plots: life is confusing if you don't stop and think, before jumping off (literaslly, in Hipermestra's case).

Hipermestra is a whole lot more relevant than one might assume.  The mayhem in the plot is a simile for what goes on in real life, even when people don't have 50 daughters and sons to marry off all at once. In the end, as in all good fairy tales,  everything works out, but a whole lot of people have been hurt in the process.  This is an observation that would not have been lost on Cavalli's original audience in times when monarchs had absolute power, without checks and balances.  Hipermestra is comedy, but also satire.

Emőke Baráth, as Hipermestra, is divine.  Most of the opera circulates around her, and she has the biggest role, and the longest monologue. As one of the other characters  remarks Hipermestra "goes on and on", but Baráth is so good that you enjoy every moment, though Cavalli takes his time to make a point.  Baráth is a good comic actress, singing a superb Helen of Troy in Elena (Il rapimento d'Helena) at Aix-en-Provence a few years ago.  Raffaele Pe sang Linceo, switching from lover to killer, and back.  Ana Quintans, a Glyndebourne favorite, sings Hipermestra's loyal maid Elisa.  Benjamin Hulett sings Arbante - yes, sex and violence are very Cavalli ! Renato Dolcini sings Danao, Anthony Gregory sings Valfrino. David Webb sings Arsace and Alessandro Fisher sings Delmiro/Alindo.  Special honours to Mark Wilde who sings Berenice, the camp but sinister drag queen.  It's not a comic role, though it has to be played for laughs. Berenice has gone through many husbands, however she/he disposed of them. Part witch, part victim, the part serves to remind us that in extremist power structures, women and the powerless (ie gay men) get kicked around and misused.  Cavalli had censors to fear. We don't, thankfully, as long as we have intelligent audiences like those at Glyndebourne, who appreciate that opera involves ideas, feelings, and creativity. .

and here's Claire Seymour in Opera Today : Danao is Libyan ! that explains the oil, and the despotism

La Nuit de Louis XIV William Christie Versailles

"Pour célébrer le tricentenaire de la mort de Louis XIV, l'orchestre des Arts Florissants, dirigé par William Christie, fait résonner les plus beaux airs de Lully, Charpentier, Delalande, Couperin, Desmaret et de Visée au cœur du château de Versailles, où ils ont été joués pour le plaisir du roi des arts. Bercée par la voix de Denis Podalydès et rythmée par les pas de danse de Nicolas Paul, de l'Opéra de Paris, cette promenade nocturne nous entraîne dans trois espaces emblématiques : l'Atys de Lully enchante l'Opéra royal du château, les Te deum retentissent dans la Chapelle royale, et la musique de cour fait virevolter la galerie des Glaces."

It's not often that we can hear a concert in the heart of the Palace of Versailles. In June, William Christie and Les Arts Florissants marked the 300th anniversary of the death of Louis XIV with a presentaion so unique it should not be missed. Enjoy it here on arte.tv for a limited period. The camera pans over Versailles at dusk. The palace is huge, a spectacular statement of the Sun King's glory. Yet we hear a single owl, calling from the forests around it. An important detail - think about it. Next. we're in the performance space where Louis XIV would have enjoyed his entertainments. It's lovely, but immediately the film pans to the empty stage.

An actor, Denis Podalydès,  expounds. "La musique nouurit...." every aspect of life. Do not fast forward, since this introduction encapsulates the spirit of French style - intellect, logic, intense passion without maudlin sentimentality, flamboyance energized with rigour.  I don't know the sources of the texts, but Podalydès delivers with passionate commitment.  Each instrument is introduced in turn, like a personage, for if music is divine, its messengers are heroes. Notice, too, the dancer. He moves as if the very sculptures and paintings around him were coming alive. Then you realize how Podalydès's style derives from centuries of theatrical tradition, to Molière and before. And how the spoken voice "sings",  with dramatic cadences and stylized gestures.. Music unites instruments, singers, dancers, dramatists, composers and listeners in rich continuum.

Versailles was Louis XIV's "music as architecture". Jean-Baptiste Lully was his ideal composer, and Lully's Atys (1676) his favourite opera. Atys is a seminal work in music history, and a speciality of William Christie and Les Arts Flo. Christie is looking older these days, but this added to the sense of occasion. With his halo of white hair and wise expression, Christie seems an embodiment of the Age of the Enlightenment, beaming affectionately at his musicians, most of whom he's worked with since they were very young.  He conducts with vigour, inspired by his love of the art to which he's dedicated his whole life. These extracts from Atys were produced with elegance and deep feeling. Again, seamless integration of orchestra, singers and dancers.  The impact came from the sheer excellence of performance, infinitely closer to the ideals of the genre than gimmicky period costumesfor those who can't use their imaginations.

If anything, the second part of the concert is even more profound. Again, we hear the lone owl calling as the night draws in on Versailles. this time the performance takes place in the Chapelle Royale, for we are commemorating the death of Louis XIV. Podalydès recites extracts from the Sermon sur la mort et la brièveté de la vie (1662). Jacques-Bénigne Bossuet, the author, was the leading theologian of his time, and a great orator, so this performance also made the connection between religion and theatre. Orators are showmen, working on the emotions of their audience. This also connects the role of religion as part of the power structure. "Politics as theatre" could describe Louis XIV's monarchy , where spectacle glittered over ruthless absolutism.  Bossuet was also Louis XIV's personal chaplain. Louis went for the ultimate in  all things. King and Bishop would have attended Mass in this very chapel. No doubt Bossuet heard  Louis XIV's confessions. Like the call of the owl, this, too, is an important detail. The King ruled in all his glory, but the moment he died, he was mortal, like all men.  This we see, way up above the gilded sculptures and marble columns,  a dancer writhes like a soul in Purgatory.

 Drumstrokes introduce extracts from Marc-Antoine Charpentier's Te Deum. Watch carefully at how Christie throws himself bodily into his conducting. Again, this isn't for show. He's in symbiosis with his singers and players, bringing out together the full force of the music. In the angelic Lully Regina Caeli , he sings the Alleluias. silently, at one with the trio and their intricate interactions. The camera pans to the chapel's painted ceiling with its images of heaven. A trio from Henri Desmarest Usquequo Domine  follows and then 5the choral finale from Lalande Te Deum laudamaus, another Les Arts Flo speciality.

The concert now moves to the Hall of Mirrors, Versailles' crowning glory. Ordinary tourists may not  get to see the chandeliers lit up like this, their light refracted in multitude, illuminating the entire room. Podalydès is seen, walking silently in awe. Echoes of his "La musique nouurit....." speech resonate.  Now, at last we see the audience. They're wearing ordinary street clothes. Polyadès smiles and welcomes them in though they don't seem to notice because Les Arts Flo are playing again. Podalydès then addresses the throng : perhaps he's Louis XIV proud of what he's achieved throwing his arms open, too, to the world outside, still visible though dusk encroaches.

Podalydès leads Eloide Fonnard by the hand as she sings Charpentier Les plaisirs de Versailles,, as the King might have led a muse in one of the mythical enactments he enjoyed so much.  More Charpentier, more Lalande and music written for Versailles. Now the singers walk through the crowd,  smiling and occasionally striking dance poses, followed by the theorbo player.and then the whole chorus. Again, this is more than detail, but central to meaning.

Christie and Les Arts Flo concluded with some of  Charpentier's incidental music for Molière's Le malade imaginaire, shocking "new" work that departed from Lully's stranglehold on  French music., paving the way for Rameau and masters to come. "LOUIS ! LOUIS ! and "Mille fois, mille fois", the singers sing. Is Charpentier picking up a theme from Lully's Atys ?  Just as the candles and mirrors of the Galerie des Glaces reflect light, the musical achievements of the reign of Louis XIV are reflected endlessly so long as there are those who listen, care and create anew. Suddenly, the Hall of Mirrors is eclipsed by  a spectacular fireworks display on the terraces, such as Louis XIV adored. Christie waves his arms in a flourish. He looks exhausted, but deliriously happy, and so he should be. For this was truly the "Night of Louis XIV".

Also enjoy this docu about Louis XIV and baroque dance

Barbican Rameau Maître à danser Christie Les Arts Florissants

 
Maître à danser: William Christie and Les Arts Florissants at the Barbican, London, presented a defining moment in Rameau performance practice, choreographed with a team of dancers. Maître à danser, not master of the dance but a master to be danced to: there's a difference. Rameau's music takes its very pulse from dance. Hearing it choreographed connects the movement in the music to the exuberant physical expressiveness that is dance. Furthermore, the very structure of Rameau's music is influenced by the intricate patterns of dance. Rameau was a music theorist as well as a composer: his nephew was Didérot, the encyclopédiste, so this precise orderliness is fundamental to the idiom. Think about baroque gardens, where the abundance of nature is channelled into formal parterres, though woodlands flourish beyond, and birds fly freely.This tension between nature and artifice livens the spirit : gods mix with mortals, improbable plots seem perfectly plausible.

In these miniatures, one hears The Full Rameau. "You don't have to wade through a prologue, five acts and a postlude, as Christie has quipped. With dancers, the music becomes even more vivid. Sophie Daneman directed. She's a very good singer, specializing in the baroque and in Lieder. She first worked with Christie on Hippolyte et Aricie some 20 years ago.  On this evidence, she's a very good director, too.

Christie and Les Arts Florissants presented two miniatures, Daphnis et Églé  (1753) and La naissance d'Osiris. (1754). both were written as private entertainments for Louis XV and his court at Fontainebleau, after days spent out in the forests hunting for game. The context is relevant. these pieces also commemorate the birth of two royal princes.  The Barbican stage was lit beautifully,suggesting candlelight in a darkend room, creating the right hushed tone of reverence.  The King wanted to be amused. The show had to flatter his image of power. Both pieces present Happy Peasants, acting out simple, innocent lives, thanks to the benevolence of their King. When the second infant prince grew up, he was crowned Louis XVI and built Le petit Trianon, to act out pastoral idylls.

There's so little drama in Daphnis et Églé that its basically a masque for dancing,  Daphnis (Reinoud Van Mechelen) and Églé (Élodie Fonnard), shepherd and shepherdess, are friends who gradually fall in love over a sequence of 16 tableaux.  Daphnis flirts with a stranger, singing a lovely air. Églé drags him away. Dancers supply interest in the absence of plot. Each of these vignettes represent a different type of dance. Françoise Denieau choreographed. Fans of early dance will enthuse about the finer details.  I enjoyed the diversity and intricate formations, charmed by  the natural precision of the dancers.  It felt like hearing the score come alive. Van Mechelen and Fonnard are familiar names on the French baroque circuit. Fonnard's particularly pert and dramatic  and Van Mechelen has good stage presence. The first performance of this piece in 1753 flopped, apparently because the singers were duds. Fonnard and Van Mechelen most certainly are not.

Daphnis et Églé works well when its slender charms aren't overwhelmed by excess opulence.  Daneman's staging reflects this innocence, A simple cloth is held up on sticks to suggest  peasant theatre.  Alain Blanchot's costumes (organic dyed fabric?) show the shepherds and shepherdesses in what would have been normal 18th century costume for their class, ie "modern" for the time. Daneman has worked with Christie since their first Hippolyte et Aricie together some 20 years ago.
La naissance d'Osiris is altogether more substantial.  This time the French shepherds and shepherdesses congregate around an Egyptian temple (not literally depicted), worshipping Jupiter, much in the way paintings of this period showed European landscapes populated with Europeans and semi-naked figures from Classical Antiquity. There;s a particularly beautiful part for musette (baroque bagpipes). The player gets to walk around the stage, among the dancers, just as at a peasant celebration. The idyll is shattered with a violent thunderstorm, the full force of Les Arts Florissants unleashed in splendid fury. Great lighting effects (Christoph Naillet). From up in the gods in the Barbican balcony, Pierre Bessière's Jupiter fulminates.  He will save the people by giving them his hero son, danced by a lithe young male dancer. Although the monarchy didn't know what was to come later, we can appreciate the poignancy in  these pieces because we do.

Since La naissance d'Osiris was written to mark the birth of Louis XV's second son (the future Louis XVI)  the allusion is audacious. The king of the Gods rules with divine authority, like an absolute monarch. The people know their place.  The piece is political  power game, Fonnard sang Cupid, with simple wings stuck to her back - sweetly naive, but firmed by Fonnard's feisty  singing. Sean Clayton sang A Shepherd and Arnaud Richard sang the High Priest. Eventually Jupiter takes his leave, and the Three Graces dance a lively trio.   

Although Rameau's music had to be written to please a royal patron, at heart its gentle good humour and humanity triumph. We in the modern audience were able to experience Rameau presented with great depth and sensitivity.  Plenty of  Rameau on this site - please click on label "Rameau" below

Rameau ballets Barbican William Christie

Maître à danser -William Christie conducts Les Arts Florissants at the Barbican on 18th November featuring Rameau works for dance: Daphnis et Églé (Pastorale héroïque) and La Naissance d’Osiris (Acte de ballet)   READ MY REVIEW HERE. This promises to be quite spectacular - orchestra, choir, singers and dancers (choreographed by Françoise Denieau). The performance will be danced in full costume Imagine the first courtly audiences delighting in the simplicity of innocent peasants playing Arcadian fantasy. Enjoy the video below of the performance in Caen. Picture credits © Philippe Deival  Please seen also my posts on other danced Rameau performances Anacréon and Pigmalion. and Zais here. And of course my numerous posts on Rameau operas which come with lots of dance.

Rameau Les Paladins Christie Les Arts Florissants

Ahead of the all-Rameau Les Paladins concert at the Wigmore Hall on Wednesday 1st October, a link to a film on Les Paladins on medici tv based on the 2004 Théâtre du Châtelet de Paris production with Les Arts Florissants conducted by William Christie.

"We're talking about a composer who IS funny.....I've been living with Les Paladins for a number of years now", says William Christie, "and the thing that strikes me is that it's a piece of absolute anarchy, and from a composer who's an old man , 77, 78 years old,, it's as if he's trying essentially to shock. Then, " parody and caricature are important words describing this piece - it's as if he's parodying himself "
 
A black and white engraving of a huntsman comes alive as rows of deer run out from the flat surface. The stage is divided so rows of dancers occupy the front level, while large-scale videos of other dancers leap above them, as if bouncing off clouds. The baroque imagination adapted and re-created by modern technology. Later, dancing bunnies and other images of the exuberant bounty of Nature. The livret is pretty basic. "It's Entführung" says Laurent Nouri who sings Orcan (ie Osmin). Excellently cast - Stéphanie d'Oustrac (Argie), Topi Lehtipuu (Altis), Sandrine Piau, Laurent Naouri (Orcan), René Schirrer (Anselme), François Piolino (Manto), Emiliano Gonzalez Toro (un paladin).. Choreography and staging by José Montalvo. The music is so bright, and the playing so infectiously jolly that the singers bob about quite naturally among the dancers.

Who could sit still grumpily with music like this?  Throughout the opera ballet, words and orchestral passages bounce back and forwards in intricate patterns, captured in lively splitscreen staging.  Gert the full 2 disc DVD here

Sandrine Piau is singing at the Wigmore Hall on Wednesday, with Les Paladins, the consort conducted by Jérôme Correas. They're doing a mixed programme of extracts from different Rameau opera/ballets , including Les Paladins, Castor et Pollux, Les Indes Galantes, Platée asnd Les Surprises d' Amour. Link to Wigmore Hall Box Office HERE. They're selling fast. There's a pre concert talk, too.

Rameau Motets Prom William Christie Les Arts Florissants

Best of the season so far! William Christie and Les Arts Florissants  performed Rameau Grand Motets at late night Prom 17. Perfection, as one would expect from arguably the finest Rameau interpreters in the business, and that's saying a lot, given the exceptionally high quality of French baroque performance in the last 40 years. Even more significantly, this perfection was mixed with joy and humour. This was an  hommage to Rameau, whose 250th anniversary we celebrate, But for us in the audience, it was also an hommage to William Christie, who founded Les Arts Florissants in 1979. Christie and the generations of artists he has inspired  blend new scholarly research with musical intelligence.

In his lifetime, Rameau was something of a radical. Christie and modern baroque specialists present  Rameau as vibrant as it might have been when the music was still fresh.  Deus noster refugium (1713) (God is our refuge) begins in relatively conventional mode, suitable for decorous church performance. Then a wilder. almost dance-like mood takes over, ushered in by "footsteps"in the vocal line, where each syllable is deliberately defined. The voices sing with firm conviction, while the forces around them are in tumult. With a little imagination, we can hear, as Lindsay Kemp describes in his programme notes, "'mountains' cast into the sea (bursts of tremolos and rushing scales  in the strings, stoically resisted  by firmly regular crotchets  in the three solo voices; swelling waters (smooth but restless choral writing over forward-driving strings); and finally  streams that 'filled the city of God with joy' a gigue-like aria for soprano with solo violin".

Quam dilecta tabernacula (1713-15?) (How lovely is thy dwelling place) allows Rameau to write elaboate fugal patterns. Rameau, the master of technical form, also manages to evoke the beauty of the outdoors. The piece begins with very high soprano, accompanied by delicate winds : pastoral, sensual and mysteriously unearthly. The choruses introduce a livelier mood, which might suggest fecundity and vigorous growth. The soprano solo is balanced by a tenor solo, then later by baritone. Elegant design, reminiscent of baroque gardens, laid out in tight formation. When the soloists sing in ensemble, and later with full chorus, the voices entwine gracefully.

The version of In convertendo Dominus (Psalm 126, When the Lord turned again the Captivity of Zion)  only now exists in a revision made for Holy Week in 1751. The piece begins with a wonderful part for very high tenor, presaging the passion later French opera would have for the voice type. Do we owe Enée and  Robert le Diable to Rameau?  Reinoud Van Mechelen's voice rang nicely, joined by the other five soloists in merry, lilting chorus that suggests laughter. The bass Cyril Costanzo's art was enhanced by whip-like flourishes of brass and wind. Even lovelier,  the well decorated soprano passages, which lead into a  beautiful blending of solo voices and orchestra.  A pause: and then the exquisite chorus. "They that go out weeping....shall come back in exultation, carrying their sheaves with them.  Christie balances the voices so finely that one really hears "sheaves", united and golden.

If these Grand Motets weren't enough, Christie continued with so many encores that the  BBC schedule was thrown off kilter, and only one can be heard on rebroadcast. Haha! I thought, admiring Christie's sense of humour and bravado.  The photo above shows Christie having fun in fancy dress. Since I'd come for the music (and for Les Arts Flo) I was glad I could stay, and not worry about mundane things like missing the last bus. "Hahahahahaha " went the chorus in the excerpt from Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville's In exitu Israel (1753) on exactly the same subject.   A brilliant choice!  Just as in Rameaus In convertendo Dominus, the Hebrews are laughing because they've been freed. Rameau's laughter is more subtle, Mondonville's more crude, "crowd pleasing" to the point of being coarse.  Christie is making a point. Mondonville was more fashionable at the time, but as we know now, Rameau has had the last laugh.

Christie continued with an extract from Rameau's Castor et Pollux which was used with words of Kyrie Eléison for Rameau's funeral Mass. The opera and its successors meant a lot to the composer, and to Christie, who conducted Hippolyte et Aricie at Glyndebourne last year (read my review HERE). Christie is no fool. Respect his choices. He knows baroque style better than most, and chose as director Jonathan Kent, with whom he created the magnificent Glyndebourne Purcell The Fairy Queen. "If it's good enough for Bill Christie", my companion said, "It's good enough for me". At the interval at Glyndebourne we bumped into Christie himself, and told him. He beamed with delight, his eyes twinkling. "That's what I like", he grinned.

Christie and Les Arts Florissantes ended with a excerpt from Les Indes Galantes, their greatest hit, which revolutionized public perceptions of the genre.The baroque era was audacious, given to extravagant, crazy extremes. People embraced the new world outside Europe, and delighted in exotic fantasy. Po-faced literalism is an aberration of late 20th century culture, dominated by TV.  To really appreciate baroque style, it helps to understand the period. "You have to steep yourself in historical, performance practice", says Christie. "it has to become completely natural and spontaneous. If the public starts to become aware of the archaeological aspects, then we've failed. I think one of the reasons we've had success in Les Arts Florissants is because we've become completely instinctive". This fabulous Prom unleashed the joy, energy and wit in the style. Christie makes Rameau, and the spirit of his age, come alive.

Barbican Baroque Blockbusters 2014-15 (3)

Despite its brutalist architecture, the Barbican is Britain's foremost centre for baroque and early music. It sponsors top-flight international musicians and larger -scale works. The 2014/15 season offers many delights.

The Academy of Ancient Music, based at the Barbican,  presents Monteverdi L'incoronazione di Poppea on 4 Oct - excellent cast including Antonacci. Richard Egarr conducts the AAM.  Six days later on 10/10, Joyce DiDonato heads a possibly even better cast in Handel Alcina, Harry Bicket conducts the English Concert. Only 4 years ago Marc Minkowski conducted an excellent Alcina (read more here). DiDonato should be outstanding though because she can really camp up the curlicues in this crazy part!

Even more spectacular will be the big Rameau extravaganza on 18/11. William Christie conducts Les Arts Florissantes and an excellent French cast in Rameau's Daphnis et Églé (Pastorale héroïque) and La Naissance d’Osiris (Acte de ballet).  Rameau in his time was considered shockingly avant garde. Christie understands that and conducts Rameau with the ideal mix of wit and audacity. (Please read my review of Christie's Rameau Hippolyte et Aricie at Glyndebourne). Les Arts Flo are doing Monteverdi too, Madrigals book 8 (24/5).

More still! Europa Galante and Fabio Bondi on 20/2, Vivaldi L'Oraculo in Messina,. Again a superlative European cast - Vivica Genaux no less. And if that's not enough, Handel Hercules (not so common) on 4 March, Harry Bicket, the English Concert and some of the best British baroque singers. The AAM is also doing Scarlatti and Mozart (4/2/15 Christopher Hogwood) and of course, Handel's Messiah for Christmas and Bach St Matthews for Easter. .

There is so much going on at the Barbican that it pays to read the full schedule carefully and spot the treasures. Please also see my piece on  the Barbican 2014-15 LSO and international orchestras season and my analysis of the Barbican's 2014-2015 BBC SO and related goodies. Far too many interesting things to deal with in one post.

Glyndebourne Hippolyte et Aricie Rameau revitalized

Glyndebourne revitalizes Rameau's Hippolyte et Aricie. Baroque tastes were extravagant. Louis XIV, Le Roi Soleil, and his successor Louis XV,  epitomized the aesthetic: audacity, not gentility, vigour, not timidity. When Hippolyte et Aricie was premiered in 1733, it was considered radically inventive. So it's appropriate that Glyndebourne should present Rameau with the same spirit of adventure. William Christie has shown many times before that baroque thrives on daring and panache.

So the Prologue starts with a shock calculated to shake things up. Diana, the Goddess is in a refrigerator. But she's the Goddess of frigidity. Why not show her in a Frigidaire?  She has a frigid, rigid mindset. . For her, feelings should be sealed in air-tight compartments. So Diana comes out of the freezer cabinet. Her colours are those of frost, and the "pale sterile moon". Nature, though, is having nothing of artificial cool. In the egg compartment, Cupid is breaking out of a shell, challenging Diana with bright colours and joyously lively song.

Hippolyte, the son of Theseus is in love with Aricie, who has dedicated herself to the service of Diana, the Virgin Queen. Hippolyte's stepmother, Phaedra, lusts after him. Ironically, her husband Theseus is off saving a friend who has committed adultery with the wife of Pluto, Lord of the Underworld. We enter l'Enfer, where hell fire reigns: the reverse of the refrigerator, where overheated workings splutter in darkness and dirt. Is death more colourful than Diana's sterile temple? The denizens of the Underworld have merrier dances. A group of Flies.with elaborate wings, pirouette gleefully. Decay is part of the cycle of Nature. Without it, no rebirth. Theseus calls on his father, Neptune, for help and escapes. The Parques (The Fates) warn "Tu sors de l’infernal Empire, pour trouver les Enfers chez toi."

Rameau writes a Tempest into his music, which even now, when we're used to extreme theatre, is strikingly dramatic. At Glyndebourne, we get strobe lights, Rameau's audiences, who loved mechanical special effects, would have been thrilled by electricity. Neptune is the God of the Ocean, so his minions are "matelots".  At Glyndebourne, they appear as a chorus of French sailors. This is perfectly in keeping with the music. Rameau adapts a hornpipe jig. It's meant to be gay (in the old sense of the word) "Tous les cœurs sont matelots ; On quitte le repos : On vole sur les flots;"

Theseus blames his son for his wife's infidelity. Hippolyte follows Aricie into Diana's world. A dead stag hangs from the rafters.  Diana, despite her disdain for passion, is also the Goddess of the Hunt, and an agent of death  Aricie is initiated into the cult by being blooded. It's not gruesome, though, for Rameau's sense of elegance precludes overt barbarism. At Glyndebourne, Diana's followers are seen in hunting reds, the men's wigs oddly peaked as if they were foxes. Hippolyte disappears in a puff of smoke, presumably dead. Phaedra dies, too. This time, the Underworld is depicted as a morgue, pointedly designed like Diana's chilled-out Temple. But Hippolyte is no more dead than Theseus was when he went into hell. The lovers are reunited happily ever after. In this production, the ghost of Phaedra appears to observe proceedings. It's a nice touch, which fits in with the mood of healing and kindness. No grand showpiece arias here. Instead, the exquisite "Rossignols amoureux" a delicate air for soprano accompanied only by flute, exceptionally beautifully played by a soloist in the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment

Ed Lyon sang Hippolyte, fresh and youthful but no ingénue. Lyon's voice is assertive, suggesting strength in the character beyond the restraints of the text. That's perceptive. With his genes, Hippolyte is no wimp. Christiane Karg sang Aricie with charm and energy. Katharine Watson sang Diana, and Ana Quintans sang a vivacious Cupid.  Quintands also sang the crucial Nightingale Song, in the guise of a shepherdess. So Cupid has triumphed ! François Lis was a magnificently characterful Pluto/Jupiter, well supported by Loïc Felix's Tisiphone. Sarah Connolly (Phaedra) and Stéphane Degout (Theseus) were exceptional, wonderfully assured singing and stage presence.

Together with Lis, Connolly and Degout (one of the finest French singers of his generation) sang their parts in the Paris production last year with Emmanuelle Haïm, where the set was a reconstruction of what the opera might have looked like in 1733. That was important because it clearly showed the cast in costumes that were "modern" at the time. Rameau wasn't depicting Greeks or Greek Gods but archetypes in a setting his own audiences could relate to.  So much for the notion of period specificity. True period authenticity is fascinating, for me, anyway. But it doesn't necessarily do much for modern audiences, who might find the succession of dances less easy to take. The Glyndebourne production, directed by Jonathan Kent, with designs by Paul Brown, doesn't actually "update", to use the much misused term, but treats the opera as something fresh and exciting, as it might have seemed to audiences nearly 300 years ago  Like the cycle of Nature, life goes on when things renew. The humour is entirely appropriate, and the dances are brightly characterized. One other good moment: when Sarah Connolly descends off the stage as Phaedra preparing to die, the auditorium goes completely dark for much longer than usual. She's such a big star that audiences expect an exit as dramatic as that. She doesn't get to sing anymore, but the memory lingers on.

Most credit, however, to William Christie. What animated, vivid playing he draws from the  Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. How the singers seem inspired by his enthusiasm! He's visionary. He understand the baroque and its aesthetic so well that he can teach us a great deal about the idiom. His Rameau Les Indes Galantes (recorded on DVD) is an education. Christie brings out the vivacious, almost anarchic vigour that is at the heart of French baroque. He's worked with Jonathan Kent before (Purcell Fairy Quuen, Glyndebourne). My companion said "If this is good enough for Bill Christie, it's good enough for me". By sheer coicidence we bumped into Christie himself a few minutes later, and told him. He beamed. "That's the sort of feedback I like to hear!". I hope it helped to make his day. Certainly, with this performance, he made mine.

Complete review and cast list in Opera Today
Photos c. Bill Cooper, courtesy Glyndebourne Festival

Hippolyte et Aricie Rameau Glyndebourne Part One

Rameau's Hippolyte et Aricie at Glyndebourne last night. CLICK HERE FOR MY FULL REVIEW. Haha! Judging by the applause most of the audience entered into its vivacious spirit of fun. Anarchy is "true" to the baroque ethos of throwing everything together in as extrreme form as possible. Hence Greek Gods, mythic heroes, symbols of virtue all tumbled in together and presented with the most audacious effects possible. If 17th/18th century producers had electricity and flying guy wires, you bet they would have used them. Indeed, some of the costumes (esp the demons) could come straight out of period illustrations. And so the show starts with an audacious shock: Diana the Goddess in a refrigerator.

That should drive the "purists"crazy. But Diana is the goddess of frigidity. So why not depict her in a Frigidaire? Rameau emphasizes her frigid, rigid mindset. For her, feelings should be sealed in air tight compartments. Ultra chill. Diana comes out of the freezer. Her colours are those of frost, and the "pale sterile moon".

Nature, though, is having nothing of artificial cool. In the egg compartment, Cupid is breaking out, challenging Diana with bright colours and.....love. Hippolyte loves Aricie but she's dedicated herself to Diana and Diana's anti-love values. So we enter the realms of the Underworld where hell fire reigns. Is hell the opposite of Dian'a cool? So the Devil stands astride the over-heated workings of a fridge, where things go wrong with the wiring. Loved the bluebottle flies! Gloriously funny and oddly beautiful. They've come to feast on decay, which is what happens when Nature takes its natural course. In any case, the downside of Diana's frigid rule is violence and death. She's the goddess of the hunt, symbolized by dead stags. Her maidens look pure, but they are blooded.The denizens of the Underworld turn out to be more kind-hearted than the goddess.

 Diana gets her revenge. Phaedra falls hopelessly in love with Hippolyte and curses him because he doesn't love her back.  The problem is that Phaedra is married to Theseus, Hippolyte's father and Dad's so mad he wants his son dead. So he calls on his own father, the God Neptune who just happens to controls the seas and storms. So Grandad sends down a Tempest, while his underlings, the matelots, dance. The matelots are in fact defined as such in the score, though they might as well be any other symbol of Neptune's power. Besides, Rameau needed a chorus to balance Diana's chorus of devotees.

In Rameau's time, audiences would have got the references to classical symbols and picked up on details like the strange peaks in the hunters' wigs - like foxes' ears!  Nowadays, unfortunately, some - not all - audiences seem to pride themselves on determinedly "not" getting anything and stomping down anyone else. Alas, their loss. William Christie probably knows more about Rameau and the baroque aesthetic than most of us ordinary mortals. He conducted with verve and glee, inspiring similarly enthusiastic singing of which I'll write more later.

My partner whispered. "If this is good enough for William Christie, it's good enough for me". By sheer coincidence who should we meet at the interval but William Christie himself. So I told him. He burst out laughing. "That's exactly the sort of feedback I like to hear!". Perhaps iit helped to make his day. Certainly, he made mine.

HERE is my full review in Opera Today
photo : Bill Cooper, courtesy Glyndebourne Festival

Dancing Baroque? Handel and Rameau

Handel's Giulio Cesare at the ENO raises intereesting questions. Michael Keegan-Dolan is a choreographer, so his staging would naturally emphasize dancing, not singing or even drama. Dance is part of the baroque aesthetic, but to what extent? If any composer is associated with dance it's Rameau. Rameau's rhythms throb in intricate patterns, so energetic that they beg expression through physical action. Prior to Stravinsky, Rameau defined movement in music.

Rameau's Les Indes galantes is now available on medici.tv.  It's a work of near genius, with William Christie and Les Arts Florissantes who have the genre in thir souls. Christie shows how vital and vivid period performance can be, done well and on its own terms. The cast is particularly strong - Partricia Petibon, Nicolas Rivenq, Danielle De Neise, Nathan Berg, João Fernandes, Christoph Stehl,  Malin Hartelius etc) so it's pretty outstanding. Baroque is stylized, but it isn't dull. The acting, directed by Andrei Serban, is full of wit and personality. True to the baroque spirit,  the designs (Marina Draghici) are extravagant. Rameau chose his subjects because they'd be visually exciting to audiences in his day who had probably never seen much of Peruvians, Turks or "the savages of America". Draghici can thus blend elements of alien cultures with fantasy : a Matelot in an Ottoman Court, for example, and a stunning recreation of the Inca God of the Sun. Magically lit and beautifully filmed.

But this Les Indes galantes is essential, I think, for dance fans because it shows how dance can be integrated into an opera. The choreographer is Blanca Li. She "conducts" the dancers as effectively as Christie conducts singers and players. Ensembles move as the music moves, dancers are individualized just as instruments are individualized.  The elegant orderliness of Rameau's music allows quite complex choreography, which Li and her dancers execute flawlessly. For three hours!  These people are seriously fit.  Blanca Li blends different dance styles, like getting the "Savages" to strike angular poses, channelling Diaghilev in the Rite of Spring. Again, the spirit of baroque, all influences joyously mixed in riotous profusion.  I didn't go to the ENO Handel Guilio Cesare last night, having seen Michael Keegan- Dolan's last ENO double bill. His Rite of Spring wasn't bad because the dancing "spoke".  His Duke Bluebeard's Castle fell apart for me because dramatically the ideas weren't thought through. So maybe that's the conundrum choreographers have to face when they stage opera. Dance is a tool, but dramatic logic is what makes dance in opera work.

Christie Charpentier David et Jonathas Aix

Marc-Antoine Charpentier's David et Jonathas live from Aix-en-Provence is now available streamed outside France on arte.tv This is one of the big highlights of the baroque year. It's major profile because William Christie conducts, and anything he and Les Arts Florissantes dedicate themselves to is a milestone. The production travels to the Opéra comique in Paris, to Caen, Madrid and concerrft stagings in Edinburgh and elsewhere. Christie excels - watch the elegance of his conducting (very well picked up on film),

Musically this is divine, the intricate correspondances  done with exquiste clarity and delicacy. In David et Jonathas, this freedom of spirit is very much part of what the opera is about. David is a hero, who has killed Goliath, but the times he lives in are turbulent. War, intrigue, bluff and counter-bluff, the sordid stuff of politics. Although David is loyal to King Saul, he's forced to flee to the Philistines who welcome him. Despite negotiations for peace, war breaks out again, Briefly David and Jonathas are reunited, but Jonathas is killed. Saul dies, heartbroken. David becomes King.

We know the plot from the Old Testament, but Charpentier fleshes it out with wonderful music. The parts for David and Jonathas are beautiful: theirs is a love story as much as a symbol of purity against a background of sordid violence. Christie chooses his singers well. Pascal Charbonneau, who sings David, frequently reaches countertenor territory. The part was written for alto, to contrast with the very low baritone of Saul, (Neal Davis)  and the bass of Achis (Frédéric Caton). Ana Quintans sings Jonathas. It's a trouser part because a high. bright voice shows how young and beautiful Jonathas was, beloved by all.

The interplay between voices and orchestra  is superb, the formal patterns of baroque art expressed in music. Brightness and depth, constant weaving of textures - political intrigue woven into the very fabric of the form.  Christie's precision keeps the layers bright : no room for approximation in this score.

 Thus Andreas Hoimoki's staging worked extremely well with the clarity of Christie's approach, and with Charpentier's idiom. The set (Paul Zoller) is as simple, throwing focus on the singers, yet a pine panelling background lit as luminously as this evokes the golden glow of baroque paintings and indeed the instruments in the orchestra.

Intelligent use of space and boxed space to create the flow of exterior and crowd scenes, and interior, private intensity. The long non-vocal passages might once have been filled with formal masques. Here, they're used to hint at background. Jonathas, as a young boy, stands before the bier of his dead mother. The young David enters and comforts him, but Saul's disturbed to see them embrace. He in turn embraces the portrait of his late wife which mesmerized hius son. Costumes are timeless, sufficiently middle eastern to remind us of Biblical times.

The Israelites and Philistines are distinguished by their music rather than by costume (some of the Philistines wear a red fez), but again this is true to plot. For thouands of years before 1948, there was conflict in these lands. Charpentier and his audiences weren't in the least bothered about historical accuracy, so neither should we be. Indeed, seeing Jonathas clothed in short pants (not robe) is a subtle reminder that David and Jonathan relationships have happened throughout history. Homoki doesn't over-emphasize, but Charpentier and his audiences weren't naive. Chorus scenes are well blocked, almost like choreography: I kept thinking of 17th century paintings, utterly approrpriate to Charpentier's period.
(photo : Pascal Victor)

Charpentier David et Jonathas LIVE

Broadcast of Marc-Antoine Charpentier David et Jonathas on arte tv on Friday 13th HERE. Les Arts Florissants conducted by William Christie, which makes it a major event. Pascal Charbonneau, Ana Quintans head the cast. It's a completely new production directed by Andreas Homoki who's taking over at Opern Zurich later this year (so you need to know). This is the baroque event of the year (so you should not miss).

It clashes with the First Night of the Proms, but is by far the classier event. Indeed, it's the main draw at this year's Edinburgh Festival, which features an ambitious baroque programme. I was sorely tempted to splash out and travel, but decided to reduce carbon emissions when I heard that Arte was sponsoring Aix.

What is the future of classical music? Is the way ahead dumbing down, even to the extent of dumbing down music itself? Maybe. But David et Jonathas is fairly rare and hardly hoi polloi. Instead of dumbing down, Aix and Arte raise the bar, in the faith that audiences will rise to the challenge. Another reason to thank the gods for a good education system and public funded arts management. This David et Jonathas is likley to beome the benchmark and recoup its costs on DVD over the years.