Another rarity is presented yet again by the very courageous Opera Comique. Le timbre d’argent, Saint-Saens first ever composed opera, created in 1865…but for various reasons not performed until 1877. The last revision by the composer (chosen for the present revival) was performed in Brussels in 1904. Overall I was extremely happy to hear such an operatic rarity and a few minor glitches in the libretto (banally moralistic in christian sauce) the music (has some drops in tension and lacks some lyricism probably due to the fledging opera-composer) or the setting (a bit cheap looking) did not lessen the high quality of the performance.
The story evolves around the painter Conrad loved by Hélène but not loved in return. Conrad is poor, very sick and in love with the dancer Fiammetta. The devilish doctor visits him while Hélène and her sister Rosa, who is about to marry Bénédict, pray to the virgin for his recovery. The doctor returns as the devil, gives Conrad a silver bell which, when struck, will give him Fiammetta’s love and richness at the cost of a death. Throughout the plot, the devil tempts Conrad to strike the bell for money, the first death is Hélène’s father, the second Bénédict who dies during the wedding ceremony. At the end Conrad breaks the bell which breaks the spell and he wakes up to Hélène and Rosa singing the beginning’s prayer, and he realizes that all was dream. General praise to God, hallelujah and curtain
The conductor François-xavier Roth was almost excellent, from the very bubbly overture throughout the entire score (maybe a bit more rubato would have underlined some crucial parts of the score), marvellous in displaying the richness of Saint-Saens orchestration and colours. Hélène Guilmette and Tassis Chrystoyannis were very good as Hélène and the devilish Spiridion. A pity that Edgaras Montvidas’ tenor had no Hoffmannesque ringing top notes but rather hard and dry ones, reached with some strain. Excellent the Bénédict of Yu Shao and Jodie Devos’ Rosa. Such a pity that the good voices of Hélène, Rosa and Bénedict received such short roles at the cost of Fiammetta, a mute dancer’s role. The setting department was clearly on a budget, but nonetheless it was effective enough in some scenes although a higher regard to the mysterious and devilish would have been much appreciated and I could have done without some of the magic tricks. All in all a highly satisfying and enjoyable rediscovery.
Direction musicale François-Xavier Roth, Mise en scène Guillaumes Vincent, Décors-James Brandily, Création video-Baptist Klein, Costumes-Fanny Brouste, Lumières-Kelig Le Bars, Chorégraphie-Herman Diephuis, Effets magiques-Benoît Dattez, Circe/Fiammetta-Raphaelle Delaunay, Conrad Edgaras-Montvidas, Hélène-Hélène Guilmette, Spiridion-Tassis Chrystoyannis, Bénédict-Yu Shao, Rosa-Jodie Devos, 11 juin 2017, pictures Pierre Grosbois.
Intricate plot, this one, with an extensive-need-to-know-background information in order to fully understand it (as so often in baroque opera) but it’s worth outlining it to understand the intention of the director: Tamese and Lisea are the twins of queen Antipatra of Cilicia. Tamese loves Arsilda, queen of Ponto but is victim of a shipwreck. As the throne of Cilicia is for males only, Antipatra announces the death of Lisea and disguises her as Tamese. The opera opens with the engagement festivities of Arsilda and Tamese/Lisea. Survived the shipwreck, the real Tamese arrives in Cilicie disguised as a gardener. This leads to all sorts of misunderstandings which involves also Barzane, the king of Lydia, first in love with Arsilda, then with the real Lisea. At the end of the opera everybody is revealed as themselves.
Vocally, although not excellent, the cast is reasonably good. As Lisea, musically and psychologically the most complex character Lucile Richardot slips into the different passions with ease displaying a beautiful contralto voice. The difficulty of the role of Cisardo showed the esteem Vivaldi must have had for the talented bass Angelo Zannoni and Lisandro Abadie, a baritone, if not entirely at ease with the lowest notes sings the difficult embellishments very well. Tamese has also some fiendishly difficult arias and Fernando Guimaraes has this weired way of singing parts of rapid runs louder than others which makes the musical line sound very uneven (Siano gli astri a me tiranni). The voice is a bit colourless, but nonetheless the singing is overall very good. Olivia Vermeulen did a fair job but her low notes are a bit empty and her approach a tad monochromatic. I really loved the Mirinda of Lenka Macikova. Nice voice and naturally at ease on stage, Io son quel Gelsomino was one of the highlights. The Barzane of Kangmin Justin Kim disappointed in some off-key notes but convincend with a beautiful range and velvety voice. A well pronounced Italian would be a balm for the ears especially in a opera where voices are not covered by the orchestra.
If the singing was not convincing throughout, direction and conduction were excellent. Vaclav Luks conducts the Collegium 1704 enthusiastically without excesses, chooses the correct tempi and leads the orchestra through the evening with a light hand. I would have appreciated a harder edge but it’s just personal taste.
Aida…one of those mysteries….everybody knows the title. But it’s not that there were less or more empty seats than when rarities of Cherubini, Berlioz or Gassmann were played at De Munt/La Monnaie….still, it was choosen to stage a famous title such as Aida (where the libretto never takes off, the action is succinct and stripped to a minimum and for which the music is quite long) without having the necessary forces to do so: If one does not have a perfect match of conductor, director and singers, the opera starts to bore at very early stage. In this production the setting is not without interest. Greek actor/director Stathis Livathinos puts a huge rock on stage which changes colour and becomes translucent with different types of lighting and which is used to sing and act on and around. Except for a cement square just above said rock the scene is completely empty but Livathinos’ setting is suggestive and evocative in using balanced colours, lighting and movements. Dancers are present on scene but they barely move. Although the director used some interesting ideas the setting did not conceal the shortcomings of the overall poor musical interpretation (at least of the cast I heard on that particular day). The voices displayed various opprobrium’s that ranged from wide vibrato singing, screams, poorly projected voices, sinking notes, no legato, … and if this was not enough, when the final chords of a piece ended, or when there were large passages of pianissimo (such as in Immenso Fthà) one was immersed in rumble of noises from outside like screaming children, chirping birds, quacking ducks, roaring airplanes and the like. Altinoglu, who I usually appreciate, was not able to get the imprecise orchestra inspired. The heat (27°C) did the rest so I left at the interval.
Refreshing therefore, to see an non-professional performance of an opera at Bozar. It is always a pleasure to hear singers of an opera academy. It has the benefit, except for the singers to get exposure, for the public to hear forgotten rarities, for which the main opera house is too cautious, and, I feel, too dismissive of the music. But Telemann’s music is varied, colourful, descriptive, heterogeneous, and although the main text is German, he adds arias in French and Italian language and style, which he perfectly assimilated, and merged with great taste.
Le prophète had its premiere in Paris in April 1849 and it was another immense success after Robert le Diable and Les Huguenots. Again Meyerbeer was able to combine all the parameters of the grand opéra such as a historic events, interpolations of personal conflicts, inclusion of ballets, rich instrumentation effects, alternation between crowd and solo scenes with lighting, spectacular costumes and scenic effects which all contribute to the grandeur of the staging. What makes Meyerbeer so special is the combination of musical languages: Meyerbeer was born in Germany, assimilated wonderfully the Italian style during his stay in Italy and acquired the French taste when he moved to Paris. Although not as “grand” as Les Huguenots, Le prophète still remains one of the most successfull operas at the time (comparable to a musical in our days), staged for hundreds and hundreds of times in all the major European cities until the beginning of the 20th century and stayed in oblivion for years only because it required great voices, a conductor able to keep the suspense for several hours and singers able to sustain the huge demand of the score. A compliment therefore to the opera houses who stage Meyerbeer operas. The plot of Le prophète evolves around John of Leiden, who moved to Münster, became the leader of Anabaptists, held the city against the pope for over a year until he was captured in 1535, tortured and executed. Against this historic drama develops the relationship of John of Leiden (Jean de Leyde) with Berthe, his beloved and Fidès, his mother.
I thougth the Tcherniakov Trovatore in Brussels was absolute nonesense, but at least the decor was well designed. For Le prophète in Essen we have a rotating stage divided in three compartments. They are fully grey, including the parting walls, and most of the time rather empty. In Act I there is a huge table and in Act II the choir dances between crates stapled on pallets while Jean waits beers. Except Jean’s room (matras on the floor) and a few props, there is not much more. But empty can work if there is a director who knows how to direct, which in this case we clearly lacked. The problem, I think, is that Vincent Boussard has no clue whatsover what to do with all the people on stage: The choir was motionless most of the time. Which, if we consider the importance of the masses in grand opera is astounding, to say the least. During the sermon of the anabaptists in Act I (“Ad nos”….), Berthe and Fides are chatting away as if exchanging recipes (sic…). During Berthe’s romance (Un jour dans les flots de la Meuse) Berthe sings standing on the table with Oberthal playing with her hair (because he has her in his power????) and when Fides sings her pertichini, the tutu ballerina shushes her (!). Jean goes home to play his e-guitar, the same rock music-like pose he strikes at the end of Act III with the cross in his hands (dream of celebrity?? Please!!!). Jonas vomits on the floor just before Zacharie’s aria (!!!), during the dances Zacharie and the two ballerinas run after each other on the rotating stage, the ballerinas making confused movements with a knife and an iron in their hands (!!!), the hat of Zaccaria pops a mini firework during the Trio bouffe (!!!). And so on and so on and so on, one imbecility after the other. The costumes are between a not better defined end of the XXth century and gothic-like underground.
Luckily the musical part was much better. Fides is Marianne Cornetti. 
Snegurochka was Korsakov’s favourite opera and for its composition he moved to a country house close to Louga to listen to nature’s voices, as he mentioned in his autobiography (“…an abundance of field flowers, continuous chirping of the birds, all this harmonized particularly with my pantheistic state of mind then, and my enthusiasm for the subject of Snegouochka. Some trunks of trees, large and twisted, or covered with moss, appeared to me like spirits of the woods…”). The opera was heard first in Saint Petersburg in 1885 and in 1893 in Moscow.
Tcherniakov sets the prologue in a dance school and all the rest in the forest. The Berendays live in caravans and dress colourfully (a mix of flower power, pagan sect, Russian traditions and camping outfit). The “tsar” is the leader of the pack. Nonetheless Tcherniakov makes them inhabitants of the 21st century (the sneakers, the photo flashes of mobile phones…) maybe to point at the universality of the plot. The sets are beautifully designed, well lit, and the costumes gorgeous. Snegurochka was not only Korsakov’s favourite opera but one Tcherniakov always wanted to do, he claims. Funnily enough I feel the inspiration was not the highest, the masses were not moved with such elegance and power as, say, in Borodin’s Prince Igor. Beautiful was the set change from the school to the forest, and the circling trees.
Cox and Box and The Zoo are both one-act comic operas. Cox and Box was written by Arthur Sullivan 5 years before he started collaborating with W. S. Gilbert; It was a huge success in its time and is relatively frequently performed . The plot revolves around a landlord who rents one room to two people, one who works at night and one who works during the day. When one of them has a day off, they meet with hilarious consequences. The Zoo’s plot is about two pairs of lovers, a nobleman wooing the girl who sells snacks in the zoo and a young chemist who believes he has poisoned his beloved (all commented by the visitors of the zoo).
If one has to travel to Tourcoing to hear Vivaldi, one does so with pleasure, seen how little Vivaldi is performed. The orchestra is the well known “La Grande Écurie et la Chambre du Roy” with Jean-Claude Malgoire as its conductor. Judging by this performance, the reputation is better than the quality, but then it could just be a bad day. The choice in tempi is poor, dynamics are unvaried, the playing tedious. Add to this a very scholastic rendering of the orchestra with many mistakes, and the pleasure quickly dwindles to disappointment. Slighly better the singers (but only slightly): voices that are either barely audible (Angelica) or flat when they descend to lower notes (Orlando). Ruggiero was good in his flute aria but Come l’onda sounds colourless with a little projected voice. Much better Clemence Tilquin, the only with a more homogeneous voice and some lovely acting that inflated Alcina with personality. All in all a performance with very little variations or nuances with an incomprehensible Italian pronunciation. The costumes were very well designed while staging consisted in several painted panels which were moved up and down to bring us into the different settings or slid side-wards to make the singers appear and disappear. Simple and effective.
Like many other Italian composers before him (Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti just to mention the main contemporary ones), Verdi was invited to compose for the Parisian stages. It was decided to stage a grand opéra as it was fashionable since the 1830’s. But instead of composing a brand new opera, Verdi adapted one of his earlier operas, I lombardi alla prima crociata. The writers of the libretto Royer et Vaëz rewrote the plot (which makes more sense than the Lombardi one) while Verdi re-adapted and rewrote bits and pieces. The result is not really a grand opéra in the sense of Meyerbeer, Halevy et al. It sounds like any contemporary Verdi with all his characteristics and flaws. So if you like Verdi you probably liked this one as well, if you were expecting a grand opéra you probably were disappointed. Mazzonis di Pralafera and Jean-Guy Lecat provide red-bricked columns on each side, a wall at the back and a painted decor with an otherwise empty stage (except cushions for Gaston’s aria in act III, hastily removed for the ballet). Beautiful the costumes shaped as idealized and colourful Middle Ages apparel. The ballet was the only modern bit in an otherwise traditional setting and although i liked some parts, the performers danced in a modern, hectic, nervous kind of style.
Speranza Scappucci does her best to keep it going though I again miss the extra bit to make the music sparkle. Marc Laho’s voice expands well, his registers equally even; a fine interpretation. Elain Alvarez and Roberto Scandiuzzi both had some issues with very low or high notes in act I. Maybe not warm enough? But in the following acts Scandiuzzi developed his beautiful bass voice and was a delight as Roger (and hermit). Elain Alvarez has a somewhat “slow” voice, her embellishments not very light and and the interpretation lacked the punch of the Verdi heroines. Overall i preferred her Hélène to her Elvira 2 years ago, but was not fully convinced either.
Bellina questa Cenerentola realizzata in coproduzione con il Teatro del Giglio di Lucca. Partendo dai costumi di Lele Luzzati (realizzati per una Cenerentola negli anni 70), Aldo Tarabella ed Enrico Musenich hanno realizzato scene molto belle con parti mobili che vengono spostati e ricomposti a vista, pannelli che sono dipinti su più lati per essere arrotolati e srotolati e dare cosí vita a diversi interni in modo veloce. Tutto ciò in uno stile che ricorda Lele Luzzati.
Un plauso a chi sta riportando la lirica a Cosenza e forse il pubblico inizierà ad apprezzare. Per il momento ho trovato il pubblico poco entusiasta, con alcuni disinteressati che parlano a voce alta, controllano cellulari e lasciano la suoneria ad alto volume (poco prima del rondo finale).