Unlike Wagner, when Berlioz wrote Les
Troyens he was not writing his
ideal opera. His ideal subject certainly, but the structure of the
opera is heavily dependent on the French grand opera
which developed in the earlier parts of the 19th
century. Berlioz was no particular admirer of Meyerbeer, but to do
justice to his subject he needed the resources of the Paris Opera.
And if the Paris Opera was to perform Les Troyens
then it had to conform in some ways to what grand opera
was expected to be. So we have a work in five acts, substantial, long
even, but not wildly ridiculous when compared to Halevy's La
Juive. There are ballets, grand
ceremonial scenes and public events against which private emotion can
be put.
You can press the comparison only so far, but with any staging of Les Troyens, if you ignore the work's grand opera background then you will lead yourself into difficulties. For the new production of Les Troyens at Covent Garden, director David McVicar and designers Es Devlin (sets) and Mortiz Junge (costumes) seem to have been conscious of this and gone for a self-consciously, extravagantly grand production. In terms of the sets, you did wonder whether their had gone a little too far and let grandeur develop into unnecessary excess.
The
opera was re-set to the 19th
century, to the period of the Crimean war, which took place in
Berlioz's lifetime. Act 1 opened with the populace appearing on and
in front of the walls of Troy. Costume wise, everything was pitch
perfect but the walls of Troy were a huge convex metallic structure
made of gantries, doors and such. It had a number of advantages, the
thrust forward with the reflective surface gave a good boost to the
choral sound and rendered it quite brilliant, and the galleries meant
that McVicar could get a goodly number of chorus onto the stage
without clogging the acting area, which is always a consideration
with big ensemble operas. The drawback was that the sheer surface
area of metal gave the setting a strange, Wellsian time-machine sort
of aura and, dare one say it, Les Mis.
This is the third
time that we have seen Anna Caterina Antonacci in the role of
Cassandre, we first saw her in the role at the Chatelet, under John
Eliot Gardiner, in 2003 and then subsequently in the David Pountney
production in Berlin, conducted by Donald Runnicles. She remains one of the great Cassandre's of our
day, conveying the heroine's tortured intensity and madness whilst
never having to resort to bizarre tics. I am not certain that Antonio
Pappano's conducting always did Antonacci the favours that it ought.
Covent Garden is quite a big house for Antonacci's voice in this
role, and there were times when Pappano could have been a little more
sympathetic. As it was he revelled in the luxury of Berlioz's orchestration as
created by the Royal Opera orchestra on terrific form.
Her Chorebe was
Fabio Capitanucci, darkly grained of voice, substantial of physical
presence, he sang with a nice sense of line. A little bit solid at
first, he gradually relaxed during the duet and the long scene
between Cassandre and Chorebe was one of the most profoundly
satisfying and touching accounts of it that I have heard.
For the
scene with Priam (Robert Lloyd) and Hecube (Pamela Helen Stephenson),
the walls opened to reveal darkness within and a rather dim video of
the sea on the back drop; the video developed into crashing waves
during the Lacoon narration. The gap in the walls brought forth a
procession, priests, an altar and thrones. Visually the costumes were
perfect, when Priam's daughters (in crinolines) gathered around the
throne it looked just like a Winterhalter painting of middle-European
Royalty. It's just that this historicsm looked a bit odd against the
metallic walls (looking rather more like Les Mis now that they were open).
Wth
the arrival of Robert Lloyd, it is perhaps time to mention the odd
synchronicity which accumulates around the casting of this opera. We
should have seen Antonacci as Didon under Davis at the Barbican but
she cancelled and so we saw Michelle de Young in the role; de Young
went on to sing Didon at the Met when we saw the opera there in 2003.
We saw Robert Lloyd as Narbal in 2003 at the Chatelet and at the Met.
As I have said, this was the third time we had seen Antonacci's
Cassandre. And when we saw the opera in Amsterdam, Eva Maria
Westbroek (Covent Garden's Didon) was Cassandre; also in Amsterdam
Enee was played by Bryan Hymel, a role he took as Covent Garden.
The
choreography for the athletic ballet in front of the altar was some
slightly embarrasing horseplay between soldier and children, but
then I have never seen this scene staged perfectly. At least the use
of lively children formed a nice contrast to the dignified entry of
the grieving Andromache (Sophia McGregor) and Astynax (Sebastian
Wright).
Bryan
Hymel managed Enee's tricky opening entry with bravura. He has a
spinto voice rather than a full blown heroic one, which means that he
is not quite as loud at times but has a degree more lyric facility.
Enee is a role which requires stamina certainly, but also the ability
to move the voice around. Hymel also has a nicely focussed voice which suits French opera well; though he sings Rodolpho, I can't help hoping that he keeps adding the French heroic roles to his repertoire. He will be singing again at Covent Garden next season in Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable (huge cheers).
McVicar's
staging was admirably unfussy, he tended to let such moments as the
Lacoon ensemble happen without the need to impose unnecessary fiddly
staging, keeping to simple dignity. With the arrival of the Trojan
Horse we came to one of the production's coups de theatre, a huge
horse's head made from abandoned weapons, quite stunning to look at
especially in the way it nodded and moved. But was it too much, you
have to wonder how much was compromised in order have the huge walls
(some of the heaviest kit ever used on the Covent Garden stage) and
the elaborate horse; would less have been more.
In all
the grand ceremonial scenes there was one major disappointment, the
extra brass remained firmly off stage. Having seen the Chatelet
production where much use was made of the extra brass on stage, I
found this rather disappointing; the processional marches almost seem to call for on-stage bands.
Enee's
scene with the ghost of Hector (Jihoon Kim) took place, not in its
own space, but simply in the shadow of the walls (one of the
compromises perhaps). But the scene was dramatically effective
nonetheless, with the very boyish Ascagne of Barbara Senator. The
final powerful scene with the suicide of the Trojan Women took place
in the same interstitial space, but when the distant Trojan Horse
burst into flames itself then you forgave the production everything.
The Royal Opera in Act 3 of Les Troyens |
For
the next act we moved to North Africa. The set, now concave not
convex, was similarly huge forming a substantial amphitheatre-like
backdrop. Evoking a North African adobe townscape, it also
brilliantly captured the differences between Troy and Carthage. Like
the set for Troy, the chorus appeared on the balconies of the city
scape, leaving the stage area generally clear.
For
the first Carthaginian act the central area was taken up by a huge model of Carthage that the
celebrations took place on and around. (Yet more synchronicity, as
this must be the third or fourth time we've seen a model used in this
scene). Eva Maria Westbroek was a radiant Didon, easily commanding
and generous of tone, Hanna Hip was her sister Anna and the two
blended nicely in the duet. The following drama with the entry of the
Trojans and Iarbas's attack neatly captured the nascent interest
between Didon and Enee.
For
the Royal Hunt and Storm we remained in the city-scape amphitheatre
but with a gap opened up so that we could see the trees beyond.
Andrew George's imaginative choreography admirably followed the
libretto, thus showing that sticking to Berlioz's instructions really does work (David McVicar and Richard Jones are the only directors to have stuck to the libretto here, out of a total of five productions seen so far). One
of the curiosities of the way the Royal Opera House mounts big productions is that the dancers, all admirable, were
freelance and not members of the Royal Ballet.
Brindley
Sherratt as Narbal and Hanna Hip made their duet (or double aria),
work dramatically as well as musically. Sometimes this piece can feel
as if the director thinks it unnecessary, but there was no hint of
that from McVicar. For all its faults, one of the admirable things
about this production was the way that it took the opera as Berlioz
wrote it and then staged it, rather than trying to turn the piece
into something else.
We
had some suitably erotic and exotic dance for the ballet sequence (choreography by Andrew George),
followed by Ji-Min Park's glorious performance of Iopas's lovely
solo. Ji-Min Park used his beautifully even, strong lyric tenor voice
to great effect here. The addition of lanterns and the dimming of
lights rendered the space more intimate and more exotic. The
ensembles were neatly and effectively staged, with the chorus simply
wandering on (and off) when needed and not getting in the way. Then as night
fell, just leaving the lanterns and the windows of the city scape
lit, McVicar and Devlin (with lighting designer Wolfgang Gobbel)
provided a magical backdrop for the love duet. Using relatively simple stagecraft, McVicar elegantly followed the music so that the singers discreetly evaporated after they were needed just as the music's focus turns from the ensemble to the two protagonists on their own. (A moment that I always think sounds like a musical re-creation of the couple walking out onto the terrace into the stars, leaving the court behind). Perhaps one little carp, the city model now suspended upside down above the stage was lit in such a way as to seem almost like a descending space-ship.
Hymel
and Westbroek were in lovely voice here, blending and balancing
beautifully, creating a real frisson in their singing. It helped that
Hymel has a good, substantial stage presence so that the two looked
good as a couple. They also created a believable electric connection
between the two of them, something that had been clearly building
during the preceding acts.
The
advent of Mercury at the end was, I think, a mis-step. Voiced off
stage by Daniel Grice, a dancer appeared as a huge winged figure that
looked more Star Wars than Greek mythology.
For
the final act, the city-scape was fractured and the model of Carthage
lay in pieces. Ed Lyon sang Hylas's solo suspended in a cage high
above the stage; the height not affecting the great lyric beauty of
Lyon's solo. Adrian Clarke and Jeremy White were similarly effective
as the two soldiers.
Throughout
much of the action, but never spotlighted, we had the Panthee of
Ashley Holland. Holland provided an intelligently supportive role,
fitting in appositely; never an overly dominating figure, but always
just right.
Inutiles regrets
is the great killer of the opera. Having kept his hero alive over the preceding four
taxing acts, Berlioz gives him his biggest challenge. Hymel sang it
with passion, commitment and stupendous stamina, complete with a
ringing top note. The role is clearly a stretch for him but not too
far, and the benefits from hearing his nicely flexible but firm tones
in this type of role were admirable. In terms of the open quality of
his voice he reminded me not so much of Ben Heppner as of Jon
Vickers.
The
final scene between Hymel and Westbroek was as dramatically
passionate and as musically apposite as you could wish for. It was
followed by Westbroek's heartbreaking solo scene. The final funeral
pyre was perhaps a little underwhelming, but the musical contribution
at the close was very strong indeed. Westbroek is a fine Didon, both
commanding and generous of tone, but with the closing scenes she was
dramatically superb and swept everything away.
During
the final chorus the Trojan horse re-appears, re-configured as a huge
figure which loomed over the chorus. An effect which was meant to be
grand, but seemed frankly naff, a little too much like the Citroen
car advert.
The
chorus, at full strength with extra chorus, were on terrific form
throughout the opera. There is a lot of varied chorus work, grand
opera expected that, and the
Covent Garden chorus seems to have really relished the opportunities.
The orchestra were on similarly impressive form. Much of the musical
depth of the piece comes from Berlioz's orchestral commentary and
Pappano and the orchestra ensured that this received maximum
attention. Pappano commanded both the sweep and the detail, his way
with Berlioz's score was at times vividly exciting, but the more
intimate scenes were not swept away either.
The
Royal Opera last performed Les Troyens
in 1972 (Though there were performances in the 1990's by Scottish
Opera of Tim Albery's production). Let is hope we don't have to wait
such a long time for their next performance.