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Opera News |
Stephen J. Mudge |
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Berlioz: La damnation de Faust, Paris, Opera Bastille, 8. Dezember 2015 |
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La Damnation de Faust
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NO SEASON AT THE PARIS OPERA is ever free of scandal, and Stéphane Lissner's
first season at the “Grande boutique” is no exception. La Damnation de
Faust, Berlioz's “légende dramatique” is a dramatic challenge to any
producer due to its heterogeneous construction, being neither oratorio nor
opera. Imagery rather than an anecdotal approach is invited, but director
Alvis Hermanis and his team were greeted with overwhelming booing at the
premiere of the new production on December 8, conducted by music director
Philippe Jordan.
The problem here was a concept that stretched the
music beyond anything that could be imagined either by the composer or by
Goethe, whose writing inspired the work. Hermanis sees a
twenty-first-century Faust in the disabled English scientist Stephen Hawking
and a population faced with the challenge of leaving earth to populate
Mars—a reference to the Mars One project, making this the metaphysical
journey on which Méphistophélès sends Faust. While cosmic references abound
in the work, these belong to a world of supernatural Christian faith, and to
paste scientific reasoning onto the libretto undermines the dilemma of the
characters.
Dominique Mercy, the dancer playing Hawking in his
wheelchair, traversed the stage with mechanical diligence, but beside him
Jonas Kaufmann looked ill at ease as a bespectacled Faust. During the first
half of the evening Kaufmann’s baritonal coloring of the music lacked tenor
overtones, but fortunately he hit form in the love music, traversing the
high tessitura with great skill before unleashing the full force of his
voice in a show stopping “Invocation à la nature.” The scantily clad
dancers, whose “flea” choreography by Alla Sigalova had been competently
wriggled, suggested something of the sensuality of the love duet. This was
not shared by Faust and Marguerite, who stood with lonely indifference
either side of Hawking.
It was small wonder that Sophie Koch's mezzo
sounded fussed and unsteady in “D'amour l'ardente flame,” for although many
of the audience would not be adverse to consuming a dozen garlic-infused
snails, the sight of copulating gastropods—in sci-fi videos by Katrina
Neelburga projected against the producer's boxy sets—produced at first
laughter, and then ill-mannered shouts of protest as Koch wheeled on Hawking
during the introduction to the aria, making it impossible to enjoy Jordan's
sumptuous orchestral accompaniment. Jordan was attentive as ever to detail,
but, perhaps influenced by the would-be high seriousness of the production,
did not deliver the sparky sharp edges of the score, with staid tempos and
an orchestra of moderate precision.
Something of the spirit of the
work was captured by Bryn Terfel's Méphistophélès who, despite some rough
tone, brought urbane energy to the proceedings as a white-coated scientist
in an evening that flagged under its concept. The chorus, in excellent form,
were generally left standing in uninteresting serried ranks, not enlivened
by Edwin Crossley-Moser's vigorous Brander, whose music lay too low for the
baritone. As more scientific platitudes flashed across the scene, a few
audience members shouted out their indifference to these lofty thoughts
about the future of the planet.
Worse was to come in the epilogue of
the work, Marguerite's apotheosis, sweetly announced by the celestial voice
of soprano Sophie Claisse. This became not the heroine's heavenly
assumption, but a miracle for Hawking who was lifted out of his power-chair
and tortuously found use of his paralyzed limbs (Mercy managed the
director’s bidding well enough). It was a scene of tasteless horror.
Kaufmann took his place in Hawking’s wheelchair and the curtain fell on an
evening best seen with eyes wide shut.
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