Monday 28 April 2014

Striking Sparks Out of Classical Myth

Opera Atelier's second production of the season is a revival and "completion" of Persée by Lully, a work which the company has performed twice before.  I say completion, because it was in this third production that designer Gerard Gauci finally completed all of the complex and elaborate set pieces he had previously imagined for this work.


Persée was originally staged in 1682 at the Palais-Royale in Paris, frequently performed after that to great acclaim and then remounted for the official opening of the Opéra-Royal at Versailles in 1770, on the occasion of the wedding of Marie-Antoinette to the Dauphin, the future King Louis XVI.  This is all worth mentioning, because the work was plainly written to be staged on a royal budget as a splendid spectacle: frequent and lavish set changes, spectacular effects (not least of which are two deus ex machina sequences) and a large cast.  All these resources were devoted to staging a mythical story which displays all the typical soap-opera complexities of the old classic Greek and Roman myths.


Much of the story is unfamiliar to many people today, apart from the famous myth of the Gorgon Medusa and the clever way in which Perseus overcomes her, strikes off her head, and then puts it to a better use.  This happens in the 3rd of the opera's 5 acts.


Given the early date (1682) this piece definitely predates the arrival in France of the operatic structure of recitative and aria which had evolved in Italy.  Lully, himself of Italian birth, eschewed the Italian style in his works.  The French opera of the seventeenth century could better be described as an "opera-ballet".  Solo singers representing the characters sing their dialogue and their inward reflections in a kind of extended flowing recitative, which occasionally bursts out into sustained melody that blends the concept of the aria within the recitative.  An offstage chorus contributes more ceremonial public utterances, and ballet dancers on stage contribute to the action as well as populating the crowd scenes.


In Opera Atelier's staging, this is a very dark opera.  It's certainly a dark and frightening story (but more on that in a minute), but here the darkness extends to the sets, costumes, and -- to some extent -- the lighting.  The set is framed by elaborate curtain legs of red with gold decoration, but the red is dark and the gold is dim, not bright certainly.  The women's voluminous dresses are in what could be bright colours but each one appears to be overlaid by a dark sheer material which dampens the colour down and dims the overall effect.  Luxurious this production certainly is, but not nearly as bright and vibrantly coloured as some other excursions from this company!


The darkest, and most eye-catching set by far is the cavern of the Gorgons in Act III.  That's ironic, because here and here only we encounter undoubted comedy.  Opera Atelier is well-known for wanting to up the comic ante in virtually all their shows, but I wonder if the comedic note was struck as forcefully for the French court?  Whatever the case, with the parts of Méduse (Medusa) and her sisters assigned to a baritone, a bass, and a tenor, the audience cannot but laugh as Méduse sings of how beautiful she used to be.  The laughs, of course, were accentuated when the three men in question began preening and prancing about the stage in a style I would have to call "high camp".


Musically, the production was most remarkable for the creation of a "double" continuo group, one on each end of the orchestra pit, to assist the frequent use of the downstage corners by the singers.  As was customary in the time of Lully, the theorbo or bass lute played a substantial part in each continuo group, adding piquant sonorities not usually heard in later Baroque music.  As ever, the Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra and Chorus contributed clean, crisp playing and singing under the sensitive direction of conductor David Fallis.


Many of the soloists were favourites of the Opera Atelier audience, and with good reason.  This company tends to use young singers, but they are definitely masters of their art, and the quality of performance is always remarkable.  Highlights for me were the impressive dramatic quality of the Queen, Cassiope, as performed by soprano Carla Huhtanen.  I've seen her a number of times in comic soubrette roles, so it was a pleasure to hear her stretch herself to great effect in a more serious vein.  In the pivotal role of Mérope, the Queen's sister, soprano Peggy Kriha Dye encompassed a huge range of emotional displays with singing of great beauty and clarity. 


Among the men, Olivier Duquerre sang powerfully as the King, Céphée, and was appropriately different as Méduse, with a more mincing tone quality.  Baritone Vasil Garvanliev, another Opera Atelier veteran, sang crisply and cleanly in the many rapid counterpoint passages assigned to the villainous Phinée.  Tenor Christopher Enns, making his Opera Atelier debut, sang with ringing tone and emotional sense in the title role of Persée which is actually not a very large part compared to some of the others.


Due to the divine intervention of the goddess Venus (sung divinely by soprano Meghan Lindsay from her descending cloud bank), the story finally reaches its appointed happy ending, in the only scene where the setting and costumes become notably lighter-toned.  After all the dramatic contortions of the previous four acts, I was finally reminded of a famous line from Oscar Wilde:  "The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily.  That is what fiction means."


Persée was a splendid production and performance of a dramatic work of substance and power.  I wish the company the best of travels as they proceed to the Opéra-Royal in Versailles.  There, in a few weeks, they will perform the piece for the first time in that setting since it was staged to open the theatre 244 years ago!


Toi, toi, toi!

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