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Reviewer: 
 David 
Vickers Quinault’s libretto for Amadis de Gaule (1684) adapts a medieval Spanish tale of a hero who loves the British princess Oriane, but they both have to contend with the vengeful assaults of their sorcerous enemies Arcabonne and Arcalaüs, whose brother Ardan Canile was slain by Amadis – although Arcabonne becomes compromised by her hopeless love for the hero who once saved her life anonymously. Christophe Rousset directs from the harpsichord with rhythmical zest and contrasting shades of light and dark, such as the ebbing and flowing contours of tripping solo airs and cheerful choruses in the prologue which compares Louis XIV to a reincarnated Amadis (on account of his chivalry, valour and faithfulness as a lover, obviously). 
 
In Act 1, Judith van Wanroij’s 
agitated Oriane is quick to falsely suspect Amadis of infidelity prior to a 
bellicose divertissement presenting a knightly tournament (featuring thrilling 
trumpets and swaggering timpani); but her most breathtaking moment is the 
centrepiece of Act 4 when Amadis appears to be dead and she yearns to follow him 
(‘Il m’appelle; je le vais suivre’). Two outstanding monologue airs are in Act 
2, set in a forest: Ingrid Perruche’s histrionic Arcabonne admits her 
lovesickness for the unknown hero who once saved her life in ‘Amour que veux-tu 
de moi?’; a few scenes later, the title-hero’s attempt to conceal his melancholy 
in the shadows of the trees in ‘Bois épais, redouble ton ombre’ is sung ardently 
by Cyril Auvity. Powerful projection better suits Edwin Crossley-Mercer’s dark 
sorcerer Arcalaüs; after he summons his infernal demons to fight Amadis, a 
divertissement conveys how they fail to overcome the hero in combat but then 
bewitch him by disguising themselves as nymphs and shepherds singing a pastoral 
hymn to love. A quickfire series of set pieces in Act 3 includes a chorus 
counterpointing doleful prisoners with their cruel demonic captors (‘Ciel! 
finissez nos peines’), the arrival of the haughty Arcabonne on a dragon 
(difficult to illustrate in concert) and an astonishing orchestral recitative 
for the apparition of the ghost of Ardan Canile to prophesy his sister’s doom 
(sung solemnly by Pierrick Boisseau). Les Talens Lyriques’ expertly played grand 
chaconne at the opera’s conclusion is another fine testament to Rousset’s 
Lulliste fascination.  | |
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