Texte paru dans: / Appeared in: Alpha |
||||
|
Reviewer: Bertil
van Boer
The myth of Orpheus has always
had a fascination for composers of opera. It is true that the entire genre
was largely launched by works by Jacopo Peri and Claudio Monteverdi (and
others, I might add), but the story took on an international dimension with
Luigi Rossi, whose L’Orfeo was performed in Paris, supported by Cardinal
Mazarin, in 1647. Rossi’s hopes for substantial largesse from his opera fell
victim to court intrigues in France, but the story itself seems to have
struck a chord. Of course, that is not to say that it doesn’t have pitfalls
that make setting the work difficult. Does one, for example, include
Euridice at the beginning, given that she dies? While tragically poignant,
it raises the issue of sudden death far too early. The main point is the
entrance of Orpheus into Hades to fetch her back. There’s lots of drama in
persuading Charon, calming Cerberus (shades of Fluffy in the Harry Potter
film) and placating the Furies. But persuading Persephone and Pluto seems
more of a debate than a musical inspiration, and above all there is of
course the inevitable tragedy of Orpheus being unable to keep the condition
of not looking at Euridice until they have exited the Netherworld. She is
lost (no sense in getting her back), and now what does Orpheus do? Many
composers circumvented this ending using a deus ex machina, usually Cupid or
Apollo or Jupiter, suddenly appearing and restoring Euridice to life as a
reward for Orpheus’s faithfulness. The real ending, with him being torn
apart by a group of Maenads, is hardly a satisfactory ending (as well as
being hard on Orpheus). What one thus has at hand is a story that is
tailor-made for opera, both dramatically and symbolically, but which
requires any composer to massage it to avoid the original complications of
the tale.
For the France of Louis XIV,
the symbolism was more important than the actual plot, given that his
preference was for a spectacle loaded with effects, dancing, and choral
interludes. His court composer, Jean-Baptiste Lully, apparently refused to
entertain it; his son Louis, however, did attempt it rather unsuccessfully
in 1690, and as late as 1740 Jean-Philippe Rameau abandoned the subject as
untenable. Other Orphean operas were composed in Italy, England, and
Germany, but these did not find their way into the French scene. Instead,
the material was used in various cantatas, where staging was not required,
and only the choicest portions of the tale could be extracted. This is
precisely what Marc-Antoine Charpentier did with his two works on this disc,
both composed between 1684–86. Since the composer was not really connected
directly to the royal court, he was able to sidestep Lully’s control by
composing these two works for Duchess Marie of Lorraine. Of the two cantatas (or if one will, a cantata and a hemi-demi-semi opera), the shorter is the first, where, after a softer and mournful prelude, the solo violin weaves a wandering tune which is intended to depict Orpheus proceeding through the various underworld caves. Accompanied by his harp, he softly complains of his own agony and need to find Eurydice or die in the attempt (ironic, since he is already in Hades). His music eases the burden of Tantalus and Ixion, both of whom in a floating recitative find solace in Orpheus’s words. He rebukes them in an arioso, whereupon both comment on the power of love lighting his way. All three then comment on love overcoming all. In the entire myth, this is but a momentary diversion, all done in a smooth and seamless manner. The tempos flow easily into each other, with a subtle string background. As a portion of the myth, however, the text is more important here than the flowing music. The second work, however, is much more operatic. It begins with a more conventional Overture, replete with soft flutes and discrete ornamentation, but soon the final section is a more lively dance in a major key as befits the joy of Euridice’s wedding. She and her nymphs gambol about on the sward, with her confident Daphné leading the integrated chorus in a strophic manner. Here Charpentier uses a bit of thematic material from his Overture. Both Énone and Aréthuse comment following a dance of the nymphs on the Arcadian delights of the scene. Euridice’s first aria is accompanied only by the continuo, but she manages a lyrical and light theme before the chorus returns. Here Charpentier punctuates everything with flutes before she screams “Ah!” Énone thinks it a metaphor for the sting of love, but Euridice’s recitative in minor key and with some close harmony indicates her demise. Meanwhile, Orpheus arrives just in time for a brief recitative in which Euridice passes away. Thereafter appear various choral laments before Apollo appears and urges him to seek her in the underworld. The act ends with choral laments in syllabic style and in a minor key, maintaining the tragic affect. In the second act, we meet Ixion, Tanatalus, and Tityus suffering from their torments, but in a major-key trio. Orpheus appears to rebuke them while accompanied in a slow march by phantoms (soft strings). Thereafter he encounters the Furies and, oddly enough, “Criminels.” The chorus is quite lively, consisting of short sections in varying tempos, all done homophonically, this is followed by even more shades dancing to a sort of ostinato, not quite a chaconne but more of a set of variations that increase in tempo as the dance proceeds. Of course, both Pluto and Persephone are set off by a brass choir of cornett and trombones for their fluid recitative dialogue. The latter then relates her own abduction, punctuated by choral refrains. Long story short, Orpheus does persuade Pluto in a series of recitatives, and in the end, we find choruses of happy shades and Furies all reluctant to have Orpheus leave Hades.
The
manuscript of this work ends with the second act, and therefore one doesn’t
know if he would have completed the story in a third. We must be content
with this, alas. As for the performance, it is uniformly excellent. There is
a nice integrated flow between vocalists and orchestra throughout, done in
keeping with the seamless style of the opera of the time. Since much of the
music depends upon the imagery found in the text and staging, there is a
certain static quality in a disc, one that would have been better served
with at DVD. Nonetheless, the excellence of the performance does find a
resonance with the story, and Charpentier’s music is uniformly charming and
fluid. Here is one disc that, if one wishes a depiction of the Orpheus
legend between Monteverdi and Gluck, should be quite satisfactory. Highly
recommended. | ||||
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
Cliquez l'un ou l'autre
bouton pour découvrir bien d'autres critiques de CD |
||||
