Manœuvres
Donizetti: La Fille du Regiment, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 29 January 2007
In the taxonomy of entertainment, Donizetti’s La Fille du Regiment, written for the French stage in 1840 should be classed as musical comedy: the plot follows the adventures of the two principals and depends on the comedic abilities of the supporting cast as much as, if not more than, their vocal prowess as well as on the stage direction and the choreography; one is amused, rather than moved, by their predicaments. What makes this production transcend the genre are the vocal (and physical) gymnastics of the hero and heroine, and the sheer musicality and character acting ability of the experienced support. But what holds the whole production together is the interpretation of the director Laurent Pelly and his team, imaginative and original yet totally in sympathy with the spirit of the work. (Not avoiding the nostalgic look at Napoleonic times popular with the original French audience.) I start by giving credit where credit is due.
I first consciously encountered Pelly in the production of L’Elisir d’Amore, seen in Paris in November 2006 (Bastille Days, OM No.260) when I compared him to Peter Stein and to the film director Eric Rohmer. The present production supports this view, sharing the same intimacy. Further, I have since realised that Pelly also directed Rameau’s Platée, seen at the Palais Garnier in May 2006 (Loose Ends, OM No.253). All three of these involved the same production team: Pelly, himself, designs the costumes, Agathe Mélinand is associate director and responsible for the dialogue, Chantal Thomas is set designer, Joël Adam does the lighting and the choreographer is Laura Scozzi. They must clearly work as a closely-knit team but I must single out the handling of the chorus (in this case the Regiment) as particularly notable – their opening quasi-comic dance grabbed the attention and set the spirit for the whole evening’s wonderfully integrated performance. Look out for Hansel und Gretel at Glyndebourne.
The foundling, Marie, adopted by soldiers of the 21st French regiment under Sergeant Sulpice, has fallen in love with the Tyrolean partisan, Tonio, who joins the regiment to make him an eligible candidate for her hand. The romance is thwarted by the Marquise de Berkenfield, claiming to be Marie’s aunt (later turning out to be her mother) who tears Marie away to her castle in order to turn her into a suitable match for Duke Scipio of Crackentorp. The regiment comes to Marie’s rescue but there are further complications when, out of filial duty, she is prepared to accept. At the last moment the Marquise relents and all ends happily.
Each member of the supporting cast gave a beautifully detailed characterisation of their role. Alessandro Corbelli, with a fine bel canto baritone, played the ubiquitous Sgt Sulpice, vainly trying to manipulate every situation. Felicity Palmer was in magnificent voice as the Marquise, but portraying vulnerability in the second act. Her piano accompaniment of Marie’s singing lesson was as superb as it was unexpected. Donald Maxwell was subtle as the major-domo Hortensius and Dawn French performed the speaking part of the Duchess in a devastating mixture of French and English.
Now, to the principals, whom everything else supports and are perhaps the reason for most of the packed house to be there: Marie was sung by Natalie Dessay, whose clear tones and charming personality seem to have caught the imagination of radio presenters who have been queuing up to chat her up on air. Yes, she is delightful, particularly as dressed in the first act in androgynous dungarees and t-shirt. Here she is the young tomboy, acting as skivvy to the regiment, ironing the fronts of their shirts while she sings of her newfound love. (She never irons the sleeves. Perhaps it is not possible to iron sleeves in time to music?) In the second act she conveys her partially transformed persona, her singing conveying the subtleties. Her characterisation must take its place among the legendary interpretations of the past: Jenny Lind who gave the first London performances in 1847, Lily Pons in New York during the war and, of recent memory, Joan Sutherland with a young sensation, Pavarotti, in 1966. It seems unlikely that any of Dessay’s predecessors subjected themselves to being thrown around and inverted by the chorus while still retaining the purity and accuracy of the high notes. From contemporary pictures it would seem they were just not dressed for it!
The other sensation was the Peruvian tenor, Juan Diego Flórez, not yet a household name but on the way there. It is rumoured that Pavarotti has named him as his successor in the role but this is misleading and not necessary. His voice sings for itself! His is a clear subtle lyric tenor voice, beautifully controlled – bel canto rather than can belto. His nine sustained high Cs in the aria Ah! Mes amis… were sung with almost nonchalant sustained accuracy. This was just the peak (so to speak) of a beautiful performance enhanced by a modest and attractive stage personality. He and Dessay have a pair of perfectly matched voices, not the most powerful around but among the most musical. Both have room to expand.
On this occasion it was necessary to make my own booking which I did at a late stage by searching the ROH web-site, avoiding seats warning of lack of visibility, audibility, accessibility or comfort, to find two good stalls. I can recommend again the Garden Path from Oxford – 4.15pm bus from Thornhill, arriving ROH as it opens to enjoy pre-booked first course in the Crush Room, pudding at same table in the interval, 11pm bus from Victoria to be in bed by 1am, were it not for the obligatory armagnac nightcap to celebrate another great performance! Elitist self-indulgence maybe and not cheap but why not try it?
Donizetti: La Fille du Regiment, Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, 29 January 2007
In the taxonomy of entertainment, Donizetti’s La Fille du Regiment, written for the French stage in 1840 should be classed as musical comedy: the plot follows the adventures of the two principals and depends on the comedic abilities of the supporting cast as much as, if not more than, their vocal prowess as well as on the stage direction and the choreography; one is amused, rather than moved, by their predicaments. What makes this production transcend the genre are the vocal (and physical) gymnastics of the hero and heroine, and the sheer musicality and character acting ability of the experienced support. But what holds the whole production together is the interpretation of the director Laurent Pelly and his team, imaginative and original yet totally in sympathy with the spirit of the work. (Not avoiding the nostalgic look at Napoleonic times popular with the original French audience.) I start by giving credit where credit is due.
I first consciously encountered Pelly in the production of L’Elisir d’Amore, seen in Paris in November 2006 (Bastille Days, OM No.260) when I compared him to Peter Stein and to the film director Eric Rohmer. The present production supports this view, sharing the same intimacy. Further, I have since realised that Pelly also directed Rameau’s Platée, seen at the Palais Garnier in May 2006 (Loose Ends, OM No.253). All three of these involved the same production team: Pelly, himself, designs the costumes, Agathe Mélinand is associate director and responsible for the dialogue, Chantal Thomas is set designer, Joël Adam does the lighting and the choreographer is Laura Scozzi. They must clearly work as a closely-knit team but I must single out the handling of the chorus (in this case the Regiment) as particularly notable – their opening quasi-comic dance grabbed the attention and set the spirit for the whole evening’s wonderfully integrated performance. Look out for Hansel und Gretel at Glyndebourne.
The foundling, Marie, adopted by soldiers of the 21st French regiment under Sergeant Sulpice, has fallen in love with the Tyrolean partisan, Tonio, who joins the regiment to make him an eligible candidate for her hand. The romance is thwarted by the Marquise de Berkenfield, claiming to be Marie’s aunt (later turning out to be her mother) who tears Marie away to her castle in order to turn her into a suitable match for Duke Scipio of Crackentorp. The regiment comes to Marie’s rescue but there are further complications when, out of filial duty, she is prepared to accept. At the last moment the Marquise relents and all ends happily.
Each member of the supporting cast gave a beautifully detailed characterisation of their role. Alessandro Corbelli, with a fine bel canto baritone, played the ubiquitous Sgt Sulpice, vainly trying to manipulate every situation. Felicity Palmer was in magnificent voice as the Marquise, but portraying vulnerability in the second act. Her piano accompaniment of Marie’s singing lesson was as superb as it was unexpected. Donald Maxwell was subtle as the major-domo Hortensius and Dawn French performed the speaking part of the Duchess in a devastating mixture of French and English.
Now, to the principals, whom everything else supports and are perhaps the reason for most of the packed house to be there: Marie was sung by Natalie Dessay, whose clear tones and charming personality seem to have caught the imagination of radio presenters who have been queuing up to chat her up on air. Yes, she is delightful, particularly as dressed in the first act in androgynous dungarees and t-shirt. Here she is the young tomboy, acting as skivvy to the regiment, ironing the fronts of their shirts while she sings of her newfound love. (She never irons the sleeves. Perhaps it is not possible to iron sleeves in time to music?) In the second act she conveys her partially transformed persona, her singing conveying the subtleties. Her characterisation must take its place among the legendary interpretations of the past: Jenny Lind who gave the first London performances in 1847, Lily Pons in New York during the war and, of recent memory, Joan Sutherland with a young sensation, Pavarotti, in 1966. It seems unlikely that any of Dessay’s predecessors subjected themselves to being thrown around and inverted by the chorus while still retaining the purity and accuracy of the high notes. From contemporary pictures it would seem they were just not dressed for it!
The other sensation was the Peruvian tenor, Juan Diego Flórez, not yet a household name but on the way there. It is rumoured that Pavarotti has named him as his successor in the role but this is misleading and not necessary. His voice sings for itself! His is a clear subtle lyric tenor voice, beautifully controlled – bel canto rather than can belto. His nine sustained high Cs in the aria Ah! Mes amis… were sung with almost nonchalant sustained accuracy. This was just the peak (so to speak) of a beautiful performance enhanced by a modest and attractive stage personality. He and Dessay have a pair of perfectly matched voices, not the most powerful around but among the most musical. Both have room to expand.
On this occasion it was necessary to make my own booking which I did at a late stage by searching the ROH web-site, avoiding seats warning of lack of visibility, audibility, accessibility or comfort, to find two good stalls. I can recommend again the Garden Path from Oxford – 4.15pm bus from Thornhill, arriving ROH as it opens to enjoy pre-booked first course in the Crush Room, pudding at same table in the interval, 11pm bus from Victoria to be in bed by 1am, were it not for the obligatory armagnac nightcap to celebrate another great performance! Elitist self-indulgence maybe and not cheap but why not try it?