The unstaged, concert version of Berlioz’s Les Troyens presented by Seattle Opera last weekend had me rejoicing for a rare performance of this greatest of grand operas, half of whose superb music went unplayed.
Berlioz had hoped to see his five-act, five-hour version of the Aeneid mounted by the Paris Opéra, but after a fruitless wait of five years, he agreed to a reduced production at the smaller Théâtre Lyrique. Impressario Léon Carvalho would only agree to staging the last three acts set in Carthage, citing the expense of a first half depicting the siege of Troy (and a Trojan horse prop.)
Reluctantly, Berlioz complied and refashioned the second half into another five-act opera. By the time of its premiere in 1863, many of these changes were further compromised, and it is this version of Les Troyens a Carthage, recast and with cuts, into two halves with an intermission, that was offered in a semi-staged version last Friday at Seattle’s Opera House.
Seattle Symphony conductor emeritus Ludovic Morlot was warmly received after it was announced that, despite having lost his home to the wildfires in Los Angeles, he had insisted on appearing on the podium. He presided over a huge orchestra, which sprawled across the stage with the cello section set behind the first violins and the second violins on the right. This produced startling stereophonic effects and a delicate cushion of string sonorities as the story unfolded on the stage apron in front. Morlot clearly knows his Berlioz.
During the prelude, Queen Dido and her sister Anna (mezzo-sopranos J’nai Bridges and Kelley O’Connor) slowly draped the edge of the mylar-strewn stage with a luminous tube, symbolizing the oxhide strips which they encircled the exiled Trojans on a hill beside the sea. Having the chorus performing downstage with the rest of the cast would have been impracticable, so the chorus was upstage on risers. In this opera the chorus supercharges the action as a character. The Seattle Opera’s chorus rose to the challenge.
The duet Sa voix fait naître dans mon sein la dangereuse ivresse, Anna’s attempt to console the widowed queen, seemed tentative, possibly owing to frequent glances at the vocal score. Such moments of memory-checking tended to interrupt momentum, even for the chorus.
More charactersfiled in: first the court poet Iopas (tenor John Matthew Myers) announcing the arrival of the defeated Trojans, then the Trojans themselves (the priest Panthous bass Andrew Potter), Ascanius, son of Aeneas (soprano Tess Altiveros), and finally Aeneas (tenor Russell Thomas).
Up to this point, the measured and poised music might have been written by Mendelssohn, and I began to wonder when Berlioz would show up. That illusion evaporated with the sudden appearance of the queen’s minister Narbal (bass Adam Lau). Aeneas reveals himself, offering to fight alongside the Carthaginians. This is music of superhuman vigor, and it was beautifully realized by the ensemble.
The famous pantomime-ballet “Royal Hunt and Storm” opens Act IV, serving as an orchestral palate cleanser for what remained of the first half. I admired the inky orchestral color that accompanies Narbal’s aria De quels revers menaces-tu Carthage, sombre avenir? and bass Lau’s cellar-deep sound made a great impression. Then came the interval, and I wondered if this was the right place to stop.
Picking up after intermission, the second half of Act IV is the real meat of the opera. Myer’s meltingly lyric ode to the goddess of fertility is followed by a sequence of ensembles, all masterpieces. In the quintet, Dido, dazzled by Aeneas, finally overcomes her
misgivings about loving again. At this point, Berlioz had the excellent sense to pause the action with a hymn to the night. The septet is the highlight of the entire score, an enchanted lullaby in which the orchestra, chorus, and soloists merge — almost perfectly rendered.
Characters disperse, leaving Dido and Aeneas alone for the duet Par une telle nuit. Well sung though it was, Thomas stuck to his music stand, at the opposite side of the stage from Bridges. The distance meant all vocal balance was lost.
In Act V, the themes of departure and destiny dominate. Thomas gave an excellent if unidiomatic reading of Inutiles regrets! which may be the most technically thankless tenor aria in all the French repertoire, and his heroic sound frayed only slightly toward its close. The ghost of King Priam (baritone Richard L. Hodges), clad in a rumpled suit, sounded his rough, single-note warning, which added an unintended air of menace to the Stygian orchestration.
Aeneas exhorts his troops to board their ships, leaving for the harbor following a bitter duet in which Dido thinks him faithless and Aeneas assures her of his love, though bound by the gods to move on to found an empire. Dido’s “mad scene,” her unrestrained rage and the ensuing lament Adieu, fière cité, requires a singer of considerable vocal heft, and while Bridges lacked a steely edge, she brought off the gran scena beautifully.
The queen then decrees her own immolation, and the great funeral ceremony that follows is another study in darkest choral and instrumental color. Dido then prophesies the defeat of Rome at the hands of a future hero, Hannibal, and stabs herself. In her death throes, she realizes she was wrong: Carthage will instead fall to Rome. During the final choral imprecation against Aeneas, I reveled in the glory of this music — great on its own terms and grateful that Seattle audiences were hearing it at long last.
This is a very important account of the Seattle Opera’s phenomenal performance of the wonderful but very rarely and virtually never fully Berlioz opera. Though it was a “Concert “ rather than usually operatically staged version the excellent soloist singers dramatically acted together rather than just standing and facing the audience!
It’s also a contribution to Seattle’s Retirement Homes that on the Sunday afternoon performance Horizon, Mirabella and Skyline each provided a bus full of inhabitants to the wonderful Berlioz opera.