Jean-Philippe Rameau (1683-1764) left two very different versions of his tragédie en musique Zoroastre: the first, in 1749, suffered from cabals and the work was withdrawn from the repertory. Rameau gave it a thoroughgoing revision in 1756. At this time, he was at the height of his powers. Melody, harmony, orchestration and choral writing no longer held any secrets for him. Zoroastre brought still further innovation. For the first time, he dispensed with a prologue, and turned the overture into a philosophical ‘program’, the struggle between day and night, between good and evil.

The 1749 version is entirely governed by avant-garde ideas; Zoroastre resembles Tamino in The Magic Flute, but two generations earlier. This disconcerted some of the audience: Zoroastre was a moral, social and philosophical opera. The 1749 version has never been revived in modern times. Alexis Kossenko takes up the challenge with zest, accompanied by an outstanding cast including Véronique Gens, Jodie Devos, Reinoud Van Mechelen, Mathias Vidal and Tassis Christoyannis.

REVIEW:

For listeners more used to English Baroque, this example of high French Baroque will require a big adjustment: every element – aria, duet, chorus, instrumental interlude – is short and thick with text; the feminine ending of each musical line reinforces the Gallic character of the whole.

The chorus and line-up of soloists is first-rate, with a suitably menacing Abramane (Tassis Christoyannis) and a witchy Érinice (Véronique Gens); with a gorgeously pure-toned Amélite (Jodie Devos), and an expressive and clarion-voiced Zoroastre (Reinoud van Mechelen). The instrumental numbers (notably the sarabands) are beautifully done, with the weather – lashings of thunder and lightning – forcefully dramatised throughout.

-- BBC Music Magazine

Véronique Gens’s version of La Voix humaine has been eagerly awaited! This ‘lyric tragedy in one act’ might have been written for her, so ideally suited are her feeling for language and her dramatic intensity to Poulenc’s monologue on a text by Jean Cocteau, composed in 1958. This is a far cry from the ‘light’ Poulenc of the 1920s. Cocteau paid him the highest compliment: ‘Dear Francis, you have fixed, once and for all, the way to speak my text.’ Véronique Gens confesses that she had always wanted to perform and record this piece; now she has achieved her ambition, in close partnership with the Orchestre National de Lille under its music director Alexandre Bloch. Also featured on the album is the Sinfonietta: this is in fact a genuine symphony, but, as Nicolas Southon writes, ‘there is no denying that the work – commissioned by the BBC in 1947 – has a freshness and a freedom of tone that justify its title’.

REVIEW:

La voix humaine is a monodrama. Gens had long wished to sing and record the piece, and was asked to perform it many times. She waited till she was ready for such a demanding piece, a work she must carry for forty minutes of, at times, very intense solo singing. Poulenc’s favourite soprano Denise Duval performed it first. She almost co-composed the piece.

It is clear that Madame Gens has really thought through the work and what it requires. Her decision to wait to be certain before she was ready to tackle this piece would seem to have paid off handsomely. This is an outstanding interpretation, the right artist recording the right work at the right time. That top C is nailed alright, and at the few other moments of “real singing” her familiar sound and line are as eloquent as usual. But the rest, the ‘heightened talking’, is equally persuasive, realistic and moving. Of course, that realism is also distressing, as we eavesdrop on deep personal anguish. At one point, Elle confesses to a suicide attempt. Some listeners will surely find the work rather harrowing, not one for everyday listening. But if one of the duties of art is to portray life in all its grimness as well as all its glory, then La voix humaine should be heard.

-- MusicWeb International

The injustices of history are made to be redressed. Here a cast of international singers, under the dynamic direction of Gergely Madaras, devotes itself with conviction to the task of reviving one of the forgotten glories of French Romantic opera. Hulda, completed in 1885, was never staged in César Franck’s lifetime. This gory medieval legend recounts the multiple acts of vengeance its heroine inflicts on the Aslak clan, which slaughtered her family, and on her unfaithful lover Eiolf. The ferocious performance of American soprano Jennifer Holloway in the title role is matched by the sinister presentiments of her French colleague Véronique Gens and the tender outbursts of Dutch soprano Judith van Wanroij. Although the imaginary Norwegian setting brings Wagner to mind, Franck continues the tradition of French grand-opéra while adopting the contemporary Verdian idiom. The intensity of the action is reflected in harmonic and instrumental experiments that place Franck in the forefront of the modernists of his time. The inventiveness of the ballet is matched only by the splendour of the choral writing. How could such a masterpiece have languished in oblivion for so long? Quite simply, because it was deliberately buried by Franck's pupils, who preferred to keep for themselves the glory of personifying the French operatic revival.

The ‘My First’ album series from Naxos is the ideal springboard for a lifelong journey through classical music. Each selection is carefully tailored for younger listeners and includes famous tracks as well as unexpected gems. The booklet is full of information on every piece of music. Unique and imaginative, these CDs will open a door to a wonderful world that children and parents can discover together.

CONTENTS:

• My First CLASSICAL MUSIC Album
• My First MOZART Album
• My First BEETHOVEN Album
• My First TCHAIKOVSKY Album
• My First PIANO Album
• My First VIOLIN Album
• My First BALLET Album
• My First LULLABY Album
• My First ORCHESTRA Album

Shortlisted for the Gramophone Awards!

Normandy in the Années Folles. Romantic encounters, changes of identity and unexpected comic twists: in Passionnément, André Messager places himself at the intersection of café-concert, American popular music and French operetta. The score is swept along with great spirit by Véronique Gens, Étienne Dupuis, Nicole Car and a team of enthusiastic soloists accompanied by the Münchner Rundfunkorchester under Stefan Blunier. As witty as Messager’s music, the libretto, with its flavor of boulevard theatre, offers a genuine manifesto of the French spirit in the years after the First World War.

REVIEW:

Heading the cast is the distinguished soprano Véronique Gens in the role of Ketty, an American, former music-hall star. Gens sings beautifully, displaying her artistry and providing the subtleties to capture each mood. Undoubtedly the best-known aria from Passionnément is the act two waltz-song where Robert is missing being with Ketty (Margaret) and is anxious that his love for her should be reciprocated. Clearly savouring the celebrated waltz-song, Dupuis sings with warmth, successfully creating an entirely captivating mood.

This revival of Passionnément was recorded live during concert performances in 2020 at the Prinzregententheater, Munich and broadcast live. From what I understand to be a tricky live acoustic, the sound engineers have achieved successful results. As usual, the book is a bilingual edition (English and French) and it's hard to find fault with such detailed and extensive notes. Included is the complete libretto both sung and spoken, a synopsis and five interesting and helpful booklet essays. Bringing its 'French opera' series up to volume 28, Bru Zane's release of Messager's feelgood musical comedy Passionnément receives my wholehearted endorsement.

– MusicWeb International

Shortlisted for the Gramophone Awards!

This programme marks the eagerly awaited return of Véronique Gens to Baroque music and Lully, in which she made a name for herself at the start of her career. It presents airs from Atys, Persée, Alceste, Proserpine, Le Triomphe de l’Amour and other works by Louis XIV’s famous composer, but also several by Marc-Antoine Charpentier (Médée), Henry Desmarets and Pascal Collasse. Whether well known, rare or in some cases even unpublished, all of them present roles for powerful women whose love is unrequited: dark passions, bitter laments, jealousy, vengeance, the type of dramatic characters that Véronique Gens embodies with all the charisma that has made her reputation. This recording is also the result of an encounter with the youthful ensemble Les Surprises, founded and directed by Louis-Noël Bestion de Camboulas. Together they conceived this programme, which mingles airs, dances and choruses, in collaboration with the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles.

 

REVIEW:

 

The voice remains in remarkable condition, as strongly radiant, firm and secure as ever with powerful chest notes. And of course the characteristics that have made her so prized in this repertoire, the perfect shaping of line and outstanding diction, remain, still more finely honed.

 

– Opera

Médée, a tragedy in a prologue and five acts on a libretto by Thomas Corneille, was Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s first and last collaboration with the Académie Royale de Musique. The work was premiered on 4 December 1693, when Charpentier was exactly fifty years old and at the height of his career. Louis XIV attended the performance, proving that it was an eagerly awaited event. Yet this sombre drama, which disconcerted the public, was withdrawn after just ten performances, and not heard again until 1976. A specialist in the French repertory and a close associate of the Centre de musique baroque de Versailles, where he has followed all the advances in research and historically informed performance for thirty-five years, Hervé Niquet has endeavoured, in presenting this new Médée, scrupulously to apply all the scholarly findings available to us today.

Dante Alighieri, born in Florence in 1265, was at once a poet and an important political figure of his time. His celebrated Divine Comedy relates his supposed descent to Hell and slow ascent to Paradise. Godard’s operatic treatment of his life (1890) skilfully juxtaposes the political milieu – crowd scenes in Florence and the quarrel between Guelfs and Ghibellines – with the expression of the courtly love he feels for Beatrice, betrothed to his friend Bardi. The most remarkable element of the opera is the integration of a ‘Vision’ that is nothing less than a synthesis of the Divine Comedy set to music. Its third act is built around a fantasy ‘Hell’ and ‘Paradise’, featuring an Apparition of Virgil, Chorus of the Damned, Infernal Whirlwind, Divine Radiance and Apotheosis of Beatrice. Godard is here at the peak of his melodic inspiration and compositional mastery, in a style that brings Gounod up to date and need not fear comparison with Massenet.

REVIEW:

In this musically and stylistically adept performance, the listener will be distressed only by a lack of vocal weight in the two leads, especially Edgaras Montvidas’s Dante (though his characterization features all the necessary passion). Véronique Gens’s Béatrice, too, is hard-pressed in the heavier episodes, but as always, the soprano’s artistry abounds in elegance and unforced charm.

Key supporting roles feature mezzo Rachel Frenkel (as Gemma), a splendidly musical artist with an exceptionally colorful timbre, and baritone Jean-François Lapointe (as Bardi), whose wonderfully velvety instrument sails on top. The small roles are finely performed by bass-baritone Andrew Foster-Williams (as Old Man and Ghost of Virgil), tenor Andrew Lepri Meyer (as Herald) and in particular mezzo Diana Assenti (as Student), who’s enchanting in the Student’s ode to Virgil.

On the podium, Ulf Schirmer takes to Godard effortlessly, inspiring much lyrically rewarding and dramatically hair-raising playing. The chorus performs rousingly, although in merely serviceable French.

This release includes a beautifully illustrated, almost 150-page book with the full text and an English translation, a first-hand account of the premiere from the journal Le Charivari, an in-depth musical analysis and articles focusing on the attention paid to Dante in nineteenth-century music and art.

-- Opera News

GLUCK Iphigénie en Aulide.1 Iphigénie en Tauride2 & • Marc Minkowski, cond; 1Véronique Gens (Iphigénie); 2Mireille Delunsch (Iphigénie); Salomé Haller (Diana); Nicolas Testé (Agamemnon); Anne Sofie von Otter (Clytemnestre); Frédéric Antoun (Achille); Martijn Cornet (Patrocle); Laurent Alvaro (Arcas/Thoas); Jean-François Lapointe (Oreste/Calchas); Yann Beuron (Pylade); Netherlands Op Ch; Les Musiciens du Louvre Grenoble • OPUS ARTE 1099 (2 DVDs: 229:00) Live: Amsterdam 9/7/2011

& The making of “Iphigénie en Aulide”; “Iphigénie en Tauride” (38: 00)

This two-DVD set documents an unusual evening in the theater, with both of Gluck’s Iphigénie operas being given on one night as a double bill. The risk of mounting such a project is great, not least because these operas are very draining on both cast and audience. The fact that Marc Minkowski was able to pull this off was due in no small measure to the intelligent casting, which duplicated only two singers in both operas: Salomé Haller as Diana and Laurent Alvaro, who sings the small role of Arcas in the first opera and Thoas in the second.

For those unfamiliar with these Gluck operas, they represent somewhat different styles despite their similar subject matter and the fact that they were only written five years apart. Gluck’s growth as a creative artist in those five years was phenomenal, almost as stunning as Igor Stravinsky’s growth between the first and last acts of his opera The Nightingale. In Iphigénie en Aulide, although he already has a firm grasp of the new musico-dramatic structures he had created, he was still operating in an essentially lyric vein. There are strophic arias and all of the recitatives are orchestrally accompanied, which gives the music a remarkable sense of unity that was very rare in those days, but by 1779, when he wrote Iphigénie en Tauride, his sureness of handling drama through music had grown to its full maturity. The later opera, even from its opening notes, has a much greater thrust and impetuosity in both the orchestral and vocal writing than was present in the earlier opera. This, then, presents director, cast, and conductor with another challenge, which is how to reconcile the differing styles of these operas in one night’s performance.

Pierre Audi’s direction is singularly arresting and brilliant despite sparse sets and updated, somewhat ridiculous costumes. We see Iphigénie and Achille singing to each other in trench coats; when Iphigénie appears later in the first opera, she is wearing a bomb belt on what looks like a prom dress and a greasepaint X on her forehead to indicate that she has been marked for death. Calchas, the High Priest, looks nerdy in a blue suit with shirt open at the collar and horn-rimmed glasses—and, of course, we get our ubiquitous mostly-naked guy in tight slacks (who turns out to be Arcas). In act II, Agamemnon appears in a carnival cruise ship captain’s outfit, complete with dorky hat and a little winged emblem on it (and sunglasses…don’t forget the sunglasses, even though the stage is nearly as dark as pitch). In short, the costumes are rather ridiculous. The set, such as it is, consists of two high but narrow staircases on either side of the very small stage. Yet to Audi’s credit, he directs around this nonsense to create a dramatic presentation that is both interesting and appropriate to an updating of Greek theater. One can almost envision these singing actors performing their roles in more conventional costumes and sets, and their portrayals are dramatically apropos as well as fascinating to watch.

As for the singers in the first opera, pride of place goes to Nicolas Testé as Agamemnon. He possesses a large, well-focused voice that can even negotiate a trill, and his acting is superb. Nearly as fine are Véronique Gens as Iphigénie and Frédéric Antoun as Achille. Both have smallish voices of the sort that Gluck undoubtedly wrote for, yet they are pointed and carry well and their duets are a joy to the ear. Less impressive is Jean-François Lapointe as Calchas, whose voice has a flutter and an insufficient low range for the role. Anne Sofie von Otter, quite frankly, has little or nothing left of what was once a lovely if small voice. Twenty-plus years of singing, including several roles too large for her, have left the voice wobbly and hollow-sounding. She lacks volume even in so small a theater as this one that De Nederlandse Opera performs in. Her acting as always is spot-on, but I’m not listening to her just for acting. I want some voice, too.

Yet through it all, holding everything together, is the golden thread of Minkowski’s conducting, so that in the end one feels justified in going through this experience for his sure-handed leadership. One of the virtues of hearing a conductor this gifted is his way of knitting everything together so that chorus-recit-aria-vocal ensemble all flows seamlessly and naturally, with appropriate dramatic peaks when called for. Besides, it’s such a rare treat to actually see a production of any Gluck opera nowadays that I can almost overlook von Otter’s vocal faults and the silly costumes. Even in the earlier Iphigénie opera, one can clearly hear Gluck’s musical innovations and—more importantly for us today, with 20/20 hindsight—how much these innovations impacted the music of Cherubini, Spontini, Berlioz, and eventually Wagner. This is especially evident in those orchestrally accompanied recitatives: With their brief, almost blunt melodic thrusts, they stab into the listener’s ears in such a way that they convey the impetuosity of the characters. How ironic, then, that the “bel canto boys,” Rossini-Bellini-Donizetti, turn recitatives back into semi-parlando mush in the early decades of the 19th century. Listen—for just one small example-to the way Agamemnon sings of his daughter, whom he loves, and the tender accents that Gluck imparts to the orchestra behind him, using soft winds; then, immediately after, as he thinks of the sacrifice he is about to make, the tempo doubles and short, stabbing strings cut into his words. This is writing of pure genius. There is no other way to describe it.

The one demerit one can make against Gluck (and, specifically, his librettist) is that they whitewashed the story in order to provide a happy ending. In reality, Agamemnon had no guilt pangs or second thoughts about sacrificing his daughter, and in fact Iphigénie was killed to appease Diana; but by changing the ending of the story, Gluck was not only able to send his audiences home whistling a happy tune but also to manufacture out of thin air the “legend” that Diana took Iphigénie to her home island of Tauride, where the unfortunate girl spent much of her time doing what her father wanted to do to her: killing—oops, sacrificing—strangers who landed there to the goddess. Fabricated the story may be, but Gluck turned it into one of the most riveting operas ever written.

After a rough beginning, in which her voice is unsteady and very nasal, Mireille Delunsch brings it into clear focus and gives a good account of Iphigénie. Mind you, her performance here will not efface memories of Carol Vaness or Susan Graham, but it’s very fine on its own merits. As in the first opera, Minkowski’s conducting is just spectacular—he really “drives the storm” that opens this opera with intense fury—and again he manages to knit together the various scenes into a cohesive whole. Here, too, the staging makes even more sense that it did in the first opera, and except for Thoas (Laurent Alvaro) wearing a modern-day military uniform (what the heck is it with Regietheater directors and military uniforms? If they want to wear one so badly, just put it on yourself and leave the characters in their traditional garb!) most of the costumes here make much more sense. Sadly, Alvaro’s voice is consistently unsteady despite a bright timbre and his high notes covered and nasal. In short, he’s a poor choice for a role that requires long stretches of singing that are powerful and call for dramatic focus. The two priestesses, Simone Riksman and Rosanne van Sandwijk, are splendid, but the smaller male roles are sung rather pitifully.

Happily, our Oreste (Lapointe) and Pylade (Yann Beuron) are quite fine, which is important because from the point of their entrance onward they get the lion’s share of the singing. The staging of Iphigénie’s aria in which she grieves for her dead family is very well sung and staged, but I question the need to have Thoas come sneering into the picture to kiss her at the end.

Suffice it to say that Minkowski uses “original instruments” (or facsimiles thereof) as well as lower pitch (whether the A=409 supposedly used by French court tuner Pascal Taskin in 1783, the A=407.9 used a few years earlier, or Mozart’s A=421 I have no idea…these people really get hung up over this stuff), which makes the music sound at least a half-tone lower than you’re used to it from any A=440 performance, but to me this is all a moot point. It’s the performance that matters, the feeling and intensity of the playing and singing, not which tuning fork was used.

My lone complaint on packaging is that the booklet does not break down the operas by scenes, thus if you’re skipping ahead to catch a specific aria or scene you’ll have to guess. I’m not sure why they didn’t do this; I’ve seen it in almost every other opera DVD I’ve ever reviewed.

Having now given detailed descriptions of the performances, we reach the point where one rightly expects an endorsement or a rejection. I find myself divided on this issue, however. Audi’s direction, the conducting of Minkowski, and the singing of some, but not all, of the principals are certainly first-rate, but then we are faced with those cluttered staircases and inappropriate costumes (not to mention the substandard singing of Alvaro as Thoas). On the other hand, knowing how much the world (and particularly Europe) is in the thrall, I might even say the iron grip, of Eurotrash, could you really expect to someday see better productions with equally good direction, singing and conducting? The only other Iphigénie en Tauride on DVD is the one originally issued by Kultur in 2006 but now on Arthaus Musik 100377, which features the rather strained singing of Juliette Galstian as Iphigénie and yet another idiotic production, with people in giant masks following or mimicking the principals. Overall, I tolerated the Iphigénie en Tauride better because of the finer costumes and Delunsch’s generally well-focused singing, but you may prefer great audio recordings of these two operas. The best, indeed the only great, recording of the first work is the German-language performance from 1962 with Inge Borkh (Klytemnestra), Christa Ludwig (Iphigénie), James King (Achilles), and Walter Berry (Agamemnon), conducted by Karl Böhm, on Orfeo 428962, while the now-classic Muti recording of the second opera with Carol Vaness, Gösta Winbergh, and Thomas Allen (Sony Classical) is still the benchmark.

FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

R E V I E W S:

ClassicsToday:
Canteloube's setting of folk songs from France's Auvergne region is a sure-fire hit. The music is catchy, full of delightful oboe and wind solos, snappy percussion, and imitations of traditional native instruments, including bagpipes. And unless you're genetically resistant to rustic humor, the texts are charming. But, especially in the songs with full orchestra, they're art songs, not folk music, and thus they ask for a trained soloist. The rub is that singers also must project the rawness of the real folk singer, a trait rarely found in opera singers turning to folk material. Here, Véronique Gens, a favorite in Baroque and Mozart recordings and a soprano endowed with gorgeous, full-bodied tonal resources, finds the right blend of trained sophistication and folkish naiveté.


Gens is predictably fine in lullabies like the popular "Brezairola" and "Baïlèro", her lovely soprano soaring, its bright touch of silver shedding rays of light on the infant objects of affection. In songs like "Lo calhé" (The Quail) and "La delaïssádo" (Deserted) I first thought her a bit too cultivated, but by the second hearing she seemed just right, hitting the swinging rhythm of "Lo calhé" with vigor and aptly characterizing "La delaïssádo". Apprehensions of oversophistication went out the window with "Malurous qu'o uno fenno" (Unfortunate is he who has a wife), where Gens really gets down and dirty. And she closes the program with a bouncy "Lou diziou bé" (They said), wonderfully bringing out the mockery of the words and portraying the narrator and the faithless Pierre with humor.


Jean-Claude Casadesus and the Lille Orchestra offer fine support, the unnamed wind soloists really digging into their parts with gusto. I wouldn't part with the incomparable charm of Victoria de los Angeles, the appropriately folkish Netanya Davrath, or the first and still best interpreter of these songs, Madeleine Grey. But Gens wraps most of their strengths into one full disc (but with plenty of room for 3 or 4 more songs). Would that the engineers have matched her. Oddly enough, sometimes they do, capturing vivid presence and good voice/band balances. But in other songs, especially those with full orchestral strings, she's often too closely miked, the orchestra veiled. Bottom line: this bargain Naxos disc of 21 songs is the one to have if you want a well-chosen, representative selection. [2/18/2005]--Dan Davis, ClassicsToday.com

MusicWeb
"Véronique Gens has easily one of the most exquisite voices in the business today; moreover anything she does is uncommonly intelligent and musically informed. With this recording Naxos enters the echelons of upmarket performances. In this material, Gens outclasses Kiri te Kanawa in terms of vocal beauty and is in an altogether different league interpretatively. She is even a match for the venerable recording made by the late Victoria de los Angeles. Indeed, she may even have an edge over her competitors, for Gens is a native of the Auvergne. She would have grown up well aware of the history and traditions of regional culture...This recording is so distinctive that I've little doubt it will be the definitive Chants d'Auvergne for many years to come." - Anne Ozorio, MusicWeb

Desmarest was something of a frustrated genius. A precocious musician, he had a great career on opera from 1693 to 1698. His destiny was broken when he kidnapped the love of his life and fled to Brussels to escape a death sentence. Kapellmeister to the King of Spain, Philippe V in 1701, then to the Duke of Lorraine, Paris remained off-limits to him until 1720 … Circé (1694) was his apotheosis, meeting of Ulysses and the sorcerers, a superb and supernatural heroine. The dramatic force of the work stimulates the flamboyant Véronique Gens who plays the evil lover!

This tremendous, heady disc is provocative stuff; its emotional - at times emotive - impact immeasurably heightened by very careful programming. Gens and Niquet throw themselves into all this with an engrossing mix of abandon and restraint. Her trademark of purity of utterance and smoky tone speaks volumes.

At 56 minutes, the disc is on the short side, but any more would, I suspect, feel like overkill.

It's a spectacular achievement; whatever you do, don't hold back.

– Gramophone

In this recital, Véronique Gens and Hervé Niquet bring back to life a neglected aspect of France’s Romantic heritage: songs with orchestral accompaniment. Aside from a few pieces by Debussy and Duparc, and Berlioz’s famous Nuits d’été, orchestral mélodies form a virtually forgotten continent. In collaboration with the specialists of the Palazzetto Bru Zane, Alpha now revisits these musical landscapes, taking us from Brittany (Hahn) to Persia, whose beauties Fauré and Saint-Saëns exalt in very different ways. Mélodies by Chausson, Gounod and Dubois and rarely heard instrumental pieces by Massenet, Fauré and Fernand de La Tombelle round out the journey with their musical reveries.

GEORG FRIDERIC HANDEL: Veronique Gens, soprano; Philippe Jaroussky, male alto; Ingrid Perruche, soprano; Nigel Smith, baritone; Thierry Gregoire, male alto; Bernard Deletre, bass; Fabrice Di Falco, male soprano; AlainBuet, bass; La Grande Ecurie et la Chambre du Roy/Jean-Claude Mal GEORG FRIDERIC HANDEL: Agrippina.

This, one of Handel's most approachable, delightful, and least-confusing operas, dating from 1709--his "Italian" period--has been well recorded in performances led by John Eliot Gardiner (Philips) and Nicholas McGegan (Harmonia Mundi). Both are complete--and more than three hours long. This present recording pares down the opera to two hours and 45 minutes--mostly in the recitatives (which are wonderfully written, dramatic, and help develop character, but also which, much to my shame, I didn't miss a bar of), and in the loss of two or three arias. (At the close of the opera, Juno descends to bless the marriage of Ottone and Poppea; here her music is missing, and that's a loss.) Even in such a "reduced" state the work's witty competition between two manipulative women--Agrippina, who wants her son Nero to be emperor and will do almost anything to get him there, and Poppea, who loves the slandered Ottone and wants the power that will come with his being named emperor--and the interplay of the lusty Nero, the somewhat slow-witted Claudius, and Agrippina's hangers-on, Pallas and Narcissus, is vivid and clear.

The cast is excellent, with a few standouts. Thierry Grégoire, as Ottone, rises to great heights in his second-act lament, complete with stunning, sad trills. Ingrid Perruche's Poppea is a tough cookie from the start, and she cajoles throughout. She has a lovely tone and is fluent in coloratura; she makes much of all of her arias, but she really shines in the last act's "Bel piacer". Nigel Smith sings Claudius' music with proper pomposity, and even manages the low-Cs in his second-act aria. Veronique Gens' Agrippina is conniving and rich-toned; indeed, the role lies in an almost mezzo range and she seems perfectly comfortable. Philippe Jaroussky, a very high, bright, fluent countertenor, takes some getting used to--he sounds much like a woman most of the time--but he's a brave, expressive singer and he creates a Nero who vibrates. The others in the cast are very good, although Fabrice di Falco, the Narciso, begins by sounding like an old lady.

Jean-Claude Malgoire's leadership is bright and perky, with the recits paced conversationally, and his band plays well--the winds are particularly spicy. This is a live recording, and at the start Jaroussky is off-mike for a minute and occasionally other voices are not quite centered, but the audience is remarkably quiet. A duet in Act 1 for Claudio and Poppea ends a bit raggedly, but the "liveness" of the occasion excuses it. In short, this is recommended--it's a good show.
--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

Also available on Blu-ray

Don Giovanni, Mozart’s sublime tragic comedy, offers boundless scope for directors. Kasper Holten shifts the emphasis from Don Giovanni’s sex life into a darker place, showing Giovanni’s womanizing as an attempt to stave off his own mortality. Each woman he seduces represents a life he could have had. Though it is a dark piece, Holten handles it all with a light touch. Led by conductor Nicola Luisotti, the superb cast features Mariusz Kwiecien as Don Giovanni, Alex Esposito and French soprano Véronique Gens. ‘‘…a cast that can’t be bettered today…demands to be seen.’’ Seen and Heard Int’l

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
DON GIOVANNI

Don Giovanni - Mariusz Kwiecien
Leporello - Alex Esposito
Donna Anna - Malin Byström
Commendatore - Alexander Tsymbalyuk
Don Ottavio - Antonio Poli
Donna Elvira - Véronique Gens
Zerlina - Elizabeth Watts
Masetto - Dawid Kimberg
Donna Elvira’s Maid - Josephine Arden

Royal Opera Chorus
(chorus master: Renato Balsadonna)
Royal Opera House Orchestra
Nicola Luisotti, conductor

Kasper Holten, stage director
Es Devlin, set designer
Anja Vang Kragh, costume designer
Bruno Poet, lighting designer
Signe Fabricius, choreographer

Recorded live at the Royal Opera House, February 2014

Bonus:
- Introductions: Don Giovanni’s Women
- Director’s Commentary

Picture format: NTSC 16:9 anamorphic
Sound format: LPCM 2. 0 / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: English, French, German, Japanese, Korean
Running time: 187 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

R E V I E W:

There used to be an old line about leaving the theater humming the scenery; often it applied to Franco Zeffirelli-like productions–lavish, flowery, big-boned, visually melodious eye-candy. Well, the same might be said for this recent Covent Garden show designed by Es Devlin and directed by Kasper Holton with video designs by Luke Halls, except that one would have to be able to hum scenery that was atonal and intensely complex, albeit spectacularly interesting.

Riveting to behold and almost constantly changing either subtly or dramatically, it is a two-storey structure that takes up the whole stage and is made up of rooms with doors that appear and disappear, as well as interior and exterior staircases that, Escher-like, seem to end in mid-journey, or in fact never end at all. And it revolves. Onto its vast surfaces video designer Lukas Hall offers projections of everything from the names of Giovanni’s lovers (written in script) to subtle or dramatic changes in color, to a labyrinthine confusion of rooms in which each character seems lost and wandering, to sheer meaningless graffiti and scribbling. Rather than distracting from the drama, it allows it to be fluid: corners can be created instantly, allowing, for instance, Leporello and Giovanni to hide from Elvira and her maid in Act 2. (A brilliant effect has Leporello disappear into the scenery by imposing projections on top of him.) In short, it’s inspired and fascinating, and aside from a few moments that dazzle so thoroughly that they take our mind off the music, I suspect you’ll be riveted.

Anja Vang Kragh’s costumes imply a late-Victorian era; the dress and winged cape for Elvira make her look vaguely like an angel of death. Masetto looks like a prim clerk in a lawyer’s office and Zerlina always wears her wedding dress; Ottavio is a stuffed shirt (which he finally unbuttons at one point). The Don wears a blue fur-collared coat; Leporello is dressed as the perfect sad sack. The dead Commendatore, in white black-smeared sheet and face, is quite scary.

And so, musically and dramatically, there is only one performance that lives up to the scenery, and the direction, which gets clearer as the evening goes on, seems wayward for the first three quarters of the opera. The punchline is that Giovanni’s punishment is madness and loneliness–a type of hell. Throughout, it is difficult to figure out each character’s motivation, or even personality. Anna seems less than bothered by her “rape” by Giovanni in the first scene: there he is, doing up his cuffs, while she is embracing him; later, during Ottavio’s “Dalla sua pace”, she spots the Don up on the set’s second level and goes to him and follows him into a room. Of course, who can blame her for walking out on Ottavio: when she sings “Don Ottavio, son morta!” and goes on to explain that “that man” is the man who attacked her and killed her father, Ottavio giggles! He’s simply a dope.

Donna Elvira seems merely lost, although my instinct about her being an angel of death may not be too far off: she kisses Giovanni tenderly at one point when most Elvira’s are loony. Perhaps she and she alone senses his isolation? Zerlina, by Act 2, is repentant for her bad, flirty behavior in Act 1 (she starts tearing off her clothes in the finale), and she and Masetto–a nerd if ever there were one–stroll off happily. Leporello adores the Don while trying to stop him from being crazy; he weeps uncontrollably in the final scene when it becomes clear that Giovanni is going mad. And the Don, who invariably is somewhere on stage during all of the action, is always seeking and increasingly alone.

Real problems: Kasper Holten eliminates the flames, or any sense of hell; instead of a handshake (from the Commendatore, who is two storeys above the Don), the Don grips his heart and stumbles into a corner. Worse: Holten cuts the first part of the final scene, the sextet in which the others explain what their lives will be like now that the Don is gone. All we get is the opera’s two-minute moral, sung offstage: ”Questo e il fin di chi fa mal.” I know that Mozart himself (may have) cut part or all of the opera’s last moments for Vienna, but with your main character in hell, it almost makes sense. The six characters have a right to express themselves, unless, of course, the director’s entire concept has implied their lack of importance, with the Don the utter center of his own universe and the others just throw-aways who no longer exist. It’s problematic–not foolish or outlandish, but problematic–and goes along with the lack of characterization of these people throughout.

Holten succeeds with his idea, but is it a good idea? You will either buy it or not; I suspect that you’ll wonder where it’s all going until the end, and even then, when you understand (“Ah – he’s alone!”), the musical cut will irritate you. All that being said, anyone who misses Marius Kweicien’s performance here will regret it. In 40 years of opera-going, and having seen 15 different Dons, never have I seen a final scene so aggressively personal, so mad, so viciously without repentance, so insane. It will leave you exhausted (and wishing for the usual sextet!). He’s terrific throughout the opera even if we don’t quite understand his raison d’etre, singing with accuracy, charm, bite when necessary, dead-center pitch, and a smooth, seductive legato. He also moves like a born actor. Malin Byström’s Anna acts demurely but sings with passion–occasionally harridan-like and in strange-sounding Italian–but invariably involved, although apparently not interested in vengeance. Véronique Gens is a glamorous Elvira even if her character is undersized here; she dispatches her second-act aria with aplomb. Elizabeth Watts’ Zerlina is charming and pure-toned.

Alex Esposito offers a star turn as Leporello. Looking downtrodden, somewhat like a silent-movie bum, he is fascinated and infuriated by his boss. He’s funny (he seems to have some of Rolando Villazon’s comic charm, although they look nothing alike) and not a fool, and his singing is rich and nuanced. Antonio Poli is vocally better than good as Ottavio and the same can be said of Dawid Kimberg’s Masetto, but their blandness may have something to do with Holten’s outlook. (Maybe all men are either duds, servants, or dead, except for Don Giovanni?) Alexander Tsymbalyuk makes little impression as the Commendatore until the final scene, where he may be amplified. Nicola Luisotti’s leadership varies–the overture is splendid, but much of Act 1 just passes by without highlights; he certainly pulls out the stops later, however. The Covent Garden forces are downright magnificent.

At the conclusion, what can one say about a Don Giovanni that is neither sexy nor dangerous, but interestingly philosophical? If the answer is that the Hell is, in fact, not other people, but loneliness, then we have a hypothesis, not a great opera. But as I said, Kweicien will knock you out by the end.

A truly great DVD version of this opera? Well, except for the weird constant changes of hairstyles and outfits (yes, we get it–the story is universal), the Riccardo Muti-led performance on TDK is magnificent, while Terfel, Furlanetto, and Fleming lead a terrific cast from the Met on DG on Zeffirelli’s rather ordinary set. Most of the others (more than a dozen) have too many quirks: one takes place in a mattress showroom; in another the Don and Leporello are junkies; in a third, the Don is killed in Act 1 but the opera continues…. It’s up to you.

-- Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

MARTÍN Y SOLER Il burbero di buon cuore • Christophe Rousset, cond; Elena de la Merced ( Angelica ); Carlos Chausson ( Ferramondo ); Véronique Gens ( Madama Lucilla ); Saimir Pirgu ( Giocondo ); Cecilia Diaz ( Marina ); Juan Francisco Gatell ( Valerio ); O Sinfónica de Madrid • DYNAMIC 58801-2 (2 CDs 136:20) Live: Madrid 11/2007


This performance has been previously released on a Dynamic DVD and was reviewed in Fanfare 33:4 by Barry Brenesal. The opera opened in 1786, the same year as Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro , and both were revived in Vienna three years later. In the revival of Il bubero di buon cuore , since Martín y Soler was then in the court of Catherine the Great in St. Petersburg, Mozart wrote two new arias for Madama Lucilla. “Chi sa qual sia l’affano” and “Vado, ma dove, o Dei?,” which are beautifully sung on this recording by Véronique Gens, the first aria on CD 1, track 18, and the second on CD 2, track 4.


The libretto, by Lorenzo da Ponte, was taken from a 1771 play, Le bourru bien-faisant by Carlo Goldoni. The plot concerns two young lovers who after many intrigues and disguises finally receive the approval of their bad-tempered uncle Ferramondo. The booklet contains a well-written version of the complicated plot.


Carlos Chausson in the star role of Ferramondo has a resonant basso buffo, Pirgu and Gatell are both fine lyric tenors. Pirgu has a longer role and displays an attractive tonal quality. Diaz as Marina is the weakest member of the cast but her contralto is best at the bottom of her range. Roussett is a fine conductor, and the sound is fine.


As Barry Brenesal wrote in his review of the DVD of this production: “In short—with a few noted reservations—this is a fine cast in an unusually well–directed production of an entertaining forgotten opera.”


The booklet contains a list of the tracks, notes by Danilo Prefumo translated into English by T. A. Shaw as well as a plot synopsis. I have found that the DVD is not easily available today, and therefore recommend this interesting CD of what is an entertaining opera for all those who admire classical music.


FANFARE: Bob Rose

WORLD PREMIERE RECORDING!
Elena de la Merced; Veronique Gens; Cecilia Diaz; Saimir Pirgu; Juan Francisco Gatell; Luca Pisaroni; Carlos Chausson; Josep Miquel Ramón

Orquesta Titular del Teatro Real (Orquesta Sinfónica de Madrid)/Christophe Rousset

Irina Brook, director

NTSC All Region; 16:9; SS 5.1/LPCM 2.0; Approx. 140 mins.
Subtitled in Italian, English, German, French & Spanish
Recorded in High Definition on November 14th-18th, 2007, Teatro Real, Madrid

Il Burbero di buon cuore is a dramma giocoso in two acts composed by Vicente Martín y Soler to a libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte, based on one of the most popular and amusing French comedies by Carlo Goldoni, Le bourru bienfaisant. The recording of Il Burbero di buon cuore confirms the collaboration between Dynamic and Teatro Real of Madrid (which started with the release of the double CD in World Premiere Recording La Conquista di Granata by Emilio Arrieta). This opera had been absent from Madrid’s stages since 1792. In October 1789, in fact, Mozart composed two “substitute arias” for this opera: Chi sa, chi sa qual sia KV 582 and Vado, ma dove? Oh Dei! KV 583, which, given their superior musical quality, have opportunely been inserted in this edition of the opera, sung by Véronique Gens. Soprano Véronique Gens appears also on Dynamic’s DVD Agrippina by Handel, which won the Record Academy Award 2007 in Japan in the category DVD opera. Director Irina Brook is the daughter of the famous British director Peter Brook, at her debut in Teatro Real. She sets the action in today’s times and mixes several styles and epochs, creating a very well lit and bright setting with a very effective result. The touch of classical and baroque expert Christophe Rousset perfectly enhances the music. The French conductor delivers a lesson of style extracting from the Symphonic Orchestra of Madrid a sweet and smooth sound ideally harmonized with the partitura.

R E V I E W:



MARTÍN Y SOLER Il burbero di buon cuore • Christophe Rousset, cond; Elena de la Merced ( Angelica ); Carlos Chausson ( Ferramondo ); Véronique Gens ( Madama Lucilla ); Salmir Pirgu ( Giocondo ); Cecilia Diáz ( Marina ); Juan Francisco Gatell ( Valerio ); Luca Pisaroni ( Dorval ); Josep Miquel Ramón ( Castagna ); Madrid Teatro Real O • DYNAMIC 33580 (2 DVDs: 140:00) Live: Madrid 11/2007


The plot to Il burbero di buon cuore was taken from a 1771 play by Goldoni, Le bourru bienfaisant . As with all of Goldoni’s mature comedies, stereotypes of commedia dell’arte and old Roman farce are humanized with vivid personal detail. Thus, the Bartolo-like antagonist, Ferramondo, isn’t a conventional blusterer, but a kindly, well-intentioned man who is easily irritated and possesses a hair-trigger temper. His niece, Angelica, is too frightened to do more than equivocate before her uncle. This, of course, only drives him quickly up a wall. The other figures surrounding them are similarly more than expected—such as Ferramondo’s nephew, emotive Giocondo, a master of bad financial decision making, who desperately tries to live up to his uncle’s standards; and Giocondo’s wife, Lucilla, a spendthrift who dearly loves her husband, and doesn’t realize the monetary hole they’re in. (Not for nothing is the opera described as a dramma giocoso , which is usually taken to mean a work that mixes buffo and semi-seria elements.) Even the servant, Castagna, is deftly characterized, an alert, ironical philosopher who lectures Giocondo on living within his means. Lorenzo Da Ponte, not surprisingly, creates a clever libretto out of this material, and Martín y Soler provides a thoughtful setting that starts simple—not unlike Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro —only to grow in technical complexity and expressive depth as matters become more complicated.


Speaking of Figaro brings to mind the friendly rivalry of the two composers on Viennese operatic stages, best known for Mozart’s wink at Martín y Soler’s success with a musical quote from Una cosa rara (1786) in Don Giovanni (1787). Mozart also wrote a pair of substitute arias for Louise Villeneuve, the original Lucilla, when Il burbero was revived in 1789. They’re used in this performance, though one could wish the originals had been offered as a purely audio alternative among the extras. (There are also some significant cuts here, including material relating to a sub-plot involving the placement of Angelica in a nunnery so that Giocondo can acquire her dowry.)


The time and setting have been changed in this production, and we find ourselves in modern times, in the lobby of a moderately shabby hotel, still showing signs of former quality—along with a broad ragbag of typical hotel bric-a-brac from the late 19th century on up to the present. Irina Brook’s direction makes excellent and understated use of the lobby layout and its many appropriate props, with characters working, relaxing, and eating—in short, engaging in activities one would expect to occur where they are, instead of being placed in empty, sterile environments where they can only sit and wait for their lines. To her credit, the actors’ movements and reactions seem both natural and inevitable.


But you have to watch out when you change an opera’s time and location. They’re tricky things. Even here, with so much being handled well, the act I finale is problematic. Why should Ferramondo and his chess partner, the placid Dorval, suddenly express horror followed by anger at finding a man they don’t know in Marina’s hotel? The answer lies in the original setting. Marina wasn’t a hotelier, but a housekeeper, and the house belonged to Ferramondo. To find an unknown man upon entering one’s own house—and with only unmarried women present!—would have caused any man of the period grave concern.


There’s a casting choice that causes minor problems of its own, as well. Luca Pisaroni is a young bass-baritone, not more than 25 by his looks, yet there are several references in the libretto to his advanced age. Whether he was first choice for Dorval or not, he sings well, and acts in a pleasant if generalized “situation comedy” manner that works. Given a choice between having him shown at his proper age or disguised to look 20 years older or more isn’t a contest, as such disguises rarely work in realistic settings.


Most of the rest of the cast is similarly strong. Both Pirgu and Gatell possess effective lyric tenors, with the former getting the lion’s share of the work. His act I aria, “Degli anni sui fiore,” seems meant for a slower tempo than the quick, prosaic one Rousset wished upon it, but Pirgu floats an attractive tone and displays a pleasing sense of phrasing. Gens and Merced are vocally and interpretatively excellent, with the patricianly tone of the former and the sweetness of the latter providing good contrast. Ramón’s bass is little tested by his secondary aria, but he does a fine job overall. The best acting and some of the strongest singing comes from Chausson. He plays the choleric but large-hearted Ferramondo with a focus and attention to details of characterization that would grace a quality production of a Sardou play; yet he doesn’t lack for the customary verbal agility and solid, resonant depth of a basso buffo . Only Diaz seems overparted, her intonation sometimes suspect, her tone gray except at the bottom of its range when it blossoms out magnificently. The Madrid SO is in fine shape, and aside from rushing three slower arias, Roussett conducts sympathetically and with a light, engaging touch.


The camerawork is good, focusing on elements of action rather than whoever is singing—so you really do get to view all of what’s going on at any given time. Sound is Dolby Digital 5.1, and Linear PCM 2.0. Subtitles are available in Italian, English, German, French, and Spanish. The video format is 16:9.


In short—with a few noted reservations—this is a fine cast in an unusually well-directed production of an entertaining, forgotten opera. It’s far above the standard cut of modern premieres for works of its period, and really could stand as an example of how to build a stage environment that works with singers and helps develop their characters instead of narrowing their actions. Do I think this represents the edge of a new trend? Not a chance. Do I think Il burbero di buon cuore is worth a viewing or several? Without question.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

There's more to Canteloube than the Auvergne, so splendidly shown here

For her second CD devoted to Joseph Canteloube’s vocal music, Véronique Gens has looked beyond the celebrated, much-recorded Chants d’Auvergne, and back to Tryptique, composed in 1913. Canteloube dedicated this to Maggie Teyte but the First World War interrupted its progress, and it was not until 1923 that Jane Campredon gave the premiere, with the Colonne orchestra conducted by Gabriel Pierné.

A setting of three poems by Roger Frêne, its lush, not to say extravagant orchestration anticipates Canteloube’s later folksong settings. The influence of both Ravel and Debussy is obvious, maybe also Stravinsky (it was, after all, the year of The Rite of Spring). The first section, “Offrande à l’été” is an ardent love song, with some pretty giddy scoring for harps. The central “Lunaire” has a more mysterious, yearning feel, with a lovely little dissonance at the word “cendre”, as the poet imagines the leaves turning to ash. The finale, “Hymne dans l’aurore” is an ecstatic prayer to Pan, celebrating every wonder of nature. The final cry, “Mon âme s’ouvre ainsi qu’une aube étincellante! O Pan!” is marked in the score crescendo en grandissant, and Gens, Serge Baudo and the Lille Orchestra rise to the moment with splendid force. It is really surprising that this work has not become better known; any soprano wanting to look beyond the obvious repertory should welcome it.

The rest of the disc is taken up with those remaining Auvergne songs not included on the earlier issue, conducted by Jean-Claude Casadesus (4/05). Once again, Gens proves that an authentic knowledge of the dialect is a great advantage. The much later group from Chants de France makes a pleasant end to the recital, but it is Tryptique that has to be heard.

-- Patrick O'Connor, Gramophone [12/2007]

Véronique Gens sings beautifully throughout and shows a fine understanding … perfectly at ease.

Since Stokowski’s and Anna Moffo’s pioneering recording of selections from Canteloube’s Chants d’Auvergne, these beautiful folk-song arrangements have become part of many sopranos’ repertoire. One can name Kiri Te Kanawa, Jill Gomez, Frederica von Stade and others having had a go at these ravishing works. Véronique Gens has already recorded a first volume with the same orchestra conducted by Jean-Claude Casadesus (Naxos 8.557491) favourably reviewed here by Anne Ozorio.

In spite of a varied output of chamber and orchestral music also including an opera Le Mas, the composer is now mainly known for his colourful, yet often subtle arrangements. In fact, next to the now celebrated Chants d’Auvergne, he also collected and arranged folk-songs from the Basque country, some of which were recorded some time ago (on Audivis). The present selection of nine folk songs, a few of which are new to me, beautifully complements Gens’ first instalment. What makes this release particularly worth having is the inclusion of a selection from Les Chants de France and, more importantly to my mind, that of the fine Triptyque composed in 1914 but first performed in 1925. In these settings of poems by Roger Frêne, a poet unknown to me about whom I could not find any useful information, Canteloube proves himself the heir of the likes of Fauré, Duparc and Chausson. At the same time he is attentive to the musical trends of his time: Debussy and Ravel. There is much orchestral refinement in these fine settings with more than a touch of Impressionism. I was particularly impressed by the third song Hymne dans l’aurore. It paints a strongly atmospheric evocation of the coming of dawn crowned by a glowing sunrise.

In Chants de France, Canteloube continues his labour of love with French folk-song and brings comparable subtlety and refinement to bear. In much the same way as in Chants d’Auvergne, the composer succeeds in wrapping his arrangements in superb orchestral guise, while bringing out some surprising and unexpected touches. Just try the first song, the celebrated Auprès de ma blonde; in which the composer eschews any mawkishness and vulgarity. In the last one, D’où venez-vous fillette? Has some salty rhythmic surprises in the accompaniment. The other arrangements in this selection, likewise those from Chants d’Auvergne, alternate touching tenderness, mild sorrow and earthy humour. A most welcome addition to the catalogue, although I wanted more of them given the somewhat short total playing time of this otherwise desirable release.

Véronique Gens sings beautifully throughout and shows a fine understanding of the Auvergne dialect. I think I remember a recent interview - was it in Gramophone? - in which she mentioned that she had family roots in the Auvergne and that these folk-songs meant a great deal to her. That certainly shows in her performances; but she is equally and equally perfectly at ease with the other works featured here.

Serge Baudo is highly regarded for his sympathy with French music of the first half of the 20th century and beyond. Once again he proves a most reliable and inspired partner. A pity, though, that the words of Triptyque could not be printed in the insert notes, although Gens’ excellent diction more than compensates.

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International

This recording is in the DVD Audio format and will only play on hardware specifically compatible with the DVD Audio format. Standard CD players will not play this CD.