I would argue that Claude Debussy’s dark meandering score for Maeterlinck’s original play, part fairy story, part symbolist essay, is one for the more academic, purist of opera-goers. A gloomy tale in a shady place, this is not so much an entertainment as a show of technical prowess for digestion.
All credit must go to the impeccable skills of the English Touring Opera’s singers and orchestra who followed the composer’s complex pathways of discordant harmony with utter conviction, in sequences of self-possessed musical exploration. No memorable tunes resonated here. And with some uncomfortable replaying of tiresome sexist role-playing at the centre of all that transpired I have to express doubts that this was a piece for our times. And I was not convinced it fulfilled the ETO’s mission to make us “fall in love with opera all over again”.
Maeterlinck himself was keen on the idea of a double dialogue within his work. He believed that loftier truths could be attained by more suggestive phrases around main discourse. Existential musings on the closing of an old man’s eyelid, for example, he could equate to the intensity of a lover’s entanglements, or the righting of a cuckolded husband’s honour. This reminded me of Japanese Noh theatre, where the most minimalist of movements can carry several profound meanings. To be brutal, all this seemed a bit ‘up itself’. Debussy, though, was clearly drawn to this discourse in 1893, and the first performance of his operatic version took place at the Opéra-Comique in Paris in April 1902. To give some idea of context, apparently the Director of Fine Arts, Henri Roujon, asked Debussy to make a number of cuts before the première, including a mention of the word ‘bed’.
Prince Golaud, (Stephan Loges) is the grandson of Arkel (Michael Druiett), the king of Allemonde. Golaud has been hunting in the forest when he happens upon the beautiful fairy-like Mélisande (Susanna Hurrell) by a pool. Once she has been accepted by Arkel, they marry. But the sylph-like Mélisande later falls for Golaud’s brother Pelléas (Jonathan McGovern). The rest of the opera revolves around their snatched moments together while Golaud’s growing paranoia and suspicion leads to the eventual murder of his brother in a fit of jealous rage. Mélisande later dies after giving birth to a daughter, the father of whom seems uncertain.
The preponderance of growling bass notes throughout from both Golaud and his grandfather, whilst always rich in tone, accentuated the doominess of the proceedings. Only fleetingly later, when Yniold (Lauren Zolezzi), Golaud’s son by a previous marriage, pierced the gloom with some lighter phrases did the night briefly relent and one was reminded that opera could delight. For me the stilted, glacial-paced and frankly dull ravings of pre-enlightened men were a turn-off. There was little to ease our journey downwards.
The deep scarlet and blue/black back walls of a minimalist set gave an oil-painterly feel to the action, but I question the use of an upturned metal filing cabinet as a prop. It just looked odd, out of context and just didn’t make the cut as pool, well and rock – a small dose of surrealism to partner the symbolism perhaps? Lighting worked well when faces were highlighted against darkness, but more could have been made of reference to shadows, especially the implied obscuring of the sun by the forest around Arkel’s castle. Mélisande’s ‘Rapunzel’ moment was awkward, with Pelléas attempting to tangle her long hair around what looked like an overflow pipe.
For many I suspect the enticement of Debussy’s single operatic work will be enough to bring in an audience and as a period piece it will always have value. This was an eloquent performance by the ETO, with fine individual performances all round. There was precise sensitive playing by the orchestra – some quite beautiful French horn playing by Jonathan Hassan stood out.
But in the end it was the story, with its relentless concentration on dull clichéd male supremacies with little diversion along the way that left me cold. It was interesting in researching for this review to learn that Debussy frequently appalled his friends with his treatment of women. One, his wife at the time, committed suicide. In Golaud one could see echoes of these traits. ★★★☆☆ Simon Bishop 10th November 2015
Photo by Richard Hubert Smith
