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The Hour, 14 December 2011 |
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Gounod: Faust, Metropolitan Opera New York, ab 29. November 2011, Vorstellung am 10. Dezember 2011, Kino |
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Don't open your eyes for this beautiful opera
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Maybe it's time to throw in the towel. Maybe Charles Gounod's "Faust," once
one of the most popular of all operas, should be done only in concert.
Certainly, from what's happening on stage at the Met's new rendering (a
co-production with the English National Opera), an argument may be made for
letting audiences hear, not see, what this romantic piece is all about.
What we might get is this glorious score in a setting that respects its
source material. At the Met these days, a cockeyed concept fights thrilling
singing by both principals and chorus. (This "Faust" is in HD at Fairfield
University, Dec. 17.)
Taken from Goethe's version of the enduring
tale of a man who sells his soul to the Devil, the libretto by Jules Barbier
and Miichel Carré is based on Carré's play "Faust and Marguerite." That
title is the clue: Gounod concentrates on the love-and-death story of the
named characters, chucking Goethe's philosophical underpinnings. Unlike
Boito's more substantial "Mefistofele," Gounod aims squarely for the heart.
But this is apparently not enough for director Des McAnuff who sees
Gounod's work as a parable about the evils of atomic energy. In McAnuff's
hands, Faust is a disillusioned scientist perhaps fed up with creating a
weapon of mass destruction.
Choristers clad in white lab coats are
fellow researchers when they're not being joyous townsfolk.
Also in
the mix are the ghoulish damned who, in the Walpurgis Night scene, worship
the bomb's lethal potential.
The story opens with Faust, at the point
of suicide, reliving his life. Making a pact with Méphistophélès, the Devil,
to exchange salvation for recapturing his vigorous youth, he woos the
virginal Marguerite, herself tempted by baubles (the famous Jewel Song). The
romance leads to murder and insanity. It's strong stuff, but the atomic
story fights the text's emphasis on salvation through prayer and
forgiveness.
The staging doesn't help. At various points, Faust and
Méphistophélès, linked to each other for eternity, observe the action from
two side staircases that reach to the flies. Jonas Kaufmann's Faust and René
Pape's Méphistophélès get a lot of calf-building time, especially towards
the end, as they ascend and re-ascend the stairs several times, like relay
athletes, while Marina Poplavaskava's fiercely acted Marguerite appeals to
heaven for absolution.
The three stars so build in intensity
and feeling that the final moments of this nearly four-hour evening
enthralled the audience into pin-drop silence. Pape is marvelous as
the Devil, suave and satirical, from his booming voice to a sly little soft
shoe. (Why do we enjoy evil so much?) Kaufmann, striking a handsome
figure, is a superb technician, contrasting lovely pianissimo with sonorous
crescendos, while Poplavaskava acts and sings with power and
poignancy. Commendable, too, are Michèle Lowier as the loyal Siébel and
Jonathan Beyer as Wagner.
From the soldiers' chorus ("Glory
Immortal") to the cynical ode to the golden calf, the well-known dancers'
waltz, arias for Faust, the Devil and Marguerite and the magnificent final
trio, this is great music. Gifted conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin combines
French delicacy with Italianate strength.
To close one's eyes against
Robert Brill's ugly set and Peter Mumford's horrendous lighting is to
experience grand opera at its most beautiful. Opening the eyes, however,
transforms aural radiance into visual exhaustion.
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