Meyerbeer - Les Huguenots

ONP Bastille, Monday October 1 2018

Conductor: Michele Mariotti. Production: Andreas Kriegenburg. Sets: Harald B. Thor. Costumes: Tanja Hofmann. Lighting: Andreas Grüter. Choreography: Zenta Haerter. Marguerite de Valois: Lisette Oropesa. Raoul de Nangis: Yosep Kang. Valentine: Ermonela Jaho. Urbain: Karine Deshayes. Marcel: Nicolas Testé. Le Comte de Saint-Bris: Paul Gay. La dame d’honneur, une bohémienne: Julie Robard‑Gendre. Cossé, un étudiant catholique: François Rougier. Le Comte de Nevers: Florian Sempey. Tavannes, premier moine: Cyrille Dubois. Méru, deuxième moine: Michal Partyka. Thoré, Maurevert: Patrick Bolleire. Retz, troisième moine: Tomislav Lavoie. Coryphée, une jeune fille catholique, une bohémienne: Élodie Hache. Bois-Rosé, valet: Philippe Do. Un archer du guet: Olivier Ayault. Quatre seigneurs: John Bernard, Cyrille Lovighi, Bernard Arrieta, Fabio Bellenghi. Orchestra and Chorus of the Opéra National de Paris.

The 2060s

My mother was always careful, when I was a lad, not to dress too young for her age in case she might be caught looking like “mutton dressed as lamb”. The expression came to mind the other night as I sat watching the Paris Opera’s new production of Les Huguenots, a feebly conventional piece of directing which the designers had dressed up as “modern” by applying a thin veneer of glossy-magazine trendiness. I say modern, though a message briefly flashed up at the start telling us it was meant to be set in the 2060s. That idea was promptly forgotten: it’s an unconvincing kind of future where men bear swords, secret messages are delivered not on smartphones but on paper in envelopes, and queens (the royal sort) wear long gowns with gold lace ruffs.

The sets were very white and brightly-lit: in act one, a three-storey contemporary art space with zombie-like, white-faced waiters distributing champagne and girls in see-through black slinking around; in act two, against the Prada-pastel background, a “forest” of white bamboo under a stylised pattern of branches that, apart from the pond, reminded me of Air France’s new business class lounges at Charles de Gaulle 2E; in act three, the same space minus the bamboo plus one white tree, gliding over towards the left to reveal on the right a large, loft-like space, white, with a banqueting buffet garnished with space-age pheasants. The costumes were what you might call “simplified period”. My first thought was that the men’s looked a bit like Courrèges - surely no longer a very novel vision of the future - with long, Nehru-like tunics (but with ruffs: so 2060s) over narrow trousers. But as the fabrics were, for the Catholics, richly-coloured silks and brocades, ranging from dark plum through burgundies and mauves to lavender, in the end I decided they looked like Indians at a Mumbai wedding. The protestants wore steely grey.

Meyerbeer

The directing was opera comme on n’en fait plus, or I wish it were. Lots of hammy, thigh-slapping, macho jollity, and rival factions straining at one another, puffing out their chests, chins jutting, glaring at their opposite numbers menacingly, hands on the hilt of their half-drawn swords, emoting but never actually unsheathing them and coming to any blows. This show will, I think, soon be forgotten.

What was truly memorable, on the other hand, was Lisette Oropesa’s performance as Marguerite. From the very start with "O beau pays" she radiated grace, charm and gaiety and trilled through the part as if she was enjoying it, making it look and sound easy and natural. She can come back as often as she likes. Karine Deshayes wasn't far behind, singing and acting with vigour and vim. Both brought some engagement, some enthusiasm and, to put it simply, life to the show. "Thank goodness for the girls" I thought at the end of act two. Ermonela Jaho, on the other hand, was disappointing: her top notes were excellent: strong and forthright, but her middle range was blurry ("muddy" said a friend) and the bottom lacked power.

It's a pity Bryan Hymel dropped out, as he'd have had more vocal éclat than Yosep Kang. The latter worked hard at it and did a very creditable job, but evidently he isn't a natural bête de scène and the old-fashioned "stand-and-deliver" directing was not of a kind to help him develop a distinct personality, let alone charisma. Nicolas Testé was impressive and in fact there wasn't a weak leak as such anywhere among the men. The chorus, the men especially, was once again on top form. But the very best efforts of all involved were not enough to save the evening from the production. You might have hoped to come away wondering why Les Huguenots isn't staged more often. In the event, you left wondering why anyone would go to all the trouble. In my case, at the (second) interval.

Here, Maestro Wenarto gives Lisette O. a run for her money.