Lecocq - Le Docteur Miracle
Studio Marigny, Paris, Friday September 27 2109
Production, sets and costumes: Pierre Lebon. Lighting: Bertrand Killy. Le Podestat: Laurent Deleuil. Le Capitaine Silvio: David Ghilardi. Véronique, the Podestat’s wife: Laura Neumann. Laurette, the Podestat’s daughter: Makeda Monnet. Docteur Miracle’s assistant: Pierre Lebon. Piano: Martin Surot.
I was supposed to kick my new season off last Tuesday with a concert version of Giulio Cesare at the TCE in Paris, but had instead, maddeningly, to be on stage myself at work, MC-ing a management conference. At 23.30 I got a text message from my opera-going companions saying 'Désolé... superbe soirée' - 'Sorry... superb evening.'
So instead, after ending the old season with Hervé's frantic Mam'zelle Nitouche, I kicked off the new at the Studio Marigny with another hour of madcap fun from the Palazzetto Bru Zane, who are now reviving, with their usual care and attention, France's opéra bouffe: Lecoq's Le Docteur Miracle.
The 'back-story' to this is as follows, as related on French-language Wikipédia, here machine-translated:
In July 1856, Jacques Offenbach, who was director of the Bouffes-Parisiens, decided to organize an operetta competition. The competitors had to set to music a one-act piece - Le Docteur Miracle - by Léon Battu and Ludovic Halévy. The jury was chaired by Daniel-François-Esprit Auber, composer and director of the Conservatory. Sixty-eight candidates submitted their manuscripts - six of which were selected (Georges Bizet, Jules Demersseman, Camille Erlanger, Charles Lecocq, Limagne, Maniquet). After which the prize was finally awarded jointly to Georges Bizet and Charles Lecocq. It was therefore decided to alternate the two works with the same actors, to give the winners the same opportunities in front of the audience. They wanted to start with Bizet's work, but Lecocq protested. After drawing lots, Lecocq's work was created on April 8, 1857, and Bizet's the next day. (Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator)
These potentially fragile bouffe pieces can only be carried off successfully thanks to the total commitment of a well-rehearsed team of singer-actors. Without that, they might be dire. Even last night, we got off to a momentarily slow start, as the corny humour only begins to be funny as the characters come to affirm their individual personalities. In such a small space, that requires absolute control of every gesture, expression and move - or in this case, leap, as the production involved a great deal of dashing round in tight spaces. Any slacking-off would be immediately visible. By the time we got to the Podestat's impassioned love song to his lunchtime omelette (a slick of sticky slime served under a series of diminishing, Russian-doll-like cloches), the audience was in stitches.
The Studio Marigny's small, black stage was piled high with a ziggurat of crates and step-ladders, incorporating an upright piano and topped with a giant poster for quack medicines. The cast (apart from the pianist, in a grey pinstripe suit and bowler hat) wore scarlet - colour of both cardinals and devils - down to their stockings and shoes, spangled or not: scarlet lace bolero and skirt à paniers for Véronique, scarlet tutu and Doc Martens for Laurette, scarlet page suit with pillbox hat, scarlet infantry uniform and forage cap... As the Podestat, slender, bearded Laurent Deleuil, with a ridiculously tiny red top-hat pinned to one side of his crown, manoeuvred his balloon-like, scarlet fat suit round the cluttered stage with good-humoured patience.
The crates had traps allowing the characters to use them, not just the wings, as entries and exits. One, when the Podestat found out he was (supposedly) mortally poisoned by the slimy omelette, popped open to reveal a jack-in-the-box skeleton in a big white ruff. Miracle’s assistant even dived headlong into the doctor's Gladstone bag on the floor and was swallowed up whole: it was that sort of production. They threw themselves into it with boundless energy, a wink and a grin: 'Quel travail,' said my neighbour at the end, over loud applause and cheers.
Production, sets and costumes: Pierre Lebon. Lighting: Bertrand Killy. Le Podestat: Laurent Deleuil. Le Capitaine Silvio: David Ghilardi. Véronique, the Podestat’s wife: Laura Neumann. Laurette, the Podestat’s daughter: Makeda Monnet. Docteur Miracle’s assistant: Pierre Lebon. Piano: Martin Surot.
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| Lecocq |
So instead, after ending the old season with Hervé's frantic Mam'zelle Nitouche, I kicked off the new at the Studio Marigny with another hour of madcap fun from the Palazzetto Bru Zane, who are now reviving, with their usual care and attention, France's opéra bouffe: Lecoq's Le Docteur Miracle.
The 'back-story' to this is as follows, as related on French-language Wikipédia, here machine-translated:
In July 1856, Jacques Offenbach, who was director of the Bouffes-Parisiens, decided to organize an operetta competition. The competitors had to set to music a one-act piece - Le Docteur Miracle - by Léon Battu and Ludovic Halévy. The jury was chaired by Daniel-François-Esprit Auber, composer and director of the Conservatory. Sixty-eight candidates submitted their manuscripts - six of which were selected (Georges Bizet, Jules Demersseman, Camille Erlanger, Charles Lecocq, Limagne, Maniquet). After which the prize was finally awarded jointly to Georges Bizet and Charles Lecocq. It was therefore decided to alternate the two works with the same actors, to give the winners the same opportunities in front of the audience. They wanted to start with Bizet's work, but Lecocq protested. After drawing lots, Lecocq's work was created on April 8, 1857, and Bizet's the next day. (Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator)
These potentially fragile bouffe pieces can only be carried off successfully thanks to the total commitment of a well-rehearsed team of singer-actors. Without that, they might be dire. Even last night, we got off to a momentarily slow start, as the corny humour only begins to be funny as the characters come to affirm their individual personalities. In such a small space, that requires absolute control of every gesture, expression and move - or in this case, leap, as the production involved a great deal of dashing round in tight spaces. Any slacking-off would be immediately visible. By the time we got to the Podestat's impassioned love song to his lunchtime omelette (a slick of sticky slime served under a series of diminishing, Russian-doll-like cloches), the audience was in stitches.
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| Lecocq, again |
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