This lavish production,
mounted at the Châtelet in Paris
to celebrate the 200th anniversary
of Berlioz’s birth, must have been eagerly
awaited by fans of the composer. For
those of us not fortunate enough to
see it in the flesh, the handsome three
disc DVD set from the ever reliable
BBC Opus Arte makes up for the disappointment.
Picture and sound quality are superb,
with sensitive TV direction from Peter
Maniura capturing faithfully the epic
yet suitably modernist staging by veteran
Yannis Kokkos, Greek-born but resident
in Paris for some thirty years now.
In the pit we have
our own John Eliot Gardiner, so both
fans and detractors will probably know
what to expect. Tempi are swift and
rhythmic control clam tight – no bad
thing in an opera that can seem, especially
in a complete four-hour-plus production
like this, diffuse in structure and
slightly long-winded in places. As no
great expert on the piece, I find it
a credit to Gardiner and his period
forces that I was never bored, indeed
quite often found myself marvelling
at the orchestral detail and originality
of the scoring. Examples abound throughout,
but I was particularly impressed by
passages such as Aeneas’s Laocoon scene
in Act 1, where the low brass snarl
away menacingly on the word ‘serpent’.
Gardiner also has the luxury of period
saxhorns in his band, here loaned from
a private collection, rasping excitingly
though the texture in the famous Royal
Hunt and Storm scene; the director makes
sure we’re aware by homing in on them
repeatedly, but one can’t blame him.
Strings are lithe and supple, easily
able to cope with the composer’s syncopations
and rhythmic complexities. It’s really
thrilling to hear the opera underpinned
like this, rather than with a rich,
velvety carpet of plushness. It also
means that the singers are never drowned
out, and balance between stage and pit
is as good as I’ve ever heard.
Luckily for us, the
singers match the commitment of the
orchestra with performances that are
both wonderful to listen to and convincing
to watch. The impassioned, fiery Cassandra
of Anna Caterina Antonacci dominates
Act 1, and her doomed prophetess is
a thrilling creation, gorgeously classical-looking
in her flowing white gown. She grows
ever more agitated as the people of
Troy welcome the famous horse; wisely
staged with just the head projected
onto the backdrop, as in the above reproduction.
The scene where she convinces the women
to kill themselves rather than submit
to slavery or worse is truly gripping.
She is well matched by Ludovic Tezier
as her lover Choroebus, their lyrical
duet one of the many high points of
the production.
The rest of the opera
is dominated by the serene, dignified
Dido of Susan Graham and the gritty,
heroic Aeneas of Gregory Kunde. Graham’s
youthful Queen, so effortlessly lyrical,
is a joy to behold, with acting and
singing of the highest calibre. Kunde
makes Aeneas a gritty, headstrong soldier,
his rounded tenor ringing out in thrilling
Jon Vickers-like fashion. Their rapport
is obvious in the great starlit duet
that ends Act 4, Kunde lightening his
tone for the two voices to mesh like
the lovers. Dido’s death scene is genuinely
moving, all the more so for being staged
so simply.
There are other notable
contributions, particularly the Narbal
of Laurent Naouri, a singer last seen
on DVD as an excellent Escamillo on
Opus Arte’s Glyndebourne Carmen.
Mention must be made also of the chorus;
Berlioz, like Mussorgsky, gives them
a key role in the action, and the youthful
Châtelet chorus, supplemented
by Gardiner’s crack Monteverdi Choir,
is one of the glories of the production.
The direction of Yannis
Kokkos, who also designed costumes and
set, leaves plenty of room for the singers
to act. Most of the key set-pieces are
on a fairly bare stage, though the sense
of spectacle is provided by a huge mirrored
backdrop which tilts and slides as required.
This clever device is able to reflect
the stage floor, thus showing us a huge
Renaissance cityscape for Troy, as well
as making the stage seem twice as big
at important moments: crowd scenes,
invading soldiers etc. It is also mightily
useful for the projection of images,
such as the above-mentioned horse’s
head, and the scene where Hector’s spirit
talks to Aeneas at the start of Act
2. It is a hugely imaginative, expensive-looking
piece of kit which never invades the
intimacy yet gives the audience its
share of thrills. Costumes are of the
flowing, timeless sort, though the Greek
army looks uncomfortably like a group
of American GIs, possibly the only political
statement in the production.
This is a revelatory
set, both musically and visually. It
runs to three discs, but there is an
excellent extra in the form of an hour-long
documentary by Reiner Moritz entitled
‘The Trojans: A Masterpiece Revived’,
in which all the major players get the
chance to give us their take on the
opera. As with the Glyndebourne Carmen,
Opus Arte has given us a memento of
a great production. Even though the
DVD competition is limited, it is hard
to imagine it being bettered.
Tony Haywood
Chorus of the Théâtre du Châtelet
/Monteverdi Choir 
BBC
OPUS ARTE OA0900D [3 discs, running time
approx. 5 hrs 12 minutes] 
