Gounod’s
Faust has
a particular place in my affections. In the early 1950s,
having attended one of Gigli’s farewell concerts - only
Frank Sinatra managed more - and being used to listening
to opera arias and complete operas at home, my parents
took me to my first live opera. It was
Faust performed
by Sadlers Wells in Manchester. The cast was memorable.
Harvey Allan as Mephisto, Roland Jones in the eponymous
role and the redoubtable Amy Shuard as Marguerite. The
production was made more memorable by the use of ultra-violet
light. Mephistopheles flashing and glowing eye effects
remain with me in memory nearly sixty years on. In those
far away 1950s Gounod’s
Faust was one of the most
popular operas in the repertoire. Rather suddenly it
fell out of fashion among those in control of opera houses.
It was deemed rather trite by cerebral conductors and
critics who clamoured for opera houses to commission
new works. No longer was there to be a dependence on
operas from the 19th century, although it was also a
time when the early works of Verdi were enjoying a renaissance.
This might be OK for critics who tire of seeing the old
warhorses, but the general public like a cohesive plot
with the story illuminated by melody. Also if the production
and sets are in a form that the public can recognise
as relating to the plot so much the better. My last live
performance of
Faust was by Opera North in 1991
with an excellent cast of Richard Van Allan, Anne Dawson
and Arthur Davies. By no means as memorable as my first,
the production was sensible and recognisable although
it did not include the ballet - presumably for reasons
of cost. Meanwhile whilst the welcome Rossini renaissance
has gathered pace,
Faust has continued to gather
dust. I thought David McVicar’s Royal Opera House production
of 2004, firmly set at the time of the work’s composition,
and with Bryn Terfel somewhat idiosyncratically in drag
for Walpurgis Night, might herald a
Faust renaissance.
It hasn’t. It did stimulate me to write
A
Faust on Record when I expressed the hope that the
Royal Opera production, which featured on BBC television
in Britain, would make it onto CD and DVD. It hasn’t.
As
well as the omission of the ballet, the Opera North production
included spoken dialogue as distinct from sung recitative.
There is no definitive text of
Faust. First composed
for the Théâtre Lyrique in Paris in the
opéra comique tradition
with spoken dialogue, Gounod’s intentions were butchered
by the management and by the diva so that the premiere
in 1859 was not as the composer intended. Over the next
ten years as
Faust was seen and acclaimed all
over the world, Gounod added and amended the score to
meet the needs of various singers and theatres. The ballet
was added for production at the Paris Opéra. In consequence
there is no definitive version. With much autograph material
in private hands none seems likely. The version presented
in Japan in 1973, which is the basis for this recording,
was what was likely to be seen and heard in Italy at
La Scala and elsewhere. It features sung recitative,
but given in Italian rather than, as here, the original
French.
On
DVD
Faust has fared badly. The only version I
can find available is the 1985 Vienna production by Ken
Russell, the
enfant terrible of English music
films. The double disc issue by DG features Bénackova’s
vocally admired Marguerite, Ruggero Raimondi camping
up Méphistophélès and Francisco Araiza in the title role
(00440 073 4108). As things stand Boito’s
Mefistofele is
far better served on DVD than
Faust. Given this
scarcity I welcome this issue, but only with severe limitations.
The best news is that it provides an opportunity to see
and hear three of the greatest interpreters of the three
principal roles by singers of their, or any generation.
We hear Renata Scotto as Marguerite, Nicolai Ghiaurov
as Méphistophélès, and the vocally elegant Canarian tenor
Alfredo Kraus in the title role. Although the rather
woolly picture cannot disguise the fact that Scotto and
Kraus are past the first flush of youth, their singing
is full of expression and many vocal felicities. Lithe
of figure, and moving like a young infatuate, Kraus sings
the top B in the
Kermesse (Ch. 9) and C in
Salut!
Demeure (Ch 11) from the chest, with strength, steadiness
and without spread. His acting is convincing and vocal
elegance of phrasing exemplary. Committed acting and
a wide range of vocal expression are also to be found
in Renata Scotto’s Marguerite. Her
Il était un Roi
de Thulé and
Jewel Song (Ch. 12-13) are sung
with rich tone and a wide range of vocal colour. She
makes no attempt to lighten her voice for the sort of
false girlish effect that marred her interpretation of
Butterfly on
the EMI CD set conducted by Barbirolli (see
review).
She does lighten her voice as she opens the Jewel Box
and is enraptured by its contents, with her face and
body also expressing her feelings along with her voice
- marvellous. Age matters less in terms of appearance
for Méphistophélès. Tall, slim and a very good actor,
Nicolai Ghiaurov’s vocal range, and flexibility are ideal
for the role. Add his true bass strength and sonority
and his rendering of
Le veau d’or and
serenade, with
its mocking laughs, are highlights (Chs.7 and 22) in
a quite magnificent portrayal. This performance was Scotto’s
first in French. She had previously sung the role in
Italian and along with all three principals she manages
the language idiomatically.
As
I have already implied, not all in this particular DVD
garden is lovely. Many of the failings are explained
by the source of the recording. It derives from one of
a number of opera productions presented in Japan by
Lirica
Italiana from the mid-1950s onwards. These performances
aimed to introduce the Japanese public to the best of
European opera. The number of Japanese singers on the
international stage today is perhaps a measure of their
success. The performances were recorded in mono for transcription
on Japanese TV. The mono sound is often thin and wiry
with the words in Japanese text embedded in the film.
The subtitles in English etc are overlaid on the Japanese
characters. The removal of these Japanese characters
in the transfer from film to DVD was not possible without
serious deterioration of the quality and consequently
has not been attempted. As that quality is already rather
visually woolly this would have made the venture commercially
unsustainable. The picture is not as sharp as we are
used to and is not of the standard as that from New York’s
Met or the Unitel Films at a similar period. The stage
is often poorly lit, with only the brightest of colours
standing out. Of course many of the scenes are dark in
themselves, as in the opening in Faust’s study (Chs 2-4),
but the TV production and lack of additional lighting
does not help. However the compromises are worthwhile
and are no greater than those for the enjoyment of listening
to historical CDs for the sake of a great interpretation,
but with the significant advantage of the visual image.
The bonus interview with Renata Scotto, recorded in 2007,
will be of interest to opera enthusiasts.
The
set is a circular dais with steps. Various additions
are made for Faust’s study and elsewhere. Drapes allow
Méphistophélès and Faust to secrete themselves when appropriate.
The basic simplicity aids the swift movement between
scenes in this presentation of what is normally a five
act opera. It also has the advantage of restricting the
number of curtain calls shown. The production is simple
with no gimmicks or concepts. By present day standards
it is rather four-square as is the conducting. The singing
and acting of the comprimario roles is not of the standard
of the three principals. It is the latter’s contribution
that makes this
Faust worth watching and hearing
despite the caveats I have outlined.
Robert J Farr