Jules MASSENET (1842-1912) 
          Don Quichotte - opera in five acts (1909) 
          José van Dam (bass) - Don Quichotte 
          Silvia tro Santafé (mezzo) - La Belle Dulcinée 
          Werner van Mechelen (bass-baritone) - Sancho Panza 
          Orchestre et Choeurs de La Monnaie/Marc Minkowski 
          Laurent Pelly (stage director) 
          rec. live, La Monnaie, May 2010 
          Region Code 0; Aspect Ratio 16:9; Dolby 2.0 Stereo 
          
NAÏVE DR2147 
 
          [112:00 (opera) + 61:00 (bonus)]
 
         Anything that serves to draw more attention to Massenet’s 
          wonderful valedictory opera is a good thing in my eyes. It’s high 
          time this opera got more of the credit that it deserves. Its endless 
          stream of lovely melodies makes it a real winner, with frequent splashes 
          of Spanish colour serving to enrich the texture. It’s surely worthy 
          of standing alongside 
Manon and 
Werther in the popularity 
          stakes. 
            
          This issue deserves particular praise because the central performance, 
          on which so much of the opera hangs, was José van Dam’s 
          farewell to the stage at La Monnaie. The great Belgian bass could not 
          have chosen a better opera with which to bow out. The bittersweet character 
          of so much of the music suits the event down to the ground, especially 
          the moist-eyed final scene of the Don’s death. That said, there’s 
          enough humour and levity in the other scenes to ensure the occasion 
          doesn’t become too lachrymose. Van Dam is on very fine form here, 
          clearly relishing the importance of the occasion. His gift for vocal 
          flair is still there, even if the lower part of his register is nowhere 
          near as full as it was. He is at his finest in the third act’s 
          scene with the bandits where, in his prayer scene, he rediscovers all 
          the beauty that made his voice so special in its heyday. The duet with 
          Dulcinée in the fourth act is also extremely moving, but he saves 
          the best for the final scene where his portrayal is touching in its 
          simplicity. He barely moves a muscle in the whole scene, allowing the 
          music and, especially, the voice to do the acting. The moment when he 
          bequeaths to Sancho the Island of Dreams is lovely. Leaving aside Furlanetto’s 
          recent assumption of the role on the Mariinsky label, the main point 
          of comparison for this release will be 
Van 
          Dam’s EMI Classics set from 1992. Eighteen years separate 
          these recordings, so it’s not surprising that Van Dam was in finer 
          voice back then. The bottom of the register, in particular, sounds much 
          stronger in 1992, though the world-weariness had increased by 2010, 
          thereby making this interpretation more poignant. 
            
          Silvia tro Santafé is a very successful Dulcinée, though, 
          and runs EMI’s Teresa Berganza very close. Her voice is a little 
          opaque but still luxuriant - the same quality I detect in the more famous 
          tones of Anna Netrebko. That makes her very successful in this role, 
          however. She is very winning in the first scene when she sets the Don 
          his task of recovering her necklace, as she is in the final scene of 
          the fourth act where she attempts some sort of reconciliation with the 
          Don after rejecting his marriage proposal. She is still full of skittishness 
          and coquetry, giving her an appropriately unsympathetic edge in the 
          fiesta scene. The one place where the 1992 recording scores easily over 
          this DVD is in Werner van Mechelen’s Sancho Panza. His voice isn’t 
          gruff, exactly, but he lacks lyrical tone and he spills over into 
parlando 
          style much too easily, most damagingly in his second act condemnation 
          of the wiles of women. This should sound much more lyrical than it does. 
          Alain Fondary is much finer for Plasson. However, Minkowski’s 
          quartet of suitors makes a good contrast to the more substantial central 
          roles, and the singing of the chorus is very good. 
            
          Pelly’s production flows from the books of chivalry which, in 
          Cervantes’ novel, addle Don Quixote’s brain and turn him 
          to his misguided feats of knight errantry. Every scene is either dominated 
          by or involves mounds of books and leaves of paper, reinforcing the 
          idea that this is a fantasy, though in the final scene, when the Don 
          finally understands his folly, the books have been torched. When we 
          first see the Don he is sitting in his armchair reading a book. He 
observes 
          all the action on stage but does not take part until his name is called, 
          suggesting that the whole opera is, in fact, taking place within a dream. 
          It is interesting and appealing, though, to see his character visibly 
          age as the opera progresses. There are a few strikingly bonkers moments 
          that we’ve come to expect from Pelly, such as the guitar-playing 
          horse in the fourth act, and the altercation with the windmills is very 
          well done. I was a little concerned that Pelly was approaching the whole 
          work as if to take the mickey out of it - looking at it in inverted 
          commas, if you like. I guess that’s what Massenet’s treatment 
          of the story is all about anyway, so in the end it didn’t bother 
          me. The gaudy colours and undoubtedly impressive sets place the whole 
          thing in a story-book world that seems to characterise many of Pelly’s 
          opera productions: see his Covent Garden 
Cendrillon 
          and 
Fille 
          du Régiment for further amiable examples. In the end 
          I found it mostly very winning. 
            
          In the pit Minkowski holds the whole evening together with charm, affection 
          and his famous ear for detail, enlivening each phrase with a spark of 
          delight. The packaging of the disc is pretty lavish, with a full colour 
          booklet and cardboard case, though the sideways orientation of the spine 
          means it won’t sit comfortably on your shelf. It’s a shame, 
          though, that the only sound available is 2-channel stereo; a surround 
          option would have been nice. 
            
          The bonus film runs to a very generous 61 minutes, giving you not just 
          interviews with Van Dam, Pelly and the creative team, but also myriad 
          insights into the backstage process, including building the very impressive 
          sets and the audition process for finding the quartet of suitors. 
            
          
Simon Thompson