Jules MASSENET (1842-1912) 
          La terre promise (1897)
          
Hérodiade (1881): Charme des jours passés: Ne pouvant 
          réprimer les élans
          
Le Cid (1885): Ô souverain, ô juge, ô père!
          
Thaïs (1898): O messager de Dieu - Baigne d’eau mes 
          mains 
          
Le jongleur de Notre Dame (1902): La Vierge entend fort bien
          Sabine Revault d’Allonnes (soprano) Patrick Garayt (tenor) Jean-Louis 
          Serre (baritone), Cologne Oratorio Choir, Elisabeth Brasseur Choir, 
          Ensemble Chorala Contretemps, Cernay-la-Ville Choir, Versailles Polyphonic 
          Ensemble, Guy Touvron Brass
          French Oratorio Choir and Orchestra/Jean-Pierre lo Ré 
          rec. Église de la Trinité, Paris, 12 May 2012 
          
EROL ER200040 
 
          [107.00]  
 
        In his book 
History of the Oratorio published 
          in 2000, Howard Smith states that “Massenet’s last oratorio 
          stands at the pinnacle of nineteenth century French works in this genre” 
          and “the most worthy of special attention.” However it has 
          never previously been recorded, probably because the forces demanded 
          are massive; here we have, in addition to three soloists, no fewer than 
          six combined choirs, a brass ensemble to play the trumpets which brings 
          down the walls of Jericho, a huge orchestra including quadruple woodwind 
          (two English horns and two bass clarinets) and two pairs each of timpani, 
          side drums and cymbals. The forces on this DVD were assembled to commemorate 
          the anniversary of Massenet’s death in 2012, and given the expense 
          involved I suppose it is very unlikely that we are going to get another 
          recording soon; so all lovers of Massenet, especially in his grandiose 
          mood (think 
Esclarmonde), will have to have this release. 
            
          All the same it would not be hard to imagine a better performance than 
          this. In the first place Massenet uses his huge choral forces in a series 
          of fugues - and it would be safe to say that contrapuntal writing was 
          never his strongest suit. In the resonant and echoing acoustic of this 
          massive basilica the result is reduced to a tonal mush in which it is 
          often difficult to distinguish individual lines. You can see the conductor 
          working hard to enthuse his performers, but the orchestral players often 
          look bored and the choirs are clearly having difficulty co-ordinating 
          their efforts. Nor are Massenet’s exorbitant and specific demands 
          fully complied with: he asks for 
at least four harps for church 
          performance, but here we have to make do with two. Their insistent arpeggios 
          which accompany Massenet’s imitation of Hebrew chanting in Part 
          One - in which he anticipates Elgar in 
The Apostles - are insufficiently 
          forceful. 
            
          The First Part depicts the Israelites in the wilderness, and their alliance 
          with the Moabites. The music at the beginning recalls that for the monks 
          in 
Thaïs from a couple of years before, but rises to a more 
          grandiose climax. The choristers don’t sound very fierce when 
          they sing about having heard God “in the midst of the fire”. 
          It is not until the antiphonal chanting later on that they seem to get 
          the bit between their teeth … and the acoustic blurs some of their 
          melismatic lines. 
            
          It is not indeed until the second part, which depicts the fall of Jericho, 
          that the music rises above a turgid religiosity to produce some real 
          drama. It begins unpromisingly with a jogging little fugue theme clearly 
          modelled closely on Mendelssohn’s opening to 
Elijah, but 
          - after rather too long - builds up a good head of steam. In this it 
          is aided by some very Berliozian touches: wailing woodwind figures, 
          stentorian brass chords and rolls on two sets of timpani. The influence 
          of Berlioz can also be felt in the march around the walls of Jericho, 
          with the isolated group of seven trumpets in the gallery set against 
          the timpani duet on stage. Again one would like more harps, and the 
          surging principal string melody should surely sound much more forceful 
          and ‘present’ than it does here. The march ends with the 
          chorus delivering a “terrible, agonised, powerful and prolonged 
          cry”. The unpitched howl from the choir here - albeit rather too 
          well-mannered, despite encouragement from the conductor - is a truly 
          original effect leading to a barbaric chorus of rejoicing that almost 
          anticipates Walton is 
Belshazzar’s Feast. This is one of 
          Massenet’s very greatest inspirations, unexpected in this context. 
          
            
          After that the third part can afford to be more relaxed, and indeed 
          begins with a prelude entitled 
Pastorale. There then follows 
          a gentle choral meditation which builds to a sonorous climax. There’s 
          then a solo for the soprano accompanied by the organ and placed above 
          and behind the massed forces on the space below. The organ then suddenly 
          erupts with grandiose chords which clearly show the influence of Berlioz’s 
          
Te Deum. The movement then degenerates into a somewhat untidy 
          fugue which is clearly intended to bring things to a sonorous conclusion 
          but here just sounds rather confused. 
            
          Of the three soloists, Sabine Revault d’Allonnes is, by a considerable 
          margin, the best. I loved her work on a disc of Massenet 
mélodies 
          last year (
review), 
          and she has a real feeling for the style of the composer as well as 
          a stupendously radiant voice. Garayt is fine and indeed heroic in his 
          lower and middle registers, but there is a distinct sign of strain in 
          the upper reaches of his voice as he tries to impose a basically 
verismo 
          style onto Massenet’s more sweetly lyrical lines. Serre’s 
          smooth tones are more pleasant to listen to, but he does not give evidence 
          of much involvement with the text: “Hear ye, Israel,” he 
          proclaims, but his 
Ecoutez sounds almost apologetic, as if he 
          hesitates to trouble them. 
            
          To make up the full length of the concert, we are given a supplement 
          consisting of five excerpts from Massenet operas, described here as 
          “the sacred in the operas of Jules Massenet” - although 
          one might take leave to doubt this description in the case of the items 
          from 
Thaïs and 
Le jongleur de Notre Dame, neither 
          of which depict religion in a very positive light. The soloists here 
          reflect their work in the oratorio: Serre pleasant but rather bland, 
          Garayt showing decided signs of strain in the upper register, and d’Allonnes 
          soaring into Massenet’s melodies with all the considerable grace 
          and beauty at her command. She even inspires Serre to a more positive 
          show of emotion in the aria and duet from 
Thaïs. Presumably 
          to reflect the arrangements at the original concert, these operatic 
          excepts rather inconveniently precede the performance of the oratorio. 
          At least it allows d’Allonnes to get proceedings off to a rousing 
          start. 
            
          This issue is clearly intended for an exclusively French market: the 
          thirteen pages of the booklet (including the complete texts) are in 
          that language alone, with no translations whatsoever. The invaluable 
          ISMLP site contains not only a full score (a massive file to download) 
          but also three copies of the vocal score but none of these contain any 
          translations. Nor are there any subtitles provided: not altogether the 
          best manner in which to commemorate the death of the composer. To read 
          the French text is not difficult - most of the phrases anyway are familiar 
          from Biblical sources - but one also suspects the lingering influence 
          of the official Gaullist insistence from the 1960s that everybody in 
          the world should be made to speak the French language, especially Anglo-Saxons. 
          Nevertheless ‘Massenetistes’ - to quote Rodney Milnes’ 
          delightfully manufactured word - will have to have this DVD for the 
          sake of the oratorio 
The promised land. It has some very fine 
          and original things in it even if the inspiration is uneven. Saint-Saëns 
          had a go at an oratorio on the same subject some fifteen years later 
          for the Three Choirs Festival - Richard Hickox gave a broadcast performance 
          of it in 2001 - but this Massenet work is generally far superior to 
          that rather academic score. 
            
          
Paul Corfield Godfrey