John CORIGLIANO (b.1938)
The Ghosts of Versailles (1991) [155.34]
Patricia Racette (soprano: Marie Antoinette), Christopher Maltman (Beaumarchais),
Kristinn Sigmundsson (bass: Louis XVI), Scott Scully (tenor: Marquis), Victoria
Livengood (mezzo-soprano: Woman with hat), Lucas Meachem (baritone: Figaro),
Lucy Schaufer (mezzo-soprano: Susanna), Joshua Guerrera (Count Almaviva),
Guanqun Yu (soprano: Rosina), Brenton Ryan (tenor: Léon), Stacey Tappan (soprano:
Florestine), Robert Brubaker (tenor: Bergéass), Joel Sorensen (baritone: Wilhelm),
Renée Papier (mezzo-soprano: Cherubino), Philip Cokorinos (bass: Suleiman
Pasha), Patti LuPone (mezzo-soprano: Samira), Los Angeles Opera/James Conlon
rec. live, Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles Music Center, February and
March 2015
PENTATONE PTC5186538 SACD [80:57 + 74:37]
When nowadays we have become accustomed to the presence
of the visual element on DVD or Blu-Ray for domestic listening to opera, it
comes as something of a surprise to note that in the 2002 edition of The
Rough Guide to Opera the existence of video was completely ignored, with
one very particular exception. Corigliano’s opera The Ghosts of
Versailles received a recommendation for the videotape of the original
Metropolitan Opera production – simply because there was no audio recording
available. And that has remained the case until now, despite the considerable
number of revivals the opera has received worldwide (although mainly in a
version for forces reduced from Corigliano’s original extravagant demands).
Hence, this new set on CD is most welcome, and not only for the fact of its
uniqueness, although it is not, as the front of the box proclaims, a “world
premiere recording.”
When The Ghosts of Versailles was premièred at the Met in 1991, it
was the first presentation of a new opera since the ill-fated Antony and
Cleopatra by Samuel Barber, chosen to inaugurate the new house in 1966.
It was an ill-deserved catastrophe both for the composer and the company,
one which effectively scared Rudolf Bing from any further attempts to stage
a new opera for years – Virgil Thompson’s Lord Byron
being one noted casualty. Determined to make amends for this, James Levine
had originally commissioned Corigliano’s opera for the centenary of
the Met but in the event it was not given for some years after the envisioned
date. Perhaps determined that the result should be a success, the Met then
threw all their resources at the new work with a large and very stellar cast;
and it would be idle to pretend that the same degree of celebrity attaches
to the singers in this new version. That said, the results are not only different
in degree but also in approach.
The singers in this new recording benefit from better engineered balances
between stage and orchestra, but also from increased familiarity with the
idiom which enables them to give more nuanced performances and which certainly
does not always demonstrate the superiority of their famous predecessors.
Indeed there is only one point where the new cast is decidedly less satisfactory,
and that is in the casting of Robert Brubaker as the villain Bergéass. Graham
Clark in the original performances presented a real vocal and dramatic tour
de force, a heroic-scaled tenor with a voice like rasping steel; and
Brubaker’s more lyrically produced tones simply cannot match the histrionics
of his big aria Long live the worm! with its eerily horrible squirming
bass in the synthesiser. This is not Brubaker’s fault; his voice is
just different, and less effective. The other tour de force in the
original production was Marilyn Horne’s cameo appearance as Samira in
the Turkish Embassy scene which brings Act One to an end. Here a very different
approach is adopted, with the presence in the cast of Patti LuPone imported
from the field of ‘musical theatre’. She actually scores some
points off Horne in the more ‘ethnic’ second part of her aria,
delivered with a forthright Broadway panache; but she cannot match the veteran
star in the passages of high coloratura that begin the aria and bring
it to an end. But for the rest, she really can sing, as indeed we should guess
from her performances in Sunset Boulevard or Les Misérables.
Corigliano goes out of his way to provide opportunities for real singing for
the rest of his cast, too; each of the principals have their own aria, many
of them coming to a full close at the end to allow for applause, opportunities
not always taken by the audience in these live performances. Oddly enough,
the one exception to this rule is the character of Beaumarchais, incontestably
the most prominent male character in the action, who is, however, assigned
main parts in several of the concerted numbers – duets, trios and quartets
– which are scattered throughout the opera. In this role Christopher
Maltman makes an interesting contrast to Håkan Hagegård in the original cast:
less forthright, less firmly sure of himself, and more tentative and nervous
as he dares to frame his plan to save his beloved Marie Antoinette from the
guillotine. In the latter role Patricia Racette is fully the equal of Teresa
Stratas at the Met, with tone rather better focused; but neither can measure
up to Renée Fleming in the recording she has made of the Queen’s aria
Once there was a golden bird on a recital disc issued in 2014. In
the original cast Fleming, not at that stage the major star she was to become,
was assigned the subsidiary role of Countess Almaviva; here it is taken, and
taken very well, by the creamy-toned Guanqun Yu. Lucas Meachem is excellent
too as Figaro, relishing the words and getting well round Corigliano’s
equivalent of Largo al factotum.
This brings me to the matter of Corigliano’s style in this opera, which
can only be described as eclectic with a vengeance. The music for the ghosts,
dominated by string glissandi, makes for a rather forbidding start;
but then, as Beaumarchais begins to present his ‘new opera’ for
the delectation of his royal master and mistress, we are presented with a
series of quasi-pastiches including some almost-literal quotations from Mozart
and Rossini. These are very well done, not only the ‘entrance aria’
for Figaro but also the beautiful quartet with its echoes of Cosi fan
tutte and the more ‘characterful’ set pieces for Bergéass
and Samira. But all of these come in the First Act, which leaves the composer
somewhat bereft of material for Act Two where the plot becomes more serious
– as Beaumarchais schemes to save Marie Antoinette from the guillotine
by a series of stratagems, only to be foiled as the Queen herself becomes
reconciled to her fate. At times here one becomes aware that the musical material,
although it remains interesting, is becoming stretched a little thin; and
the working out of the plot seems to be unnecessarily protracted. The sense
of resolution at the end, too, is not driven home with sufficient force to
make the required emotional impact. It is this failing which robs the opera
of real greatness; but at the same time, it remains enjoyable and perhaps
in a work described as “buffa” one should not expect anything
too profound.
For the rest, the remainder of the very large cast are eminently satisfactory,
and James Conlon obtains skilful playing from the orchestra while pacing the
score admirably. Although The Ghosts of Versailles was generally
well received by both critics and public at its initial presentation, there
were a number of dissenting voices who regarded the score as both insufficiently
serious-minded and lacking in musical substance. To judge from the reviews
of this Los Angeles production, the opera continues to divide opinion; but
the very fact that the work continues to hold the stage after twenty-five
years, despite its massive demands and complexities, demonstrates clearly
that it has elements that deserve revival. As I have observed, I find it thoroughly
enjoyable, and if one accepts the description of it by composer and librettist
as a “grand opera buffa” it seems to fit the bill admirably. The
writing for the voices is generally grateful, the elements of Rossinian and
Mozartian pastiche are not over-done; and, yes, there is an element of wistfulness
too, tinged with a real sense of tragedy gently hinted at. As long as there
are opera houses prepared to undertake the considerable effort (and costs)
involved in mounting The Ghosts of Versailles, I think it will continue
to hold the stage. It is a real pity that Corigliano has not been lured back
to the theatre since.
The whole opera has been fitted neatly onto two very well-filled discs; the
original video release conducted by James Levine lasted over twenty minutes
longer, but I have not discovered whether this was the result of slower speeds,
additional material on the video, or snips being made in the score; if it
is the latter, then presumably any omissions have been made with the blessing
of the composer. The presentation is really excellent: not only full details
of all the artists involved (the heading here has been somewhat abridged),
essays by composer and librettist in addition to an extensive background note
by Thomas May and extracts from reviews of the 1991 production. There is also
a full text, together with stage directions which help the listener to find
his or her way round what is a very convoluted plot skirting the borders between
fantasy and reality and passing rapidly from one to the other. Not only the
box and booklet, but the individual sleeves for the discs, are illustrated
by full colour photographs taken from the Los Angeles production by Darko
Tresnjak – not, to judge by appearances, as elaborate as Colin Graham’s
at the Met but faithfully reflecting the libretto nonetheless. The composer
describes the performance and recording as a “dream come true”
and he has every reason to do so. Those who know the opera will presumably
already have the video, and for them this recording will come as a welcome
supplement; others who have yet to encounter a significant work will find
that the musical elements are well served here.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
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