As a young man Jacques
Ibert wanted to be an actor and in his output as a composer
there is a large amount of dramatic music: six operas, seven
ballets, a dramatic cantata, incidental music for six stage
works and four radio scores. Add to this that he wrote music
for about thirty films, although not all of them full-length
scores.
On this attractive
and well-filled disc, originally issued about fifteen years
ago on the Marco Polo label, we get music from three of his
films, presented in reversed chronology. The Don Quichotte
songs are well-known, at least to Francophiles. The other two
scores were unknown to me and had obviously never been heard
by anyone, apart from filmgoers who heard the original soundtrack,
and that is something quite different. Ibert himself obviously
saw the potential for performing this music detached from the
pictures, for he sent a letter to his publisher listing the
cues in the Macbeth score that could be included in a
suite, without any changes of the music. Nothing more happened,
though, until Adriano decided to record the music; the result
is stunning. Being quite familiar with other orchestral music
by Ibert, I was quite surprised to find that this score belongs
to a different world, allying him “almost with the avant-garde”
as Adriano writes in the accompanying notes. The film, directed
by Orson Welles, is regarded as a masterpiece and the music
obviously fits like a glove. It is highly dramatic, Ibert paints
the different moods almost tangibly and he uses a wide palette
of instrumental colours with piano, celesta, vibraphone, harp
and a lot of more or less exotic percussion instruments, added
to the traditional symphony orchestra. In the scene entitled
Macbeth after the murder (track 3) there is a highly
original bass-tuba solo. The whole score is filled with inspired
ideas. Like all good film- or theatre music it functions excellently
on its own. The descriptive titles of the movements help the
listener to create his/her own images but it is also possible
to disregard its origin and just revel in the sound. The experience
is crowned by the marching of Macduff’s armies in the final
movement (track 6). It’s a shame that this music has collected
dust for nearly a half-century.
That also goes for
the Golgotha score, written in 1935 for Julien Duvuvier’s
artistic film about Christ’s last days. This is a film with
long sequences without dialogue and so was in urgent need of
strong dramatic music. Just as in the Macbeth music,
Ibert employs a large percussion section and also two ondes
martenot; reduced to one on this recording. The ondes martenot
was an early electronic instrument, constructed by Maurice Martenot
in 1928. When Ibert composed this music the instrument was something
of a novelty. It has been used mainly by French composers: Milhaud,
Honegger, Jolivet, Messiaen to mention a few. It produces some
eerie effects; even imitating the blowing wind. The suite on
this disc was actually put together by Ibert himself, but Adriano
has edited it with a cautious hand. He has also divided the
score into single episodes and given them suitable titles. The
long first movement, La fêtes de Pâques (track 7), is
an especially impressive piece with its noble string melody
and its gradually growing passacaglia-like march theme. The
jagged rhythms of Les vendeurs au Temple (track
8) illustrate the turmoil admirably while Le Calvaire
(track 9) is dark and doom-laden. Be prepared for the ondes
martenot with its other-worldly sound, sending a cold shiver
down one’s back.
Don Quichotte,
the oldest score here, was created by the legendary G M Pabst
for Feodor Chaliapin, who besides being one of the finest singers
in recorded history was also a formidable actor. Originally
Ravel was asked to compose songs for Chaliapin, but he was unable
to meet the deadline and so the task went to Ibert, who created
what in my opinion is one of the finest French song cycles,
superior to Ravel’s which eventually was finished and published,
although for some reason the texts are different from Ibert’s.
Chaliapin recorded the songs in 1933 with Ibert conducting.
After a slight revision they were published, although without
the orchestral introduction to Chanson du duc. That is
a pity, because it is a fine piece and can be heard on Chaliapin’s
recording. It would have been nice to have it in up-to-date
sound.
When the present
recording was made in 1990, it was, according to Adriano’s liner
notes the first stereo recording of the orchestral version.
José Van Dam recorded it a couple of years later for Erato,
a disc that also includes the Ravel songs. The soloist on the
present disc, American Henry Kiichli, has a true dark bass voice,
sounding heavier than either Van Dam or Chaliapin. It is a straightforward
interpretation, not very detailed but doing justice to the songs.
In the final song, and to my mind the best, Chanson de la
mort (track 16) Kiichli fines down his voice to a soft pianissimo;
the effect is truly moving. Chaliapin, recorded in his 60th
year but with his marvellous voice as flexible as ever, makes
the most of every opportunity to underline, to inflect, to colour
words and phrases. This is formidable acting in every sense
of the word and the final song, Chanson de la mort, becomes
almost unbearably touching. Van Dam, in modern sound, is also
a wonderful Don, who avoids Chaliapin’s almost physical acting
and concentrates on singing the music as flexibly as possible.
Van Dam’s Don Quichotte is captured as if heard from a good
seat in a concert hall while Chaliapin’s is a filmed close-up.
Both require to be heard, but in his own right Henry Kiichli
is a lot more than acceptable.
We are also treated
to a bonus in the shape of a rediscovered song for Sancho Panza,
sung in the film by Dorville. Based on the piano score, found
during the preparations for this recording, Adriano made an
orchestral accompaniment in line with the forces used in the
Quichotte cycle. It is a charming piece, this Chanson de
Sancho, in the form of a Pasodoble set to a comic text.
In the film it is sung in an inn, where Sancho is enjoying life,
away from Señora Panza! Kiichli sings it with obvious relish.
The fifteen-year-old
recordings wear their age lightly and the orchestra play well.
Adriano’s booklet text, from which I have obtained much of the
background information in this review, is full of interesting
details and English translations of the song texts are included,
although not the French originals. The quality of the music
was a real revelation and one of the most pleasant discoveries
in later years. This disc can be confidently recommended – not
only to film-music buffs.
Göran Forsling
see also Reviews
by Michael Cookson and Jonathan
Woolf
Jacques Tchamkerten (ondes
martenot) (Golgotha)
