Padmāvatī 
                  is part of EMI’s mid-price Opera Series. At first glance that 
                  series doesn’t look too promising, with the possible exception 
                  of the Callas Gioconda and Karajan’s Aida, but 
                  in this case EMI has no competition as Roussel’s opera-ballet 
                  isn’t easily available elsewhere (there is a live London Coliseum 
                  recording under Jean Martinon from July 1969 on Gala GL100573). 
                  Also it has the apparent advantage of a very strong cast. So 
                  far so good, but is this operatic oddity really worth reviving?
                
The work has an 
                  interesting history. Roussel’s ballet The Spider’s Banquet 
                  had been a great success at the Théātre des Arts in Paris so 
                  its director Jacques Rouché, appointed director of the Opéra 
                  in October 1913, asked him for a new lyric work. Roussel had 
                  visited India in 1909 and chose the Padmāvatī story as the subject 
                  for his opera-ballet. He was working on it when the war intervened 
                  and completed the score in November 1918. Not surprisingly money 
                  for the arts was tight in the post-war years, so Padmāvatī 
                  was only premiered on 1 June 1923.
                
The two-act opera-ballet 
                  to a libretto by Louis Laloy is set in the 13th-century 
                  Indian city of Chitoor, the home of Prince Ratan-Sen and his 
                  beautiful wife Padmāvatī. The prince and Alaouddin, the Mogul 
                  ruler of Delhi whose army is camped outside the city, are about 
                  to conclude a peace treaty. Ratan-Sen entertains his guests 
                  with a warrior dance and a dance of slave girls, but it soon 
                  becomes clear Alaouddin is more interested in Padmāvatī. The 
                  Brahmin assures the reluctant Ratan-Sen that his master has 
                  been converted to Hinduism so it’s safe for him to see Padmāvatī 
                  unveiled.
                
Alaouddin is captivated 
                  by Padmāvatī and demands her for himself or the treaty will 
                  not be concluded. Ratan-Sen refuses and war looms. As Act I 
                  draws to a close the Brahmin is killed by the crowds and a fearful 
                  Padmāvatī sings of her fears for the future.
                
In Act II Padmāvatī 
                  and the priests are in the temple of Siva, where it soon becomes 
                  clear that sacrifices will be demanded. Ratan-Sen, wounded in 
                  battle, staggers into the temple with the news that all is lost. 
                  But, he says, they can all be saved if Padmāvatī surrenders 
                  herself to Alaouddin. Overcome with horror Padmāvatī stabs and 
                  kills her husband and rather than give herself to the Mogul 
                  king chooses to join Ratan-Sen on his funeral pyre.
                
As an opera-ballet 
                  Padmāvatī is essentially a set of dances linked by short 
                  arias. These lavish set-pieces made a good impression on opening 
                  night and listening to the opera on disc one senses the visual 
                  element is crucial to its success. As for the music it is surprisingly 
                  austere, with the oriental effects sparingly used. The singers 
                  have no standout arias and the vocal style, though lyrical, 
                  inclines towards the declamatory. There is little of the febrile 
                  intensity of Pelléas, say, but the lush harmonies on 
                  the harp do look back to Debussy and earlier musical impressionists.
                
The prelude to Act 
                  I introduces a harmonic restlessness that pervades the whole 
                  opera. The first set-piece, the warrior dance, may suggest something 
                  of Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps (premiered 
                  in 1913) but the dance of the slave girls is more in the vein 
                  of Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor. 
                  The opera’s first substantial aria is sung by the Brahmin (Charles 
                  Burles); he is suitably transported as he describes Padmāvatī’s 
                  legendary beauty.
                
              
As the protagonists 
                Gedda and van Dam sing well enough but neither role is particularly 
                demanding vocally or in terms of characterisation; the same is 
                true of Padmāvatī who, like Turandot, only appears late in the 
                day. She is not so much an ice queen as a latter-day Helen of 
                Troy, whose beauty has tragic consequences for all. In her grim 
                lament at the end of Act I she becomes something of a Cassandra 
                figure, looking to the future with foreboding. It is hardly a 
                taxing role for Horne but unfortunately her voice has a beat that 
                is particularly noticeable under pressure.
                
                Act 
                II moves into night and the Temple of Siva. Again Roussel resorts 
                to that unsettled mood that characterises much of Act I and peaks 
                in a rare orchestral outburst as it becomes clear that sacrifices 
                will be required. Ratan-Sen’s duet with Padmāvatī, a few moments 
                of calm in this all-enveloping nightmare, culminates in the prince's 
                suggestion that she surrender herself to Alaouddin and save the 
                city. Even at this moment of high dramatic tension Roussel's scoring 
                remains curiously spare and unspectacular; indeed, one silently 
                urges him on to something more uninhibited but that is not his 
                way. In a defiant gesture Padmāvatī stabs her husband and sets 
                in train the events that lead to her own destruction.
                
                At 
                this point one begins to doubt whether Roussel is up to the dramatic 
                demands of the story, so restrained is his musical temperament. 
                Certainly the recessed recording doesn't help matters, with the 
                chorus relegated to the very back of the soundstage. Even as Padmāvatī 
                prepares for death and the priests intone 'la mort' one simply 
                misses the shiver that one should surely feel at this awful moment.
                
                The 
                ballet returns with a dance and pantomime as Ratan-Sen's pyre 
                is lit and several figures emerge from the smoke in search of 
                the body. Once again the oriental strangeness of this music is 
                underplayed, although the choral writing – the daughters of Siva’s 
                lament intertwined with the fervent prayers of the priests – is 
                remarkably complex and rather moving. But even as the funeral 
                procession winds to a climax and Padmāvatī vanishes into the smoke 
                Roussel continues to pull his punches. Alaouddin breaks into the 
                temple but it is too late and the orchestral postlude resolves, 
                quietly, into F major.
                
                 As 
                an opera-ballet Padmāvatī clearly has plenty of visual 
                potential but as a straight opera it fails to convince. There 
                is very little in the way of character development and/or vocal 
                distinction, with a single memorable aria in Act I and a rather 
                underwhelming duet between Padmāvatī  and her husband in Act II. 
                There is precious little nobility, grandeur or pathos in this 
                score and Roussel must shoulder some of the blame for that. Some 
                must also be laid at Plasson’s door, for the orchestral playing 
                isn’t particularly distinguished and the DDD recording is too 
                backwardly balanced for the musicians and singers to make much 
                of an impact.
                
                 Oh, 
                and one more thing. The booklet contains good notes and a cued 
                synopsis by Roger Nichols but there is no libretto. Listeners 
                are invited to download the text from www.theoperaseries.com but 
                I Googled in vain. Finally I went on to the EMI Classics website 
                and found the necessary PDF file, only to discover the libretto 
                is in French only. Sorry EMI, but this just isn't good enough. 
                Of course they are not alone in this self-defeating act of parsimony 
                but it is a source of constant irritation when one has to go in 
                search of texts. Admittedly it's much less of a problem with works 
                one knows well but in this case, well, it’s unforgivable really.
                
                 A 
                rather disappointing experience, this. And given that it is roughly 
                contemporaneous with the likes of Wozzeck (1925) it seems 
                Padmāvatī is just a side street off the main highway of 
                20th-century opera. Worth a brief diversion, perhaps, but no more 
                than that.
              
Dan Morgan