Gluck’s Alceste has many similarities with his more familiar 
                setting of the Orpheus legend. Gluck and his librettist Calzabagi 
                wrote the Italian versions of Orfeo and Alceste for 
                Vienna. Gluck then went on to make French versions of both operas 
                for performance in Paris in the 1770s. The changes he made to 
                transform Alceste into French were rather more substantial 
                than the changes to Orfeo. So it is important to understand 
                the French Alceste to be a substantially different version 
                of the opera to the Italian original, rather than a simple translation. 
              
Alceste and 
                  Orfeo have a commonality when it comes to plot and overall 
                  tone colour. Both operas are about the love between a couple 
                  transcending death. Whereas Orfeo enters Hades to retrieve his 
                  beloved Eurydice, Alceste volunteers to die instead of her husband 
                  Admète and the climax takes place at the gates of Hell. Both 
                  operas have a small cast with no sub-plot, just a single character 
                  to play deus-ex-machina (Amor in Orfeo, Hercules 
                  in Alceste); in fact the character of Hercules was a 
                  late addition to the French version and he does not appear at 
                  all in the Italian version. But most importantly both operas 
                  have the same dignified, sombre tones coloured by Gluck’s simple, 
                  elegant melodies and both operas stand or fall by the name character.
                
Curiously, Alceste 
                  has proved far less popular than Orfeo, as if the 
                  notion of pure marital love was less appealing than Orfeo’s 
                  quixotic romantic love. For many years the only viable recording 
                  in the catalogue was Kirsten Flagstad’s 1950s version of the 
                  Italian edition. Subsequently Jessye Norman recorded the French 
                  version, Naxos issued a recording of the Italian version based 
                  on performances at Drottningholm and John Eliot Gardiner recorded 
                  the French version with Anne Sofie von Otter, which must be 
                  the ideally recommendable recording.
                
Now the Royal Opera 
                  House have issued a live recording of Janet Baker’s 1981 performance 
                  there. Alceste was one of a trio of operas that Baker 
                  sang as part of her farewell year. The others were Maria 
                  Stuarda at ENO and Orfeo ed Eurydice at Glyndebourne. 
                  These latter two have been long available on disc and it is 
                  with great pleasure that I report that this new disc is a suitable 
                  companion to those two.
                
For anyone that 
                  saw the production, Janet Baker’s Alceste was one of her most 
                  notable assumptions. The opera played to Baker’s strengths and 
                  built on her ability to carry an opera by sheer force of personality 
                  and musicality. It is a joy to have her radiant performance 
                  captured on disc.
                
At the period that 
                  the opera was recorded, the orchestra of the Royal Opera House 
                  seems to have been less sympathetic to the ideas of period practice 
                  than the orchestra at ENO. That said, Charles Mackerras gets 
                  them to deliver a finely balanced, restrained performance. From 
                  the opening notes of the overture, I was impressed by how beautifully 
                  the players capture the dark tones of Gluck’s orchestration 
                  and play with a well modulated classicism. Orchestrally the 
                  performance wears the years relatively lightly and provided 
                  you are not looking for a performance which apes the Orchestra 
                  of the Age of Enlightenment, then you should find this disc 
                  far more than adequate.
                
But all this changes 
                  when the chorus first enters; they sing Gluck’s lines very robustly, 
                  with a vibrato-laden tone which seems to have little to do with 
                  French 18th century opera and more to do with a generic 
                  19th century performing practice. Not that the performance 
                  of the chorus is bad, it just hasn’t stood the test of time. 
                  In fact, in the 1980s I can remember finding a number of Royal 
                  Opera House performances unsatisfactory because of the chorus’s 
                  stylistic inappropriateness.
                
Still, all is forgiven 
                  when Baker appears. The recording captures the bloom and radiance 
                  of her voice; it also captures the characteristic way she slides 
                  around the notes, something which you find either expressive 
                  or annoying. Anyone who never heard her live will get a very 
                  good impression of Baker’s voice and technique from this recording. 
                  Personally I love it and find it profoundly moving; for me Baker’s 
                  account of Divinités du Styx from the end of Act 1 is 
                  worth the price of the set. The character of Alceste dominates 
                  the opera and Alceste is completely focused on her marital love 
                  so that monotony could threaten. That it does not occur is a 
                  tribute to the varied way that Gluck articulates the opera, 
                  plus the beauty and variety of expression of Baker’s performance.
                
The opera was given 
                  a strong supporting cast. John Shirley-Quirk makes a robust 
                  high priest. He does not sound entirely comfortable with the 
                  high tessitura of the role and sings with assertive confidence 
                  rather than finesse, but his performance is entirely convincing.
                
Robert Tear, as 
                  Admète, is similarly challenged by the high-lying vocal line. 
                  Tear sings the role with his familiar open tones and does not 
                  shirk the role’s challenges. Occasionally I wished that I was 
                  listening to a singer like Paul Agnew, who can sing these high 
                  tenor parts with what appears to be great ease. Ease is not 
                  something that Tear brings to Admète, but he creates an unfailingly 
                  true line and sings with great musicality.
                
Both Tear and Baker 
                  are notable for their facility with the French language; this 
                  is one of the incidental joys, you never have to apologise for 
                  the principals’ poor French and their diction is admirably clear. 
                  If you can’t have the opera sung by native French speakers then 
                  this is the next best thing.
                
The remainder of 
                  the cast provide strong support with Jonathan Summers in the 
                  small but important role of Hercules.
                
Mackerras conducts 
                  with poise and dignity. In an interview in the CD booklet he 
                  comments that there is little he would change nowadays other 
                  than some of the speeds. I can do nothing but agree with him, 
                  noting again that this is a performance that stands the test 
                  of time.
                
The sound quality 
                  is very good; that it is a live performance means that the singers 
                  sometimes move around confusingly. There is not too much stage 
                  noise, which is a good thing as the opera is given complete 
                  with the ballet movements, though the final divertissement is 
                  not complete. That this is a CD is of great benefit here as 
                  we can miss out on the risible choreography which accompanied 
                  the dance music in the original production.
                
Choreography apart, 
                  I remember the production as looking fabulous and the booklet 
                  includes a selection of production photographs. The booklet 
                  also includes an assessment of the original performance by Rodney 
                  Milnes, an interview with Charles Mackerras and a complete libretto 
                  plus English translation.
                
I can’t honestly 
                  recommend this as the sole library version of this opera, because 
                  the chorus’s performance is simply not something which I would 
                  want to hear every day. But no-one should be without Baker’s 
                  radiant performance. Frankly this set is essential; no home 
                  should be without one.
                  
                  Robert Hugill