Like all the arts at the court of Louis XIV, opera was a political affair.
The tale of Phaeton, who gets too close to the sun, sent clear parallels to
its first audience at the Sun King’s court, and it cemented Lully’s
unassailable position as the head of the
Académie Royal de Musique.
Like most of Lully’s work, though, it isn’t heard much nowadays, and we
should be grateful that Christoph Rousset’s performance is so good that it
proves that the opera is of much more than historical interest.
Rousset has assembled a top-notch cast of singers who not only have
beautiful voices but are masters of this early baroque style. Emiliano
Gonzalez Toro leads the men very capably as Phaéton himself. He puts his
light tenor to the service of the part with no loss of heroism or ardour. In
fact, he convinces as both the lover and the thrusting, ambitious but doomed
hero, and he has mastered the style of the role very convincingly. Andrew
Foster-Williams provides a welcome contrast in the bass role of Epaphus, but
he too is fully inside the period style and never allows his voice to
dominate or overwhelm the proceedings. Benoît Arnould brings a playful,
sprightly sense to his two divine cameos. Likewise, Cyril Auvity sounds
delightful in his small roles, his high, fluty tenor the most French
sounding of the lot.
The ladies are also excellent. Gaëlle Arquez produces a languid, beautiful
sound as Libya, and is particularly impressive in her opening aria. Isabelle
Drouet makes a delicate, lyrical contrast as Théone, and the blend of her
voice with Arquez’s in the opening scene is lovely. She also makes a couple
of very distinctive slurs during her remonstrations with Phaéton in the
third act, which are presumably a result of Rousset's research into
performance practice. Likewise, Ingrid Perruche is a more regal, slightly
husky Clymène, pointing up the generational difference between her and the
young lovers. The smaller roles, mostly allegorical or divine, fit into the
texture very well indeed.
The real attraction comes from the brilliantly realised orchestral sound.
It is wonderfully juicy throughout, oozing Baroque character, and it always
has a particularly French spring to its step. The perpetual rhythmic
vitality also serves as a useful reminder of how important ballet was to all
the French arts at this time. In fact, the highlights of the set for me are
the ceremonial passages — of which there are several — and the instrumental
music that accompanies them, such as the ballet music in the Prologue, the
Chaconne that ends Act 2, or the courtly dances in the last two acts. Just
as impressive is the way the players can suggest a lot with very little:
listen, for example, to the way a pair of violins introduces the third act
in the Temple of Isis, a tiny phrase which suggests a smaller, more intimate
space through a minimum economy of means. It shows that Les Talens Lyriques
know this music, and, more importantly, this style, perhaps better than
anyone. It's a delight to listen to them doing so well what they are
so good at.
The lion's share of the praise, however, has to go to Rousset
himself, not just for his lively, sprung direction, but also for the pretty
much continual work he does at the console of his harpsichord. He bears the
brunt of the flow of continual arioso in the first act, but throughout he
sees to it that things never drag and that the rhythm and ebb of the piece
is something always vitally alive. It is his scholarship and interest in the
atmosphere and style of the period that makes this set so interesting and
worthwhile, and it confirms him as one of the masters of the French
Baroque.
The hardback packaging is also an excellent selling-point. It contains
full French text with English translation, as well as a scholarly but
readable essay on the work’s context. It is also lavishly illustrated with
beautiful photos of the exquisite opéra at Versailles, albeit somewhat
anachronistically, as it wasn't completed until the reign of Louis
XV.
Simon Thompson
