L’infelice Aragonese
Camille Saint-Saëns was such a brilliant, facile musician that pals like Wagner and Liszt felt a distinct schadenfreude when he suffered composer’s block. Still, in a career of some eighty years’ length, he completed a dozen operas (not to mention symphonies and concertos and, as Leon Botstein explained and demonstrated at Bard, the world’s first full-length film score)—but you are unlikely to have heard more than one of the operas.
Samson et Dalila (1877) had problems at first because many countries did not permit the staging of Biblical dramas, but in Samson the composer demonstrates an excellent grasp of the dramatic deployment of the chorus, so it worked very well as an oratorio with typical grand opera accouterments such as ballets, seduction duets, prison soliloquies and gaudy pagan religious rituals. If you’ve got a mezzo with sex appeal, a tenor who declaims forcefully and a fine chorus, Samson will be a hit. Stage directors who do catastrophe well also have an opportunity to dazzle with it.
Last Sunday, the Bard Music Festival, in a French mood (earlier this month there was a staging of Chabrier’s Le Roi malgré Lui), gave a concert performance of Saint-Saëns’ true grand opera, Henry VIII, which had its premiere at the Garnier in 1883. This work plays to many of the same strengths as Samson but also, as the Opéra required, with an elaborate ballet (much cut on our present occasion as it is only incidental to the plot), a dark mezzo-fatale role for Anne Boleyn, and many grand chorales.
The influence of Wagner’s concertati in Lohengrin and Tannhäuser (more than thirty years old but still new to most French opera lovers) is paramount here, as is the unbroken flow of scene to scene, idea to idea, in the Wagnerian pattern, rather than the distinct numbers of the operas of Meyerbeer, Verdi and even Berlioz. Yet Saint-Saëns had a livelier, more Gallic gift for melody than Wagner (I was sometimes reminded of Les Contes d’Hoffmann) and therefore no need to subtly extend his themes to fill an archetypal night. The four principal roles are nicely differentiated, the smaller parts well characterized.
There is so much excellent music in Henry, such grandeur of effect, that it is unclear why it never joined the standard repertory. The work arrived late, of course, in the age for grand opera—the lighter works of Bizet and Massenet were in vogue, to be succeeded by those of Charpentier and Debussy. There is also a rather awkward libretto that, like most attempts to simplify the complex personal, political, religious and dynastic issues of Henry VIII’s reign, falls back on cliché rather than exploring personality. Verdi proved in Don Carlos that contemporary themes could be juggled and comprehended within a historical framework, with characters who begin as caricature and grow musically, dramatically into human beings. But the libretto of Henry VIII leaves too many questions unanswered or unaddressed.
The central matter is the king’s so-called divorce, driven rather more by Henry VIII’s need for a male heir for his brand new dynasty than by passion for another woman. The dynastic argument might be difficult to express operatically and in Saint-Saëns’ opera (as in Donizetti’s Anna Bolena) it never comes up. After twenty years of happy marriage to Catherine of Aragon, the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, Henry had only one legitimate child, Mary, handsome and clever but the wrong sex.
He found an answer in the Book of Leviticus, a prohibition against marrying one’s brother’s widow! (In the Book of Genesis one is ordered to marry her, but never mind.) Popes were usually indulgent in such circumstances, but Clement VII’s Rome had just been ransacked by 50,000 troops of Catherine’s nephew, Emperor Charles V, he of many thrones and many operas. The pope’s hands were, so to say, tied. So, taking a leaf from the book of Martin Luther (whom he had previously denounced), Henry denied the pope any authority over the English church and proclaimed himself a bachelor. Then he married Anne Boleyn.
There is plenty of drama in this story. The problem, as Shakespeare (a partial source) found, is that it doesn’t boil down very clearly. Something important must be trimmed (if only the time line) for dramatic thrust to emerge. Saint-Saëns’ librettists came up with that ancient standby, the purloined letter—written by Anne to a previous lover (the Spanish ambassador no less!)—that may have fallen into the hands of Queen Catherine. The queen thus knows Anne has been lying to at least one of her two lovers—but what will she do about it? (Isn’t it a woman’s prerogative to change her mind? As those who saw Anna Bolena will remember, it was Anne’s adultery after her marriage to Henry that constituted high treason.)
Still, we get a high-impact patriotic chorus, the presentation of the new and nervous Spanish ambassador to the menacing king, Anne’s nervous reflections on the spot she is in—and just enough naked ambition to make us admire her bitchery—and several persons interrupting nervous duets. The papal legate holds a trial, where Catherine pleads for mercy without mentioning her firm conviction that she was a virgin at her first husband’s death and therefore perfectly eligible to marry his brother. This leads to a very grand scene for five voices with choral thunder to back them up. And Henry marries Anne. But the dying Catherine still has that damned letter. Will she make use of it?
The role of Henry VIII requires a basso cantante of smooth line and, when necessary, overwhelming power, a man whose whisper can be a threat but who can carry you off your feet when he sings of love. Jason Howard had the proper look and the proper line, but the part lies high and he was not comfortable a good deal of the time.
Ellie Dehn, so appealing in the Met’s Satyagraha, had the sympathetic role of Catherine of Aragon; she held our attention and sympathy in the great courtroom scene and in her self-searching elsewhere. She may lack the chest voice to put this role over in a huge house, but she was immensely appealing in Bard’s Sosnoff Theater. Jennifer Holloway, Anne Boleyn, sang a sexy, appealing performance, but her lower notes tended to vanish under the weight of full orchestra. John Tessier took the rather thankless role of Don Gomez, Spanish ambassador and rejected suitor; his light, attractive tenor was not especially effective.
Jeffrey Tucker was impressive in the brief bass role of the Cardinal Legate: One took note when he made a pronouncement, and that he was undaunted by the political chicanery around him. Steven Moore and Darren Lougee were standouts as trial Judges, but all the small roles were effective.
The American Symphony Orchestra under festival director Botstein played this elaborate and intriguing score beautifully, seeming to enjoy its intricate expressive effects (bird calls, Highland snaps) as much as we did. Botstein’s unparalleled sweet tooth for unusual music struck a sugarplum this time: We all wondered why the opera is so rarely performed. The chorus, to whom Saint-Saëns was especially attentive, did admirable work directed by James Bagwell.
In lieu of full staging, Henry VIII was given with subtitles and a play of projections on screens, segmented Holbein portraits of our characters or Victorian illustrations for the trial. Perhaps this added something to audience comprehension; in any case it was not as distracting as it might have been. The best scenic effect, however, was Miss Holloway’s crimson gown with what looked like Aubrey Beardsley peacock inlay. One glance at that and you knew she was (playing) a wicked woman and that we were attending the (grand) opera.
Victoria de las Vegas may be the liveliest and most apt critic around. I took Saint Saens word that he had done the characters justice. But he didn’t and that is the problem here. Yet the music is wonderful and it was surely a great day at Bard. Thank you Victoria.
Considering all the cuts that typically apply to revivals, I am not sure why people don’t just rewrite the dreadful libretti, too. Use the music, but change the words.
What is so complicated about presenting Catherine of Aragon as she really was, a dignified queen who was utterly convinced of the rightness of her cause in god’s and man’s eyes?
It may seem naive of me to protest, but when I think of the countless times people mention an opera and sigh over its awful libretto, I sigh over the waste of wonderful music that few people will ever bother to hear.
not sure whether the libretto is really so bad, or whether we are just not quite comfortable with this odd late Romantic French conception of the Tudors; Victoria de las Vegas is, I think, absolutely right in referencing Don Carlo(s) as the standard for comparison, sixteenth-century historical drama in late nineteenth-century Romantic opera, but Don Carlo was Verdi, possibly the greatest operatic genius of the age (or one of the top two) working at the very very tip top of his form, creating possibly his greatest masterpiece, with the dramatic structure already prepared for him by Schiller, no less; so Saint-Saens’ Henry VIII obviously can’t meet that standard; but I wonder whether a production could embrace the weirdness of SS’s Henri, roiled by lust and mephistophelean in his manipulations (rather far from our Wolf Hall current view of the Tudors) and while Catherine is not as tough an old bird as we might imagine her, SS does the Catholic thing pretty well, perhaps making her a bit too angelic for history (musically she gets quite a bit of the harps); and then I wondered: is she actually musically or dramatically less well developed than Elisabeth de Valois? or is the rest of the structure of Don Carlo just so much more secure and interesting that it supports the character better? I do think Verdi’s Elisabeth is the model for SS’s Catherine, including the last act aria. . .
and Verdi does resort to the purloined portrait, if not the purloined letter. . .
is Henry VIII less sound dramatically than the Donizetti Tudor works? the vocalism is less spectacular of course, but I think you could make a case that the SS is up to the Donizetti, if not the Verdi, standard. . .
I agree with folks above. Lovely review. Wishing I were there!
In considering comparisons for Henri VIII, it helps to remember that opera was not the sole venue for historic pageantry in the 19th century. With these historical operas, there was a usually popular play first. And what with no movies, tv or youtube, the plays were not seen nearly so often watched as they were read. Schiller and Calderon de la Barca (the author of the play Henri VIII was based on) are still greatly admired poets.
We still have all kinds of historical pageants, both in the movies and on television. Alas, these are rarely set to music! What is it in the development of the 20th century Western mind which considers that somehow innaccurate, contrived or distasteful? Opera now seems to be a particularly rarefied and dated subset of musical performance, rather than a vital option for presenting the same historic dramas we still love to watch.
Thanks, Ilka! Calderon wrote the play, eh? That explains why many details were omitted — he had the Inquisition breathing down his neck. Sort of like the Parterriani but with real fire not just CGI to back up their malice.
Dearest Victoria,
Muchas gracias for a wonderful review. If I were to try and explore a non-Samson Saint-Saens opera, would you recommend Henry VIII over his other operas? Is there a recommended recording? I do love Samson, and I’ve wanted to explore his other operas a little deeper.
I look forward to reading more of your reviews.
Sempre Liberal
Only this aria has been recorded semi-regularly
The wonderful accounting of this aria and scene by the soprano, Michèle Command. She is also very moving in the Synod Scene. For my money, she is better than even the redoubtable Madame Pollet.
From the KULTUR video of the lovingly rendered Compiegne production:
And, thank you for your nice review, Victoria de las Vegas, you of the most fabulous screen moniker!
The plea of Queen Catherine in this scene begins right after 14:00 and is expertly done by Madame Command. Very moving interpretation.
I don’t know if they are still married, but Ms Command is /was the wife of Gabriel Bacquier.
Why thank you very much, QPF. I did not know.
According to a blog from five years ago they were still married and he is now 88! I admire them both a great deal.
Kudos on the nicely presented review.
I actually own a DVD of “Henry VII,” a Kultur release of a 2003 production from the Theatre Imperial de Compiegne. No one from this all-French cast was previously known to me — nor was the music even remotely familiar — but I’m glad to have added it to my collection. The cover art includes the comment, “A Picture Directed by Pierre Jourdan.”
“Stage directors who do catastrophe well”
Why bring Mary Zimmerman into this?
I knew someone would have gotten there ahead of me, although I was going to go with Robert Lepage. But that might have made it sound as though I approved of his conclusion to G-D.
Re: The review. Thank you, Victoria de las Vegas. This was a case where detailed background on and description of the work itself really was helpful and appreciated, before discussion of the merits of the performance. This opera is a genuine rarity. I hate it when I’m reading a review of a production or DVD of, say, VESPRI or DON CARLOS, and the writer clearly had a word limit but padded with paragraph after paragraph on how the operas were originally in French, are better known in Italian translation, are performed more now than they used to be, etc. Then in the final paragraph or two, we get a rush through “The singers are mostly good, with So-and-so being the standout. The conducting is brisk. The production will not be to all taste.” (The worst recent case I can recall is a review of the Loy/Netherlands VÊPRES SICILIENNES in a storied British magazine. Something like five paragraphs on the work and two on the performance. Almost everything in it would have been known to anyone considering buying a recording of that opera. It was more like a liner note or program note with a few opinions tacked on at the end.)
Nice review, Victoria. I wondered during the performance just how much of the score had been cut. I know some of the ballet music was missing, and judging from the two numbers we heard, I’d say so much the better. I noticed that at one point Botstein flipped over a substantial number of pages in his conductors’ score. I was surprised at how short the entire evening was conidering the usual length of these French grand operas. I found the music considerably less appealing than you did. Wagner? He should have been so lucky. Did you notice that one of the English courtiers sang a patriotic bit borrowed from Mendelssohn’s “He Watching over Israel”? Would that Catherine’s Act V aria had been half as inspired as Elizabeth’s similar aria in Don Carlos (“Toi qui sus …”). I think that some of the rare Saint-Saens offerings earlier in the festival were more worthwhile, but the whole event was a wonderful opportunity to hear this composer’s music. Based on this hearing of Henri VIII and a performance La Princess Jaune years ago, I’d venture to say that SS was not on the whole comfortable writing opera. I’m always ready to hear Samson, of course, with a great mezzo-contralto and heroic tenor. Rita Gorr, say, and Georges Thill. Would that they, or singers with similar gifts, were around!
OT: La Cieca, an asshole on opera-l posted this:
Subject: The problem with Parterre Box
From: “N. Hohlfeld”
Reply-To: N. Hohlfeld
Date: Thu, 23 Aug 2012 11:52:00 -0400
Content-Type: text/plain
Parts/Attachments:
text/plain (34 lines)
Listers,
I find the insularity of the Parterre Box website (and yes opera blogs in
general) a little depressing. It still has the same dozen or so regular
commenters that were around when I started going there when it went from
zine to website and they’ve formed a clique. What bothers me the most
about the PB comments section is that there’s little discussion about the
actual operas, operatic music in general, aesthetic value or the opera
business. The focus is almost always on this or that singer (or technique),
which BORES ME to tears! As if opera is mostly about female voices <> And if the topic isn’t female voices it’s
usually about this or that Regie production. <>
It all reminds me of sports fans arguing about their favourite teams.
(Sigh)
Kind regards,
N. Hohlfeld
….as if topics on opera-l such as “Acronyms,” 10 year old opera singer” and “Happy Birthday” are so enlightening….. not to mention the many Met-centric, boring, conservative posters on that site.
Hahaha! Sorry about that one but the r is right next to the t.
“titties in a tangle”.
Clique meeting at the usual place tonight, yeah? Whose turn is it to bring nibbles?
Manou can bring the goodies. We would be in for a gourmet treat.
The difference beng parterre posters actually go to the opera. I swear so many opera-l blowhards never even try to make it to an HD performance.
Is that so?? What is it they are talking about then--old recordings--or what?
Mostly these days it’s about the same dozen people reacting ad nauseum to rumors of Regie productions and Met broadcasts. (Speaking of insular cliques…) Occasionally someone else posts a review of something operatic, but the reviews invariably get ignored.
Yes, the absolute worst one, and the reason why I cannot look at opera-l any more, is the incredibly pompous old-fashioned Wagnerian who fulminates constantly against regie productions of Wagner he has never seen, says things like “see what I mean, sonny?” back to you if you dare to question him, apparently never goes to any opera anywhere, attacked the Met for putting on historically informed performances of Handel, although it transpired that he had never heard of William Christie and he told me that didn’t matter because he had once listened to a record of Israel in Egypt conducted by Robert Shaw which was made in the 1960′s and that was sufficient for him to know that “authentic” Baroque music performance was no good.
Clita dearest! Don’t get your titries in a tangle!
Someone named Christopher Corwin has already asked why he bothers with either one (parterre or opera-l) if he so dislikes them.
Don’t worry, be happy. Autumn is soon here and you can pull iut the old cashmere throws amd cuddle up with Lorna.
Love you--
Cammie
Thanks, Cammiest, dearest. I have been in a pissy mood lately. Old age???
And It’s getting hot again here in Chicago after a nice break.
Anyway we are going to a nice restaurant tomorrow night for the birthday of our dear friend, Karen. Karen has a little dog named Cosette and we love her too.
My partner can’t wait until fall so that he can layer and wear his fancy-schmancy clothes!
Yes, well, uncomfortable warm weather and old age are hard to bear. One must indulge oneself someway or anothed in recompense and even that is increasingly hard to find as we age. Do enjoy your night out with friends--that is a good start. Perhaps you can teach Cosette her part from Manon?
How about going to the Art Institute and getting free air conditioning and some contemplation of beauté? Is Marshall Fields still standing? Then go looking at sterling and carpets. Buy a fancy schmancy (not heard that one for a while) new tie or jacket or chocolates or your favourite food. Don’t let old age conquer your spirit, even as it claims the body, as it inevitably does with us.
Just throw on your best Harriet Craig apron, grab a broomstick, and Raise Hell, if all else fails!
Luv always-- C.
Again, thanks a lot, Cammiest! My place is pretty cool, btw. Its the outdoors that is hot!
Marshall Fields is still standing, but it’s now a Macys. YUCK! At least the beautiful building is still intact.
Unfortunately, one of my problems is that we go out way too often, spend too much money on dining out--and, of course, I do enjoy my (many) cocktails. LOL Maybe that’s the problem?? I like my Cosmos, my partner loves gin and Karen prefers Sancerre as does Cosette! lol
xoxoxoxox
A MACY’S??!!! That’s Infamia!!!!!! The world has gone to hell-in-a-handbasket if that is the case!
I never had a Cosmo until a couple months ago and I rather liked it. Cannot tolerate gin and I am not that familiar with Sancerre, either. Perhaps you could have a drinkie-poo or two at home firat, to cut expense? Does it matter?
What would Lorna Hansen Forbes do?
MY partner HATES Cosmos. He thinks they taste like cough syrup. A poorly made Cosmo can taste worse than cough syrup!
I am afraid Lorna would have a Vermouth-Cassis, which she does in the film. It must have been a popular drink in the 30′s 40′s. I saw a Kay Fwancis movie where she ordered a Cassis-Vermouth. Difference in proportions or the ingredients??? LOL
The last time I went to NY, my friend Leonora da Pi-Yenta served us Vermouth-Cassis drinks for fun, because he is big Joan fan. They were very nice.
Vermouth Cassis
In the 1940s, the Vermouth Cassis was probably popular in the summers since it’s a fruity cocktail. The flavor comes from creme de cassis, a very red and sweet liqueur made from black currants. A Vermouth Cassis is made by pouring French vermouth over ice with several dashes of creme de cassis, a twist a lemon and then topping it off with seltzer or cream soda.
Read more: Drinks in the 40s | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/info_8413335_drinks-40s.html#ixzz24Oq8vCbX
Vermouth is so strong that it needs help. I’ve had it a couple times and not liked it but the cassis perhaps makes all the difference.
I cannot imagine a thick, syrupy Cosmo as the one I had was very light and strong on alcohol!
That brings to mind a drink I had recently in a Thai place, a so-called sake mojito. Not much resemblance to a classic mojito, which is a bomba, but rather light and refreshing for summer. Mostly I stick with pinot noir, for the resveratrol, and eschew the rest. Liver has had it with me by now!
Oh, to be young and able to toss it back!
Oh thanks, Clita, as there is a link to 40′s hairstyles as well. I’m going for Rita Hayworth look—no Victory curls for me!
What’s wrong with insularity?
It was a typo. He meant “Irminsularity” referring to all the talk here about Norma.
Hee hee hee….
Break off the golden bough and let the rites commence!!
Perhaps it’s more a silv’ry bough? { Ask Nerva Non Mente. }
Shouldn’t that read:
Leon Botstein (not pictured)