The Faber Pocket Guide to Opera (8 page)

Libretto by Ranieri de Calzabigi.

French version first performed Paris, 1774.

Libretto by Pierre-Louis Moline

The first of Gluck’s so-called ‘Reform’ operas, in which a classical simplicity and nobility, of both music and plot, replace the extravagance and complexities of
opera
seria.
It exists in various forms.
The first version, with an Italian libretto, was written for the contralto castrato Gaetano Guadagni; this was revised for a soprano castrato in 1769.
In 1774, Gluck revised the opera again for a French text, transposing the title role for a
haut-contre
tenor, roughly comparable to a modern counter-tenor, and adding new material which included extended ballet sequences.
Further minor adaptations were made after Gluck’s death, and in 1859 Berlioz made a full-scale consolidation of the best of the French and Italian versions, rewriting the title role for the mezzo-soprano Pauline Viardot but keeping the French text.

Another important edition, conflating the Italian versions, which became standard until the 1970s, was made by the publishers Ricordi in 1889: it conflates the Italian versions.
The majority of modern performances are of the Italian version, but Berlioz’s edition has lately come back into fashion.
Both counter-tenors and mezzo-sopranos covet the role of Orfeo–Orphée, and baritones such as Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau have attempted it too.

Plot

Orfeo (Orpheus) and his friends mourn the death of his wife
Euridice.
When he resolves to descend into Hades to seek her out, the god Amor tells him that if he can calm the spirits of the dead with his lyre, he will be able to return to the living world with Euridice – on condition that he does not look at her on the journey back.

Orfeo braves the horrors of Hades, and wins over the Furies who guard its portals with his music.
He finds Euridice in the Elysian Fields.
As he leads her back to earth, she becomes increasingly agitated by his refusal to look at her.
Eventually, Orfeo can resist her imprecations no longer – he turns round, and Euridice dies.

Orfeo resolves to kill himself, until Amor appears to inform him that the gods think that Orfeo has given proof enough of his fidelity.
Euridice is restored to life, and the opera concludes with rejoicing.

What to listen for

What makes
Orfeo
so radical and so important to the development of the art-form is (a) its elimination of harpsichord-accompanied recitative in favour of a stronger and more expressive dramatic declamation, reinforced by the orchestra; (b) the abandonment of the heavily ornamented
da
capo
aria which dominated the Italian
opera
seria
of Handel, Vivaldi and others; and (c) the prominence of the chorus.

Nobody is certain whether Gluck wrote Orfeo’s heroically virtuoso aria at the end of Act I or not, though he certainly sanctioned its inclusion in the French version.
It represents a throw-back to the
opera
seria
style, and purists consider it to be out of keeping with the rest of the opera, but it undoubtedly makes a strong climax to the scene and it is hard not to prefer it to the cursory and unmemorable ending of the original Italian version.

The most famous number in the score is ‘Che farò senza Euridice?’ or ‘J’ai perdu mon Eurydice’ (translated as ‘What is life to me without thee?’ in the version recorded by Kathleen Ferrier) – a miraculously simple tune in a major key which conveys the full force of Orfeo’s loss without rhetorical exaggeration.
Equally remarkable is Orfeo’s impassioned
dialogue with the Furies at the beginning of Act II – a passage typical of Gluck’s delight in alternating solo and choral voices – and Orfeo’s rapturous aria ‘Che puro ciel’/’Quel nouveau ciel’, in which the warmth and radiance of the Elysian Fields shines through the vocal line with its sun-dappled oboe accompaniment.

In performance

Orfeo provides a great role for mezzo-sopranos from Kathleen Ferrier to Shirley Verrett, Janet Baker and Anne-Sofie von Otter as well as counter-tenors such as Jochen Kowalski and David Daniels – the challenge being not so much any vocal hurdle as the realization of the character’s emotional journey.
Kowalski was famous for playing the role as a burnt-out rock star, his harp a guitar, in a hard-hitting production by Harry Kupfer.

Recording

CD: Anne-Sofie von Otter (Orfeo); John Eliot Gardiner (cond.).
EMI 49834 2

Alceste

Three acts. Italian version first performed Vienna, 1767.

Libretto by Ranieri de Calzabigi.

French version first performed Paris, 1776.

Libretto by Marie-François Roullet

The second of Gluck’s ‘Reform’ operas,
Alceste
also exists, like
Orfeo
ed
Euridice,
in substantially differing versions.
The first, written to an Italian text, has now been almost entirely supplanted by the 1776 French version which has the advantage of presenting the figures of Alceste and Admete in depth and focus, and the disadvantage of the tiresome figure of Hercules, whose ‘comic’ intrusion at the climax of the tragedy seems to modern audiences both implausible and
inappropriate.
The Italian version contains longer, grander choruses and a simpler happy ending, effected by the appearance of Apollo, restoring Alceste to life.

The libretto is drawn from the tragedy by Euripides.

Plot

Admete, King of Thessaly lies gravely ill, and through his oracle the god Apollo makes it known that he must die unless he can find someone else to die in his place.
His wife Alceste resolves to make this terrible sacrifice.

Admete recovers, but is appalled to hear what Alceste has promised without his consent.
Alceste will not relent.
She bids farewell to her beloved children.
Admete begs the gods to take him instead.
In vain – Alceste crosses into the realms of death.
The tragedy is unexpectedly resolved by the bluff strong-man Hercules, who is passing through Thessaly.
When he hears what has happened, he uses his superhuman strength to bring Alceste back from Hades, reuniting her with Admete.
The people of Thessaly rejoice.

What to listen for

One of the most moving of all eighteenth-century operas,
Alceste
is coloured by a pall of doom and despair which doesn’t lift until Hercules makes his incongruous appearance.
Its style has a solemn purity, devoid of all extraneous ornament or effect.
Compared to Handel’s operas,
Alceste
moves with seamless continuity and clarity, charged with dramatic recitative (accompanied by the full orchestra, rather than a harpsichord or cello) out of which grow powerful arias (‘Divinités du Styx’, sung by Alceste at the end of Act I, being the most celebrated) and an overwhelming emotional intensity.

In performance

Alceste
can’t be messed about with – its drama is too austere for fanciful directorial interpretation to add anything of value, and most productions opt for a conventional neo-classical setting of temples and togas.
Robert Wilson’s staging – seen in
Chicago and Paris – aimed at a more radical stylization, with abstract settings and the singers, austerely clad in black, confined to a minimal choreography of gesture and movement.
Despite these restrictions, both Jessye Norman and Anne-Sofie von Otter have given memorable performances in the title role.
Among other great interpreters of Alceste are Kirsten Flagstad, Maria Callas, Julia Varady and Janet Baker.