Monday December 20, 2010 - Photo: Mary Garden as Melisande, the role she created in 1902. Claude Debussy's remarkable opera PELLEAS & MELISANDE is a long evening in the theatre. It can be an immersive experience when staged as hauntingly as the Met's current production - originally mounted in 1995 as a 25th anniversary gift for the great Frederica von Stade, a performance I attended. Typically of the Peter Gelb era, the Met manages to dilute the atmosphere of this unique masterpiece with over-extended intermissions where we are called back from the mysterious realm of Allemonde to the dulled conversations of opera-goers waiting patiently for another fix of Debussy. Thus the evening stretched from 8:00 PM til midnight.
Sir Simon Rattle is making his belated Met debut with these performances. He and the Met's excellent musicians painted the music as if on a vast Impressionist canvas. Right from the first chords the sense of being drawn into another world is palpable. Sir Simon took a stately pace all evening, drawing out darkly-luminous orchestral sounds in a performance where the textures of the instrumentation and the expressiveness of individual players cast their spell unforgettably.
Magdalena Kozena and Stephane Degout as the title characters in a Ken Howard photograph. Although my preference in these roles is soprano/tenor (my first Melisande was the utterly unique Patricia Brooks), the ravishing quality of Ms. Kozena's mezzo and the clear, expressive vocalism of M. Degout left nothing to be desired. A fine vocal colorist, Ms. Kozena brought an interesting feeling of world-weariness to her instrument as she greeted Pelleas at their final tryst by the fountain.
Gerald Finley as Golaud finds Melisande (Ms. Kozena) lost in the woods. Their opening scene together set the story relentlessly in motion, and their singing was marvelous. Gerald Finley's voice is darkly lyrical and vividly expressive of both his brooding jealousy and of his uncomfortable attempts at tenderness. Finley's interpretation of the role and his burnished vocalism set him comfortably in the echelon with my previous great Golauds: Louis Quilico and Jose van Dam.
Willard White as Arkel and Felicity Palmer as Genevieve. These two artists brought their distinctive interpretive experience to bear on their music, their singing powerful but nuanced. They have lived in the mysterious castle in the darkened forests of Allemonde for decades and they now have almost ghostly characteristics, observing the lives of the younger generation seemingly at a remove. Superb vocalism from both these operatic titans.
Paul Corona made a fine vocal impression as the Physician and Neel Ram Nagarajan was excellent as Golaud's young son Yniold. Neel was stuck with one of the most annoying scenes in all opera where he endlessly refers to Golaud as "Petit Pere"; he worked hard to make it palatable.
The final scene of the opera is the only place where it starts to feel a bit over-long, not so much musically as dramatically. After the deaths of Pelleas and Melisande and Golaud's heart-rending remorse, the scene extends with Arkel philosophising about life and death as he beholds Melisande's tiny newborn daughter. His observations are well-meant but irrelevant to the drama, despite the beauty of the music.
As with so many Met productions, the lighting has gone off since the premiere performances and the sets now look flat and lacking in mystery. The production which used to be so evocative has become rather ordinary visually.
It was unpleasant to hear a round of laughter when Melisande dropped the ring into the well; the mood of the scene was marred. The incident shows how uninformed the Met's 'new' audience are, how insensitive and lacking in poetic understanding people have become. There were many empty seats in the house at the start and with each intermission the audience dwindled further: PELLEAS is not an 'easy' opera.
As the music faded at the end, I had the unmistakable feeling that I might never witness PELLEAS in the theatre again.
Production photos by Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera.