Above: Mélisande and Pelléas at the fountain; by Edmund Blair Leighton (1852-1922)
~ Author: Oberon
Saturday January 19th, 2019 matinee - Despite serious reservations about one member of the cast, I went to this afternoon's performance of Claude Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande at The Met, determined to stay to the end. I have always loved the Met's gently updated and incredibly atmospheric production (even though the lighting has gone awry over the years), so I decided on a seat with a view rather than a score desk today. My sister-in-law loaned me a pair of high-power binoculars, and I brought a book with me as a defense against the Met's interminable intermissions.
Pelléas et Mélisande is a unique opera, and it needs poetic singers and a truly sensitive conductor if it is to properly cast its spell. My first live encounter with the opera came in 1970 at New York City Opera when Patricia Brooks was an unforgettable Mélisande. The performance had a light baritone (who soon became a tenor) as Pelléas - André Jobin - and one of the greatest Golauds ever: Louis Quilico. In 1983, at the Met, Jeannette Pilou was an exquisite Mélisande, opposite baritone Dale Duesing; here the Golaud was the magnificent Jose van Dam.
The Met's current production opened in 1995, with performances that celebrated Frederica von Stade's 25th anniversary at the Met; my first mezzo-soprano Mélisande, von Stade gave a sublimely nuanced portrayal. I last saw the opera in 2010, a beautifully-cast revival conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. I very much regret having missed the 1978 Met performances with Teresa Stratas as Mélisande and Gabriel Bacquier as Golaud; and I really should have gone to see Susanne Mentzer's Mélisande.
I often use score desks at the Met, and when doing so, am very careful about turning the pages of my score silently so as not to disturb the people next to me. Today, I was one of the people with a view, and the women next to me using score desks were less considerate; it was very distracting, and when opportunity came, I changed seats. They also brought cookies, and chatted loudly during the intermission. No reverie for Debussy.
Overall, it was an engrossing performance. Since I have been going to more symphonic and chamber music concerts in recent years, Debussy's orchestration - which I have always admired - fascinated me today as I am now far more attuned to what the orchestra is doing; the music takes on a deeper meaning, bringing immersive pleasure.
Yannick Nézet-Séguin was on the podium and, as the musicians played magnificently, all was well. But the mystery and the shadowy softness of the score did not always come thru, and at times the conductor allowed the voices to be covered. To date, Maestro Nézet-Séguin's most memorable conducting at the Met has been his Parsifal; Pelléas this afternoon came close, without quite reaching an exalted level. (There was a sound of one person booing as the conductor returned to the pit after each intermission: a minority reaction, to be sure. I wonder what the complaint was, whether it had anything to do with the Maestro's interpretation or was simply an expression of anger that the intermission had been so long.)
A weak Yniold made the character's two scenes seem really long today; the 'dream' scene, at any rate, seems expendable dramatically, despite the music. In the small roles of the Shepherd and the Physician, Jeremy Galyon and Paul Corona were fine.
Marie-Nicole Lemieux gave a perfect portrayal of Geneviève, her singing clear and warm with a nice glow to the timbre. She looked lovely and was dignified without being overly prim and proper; she also played the character as somewhat younger than we often see or hear. All to the good. Brava!
An announcement was made pre-curtain that both Paul Appleby (Pelléas) and Kyle Ketelsen (Golaud) were suffering from colds but would sing anyway. With ticket prices hovering near a $500 top this afternoon, it seems to me that the audience deserved to hear singers who are in good health.
In the case of Mr. Ketelsen, he hardly needed an announcement: he sounded glorious, with only a trace of tiring as the long opera neared its end. Mr. Ketelsen's sound is commanding, house-filling, and vivid in expression. Tall and slender, he looks dapper (and slightly menacing) in his costumes and moves with authority. Regret, that most poignant of emotions, comes too late (doesn't it always?), and Mr. Keletsen's singing in the final scene had a heart-rending quality. Golaud is a bit of a thug, and this element too sometimes surfaced in the Ketelsen portrayal; his murder of Pelléas was vicious indeed.
Mr. Appleby, who reportedly had vocal problems at the prima, sang well all afternoon with only the slightest hints that he was unwell. The voice is handsome, lyrical but masculine of timbre, and expressive of the poetry that fills the libretto. The conductor occasionally allowed the tenor's voice to be covered. In the scene between the lovers leading up to the murder, Mr. Appleby's high notes suddenly took on such epic ring that I wondered if amplification was in play. More likely the tenor, nearing the end of his role and having made it successfully thru thus far, simply decided to let loose; the dramatic situation certainly called for it.
Looking through some of my diaries from my first years of living in New York City, I find that I heard Isabel Leonard on at least three occasions while she was at Juilliard; she seems not to have captured my imagination then (I left halfway thru her solo recital) and to this day I do not understand why she has such a huge career. Her tone is surely attractive, despite a tendency to thin out and spread a bit higher up. She sang all of the music of Mélisande perfectly well, and evocatively at that, but the sound of her voice does not leave a distinctive imprint. Ms. Leonard's Mélisande is impeccably gowned and coiffed, and her make-up is Vogue-ready; she even looks gorgeous on her deathbed.
Above: Isabel Leonard as Mélisande and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Arkel, a Karen Almond/MET Opera photo
Along with the excellence of Mlle. Lemieux's Geneviève and Mr. Ketelsen's Golaud, it was the great basso Ferruccio Furlanetto's performance as the old King Arkel that made this afternoon so engrossing. Every word, note, and gesture in Mr. Furlanetto's portrayal had the marvelous resonance that a great and dedicated singing-actor can bring to a role. Some people found the basso's singing too "tearful", but Arkel has every reason to weep as he watches the fabric of his family rent by jealous passions. How moving was Mr. Furlanetto as he sang of the destiny of Mélisande's daughter; it is moments like these that will endure in my operatic memory until the end.
As this afternoon's performance unfolded, I decided that I would try to meet Ferruccio Furlanetto after the opera ended. He has, over the years, given me so many wonderful performances to remember, starting with his Zaccaria in Nabucco at Hartford in 1982.
After a short wait, Mr. Furlanetto emerged from the stage door; we shook hands, and he signed my program. He's had such a great career, and his calendar for 2019 appears to be full. I hope he'll be back at the Met soon.
~ Oberon