Jules Massenet (1842-1912)
Grisélidis – conte lyrique (1901)
Grisélidis: Vannina Santoni (soprano); Alain: Julien Dran (tenor); Le Marquis: Thomas Dolié (bass); Le Diable: Tassis Christoyannis (baritone); Antoinette Dennefeld: Fiamina (mezzo-soprano);
Bertrade: Adèle Charvet (mezzo-soprano); Gondebaud: Adrien Fournaison (baritone); Le Prieur: Thibault de Damas (bass-baritone).
Orchestre et Chœur Opéra national Montpellier Occitanie/Jean-Marie Zeitouni
rec. 2023, Corum, Opéra Berlioz de Montpellier, France
Includes 144 page book
Bru Zane BZ1058 [2 CDs: 122]
Patrick Fournillier’s live composite recording of Grisélidis from 1992 was one of the most pleasant re-discoveries of my recent survey of less-well-known Massenet operas and I recommended it to those whose “taste extends to an appreciation of the subtler attractions of late Massenet.”. Naturally, then, I was keen to encounter this new recording from Bru Zane. As ever with this prestige label dedicated to the promotion of French Romantic repertoire, its presentation is sumptuous: book form with extensive, illustrated notes and essays in French and English, and a full French libretto with a side-by-side English translation; furthermore, although the sound of the older, live-composite recording is very good, this is a new studio recording with all the advantages that entails.
But of course, in the end, it’s the singing and playing which count. The first voice we hear is the suitably impassioned, strong-voiced tenor Julien Dran, who sings his praise of Grisélidis eloquently, an encomium echoed by the attractive, light-voiced bass-baritone singing the Marquis, Thibault de Damas. Vannina Santoni makes a very favourable impression on her entrance. The music is mostly through-composed with some delicate ariosos and the text is always prominent, owing to how lightly Massenet has scored it; the clarity of the words is aided by the fact that the cast is wholly native Francophone with the exception of Greek baritone Tassis Christoyannis as “a very good-natured devil” – and his French is excellent. The direction of conductor Jean-Marie Zeitouni is similarly fluid and sensitive; the sparkling, quicksilver music accompanying the Devil’s taunting is very neatly despatched by the orchestra of the Montpellier Opéra and the more dramatic passages are given full weight. Everything coheres here to confirm my conviction that this is truly one of those “unjustly neglected” operas, so often vaunted by reviewers – but not invariably with any real justification.
Act I opens with a lively ballad sung by Adèle Charvet as Bertrade – the swirling flute interjections reminiscent of those given to the filles de joie in the earlier Thaïs – and closes with her sombrely narrating Odysseus’ reluctant departure from Penelope, mirroring and reinforcing the pain of the Marquis’ separation from his wife and son as he goes off to join the Crusade. The music sometimes makes allusions to archaic forms and harmonies and sustains a dream-like atmosphere throughout, similar to Fauré’s manner in his Pénélope of 1913. That is wholly apt to the re-telling of a legend or fairy tale – what Massenet called a féerie – comingled with elements of a medieval mystery play. The miraculous dénouement might also vaguely remind opera lovers of Puccini’s Suor Angelica (1918); consideration of those premiere dates marks out Massenet as something of an innovator, as the first performance of Grisélidis was considerably earlier.
The score is suffused with references to birdsong and the scents and sunlight of Provence, which explicitly inspired the composer and compounds the escapist holiday mood. Thus, the music opening of Act II, with more trilling flutes, matches the stage directions: “A terrace planted with range trees in front of the castle. Beds of lilies in bloom. In the background, the sea. Late afternoon.” This is the setting for the henpecked devil to extol the pleasures of solitude, away from his nagging wife, in what is almost a kind of jolly, tripping patter song. That is not to say that the opera does not include moments of tension and high drama, but much of it is gently humorous or touching. These are qualities which might not wear so well with a more cynical modern audience who could find the comedy dated and the emotions sentimental; a little “period tolerance” needs to be exercised to ensure proper appreciation of Massenet’s charms here.
This scene brings me to what is perhaps my only slight reservation about this recording: the “comic couple” of the Devil and his wife both have voices with somewhat of a pronounced, or slightly “warbling”, vibrato – but it is not intrusive and their vocal acting is fine. Some critics complained about how the creator of the role of the Devil, celebrated veteran baritone Lucien Fugère, hammed it up, but apparently the audience enjoyed it – and Christoyannis doesn’t overdo it here.
After a pleasantly silly exchange between them, the next scene with Grisélidis alone, singing a long-breathed melody, comes as a strong and welcome contrast; it is beautifully and powerfully sung by Santoni. Further variety is provided by the entrance of the Devil and Fiamina disguised as a “Levantine merchant” and his slave and their music is once again redolent of the “exotic” character we hear in Thaïs. Another proof of Massenet’s ever-inventional, chameleon talent comes with the night scene, complete with incantations and a Dance of the Spirits, channelling Berlioz, Gounod and those French predecessors whose music summons up diabolical visions. The bitter-sweet, extended love-scene between Alain and Grisélidis – strains of Werther? – culminating in the abduction of her son Loÿs and her terrified panic as she searches for him, presents yet another twist from the lyrical to the dramatic. Her tender, lamenting aria opening Act III again recalls Charlotte’s “Air des lettres” in Werther; the Marquis’ “vengeance aria” is virtually an operatic trope but quickly mutates into an outpouring of love, followed by vows of mutual fidelity, an ecstatic marital kiss of reconciliation and the prayer to the Holy Cross which transforms into a flaming sword, and amid lightning and thunder the restoration to his parents of Loÿs clasped in St Agnes’ arms, hymned by an angelic choir! As you see, there is quite a lot going on…then the impact of the whole grand spectacle is ironically undercut by the brief appearance of the supposedly banished Devil in a monk’s habit, vowing to become a hermit. Yes; it’s a load of old tosh – but great fun and very well performed.
Despite its triumphant premiere, the opera soon fell into desuetude. As the notes discuss, perhaps the incongruous admixture of high seriousness and broad comedy in Grisélidis perplexed its audience and continues to do so, hindering its rehabilitation today, but this new release gives it the best possible advocacy. It is not markedly superior in terms of either sound or performance to the 1992 live composite recording issued first on the Koch/Schwann label, then subsequently as a bargain twofer on Brilliant, but those issues can now be found only on the used market. Furthermore, Bru Zane offers a great deal more in terms of presentation – and in addition to the book-form issue, it is also available considerably more cheaply as a digital download in three formats: mp3, 16 and 24 bit.
Ralph Moore
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