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Massenet,  Thaïs: Soloists, Orchestra of Colors, conductor: Michel Plasson/ Miltos Logiadis, Megaron, the Athens Concert Hall, 14.3.2009 (BM)

Elisabeth Futral (Thaïs) and George Mosley (Athanaël

Although Thaïs is one of Massenet's most performed operas, it is still not part of the standard operatic repertoire, and this is particularly true of Greece, where opera-goers were likely to be offered little else that Verdi and Puccini during a typical season until recently. So many of them must have been pleased when conductor Michel Plasson stopped over in Athens, since he likes to say that he travels the world with the best thing his country has to offer in his luggage: its music. He has described French music as a delicate flower with an unusual fragrance, quick to wilt, like a poppy, if it is not picked by sensitive hands, so no doubt he must have been pleased that the Athens ensemble for this production included some particularly insightful artists to perform it. On March 14^th, it featured American coloratura Elisabeth Futral, who was stunning in the notoriously difficult title role, hitting her brilliant top notes with apparent ease and possessing the requisite stamina and grace, alongside gifted baritone George Mosley, blazing and before long smoldering as Athanaël. Miltos Logiadis conducted the Orchestra of Colors; true to its name, it brought out the myriad nuances of the score while handling it delicately and never allowing sentimentality into the equation.

Thaïs is set in Egypt under Greek occupation, where a Cenobite monk, Athanaël, attempts to convert Thaïs, an Alexandrian courtesan, to Christianity, but discovers, too late, that his obsession with her is rooted in lust; ironically, while the courtesan's true purity of heart is revealed, so is the religious man's baser nature. The work is about religious eroticism, and has had many controversial productions.

Director Arnaud Bernarnd moved the timeframe up to the early 20^th century, but did so in all modesty and without attempting to alter the essence of the libretto, based on the novel by Anatole France. Rather, he emphasized its inherent opposites: the pious and the irreverent, virtue and sin, the luxury of an Alexandria modeled on 1920’s Paris (in an opulent scene which unfortunately smacked of Viennese operetta) and the starkness of the desert expressed by Nikos Petropoulos’ striking minimalist sets.

At a press event prior to opening night, Maestro Plasson also expressed his gratifying view that a healthy attitude to music should not be an overly “clever” one, in that too much “intellectual” activity can easily create a distance to the music itself. It would seem that Bernard shares this view, since his staging was nothing like one of those cerebral readings that lead audience’s eyes in a direction no longer compatible with what they are hearing. Nonetheless, not only did he do justice to Massenet’s anticlerical leanings in a contemporary and articulate fashion, he also dealt with the issue of repressed sexuality subtly and to great effect, for once bringing out the almost nihilist quality of the final scene. And, with a little help from the orchestra, he reminded us that the best parts of this opera are not necessarily the most well known (i.e. the famous Méditation for solo violin – which alas was a tad wobbly and shrill on the evening I attended). Massenet succeeded in displaying his prodigious musical technique throughout this masterpiece of the romantic era, especially towards the unforgettable and haunting end, prompting Plasson to quote André Malraux, who once wrote: “La musique seule peut parler de la mort.” (Music alone can speak of death.)

Bettina Mara

Picture © Stefanos


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