A hundred years ago anybody would have told you that
the top three French operas were Carmen, Faust and Mignon.
(Massenet was just getting into his stride and only a madman would have
supposed that an opera by Berlioz was a viable concern). Indeed, statistics
show Mignon to have been the most popular of the three, reaching
its 1,000th performance in 28 years (Carmen took 29,
Faust 35). By 1955 it had chalked up 2,000 performances but by
then its star was waning. While Carmen is surely established
among the immortals and Faust has resisted a good deal of critical
snobbery, Mignon has not often been heard in recent years and
even its once-famous romance "Connais-tu le pays" is now more
of a diploma set-piece than a recitalist’s standby. This melody, which
also concludes the opera, is already heard in the Prelude, played here
with a lethargy which arouses fears for the aria itself that prove only
too well founded.
The present performance is taken from a production
at Compiègne in 1996 and is the first on CD. However, by one
of those coincidences of which only prima donnas and recording companies
are capable, Sony Classical have just remembered that they have a performance
rusting away in their vaults recorded in London in 1978 under Antonio
de Almeida with Marilyn Horne in the title role and the other major
parts taken by Ruth Welting, Alain Vanzo, Nicola Zaccaria and Frederica
von Stade. The scholarly Almeida included alternative versions of the
beginning of Act Two and the finale and his four LPs, timed at 194’
55", occupy three CDs. Since the present 2-CD issue is not exactly
ideal, readers are advised to seek further information about the Sony
reissue, which I have not heard yet, before deciding which to buy.
The Almeida was the first complete recording of the
opera (a live recording dating from 1949, made in Mexico and sung in
Italian with a little-known Mignon, Graciela Milera, but counting Di
Stefano, Siepi and the young Simionato among the cast, is presumably
for specialists only). However, two LPs containing substantial extracts
were issued during the 1960s, one on HMV with Rhodes, Esposito, Vanzo
and Roux under Hartemann, the other on Deutsche Grammophon with Berbié,
Mesplé, Dunan and Depraz under Jean Fournet. Again, I haven’t
heard either of them but they must surely enshrine many of the traditional
French operatic values and I hope they will resurface one day. Of modern
artists, Susan Graham performed the role in Toulouse in 2002. A revival
is planned for 2005 so a recording from that source seems unlikely in
the immediate future.
Could Mignon ever regain its former popularity?
Probably not. My reaction to the first act was that there was a lot
less real music than there is in either Carmen or Faust;
many pages of agreeably-shaped recitative, supported by some pleasant
orchestral colours. Thomas certainly shows great skill in maintaining
the identity of his characters in quite elaborate ensembles – such as
the sextet – but choruses and dance music are conventional and unmemorable
compared with Bizet or Gounod. However, I found the level of interest
rose considerably in the second and third acts – partly because of the
story itself, but arias and other set pieces for the various characters
come more frequently. As well as her Act One romance, Mignon has an
entertaining scene in Act Two in which she experiments with Philine’s
make-up box and both Wilhelm Meister and Lothario have arias of melancholy
sweetness to match Mignon’s own. Once again, Thomas shows skill in contrasting
his mezzo-soprano heroine with a light coloratura soprano, the frivolous
and spiteful Philine. There is a tendency, though, for the lighter music,
such as the gavotte, to sound more conventional than the slower numbers.
One question which the detailed booklet notes do not address is why
the role of Frédéric, sung as a breeches role (by von
Stade) under Almeida, and I believe normally so performed, is taken
here by a tenor. In short, Mignon is not really on the same level
as either Carmen or Faust, but its total eclipse seems
unfair. Truth to tell, though, I think it was eclipsed not so much by
Carmen and Faust as by Werther. Placing the two
melancholy Goethe-derived heroines side-by-side there is no doubt which
makes the stronger impression, as well as being closer to the spirit
of Goethe, and surely any mezzo-soprano, given the choice, would rather
sing Charlotte than Mignon.
The booklet gives a lot of information about both the
composer and the opera, in three languages (but the synopsis and libretto
are in French only). It discusses the various versions of the opera
at some length, without actually stating what we are going to hear on
the CDs. It is the grand opera version (recitatives not dialogue) with
the happy ending (Thomas’s tendency to provide happy endings to great
literary tragedies was also a notable characteristic of his version
of Hamlet). Applause is included at the end of each act but the only
other evidence of an audience is a few titters as Mignon re-enters in
the second act dolled up in one of Philine’s dresses. There are the
inevitable bangs and bumps associated with live performances. The recording
has been transferred at a low level, but even increasing my volume control
did not remove the impression that a veil had been cast between me and
the music. This in its turn exacerbates a sense of pallor which derives
principally from the conductor. I have mentioned the slow tempo for
"Connais-tu?" – it’s marked andante not adagio – and at the
beginning of Act Three he seems to be trying to see how slow it is possible
to go without actually stopping. Even when the livelier tempi are fast
enough, there is little sense of rhythmic bite. The lack of an incisive
presence on the podium probably accounts for a general lack of sharp
characterisation on the part of the singers. Just to give one example,
Frédéric’s brief exchange with Laërte and Wilhelm
(CD1, towards the end of track 13), where his exclamation "Cursed
Baron, cursed message, cursed coquette" would seem to imply something
more than a placid delivery; nor does he sound "severe" when
he addresses Wilhelm.
The best of the singers is Annick Massis as Philine.
She negotiates her coloratura with considerable ease and her high notes
are relaxed and musical. Alain Gabriel, as Meister, is attractive, plangent
and sensitive in the middle range but his high notes are forced. Jean-Philippe
Courtis sounds old enough for the part of Lothario but this sort of
"realistic" casting (like a Violetta or a Mimì with
a hacking cough from beginning to end) is not really what opera is about.
His crooning delivery of the Act Three lullaby is effective microphone
singing; I just hope the public in the theatre heard it. The problem
of the role of Mignon is that a certain type of mezzo-soprano is likely
to sound far too substantial and matronly for such a frail young creature.
This is at times the problem with Lucile Vignon’s otherwise sensitive
performance. It is not really her fault – a "light" mezzo
such as von Otter is what the role requires. Her several G sharps in
the final ensemble are rather sharp.
She also raises another query, regarding that snorty
French "r", the bane of our schoolboy existence as we turned
our tongues and our throats inside out in attempt to master it. You
may have noticed that French singers generally sing a normal trilled
"r" as in Italian or even in English (though only the Scots
and Irish use it regularly in the spoken language). And in fact the
great Pierre Bernac decreed that in singing this snorty "r"
is sometimes used in folksong and cabaret, but in classical opera and
mélodie its use is to be considered vulgar. It is no business
of mine to tell the French how to sing their own language, so I limit
myself to pointing out that, while all the other singers here evidently
agree with the great Pierre Bernac, Vignon frequently does not.
The booklet concludes with copious notes (in French
only) about not only the performers but also about a number of people
who are not actually heard on the recording at all, such as the pianist,
the director of musical studies (the remarkable Irène Aïtoff,
then 92 years of age) and, with almost two whole pages clearly the most
important person present, the Artistic Director Pierre Jourdan. We get
a chronological list of his productions from 1968 to 1997. The prompter
is neither heard (fortunately) nor named, and what about the ushers,
the programme-sellers and the barmen? Seriously, perhaps we are inclined
to ignore, in recording credits, a whole string of names who have contributed
to the final result although they are not actually heard on the recording.
However, in this particular case the failure to rise above a decent
provincial level must be laid at somebody’s door, and since the Artistic
Director has seen that his name is well in evidence, I take it he is
ready to respond in first person for any artistic shortcomings there
may be.
If this were the only recording I would be prepared
to say that it gives a reasonable idea of the work. As it is, I can
only suggest holding on to see what the Sony reissue has to offer.
Christopher Howell
Ensemble Orchestral Harmonia
Nova/Stéphane Denève