I
have recently been following parallel paths within Enescu’s
music to those travelled by my colleague Göran Forsling:
firstly in reviewing the piano sonatas played by Luiza Borac
Avie), and now with Oedipe. It was interesting for
me as someone who has lived with Oedipe for a few
years to read Göran’s perceptive comments when coming to
the work for the first time. I recommend them to you (see review).
This
review is, in essence, an extension of my previous comments
on recordings of this great opera (see article
on Enescu),
but perhaps a little should be mentioned about my terms of reference
when
it
comes
to Oedipe. Although
I previously knew the Electrecord recording, I first properly
heard the work on 18 August 2002 in a concert performance
at the Edinburgh International Festival. That night will
forever remain with me, and it is impossible to describe
to those who were not there the impression made by the music,
the conductor (Cristian Mandeal) or several of the singers. In
April/May 2004 I travelled to Berlin for two staged performances
(the same production as used in Vienna from which the Naxos
recording derives), Mandeal again conducted. Mandeal also
conducted for a run of seven performances in Cagliari during
January 2005, and I attended the final performance of that
run. To these must be added information gleaned from Enescu’s
own conversations with Bernard Gavoty (pub. Flammarion, Paris
1955), Noel Malcolm’s book on Enescu (Toccata Press) and
John Gritten’s book on Constantin Silvestri (Kitzinger).
The
Naxos release listed above faces only one viable commercial
rival, featuring forces from Monte-Carlo under the baton
of Lawrence Foster (EMI CDS 7 54011 2, or CDCB 54011 in the
USA). There is a Romanian language version on Electrecord
and a number of off-air broadcasts that the motivated reader
may discover through unofficial channels. I will discuss
these at the end of my review of the Naxos set.
Naxos
and EMI
Three
years ago Klaus Heymann (CEO, Naxos) revealed to me via email
his desire to release a recording of Enescu’s Oedipe,
describing it very much as a “pet project” of his, and he
is a man of his word. Given the prohibitive cost of a new
studio recording, it is perhaps understandable therefore
that Naxos have opted to issue one from the archives of the
Vienna State Opera, where the work has received several outings
in recent years. This recording is a monument also to the
art to Monte Pederson, the American bass-baritone who notably
assumed the title role a few times - in Vienna and Bucharest
- prior to his death from cancer in 2001. He is an artist
too little represented on disc, considering his innate musicality
and dramatic sensibilities.
This
performance in general terms is very different from that
conducted by Foster on EMI. Foster’s view is to an extent
a labour of love and it manages to communicate much of the
beauty within Enescu’s score, but following the experience
of live performances I find it short on dramatic punch. However
Gielen’s view concentrates on the extremities within the
writing both in sonic terms and also in tempo. The latter
contributes in part to the shorter playing time of his version
when compared to Foster’s. Although the Viennese forces play
and sing with commitment one can sense that perhaps the music
was not yet totally coming naturally to them, and, as ever
with live recordings, stage movements obscure details of
orchestration that one sorely misses when one is aware of
their presence from the score or Foster’s reading. I should
add that I consulted my facsimile of Enescu’s original manuscript
whilst listening and found key textures that Enescu was at
pains to emphasise wanting.
Comparing
the renditions of the title role given by Pederson and van
Dam one finds that if anything Pederson undersings the part.
However, given the considerable demands of the role to produce
singing at every conceivable dynamic marking, with quarter
and three-quarter tones required at moments of absolute stress
alongside vocalisations it is not surprising that Pederson
is not alone in often husbanding his resources when it comes
to a complete performance. Certainly Esa Ruuttunen did this
during the first performance I saw in Berlin – he gave more
freely to the drama in the second. Even in the studio, where
retakes were possible, van Dam on occasion holds back more
than I would like, but this perhaps was caused by Foster’s
direction to an extent. Incidentally, Van Dam replaced the
previously engaged Samuel Ramey, and only agreed to the recording
after a two year period of study with the score.
The
Naxos recording is notable for some other roles too. Marjana
Lipovšek reprises the role of the Sphinx, which she took
for Foster, and here doubles it with that of Jocaste. That
her voice has aged since Foster’s recording was made is audible,
but so too is the appreciable depth of the performance she
turns in. The freedom of the live performance allows enough
room for her to invest the Sphinx’s ‘icy white’ shrieks with
truly spine-chilling tone. Romanians Mihaela Ungureanu and
Ruxandra Donose acquit themselves with honour, Donose especially
handling her telling contribution to the final act magnificently.
Many of the other roles are allotted to basses, and Walter
Fink’s Watchman takes the laurels amongst the several present.
Throughout the French diction of the cast is adequate, although
at times indistinct when it compared with the clarity of
EMI’s studio recording.
So
as far as commercial releases are concerned it’s a choice
that might well be made on any number of grounds: according
to budget; supporting material, completeness or sound quality.
Naxos comes in at half EMI’s price but their synopsis cannot
compete with EMI’s full notes and libretto – which will be
needed if you come to the work for the first time. EMI includes
the whole score whereas the Naxos version suffers several
cuts and EMI wins hands down on sound quality. If it’s immediacy
in drama you’re after rather than a kind of pseudo-Debussian
orchestral gloss, Naxos is the choice. When all’s said and
done Naxos provides a decent starting point. Given that both
sets reward musically in their own ways, I would urge the
interested to investigate the other over time also.
Electrecord
and off-air broadcasts
Electrecord’s
version is in Romanian, as opposed to the original French,
and in translation certain textual changes were made - apparently
at the request of Communist Party officials - that not only
alter the nature of what is sung but the direction of the
action itself. That said, anyone unaware of this is unlikely
to be overly troubled. The Bucharest Opera forces are conducted
by Brediceanu, with David Ohanesian in the title role. Why
Brediceanu conducted the recording at all is still something
of a mystery, given that Constantin Silvestri was originally
to do so, and conducted painstaking rehearsals for some time
prior to his replacement. Dedicated though Brediceanu is,
there can be little doubt that the recording owes a fair
measure of its glory to Silvestri’s input. I regret the fact
that politics seemingly has cruelly robbed us of what would
have almost certainly been a magnificent reading. The one
we have though displays the quality of the Bucharest National
Opera at that time (1964), with each role taken by a star
soloist: Dan Iordachescu’s Creon stands out as worthy of
particular note, as does Elena Cernai’s Jocaste. But vocally
it is David Ohanesian in the title role that carries all
before him here: a great bass-baritone caught in his absolute
prime.
Although
I have not heard it, I have heard reports of a recording
existing of a seemingly excellent live performance from the
Lucerne Festival given in August 1981. Romanian forces were
once again conducted by Brediceanu, with Ohanesian still
in the title role, this time singing in French. The major
drawback of the performance, I gather, was the cutting of
Act 2, Scene 1. Nonetheless I hope to make the acquaintance
of this recording some day, and would welcome information
from any readers who know any more about it.
Orchestre
Radio-Symphonique de France/Charles Bruck – Radio France
1955
This
may be in some respects the best recording of Oedipe to
date. Conducted by Romanian born Charles Bruck – a much under-rated
conductor - the reading is as secure technically as that
achieved by Foster, but Bruck phrases with greater urgency
at every turn.
Bruck’s
Oedipe is Xavier Depraz who is resplendent in the role. I
prefer him to Foster’s van Dam, although Depraz does not
have van Dam's tonal allure – and there are times in the
opera I wish van Dam had less beauty and more punch in his
voice. Other performances for Bruck worth mention include
the blood-curdling Sphinx of Rita Gorr who also sang Jocaste
at the Monnaie in Brussels. Bruck's performance features
some singers from the 1936 premiere of the work, one in the
role he created: Henri Medus as the Watchman. Others are
in different roles: Louis Noguera was a Theban at the premiere
but sings Phorbas for Bruck, Pierre Froumenty was Créon at
the premiere but under Bruck sings the High Priest. Bruck's
performance carries the advantage of an all-native French
cast featuring principals from the Paris Opera at that time:
Jean Giraudeau (the Shepherd), André Vessières (Tiresias),
to name but two. Alas, Bruck’s recording allows serious cuts
and the playing of the Orchestre Radio-Symphonique is less
than ideal, though it is committed. The sound is also
a factor, but given the fact it emanates from radio sources,
for its age it is remarkably full and clear.
BBC
Scottish SO / Mandeal – Edinburgh 2002 – broadcast by the
BBC
I
mentioned above the indelible effect that this performance
had on me, and being my first true encounter with the work
it is in some ways the one that all others measure up against
for me. Aside from the magnificent Mandeal, the chief protagonists
to note are John Relyea’s assumption of the title role. There
could hardly have been a vocal facet he left unexploited
in bringing the music to life, and in his effort seemed to
push himself to the very edge of his abilities, but was it
ever worth it. Marius Brenciu’s telling rendition of the
shepherd’s role was given with piquancy of tone in impeccable
French, whilst Anna Burford and Janice Watson were memorable
as Mérope and Antigone respectively.
Teatro
Lirico di Cagliari / Mandeal – Cagliari 2005 – broadcast
by RAI Tre
Listening
to off-air broadcasts of the Edinburgh and Cagliari performances,
what is most striking is precisely the quality I find most
lacking in Foster’s studio recording: immediacy of impact.
Mandeal draws this from orchestra, chorus and soloists and
views all four acts as an arch of inevitability for Oedipe
from birth to death. Within this he does not neglect detail,
and is unafraid to move from the slightest subtlety of line
to the unleashing of the tremendous power inherent in the
score. Stefan Ignat shows that he is a bass-baritone growing
into the title role, though lapses in linguistic fluency
let him down at times. Another Romanian, Alexandru Agache,
proves a rich and menacing Créon.
When
writing last year I commented that: “There could be no greater
mark of respect for Enescu than to capture Mandeal’s view
of this score”. Apparently a video DVD was made from the
production in Cagliari – perhaps a sufficiently far-sighted
company will seek to licence this from the opera house for
public release. Given that Naxos have released the Vienna
archive audio recording, this DVD seems the only way that
Mandeal’s vision of this great work might at last become
officially publicly available. Until then, do not resist
any further live performances he may conduct.
Evan Dickerson
see also review
by Göran Forsling
Monte Pederson
(bass-baritone) – Oedipe 
