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Rossini, Il viaggio a Reims ossia L'Albergo del Giglio d'Oro:  co-production with Grand Théâtre de Reims et al, soloists from the Centre Français de Promotion Lyrique, chorus and orchestra of the Opéra National de Montpellier, Roberto Fores-Veses conductor. Montpellier, France. 4.1.2009 (MM)

Kleopatra Papatheologou (front right) as the Marchesa Melibea.

Il viaggio a Reims is an extraordinary Rossini theater piece.  It is neither an opera seria nor an opera buffa as are virtually all the other stage works that we now simply call Rossini operas.  Because it has no comic or tragic action the Rossini Foundation identifies it as a cantada, though Rossini's biographer Stendhal joins the rest of us in calling it an opera anyway.  Stendhal further rhapsodizes that it bears a "Made in France" stamp because it was composed specifically for the splendid house singers at Paris' Théâtre Italien, and therefore is cause for great patriotic pride.

It is Rossini's last opera in the Italian language, performed just a few weeks after the coronation of Charles X, successor to Louis XVIII, as king of France.  The five years of Charles' reign, 1825 to 1830, are the very years Rossini produced his last three tragedies, all in the French language, and his last comedy, Le Comte Ory also in French.  Only months before abdicating Charles X rewarded Rossini for his service to France by naming him to the Légion d'honneur, not merely an honor as it brought Rossini a comfortable pension for life (but that is another story).

Il Viaggio  is also called L'albergo del giglio d'oro, the name of a hotel in Plombières des bains (a spa town near the Swiss and German borders) as this is where in 1825 a motley group of international beautiful people found themselves for some rest and relaxation before going on the consecration of Charles X in Reims, about 150 kilometers to the west.  Of course terrible tensions erupt among the guests, and then what we now commonly refer to as a tragedy occurred -- horses could not be begged, borrowed or stolen to get these folks to Reims in time for the coronation.

Improbable as all this is it is not as improbable as  the Il viaggio a Reims that found itself on the stage of Montpellier's Comedie (opera house) over the holidays, including one performance with audiodescription (sign language).   One cannot be sure who actually produced the show, as fourteen French opera houses and one Hungarian theater as well have their names on it.  The Centre Français de Promotion Lyrique claims responsibility for the conception -- the huge cast (fourteen principles) chosen from among, one assumes, hundreds of young artists from around the world who auditioned, a competition for the mise en scene, and some sort of competitive selection of conductor as well.

There will be some fifty performances over the next two years of which the five Montpellier performances marked the second installment, the first having occurred this past October in Reims (where else?).   Presenting young artists on important stages (Montpellier is an opéra national) is tricky, and risky business for critics who may dare to deprecate young artists.

It got off to a rocky start.  The first of the young singers on the stage seemed typical novices, good, almost technically proficient voices in varying degrees of stylistic mastery (physical as well as vocal), all lacking force as stage personalities -- after all they are young singers.  Plus the physical production was not immediately attractive, the stage business seemed forced, and naively pretentious, and the conducting felt ponderous, leaving one yearning for the verve of a good Pesaro performance [the Rossini Festival takes places every summer in Pesaro, Rossini's birthplace].

Things could not get much worse, so they had only to get better.  This happened about thirty minutes into the performance.  Specifically it was when two finished singers found their way onto the stage.  The Russian Alexey Kudrya, a bona fide tenorino playing a Russian general, and an Argentine baritone, Armando Noguera, playing a Spanish admiral tore up the stage vocally and dramatically in a complex sextet that among other issues settled who was courting the Polish widow.

This opera is Rossini at the apex of his operatic craft, manipulating voices, musical lines and absurd dramatic situations with ease and confidence.  The poetess Corina, as example, is plugged directly into Parnassus nearly from the beginning of Il viaggio, i.e. she improvises verse after verse of endless heroic images to harp accompaniment.  At the opera's conclusion she is still improvising (always to solo harp), now on a subject spontaneously proposed at the celebratory dinner -- Charles X (quel surprise)!  Korean soprano Hye Myung Kang heaped absolute worldly disinvolvement and other-worldly Rossini style onto this mock poetry.

She also gracefully maintained her poetic purity in confronting her suitors, first the young (very young it seemed) Hungarian bass Istvan Kovacs who delicately caricatured the absurdity and vocal suavity of a very young English Lord (hardly the ridiculous old guy Rossini had in mind).  Then the underhanded advances of the elegant young French officer Belfiore were ardently argued by English tenor James Elliott in a duet with Corinna that deserved and would have earned a ten minute ovation in Pesaro but received only scattered handclaps in Montpellier.  (Make that an 8 minute Pesaro ovation).

Gerardo Garciacano, a Mexican buffo, delivered Don Profondo's summation of the rich gifts about to be presented to Charles X in convincing Rossini vocal style if not with Rossini physique or volume.   But this was just before Rossini dove into a finale in which 14 solo voices converged to express despair that, lacking horses, they would not be at the coronation after all.

The Rossini genius had not and would not let us down.  By this time we had reconciled ourselves to the young Spanish conductor, Roberto Fores-Veses who had brought the pit to a rolling boil that seemed just right to keep Rossini's cantada cooking along à la Pesaraise. 

While dinner preparations are made the Russian general settled things with the Polish widow, sung by Greek soprano Kleopatra Papatheologou, the Russian tenorino delivering his high notes with the coglioni that drive perfect Rossinians wild.  At dinner Rossini wove national anthems with national hymns, the high point was a dizzy Italianate version of God Save the Queen, the low point, boring indeed as it was perhaps meant to be (it put everyone on stage to sleep), was a French chanson à la Gretry suavely delivered by Belfiore and the Comtesse de Folleville, sung by English soprano Elizabeth Bailey.

Nicola Berloffa, a young Italian who has assisted the major Italian stage directors of the moment, staged the production, though neither Davide Livermore's flair, nor Daniele Abbado's polish seems to have rubbed off on him.  Still he kept the rhythm of the action consistent with Rossini's formidable score, adding just enough gags to decorate but not overwhelm the musical storytelling.  Finally his staging was a success, not a small accomplishment for this cumbersome pastiche, or for any Rossini comedy for that matter.

The physical production designed by Guia Buzzi was the only disappointment.  The hard white color and the hard lines of the set, with sliding doors and guillotine drops and dropping side doors seemed at odds with Rossinian colors and sensibilities.  The solid primary colors of the costumes overwhelmed the presences of some of the young singers, notably the fine voiced innkeeper Madame Cortese sung by Russian soprano Oxana Shilova.  The basic scenic contraption, a revolving floor platform mid-stage and many doors flying out and in did in fact help keep up the musical energy of the production.

Mme. Buzzi and Mr. Berloffa updated the sets and costumes to the early twentieth century, making it possible to have taken a train from Plombières les Bains to Reims, and understandable that no horses could be found for such a voyage -- Rossini's little conceit be damned.

When this production comes to a town near you, do not avoid it, as you might avoid most exercises for young artists.  It is far more than that.  Plus it is double cast, so to be sure you have not missed the best singers you will need to see both casts (and hopefully double your pleasure).

Michael Milenski

Picture © Marc Ginot, Opéra National de Montpellier

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