Stutzmann and Cura: The Paris Tannhäuser

I just finished watching something I did not know existed: The 2017 Paris Tannhäuser from L'Opéra de Monte-Carlo.  Though billed as a world premiere that just doesn't sound right. Whatever it was, it began with me already slightly prejudiced against it, yet by its conclusion moved to tears, finding myself wanting to experience it all over again. 

Performing it in this version - and in French - seemed to change not only the vocal line (in interesting ways) but also the texture and feel of the opera. In fact, its very orchestral fabric felt lighter, and, I'm not certain how to phrase it, but not quite Wagnerian seems  right - even if that doesn't sound right.  It felt very French. Peut-être oui? Anyway, I loved it. 

I had a few issues with some of the staging. It opens with the Venusberg, as a barefoot Henri arrives onstage alone with an enormous opium pipe. It's nearly 30 minutes before Henri sings, what with the Venusberg Vixens and Venus herself taunting, teasing and smoking with him. This was the part that felt silly to me, but in thinking about what I saw afterwards - I realize it works, and I need to go back with a better mind set. 

To his credit, Jose Cura is absolutely commanding in the title role. In excellent voice, while looking like a strung out wreck from his debauchery in the Venusberg, he pours himself into Henri with a commitment that made me care and have concern for Tannhauser as a character, in a way I rarely have. I'd go so far as to say, this Tannhauser may be one of the very best performances I've seen or heard Cura give - and I like this singer whose work can be variable.  He is gripping from start to finish dramatically as well as musically. By the time we arrive at the Rome Narrative Cura reveals he knew to pace himself, to reach this near mad scene  having reserves of strength and it was impossible  - at least for me - not  to want to forgive this sinner.   

I've heard Nathalie Stutzmann conduct this same opera several times now, and here she leans into the French tradition, beautifully controlling everything with a masterful touch in a way that makes it not feel or sound quite like Wagner.  If I sound crazy, it's merely because I am - and find it difficult to put into words. The best I can do is express my absolute surprise (and joy) at the enormous difference between say, this performance and the recent ones from Bayreuth or the Met - which were also excellent, by the way.  Additionally, Maestro Stutzmann's singerly attributes manifest in a way I appreciate and have heard from other great singer/ conductors (the Canadian Barbara Hannigan comes to mind) - placing the right emphasis on what comes out of the pit with a strong emphasis on vocal placement, and making the French libretto sound even smoother than German. 

Mezzo, Aude Extrémo is about as sensual a Venus as one could want, and it's interesting to see her physically return during the final scenes of the opera in a last ditch effort to pull Henri back to her world.  

Annemarie Kremer is lovely as Élisabeth, though in the third act there is a bit of a light steel to her sound where I wanted a bit more radiance and warmth, but she's good. Very good.  While I wasn't crazy about her demise, it worked in this context and was wrenching, as it should be.

Steven Humes sing and acts a very strong Hermann.

Jean-François Lapointe is just wonderful as Wolfram, and his "Song to the Evening Star" - the most beautiful aria in the score sounds just as lovely as 'Ô douce etoile, feu du soir."

Was it perfect? Almost nothing is, so this certainly was not. Several elements of the staging - which I overall liked and found myself caught up in - just felt like overkill or . . . just wront. The worst for me was the last bit of business (which I'll not spoil here) which ruined the moment for me - if only slightly. Oh, how I'd love to see this filmed again - with that bit removed.  

The physical production is directed nearly perfectly by Jean-Louis Grinda and Laurent Castaingtis's designs are stunning at every turn, even continuing the bare stage phenomenon that's taken over modern opera stagings.  There are props, e.g., the odd chair or two (or six), a lot of floor coverings in the guise of scarves and (perhaps panties?) during the Venusberg, but Castaingtis uses brilliant projections that give the entire thing a sense of cinemascope. It almost felt as if I were watching a film. The images are gorgeous and every one of them works in concert with the idea behind this style.

This was NOT at all what I was expecting today, and coming on the heels of a pair of performances of Pelléas (Vienna and Rouen) I'm not only opera-ed out . . . I'm French Opera-ed Out!