The Met's Tristan und Isolde in HD: Stunning In Sight and Sound

For an art form we've recently been told "no one cares about" a number of opera companies have been having sold out shows playing to packed enthusiastic audiences. One enjoying that kind of success is The Metropolitan Opera's new, and long-anticipated Tristan und Isolde, which has not only sold out its run, but done the very rare thing of getting most of the cast on board for one more show.  This is not to say opera still isn't hurting, it's what the arts tend to do, but should dispel any foolish notion that no one cares.

Yesterday, I had the absolute pleasure of attending the HD cinema transmission of Tristan, and it was well worth the wait. While I had a caveat or two about Yuval Sharon's now already controversial production, I'm only one among many who found it enormously satisfying, dramatically moving, and musically, this is the real deal. Sharon's production is - like-it-or-not, stunning. Depending on where you are on the traditional vs. regie scale, it can be either enormously thought provoking and emotionally satisfying, or busy and annoying. I fall in the former camp, and loved almost every moment.  

Like Wagner's score, Sharon gives us layers and levels and Es Devlin's remarkable multi-level, stage literally fills the stage top-to-bottom, side-to-side creating seemingly disjointed playing areas. On the stage floor level is a table where siti stage doubles of the title couple, while above is an enormous oval, that will change shapes, become interlocking tunnels, open and shut, and offer views e.g., from an eye, a camera aperture, even a kaleidoscope. The changes happen with a dreamlike fluidity matching mood and music  that felt natural, even as I watched in awe.  

As has been the case throughout history, the production itself almost feels secondary (something that would drive the dramatist,Wagner, insane), because it is the music that draws all to Tristan. First. Foremost. Always.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin is a conductor I both enjoy and get annoyed with. Since the beginning he has shown a tendency to relish too much in his orchestral bath of sound, frequently not seeming to  understand what the word balance means.  I've heard some of the biggest voices in opera rendered all but inaudible under his baton. When he gets something right, however, it's very good indeed. Such is the case of his reading of Tristan. It's his kind of opera - a synthesis of voice and orchestra that blend into that oft-used reference "oceanic" in that Wagner's score comes through the house in waves of sound that pulsate . . . ebb and flow throughout the house. Each of the preludes perfectly captured the mood and spirit of the act to follow. The strings were cutting deep with a resonance you could feel - even through loudspeakers in a cinema. The exquisite writing for winds had such plaintive delicacy as to sound like the very essence of deep sadness. Wagnerian magic poured out of the pit from start to finish.

That magic extended to the cast, most notably its title characters. Only months after her already historic debut several as Isolde (and rather shortly after a much publicized delivery of twin boys)  Lise Davidsen again shows what kind of beauty is possible in this challenging role.  The possessor of an enormous sound, Davidsen is also a cautious, intelligent singer with an ever increasing good dramatic sense if not necessarily by instinct. Where I felt roles like Leonora (Forza), Tosca, et al. never satisfied me, whereas the Germanic repertoire suits her perfectly, and no role to date more so than her Isolde. With only two outings under her  belt, she is already a leading Isolde, and I have no doubt we shall see Ms. Davidsen devleoping into one of the great Isoldes of any age. I'm just letting that sink in. 

Her Isolde had both spit and spirit . . . not an overly haughty princess, Davidsen nonetheless easily conveyed a regality, even when being somewhat submissive to her lady, Brangäne. She laughs, reveals a fear-based anger, one might call it contempt ,even - toward her captors,and her curse rings out with non-disguised venom. That she manages to do so while sounding breathtaking is almost a revelation of sorts. This Isolde is capable of strong-arming both Tristan and Kurwenal in the beginning, but also makes the potion taking business among the most believable in my experience. Her business with a knife pointed at Tristan's throat was an effective image - and brilliantly revealed by the staging; the action framed in and as the knife's edge. (That probably doesn't read well if you've not seen it - but the effect was stunning). Much like her Isolde for Spain, Davidsen seems to fully believe in the director's vision which makes her Isolde beautifully believable. We can feel everything she feels, see what she sees, and the effect of that cannot be overstated. The Liebestod is taken at an incredibly slow pace, which recalled Hildegard Behrens and Bernstein's 1982 performance  in that while indeed slow, never languishes or becomes shapeless. Indeed, both soprano and conductor imbue Wagner's chromaticism with a pulsing, yearning quality that by its end, very nearly stopped my heart.  

Michael Spyres was never a singer I might never before have imagined as Tristan, but after hearing him as Pfitzner's Palestrina and Wagner's Siegmund, was very intrigued by the prospect of this bel canto prince's transformation to Sir Tristan. What I experienced yesterday reconfirmed what I thought opening night; this is the  Tristan of my dreams today. We have several marvelous tenors in the role right now, but for me, none sound as "beautiful" to my ear as does Mr. Spyres. There appeared to be no vocal challenges (not that there weren't) he couldn't tackle, and, at every measure, I believed this was Tristan. In fine form throughout the first two acts, Spyres approached the Tristan Challenge - that voice-wrecking, backbreaker of what is arguably opera's longest mad scene, sounding as fresh as he had four hours earlier. The voice sailed with ease and an evenness that captures all of the frenzied hysteria and tumult of the dying Tristan. 

The third act also brought out English horn player Pedro Diaz from the pit onto the stage.  Costumed and woven into the action it provided a beautiful kind of symbiosis drawing even closer the inseparable relationship between music and drama. I thought it another perfect touch. 

Sharon's use of acting doubles here was at its most potent.As the silent Tristan lies dying, the singing Tristan is in that tunnel above, watching  himself as he passes into an afterworld. A host of white clad dancers move around and almost through him, his movements blending into theirs in a sort of eternal dance of spiritual energy that I found haunting in the way the music makes me feel. During this transition from life-to-death we watch Tristan witnessing the too-late arrival of his beloved  - now very pregnant - Isolde, and here, at his final cry - "Isolde!" found me falling to pieces. The stage image, one I never myself could have imagined - hit me with an enormity of emotions - I was all over the place, filled with sorrow, a strange satisfaction, but most of all, a sense of wonder. 

Few operatic side kicks are as crucial to the development of a work's title characters than Brangäne and Kurwenal. Although servants, each serves as confidant, friend, sibling and guardian with  unwavering love and loyalty. These relationsips, in a very large way, define who Tristan and Isolde are.

 Ekaterina Gubanova has been Planet Earth's go-to Brangäne for twenty years, and while not as fresh now as then, she remains among my favorites in this role.  and the voice on this occasion sounded stronger, sturdier and warmer than opening night. At every turn one feels this is Brangäne down to her core.  

I am a  huge fan of Tomasz Konieczny, but both on opening night and yesterday, his first act Kurwenal sounded a bit blowsey - the vibrato a tad wide and unfocused. However, as on opening night, all of that went away and Konieczny, always marvelous actor sounded more robust and even. making an enormous impact. One of the most moving parts of Tristan is Kurwenal's love for and loyalty to Tristan, as we watch him tenderly care for his dying friend, followed by Tristan's recognition of that devotion. There is a bond here at a level rarely seen in Wagner, or indeed, any opera. Kurwenal's final words, "Tristan, beloved, do not scold your faithful friend for following you" is one of those lines that has the power to destroy me emotionally, and Konieczny did not disappoint.

Ryan Speedo Green brought both a tragic nobility and warmness of tone befitting King Marke. His big monologue at the discovery of the lovers felt more subdued than I've seen before, and . if his King isn't yet on the level of  say, Pape or Salminen, it very much feels headed in that direction, which makes me eager to experience him in the role again. 

The roles of the Young Sailor, Melot, and the Shepherd were respectively taken by Ben Reisginer, Thomas Glass, and Jonas Hacker who all contributed strong performances when being seen or unseen. The men of the Met's chorus were properly stirring and "chanty" in the first act.

After hearing so much negative criticism of the production itself, I was surprised that the sold-out audience at Apple Cinema Westbrook - of which I appeared to be the youngest member of - reacted so positively, discussing the staging, almost all of them loving it, "beautiful" being the most used description. At the first intermission the pair of ladies to my right, let me know they were not among those loving the production however, and apologized for giggling several times. I thought that was endearing, but by the end, both women were wiping their eyes with tissues, and invited me to look into the seniors adult courses on opera at University of Southern Maine..  Meanwhile my seatmate to my left, loved everything about about it. Barbara was a delight, an 84 year old Polish woman who moved here in 1975. We talked about Wagner, and she found it interesting that I was obsessed with Wagner in my childhood, "I grew up in Poland during World War II - we didn't have Wagner!"  

Most objections against this Tristan seem reserved for the final moments, with Isolde giving birth to a son, before the Liebestod. I didn't like the idea when hearing about it, but seeing it - I found it perfectly fulfilled Sharon's vision of Wagner's spirituality - combining infinite tragedy with eternal hope, and regeneration. As the silent Isolde dies alongside Tristan, the singing Isolde, her outer garments now pared down to purest white, sings to her child and all of us below, Brangäne gently handing over the orphaned infant to King Marke.  I cannot speak to the effectiveness of how this played in the house, but in HD, that final image of the King cradling his wife's child in his arms, gently kissing him as we watch Isolde moving through the tunnel towards Tristan - towards eternity, was as beautiful an image as I've ever seen.

The entire afternoon had the feel of triumphant and important journey - a genuine event, and as we poured out of the lobby, into the brightl, sunlit beautiful first day of Spring, those hours in the dark with Wagner and company felt like a renewal of life. 

A Remarkable Giulio Cesare from Il Pomo d'Oro!

Yesterday, the series Elbphilharmonie LIVE livestreamed a spectacular concert performance of Handel's most popular opera - and my favorite, opera, Giulio Cesare in Egitto.

Francesco Cort  led his brilliant Baroque ensemble, Il Pomo d’Oro  in a reading that brought out every element of the complete score in a performance of almost four seamless hours that passed like a dream.  They have been touring Europe with the same cast headed by the much anticipated first performances of Jakub Józef Orliński in the title role.

Last night there was one major change:: Cleopatra, and I must admit disappointment Sabine Deviehle, whose Cleopatra I've heard and raved several years ago, would not be singing this performance.  In her stead, the always excellent French soprano Sandrine Piau would assume the role of the Egyptian Queen. As much as I have loved her in the past (she was, on more than one occasion, a stunning Semele), I've not heard about her much in recent years. Well, let me tell you, for someone who will be 61 years old in a few months, Ms. Piau's was a jaw droppingly beautifully, exquisitely sung Cleopatra. Ms. Piau looked splendid and sounded even better than that. Cleopatra's arias were dispatched with ease, each like a great jewel completing an exquisitely crafted necklace . . . or, more appropriately here . . . . a crown.

While the voice remains in remarkable shape, it is not as fresh as, say, Deviehle for the spectacular Théâtre des Champs-Élysées performances a few years ago, nor could or should it be. Sabine was 36 or 37, really just entering her zenith years (where she remains) while Sandrine was one of the first Baroque Soprano Superstars of the early 90's, collaborating frequently for performances and countless recordings with William Christie, Christophe Rousset, Hervé Niquet,  Emmanuelle Haïm, Marc Minkowski  and other leaders of the Baroque revival movement. At 60, the tone remains firm, the coloratura formidable, ornamentations dazzling, and the breath control of this singer - her ability to spin lines almost endlessly, remains exquisite.  Add to that some twenty years with this role (I recall a glorious 2008 performance with René Jacobs)  what she adds here is a depth of - and insight into - this character - one that is uniquely dramati, and her own.

I was excited - but also worried about Mr. Orliński's Cesare. The voice (for me) has always been on the brighter and lighter side of countertenors (not a complaint, I love the guy's sound), but my ideal interpreters have almost always been mezzos - for a number of reasons.  As I get older, I'm finding - unlike many of my friends - I'm  more accepting and even excited by, different ways of singing a character - and of different styles of voices presenting music so familiar we're often locked into thinking  it absolutely must be performed this way.  Really? Must it?  In my now "senior years" I've grown to love performers and performances I may well would have have turned my nose at twenty or thirty years ago, and finding, I'm far happier. Sue me.  

Orlinski''s sound remains bright here, creating a more youthful sounding Caesar than history might dictate - but this isn't history, it's opera!  What helps him convince, is there seems now to be an expansiveness to his sound - particularly in his rich lower register, that adds not just color, but more purpose to the singing of the text. 

There are so many arias in this opera that I can't - or won't (at least here) go into any details of them, except to say there were none that disappointed, and I was glad for the inclusion of them all. (I think they were all in there, at least!)

The rest of the cast, Yuriy Minenko (Tolomeo), Beth Taylor (Cornelia)  Rebecca Leggett  (Sesto), Marco Saccardin (Curio), Alex Rosen (Achilla), and Rémy Brès-Feuillet (Nireno) each delivered performances that equalled - in drama, thrill, beauty and musicality - the two leads.  The singing all night - stunning enough that it was a pleasure NOT seeing sets and costumes and STILL getting the drama of Handel's masterpiece. 

Though I'm not mentioning the arias specifically, I will single out the duet, Son nata a lagrimar as one of the most powerful, and moving moments of the evening. Beth Taylor and Rebecca Leggett, as mother and son, completely took my breath away in delivering one of the most mournful, and touching expressions of grief in all of opera. 

Maestro Corti's impeccable musicianship, his shaping of the score and ability to coax a deliciously rich sound from his Il Pomo d’Oro players made for a sensational performance, and it is a joy to watch him bouncing from condcuting, to jumping down onto the harpischord , t hen back up again like an Olympic athlete.  

For anyone who loves Handel - and this opera in particular - I can't recommend this joyous, stunningly sung and played gem of a performance. Outstanding!

Amazing "Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay"

This past Saturday, I along with countless others braved the worst winter storm in years to attend the cinema screening of Mason Bates' and Gene Scheer's new opera, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.

I had thoroughly enjoyed the opera's opening night broadcast enormously but, like everyone else I knew, furious at the Met for not scheduling this important new work for an HD treatment. Fortunately for the Met, all seven performances were sold out with tickets were as rare as the proverbial hen's teeth. Seizing the moment, the Met scurried to get cameras in  to record the final performances into the seamlessly edited HD recording  we saw Saturday. They also (wisely) scheduled four more performances during the winter break. Thi is good.

With the daunting task of crafting a libretto for an "average length" opera from Michael Chabon's 650 page Pulitzer Prize winning novel, Mr. Scheer, while commiting some gender re-assignments of several roles, did a remarkable job and delivered a text presenting more than enough of the duo's adventures to project and evoke this sprawling tale of war, comic books, fascism, adventure, sacrifice, freedom, love and - most beautifully - friendship. Everything you need to know is in there.

Armed with this, Mr. Bates' created a wide sprawling score, infused with his now familiar style combining traditional orchestrations with electric, synthesized sound, and the result feels just right.  While I admire and champion many contemporary composers, Bates has been on my radar for 20 years, and I can't think of a composer better equipped to tell this kind of tale. 

(Side note: Many critics and audiences have complained about Bates use of electronics, and how they "don't belong" in "classical music."  One may not like employment of synthesizers, electric guitars, etc., but the fact is electronics have been used in classical music for more than a century, employed by countless composers including Edgar Varèse, Gian Carlo Menotti, Olivier Messiaen, Kaija Saariaho, Philip Glass, John Adams .  . . so precedent has been more than just merely "set.") 

Bates refers to this synthesis of traditional and electronic sound, as symphonic electronica.  As one who has been a fan of (and involved in) the Noise Music scene, I was heartened to hear the incorporation of these strange sounds (along with all the foley work supplied for the radio show-within-an-opera) incorporated into a work, with its myriad style motifs propelling the story through a gloriously unique hybrid of operatic theatre. While I prefer my opera live and in the house, it was especially fun experiencing Kavalier & Clay at a cineplex - bringing world of the movies into the mix. Yes, some have complained specifically about that, but those people are always yammering and whining about something ain't they? (Rhetorical question, but the answer is "yes.")

Bates' style motifs (my name for whatever it may be called)  work brilliantly, switching between elements of jazz, swing, avante garde (the symphony electronica), folksong, Hip Hop rhythms and, when appropriate, grand olde Hollywood epic soundtrack magic .  While Bates is not a minimalist, he comfortably employs the brightness and quicksilver sound of that movement seamlessly into the fabric of his score. Influenced by what has come before him, With nods to (at least to my ears) Ravel, Weill, Bernstein, Wagner, Strauss, Prokofiev, and others Bates manages to create his own original sound world and it is a beautiful, haunting and always captivating one.

Eschewing the modern practice (well from Wagner onward) of adhering to vocal parlando, Bates has created arias, duets, ensembles, choruses that feel like classic standard operatic set pieces - and I love that nod to past traditions.  

The mindblowing production design from 59 Studio, easily rivals the most impressive physical productions the Met has put upon that great stage. Curtains, dissolves, projections, sets - all move the story - and its audience - from 1939 Prague through Brooklyn, Manhattan's gallery scene, office buildings, skyscrapers, a gay bar, warehouses, the Western frontline of the war, and, just as importantly, the fantasy world of comic books. Bartlett Sher's direction here with a perfect, if not name-recognizable cast, is perhaps the best work I've seen from him to date, and it showed in the way he paced the story's action, as well as the work with that remarkable cast. 

With his warm, resonant baritone, endearingly accented English, and physical presence, Andrzej Filónczyk strikes all the right notes as Joe Kavalier. Bringing the immigrant's sense of wide-eyed wonder, fueled by hopes and dreams of a better life in America. this part of the story felt especially prescient given what's happening to immigrants - and citizens - in these United States of America. We watch the rise and fall of Joe and seeing those dreams crushed through the rise of World War II's fascism, and it is devastating. As an actor, Filónczyk pulls us along through that heartbreak and redemption. It is a tremendous performance. 

The other title role was in equally excellent hands as tenor Miles Mykkanen's displayed all of the savvy, wit, ambition, along wit h the scarred insecurity and fear as the leg braced Sam with a clear, soaring tenor. It was impossible not to love Sam, and everybody did.

Sun-Ly Pierce (a singer I fell in love with in Des Moines Cunning Little Vixen) is Rosa who is very much  the anchor"and conscience of the show. Possessing a beautifully gleaming mezzo with a secure top, Ms. Pierce stole every heart. Her first act aria, Open Your Eyes reveals Rosa's earnest desire to rescue the child victims of the war. It was also the first sign I knew that I'd be in tears at what was yet to come. 

In some fun duel-casting, comic book hero The Escapist was portrayed by by a non-singing dancer, Jerimy Rivera, and "portrayed" by actor, Tracy Bacon who was beautifully sung by baritone Edward Nelson. Nelson, tall, blonde and handsome, Nelson was the epitome of the superhero-type, abundantly confident, openly gay, not quite garrulous but close, he is the opposite of closeted, fearful Sam, which makes their relationship both difficult and touching. The first kiss is not what one expects and was one - of many - moments that felt positively . . . well, cinematic.

As is often the case whenever he's cast, Patrick Carfizzi - in the brilliantly written character role of Sheldon Anapol - nearly steals every scene he's in. As the kindhearted, benevolent boss at Empire Novelty Company, Incorporated. Mr. Carfizzi never fails to impress and get to the heart of every role I've been lucky to see him in - and there have been plenty!

One of the most crucial roles in Kavalier & Clay, is Joe's 14 year old sister, Sarah. Not a big singing role, but whenever she is onstage - singing or not - she is at the heart of this epic story. Soprano Lauren Snouffer was not only believable as the braided teenager, she made me wish Sarah had more to sing.

How moving it was for me to see one of my all-time-favorite singers, Richard Croft, along with Ellie Dehn as Joseph's parents, Solomon and Estelle. Both were enormously moving, and I couldn't help but recall them working together nearly twenty years ago in Satyagraha (can it have been that long ago?)

The balance of the cast showed the careful attention the Met can lavish in bringing a new, challenging work to life.  

 Yannick Nézet-Séguin seemed to be charged by every element, presenting a reading that would be hard pressed to be improved upon, shaping and coordinating the myriad elements of orchestration, sound design, electronics, percussion (right down to the clicking of typewriter keys). I feel (and maybe am alone here) that he shines in this kind of material more than some "traditional" works. Bates score deserved this kind of treatment. 

For me, this is what contemporary opera can be: a great literary source inspiring a poet and then a composer, designers, directors, singers and players to present something that can touch thousands of people with its beauty.

One of the more fascinating things I've taken in about this opera is that audiences (generally) have been so powerfully moved both by this opera and its message, cheering, standing ovations (don't start on me with that) while it seems the majority of critics have either trashed it, or only given mild praise.  

I remember being glued to the premiere broadcast and, even without its visual element - being stunned into silence and moved to tears - as was the entire audience at my cineplex this past Saturday. It made the first review - Joshua Barone for The NY TImes - come as a bit of a shock damning it as "superficial."  I read how Scheer's libretto is cliché-ridden with no "meaning or purpose."  And while he positively cites the drawing projections, he complains about other design elements (e.g., the Clay's apartment). 

He damns Bates' score  as "uninspired . . . obvious . . . harmless . . . nondescript . . . forgettable" bringing up these were the same problems he had with Fire Shut Up In My Bones and Grounded - operas with "toothless scores that ask so l itle of their audiences."  His final paragraph beginning "That's not what opera is," is the final blow.  But he was not alone - the majority of "professional" reviews seemed to go out of their way - in best and most imaginative "I'm going to write a bad review with fun words." Some of the attacks were beyond laughable. One, complaining about the death of one of the characters and how it did not feel "tragic enough."  Or the number of reviews varying the theme of "the melodies are so banal you wonder why they bothered." And on and on they go.  How clever. they all are. 

But none of that matters to me - I - and almost everyone I know - loved the experience, and I've friends who were so moved by this - they went back to Wednesday's encore performance.  I'm thrilled that, despite any bad press - the Met saw the wisdom of bringing the production back during the break for four more performances beginning February 17 that, while not yet sold out, are already selling well.  I wish everyone in the company - and all future audiences - the very best.  I do hope that more positive word-of-mouth reviews will factor in more than the harsh criticisms of those who felt it a waste of time, money, and talent. 

As I end this, I'm reliving the opera's emotionally transcendant final scene, I can't help but think of another opera that affects me with its bittersweet but beautiful message of hope in this often confusing and sometimes dark world  Leoš Janáček's The Cunning Little Vixen.  That's not bad company to keep. 

Viva Kavalier & Clay!

SAUVAGE/WILD

During weeks of illness I took to watching scads of movies - more than usual even. Some were brilliant, some stinkers, and some . . . unsettling, but beautiful . . .  powerful. In that final category, nothing came remotely close to Camille Vidal-Naquet's 2018 feature Sauvage/Wild. 

This is one of those difficult films that I honestly can't think of anyone I can recommend it to. This will become evident for a number of reasons as (or if) you read on.  I had a hard time initially, but letting myself go where it took me I ultimately found this to be a gem . . . a disturbing stunner and, in its way, beautiful. It is galvanized by the remarkable, unflinching performance of Félix Maritaud as Leo, whose story it is we're brought into.

Director Vidal-Naquet gives no hints or real clues as to Leo's background - why or how he ended up with the always challenging life before him.  Shot almost in a documentary-like style, we are enter   into Leo's world of sex trade, drug abuse and homelessness in a manner that is unapologetic and "in your face."   It's all simply matter of fact with no judgment, and little sympathy. Anything resembling those will be left up to the viewer. Or not.  

Leo is a homeless, illiterate, gay prostitute eeking out his sad living, sleeping and working on a highway of an unspecified French city. A street-handsome, twenty-two year old, he feels - despite the profession - like an innocent . . . a naive waif or animal who, despite his station in life carries himself with a sort of dignity that cannot help but be admired.  I smiled watching Leo walk with a confidence moving easily and almost invisibly through the streets and sidewalks. 

Félix Maritaud gives Leo a presence that is raw . . . proud without arrogance, almost noble in its way. We also quickly realize this loner is a young man so desperate for love he will do - quite literally - anything for it. He exhibits no shame or embarrassment in declaring - or attempting to show his love towards his only friend, Ahd, another prostitute, and the polar opposite of Leo.  A few years older, Ahd is far more streetwise, savvy, and lets it be known he is strictly gay-for-pay.  Nonetheless, it is clear how much he cares for his friend, offering Leo advice and comfort, while ever attempting to let him know a romance is not part of their story. 

As Ahd, Farid-Éric Bernard commands equal attention in their scenes. There is a scene with the pair doing a three-way with an older, handicapped client, who wants to be kissed, but only Leo obliges, while Ahd watches with disgusted fascination.  When Leo attempts to kiss Ahd - it goes off the rails. When later, Ahd asks why Leo is okay with kissing, and the younger friend speaks, but it is his body language . . .  and eyes that give the real answer.  

There is one particular scene that takes the film beyond brutal, not only in its simulated sex - which is both graphic, and difficult to watch, but equally so in the degradation and contempt shown towards Leo. He's obviously not into what's taking place, and it feels as though the poor kid is - literally - offering his body in some form of sacrifice to prove his honor.  Leo, who seems never to feel humiliation or degradation- here is now, finally both. It was nearly impossible not to turn away from the screen, but Maritaud's performance is so compelling . . . wrenching that it broke my heart. 

It's no surprise to learn Leo is physically sick. How could he not be, drinking the same water from the filthy street puddles where he washes up. This llness leads us directly to the most moving interaction of the film.  Leo visits a a middle aged woman doctor whose questions he mostly answers directly and honestly, including her asking if he has considered giving up the drugs and life he lives. His response of "why would I?" is not  surprising: he's never known or considered anything else. Questions about his parents and schooling, etc. however, elicit only silence and a blank stare. We can only imagine what that story may be. 

When fate and harsh reality pull the two friends apart, Leo cannot understand Ahd's choice or advice, but as he pushes Leo away his choked voice tells his friend, something - I'll not here reveal - but which is filled equally with the possibilities of both hope . . . and heartbreak.

Many will dismiss Sauvage/Wild as  unwatchable - and that is not an unfair take on it, and why I can't give it a general recommendation. That being said, it is one of the most moving, emotional things I've watched this year, and even when my instincts were to turn away - or close my eyes I couldn't so compelling was the story, and Mr. Maritaud's performance.

I don't know when - or if - I will watch this again, but am intrigued by this director's work, and am definitely keeping my eyes on anything in the future featuring Félix Maritaud. He is remarkable here.