It took me a while to realise just how rare David et Jonathas was, and still is. An aria from it appears on Patricia Petibon's disc of French baroque arias, so I'd always been vaguely aware of its existence, and I suppose that, had I thought about it, I'd just have assumed it was of roughly the same status and fame as some of the other operas represented on that recital: Armide, Les indes galantes and so on. Clearly, I would have been very wrong. It's only thanks to a bunch of my favourite musicians — people like William Christie (sigh) and Emmanuelle Haïm (double sigh) and, of course, our very own Pinchgut team — that anyone now living has ever even heard of — let alone heard — this opera in its entirety. And there are probably many more still who still haven't heard it.
Well, poor them — but lucky us. I expounded in my last post about the special appeal of French baroque versus its English counterparts, so no need to repeat myself. I will, however, never tire of declaring my particular affection for this repertoire. I adore it. William Christie is mostly to blame for this, and it doesn't help that about half of my favourite singers in the world have passed through Les Arts Florissants at one time or another. And while Rameau has the largest share of my French baroque heart, there is plenty of room for les autres. Charpentier is definitely one of them, and all the more so since David et Jonathas.
Let's face it. Even an atrociously sung or desperately boring and scholarly performance of this opera, in this city, would be some kind of special occasion — a curiosity, if nothing else, and worth seeing. But we have Pinchgut. And Pinchgut has Antony Walker, and The Orchestra of the Antipodes, and Cantillation, and a stable of seriously talented soloists. So instead of a mere curiosity, we have a drop dead gorgeous performance of a fabulous little musical treasure, one which would be met with delight in any city, anywhere.
I loved the Orchestra of the Antipodes in Idomeneo and in last year's Juditha triumphans but it was at the opening night of D&J that I think I fell properly in love. With the house lights down and a crumbling baroque-ish set behind them, I thought: you know what? Don't worry about the singing. This will do me. And it would have done, but the singing was also pretty magical.
Cantillation were fabulous. They always are, but I'm sure they outdid themselves this time. Besides which, their versatility is terribly impressive — having spent most of the year in concert performances and recording studios, they bound on to the stage every year for Pinchgut, as ready to move around and act as any seasoned opera chorus. This year some of them were even called upon to speak English texts between the acts and, all things considered, they managed remarkably well.
Two friends of mine are already in love with Anders J. Dahlin, the excellent haute-contre who sang David. I doubt they're the only ones. He was not your standard swashbuckling military hero. In fact sometimes he might have been a bit too self-effacing on stage, but in the end, I thought he made that work for him quite well, and I liked him for it. Besides which, his vocal portrayal provided all the colour a girl (or boy) could want — his range is pretty phenomenal, silky and seamless throughout, and he had a wonderful way of finding recognisable emotions within the libretto's formal declamations. This is one smart and stylish singer.
I know a few people were probably disappointed that David's lover (and in this production, he definitely is his lover) was sung by a woman, but it wasn't written for an adult male in the first place, and I'm sure we'd much rather have a woman than a boy soprano. True, nobody is ever going to believe for a second that Sara Macliver is a man, but at least she was costumed as a bit of a girly-boy, which was somewhat easier to go along with than a thoroughly butch portrayal would have been. And I have to say, by the time Jonathan and David shared a kiss, I was definitely thinking of them as a pair of men — and they made a pretty adorable couple.
Sara sounded lovely. I am never going to go crazy for her as I do for some (many) other sopranos, but that's just me, and it doesn't mean I'm entirely blind (or deaf) to her charms. There's no arguing with the sweetness or musicality of her singing, and she brought real tenderness — plus the odd mischievous flicker — to this role. And I'd rather hear her die as Jonathan than almost any hacking Mimi.
One of the finest performances in the opera was over almost before it had begun — Paul McMahon's Pythonisse, who has an extended monologue in the prologue and then is never heard from again. Oh, but with Paul in the role you really, really wish she'd return. His vibrant, fearless tenor was electrifying in the Pythonisse's diabolical invocations, and his performanc all the more impressive for having been delivered under the cloak of darkness in a corner of the stage while somebody else acted the part. And no, we're not talking about a repeat performance of the Infamous Makropulos. In fact, it was one of this productions most effective ideas — the role was sung by Paul, but acted by ten year old Madeleine Benson, a ghostly little 18th century witch-child with wild eyes and barefeet, raising her tiny hands to the sky with eerie confidence in her sorcery, then clinging, terrified, to Saul when her spells began to fail.
Speaking of the supernatural, one could not help but be spooked by David Parkin's sepulchral low notes as the Ghost of Saul. Since winning Operatunity Oz, David has appeared in concert performances and covered roles for Opera Australia, but I believe this was his first time actually on stage, in character, since he sang Sparafucile as his prize. That's a career landmark in itself, but to achieve it in such a specialised and demanding kind of repertoire is especially admirable. His nerves showed a little around the edges, but he acquitted himself with real style. So I still can't choose a favourite Parkin.
Dean Robinson was excellent as Saul. Not sympathetic, exactly, but that's as it ought to be: Saul's inner turmoil can be pitied, but his destructive paranoia is pretty difficult to indulge. Robinson did a very good job, however, of expressing both Saul's irrational jealousy and his basic (now corrupted) nobility. He has just the right voice for royalty, and his sense of French style (not to mention French diction) was impeccable. Simon Lobelson (who I see has attained the ultimate accolade, an entry in the Barihunks blog) was a slightly thin-voiced but effective Joabel, apparently channelling Jonathan Summers' Iago. There was perhaps a little too much obvious swaggering, but he had a way of lacing his words with venom which I rather liked.
There were a number of small solo roles taken by members of Cantillation. Particular kudos to David Greco, who not only sang quite brilliantly, but also took a pretty challenging speaking role, reading several of this production's interpolated texts (war poetry and letters) with real sensitivity and impressive dramatic sense. Anna Fraser was light and pretty as a shepherd(ess) and there were strong contributions from Ashley Giles as a Follower of Jonathan and Andrei Laptev as a Philistine.
So far I've spoken almost exclusively of the musical side of this performance, and with good reason. The music, and the artists who bring it to fruition, are the heart and soul and triumph of this production, and, I think, of Pinchgut more generally. The music is what it's All About — discovering wonderful works of art that we need to hear, and allowing us to hear them at a terrifically high standard. That's not to say that the company doesn't put equal energy into the theatrical aspect of its productions, however. This is my third Pinchgut production, and all have been thoughtful, intriguing and mostly attractive stagings.
This year's, however, was a bit problematic. Clearly there was a lot of intelligent thought behind Chas Rader-Schieber's conception of D&J, but I'm not certain that all of it succeeded. There were some ideas I liked a lot. His decision to remove the ambiguity of the friendship and make it clear that David and Jonathan were in a committed romantic and physical relationship, for instance, I thought was a valid and laudable one. Some will lament the loss of subtext, but Charpentier and his librettist did not write an opera about subtext, and nor did the Jesuits of Louis-le-Grand commision one. They had an unambiguously positive view of the friendship as they interpreted it. So does Rader-Schieber, and so do David's and Jonathan's friends and followers. I'm all for that.
I was less keen on the modern-soldiers-in-ancient-world schtick. We've seen all that before. Saul and Jonathan in ruffles and tailcoats, soldiers in bulletproof vest and gasmasks. Yes, we get it. War, then as now, is personally devastating. It separates those who love one another, sometimes forever. The point is worth making, but I don't think it needs to be made in such an obvious fashion. Isn't the whole point of these so-called "timeless" or "universal" themes that they shouldn't depend on modernisation for their impact? I always think it's more powerful to discover one's own experience in a far-removed world than to have the similarities pointed out by a mirror image. The addition of spoken texts between the acts was an interesting idea in theory — a clever nod to the fact that the opera was originally presented in tandem with a spoken play — but in execution it was overkill. The letters were certainly moving (the poems less so) but there was nothing they said about love in a time of war — then, or now, or anywhere between — which hadn't already been said, with more beauty and subtlety, by the opera itself.
However, it certainly looked good, even if what went on wasn't always entirely convincing. This may be most appealing set Pinchgut has yet created; certainly it's the best of the three I've experienced. Designers Brad Clark and Alexandra Sommers had done an impressive job — presumably with rather limited resources — of evoking both lavish luxury and ugly destruction, and the massive Caravaggio (David with the Head of Goliath) which dominated most of the rear wall was a striking vision.
And I have to give credit to Chas Rader-Schieber for the strength and coherence with which he pursued his vision, even if I don't necessarily agree with all of his ideas. In an opera where it could be argued that nothing really happens, he made sure something was always happening, but without herding it aimless crowds or forcing too much stage business on his principals. (The chorus is another story, but never mind.) The relationship between David and Jonathan was sensitively handled, as was Saul's painful and ultimately doomed journey to self-destruction.
I seem to have difficulty shutting up about this production. The first draft of my NZ Opera News review ran to something like 1200 words before I'd even mentioned the singing. Half a day of editing followed. So, no surprise that here, unfettered, I've gone on at such length. But why not? Pinchgut comes but once a year, and David et Jonathas perhaps only once a lifetime — I think they deserve all the words I can offer them. Thanks once again, Pinchgut, for a fabulous pre-Christmas present.
