Scottish Opera: The French Collection
Glasgow Royal Concert Hall - 03/03/24
The Orchestra of Scottish Opera | Stuart Stratford, conductor | Alexandra Lowe, soprano | Catriona Morison, mezzo-soprano | Alok Kumar, tenor | Roland Wood, bass
‘The French Collection’ is a ‘basket of goodies’ concert performance in French with English supertitles, curated from the ferment of operatic creativity and innovation that was 19th century Paris, by Scottish Opera’s Music Director Stuart Stratford and Head of Music Fiona MacSherry. There were two performances, the first in Dundee on 1st March and the second, a matinee, in Glasgow’s Royal Concert Hall two days later. This review refers to the latter. Stuart conducted the Orchestra of Scottish Opera and four soloists sang the vocal lines. There was no chorus. Award-winning Spanish-born British soprano Alexandra Lowe made her Scottish Opera debut. Also a first live performance encounter for me was winner of the 2017 BBC Cardiff Singer of the world, Scottish mezzo-soprano Catriona Morison. Indian-American tenor Alok Kumar, whose Don José in SO’s Carmen last May won my praise, was a welcome revoir. English baritone Roland Wood, whose SO appearances have included Karl Marx in ‘Marx in London!’ only 3 weeks ago and Gianni Schicchi in the fabulous ‘Il Trittico’ only a year ago. was no less welcome and rather more visible without the enormous fake beard. Roland was standing in for bass Callum Thorpe, who was indisposed. Stuart introduced the programme with characteristic charm and wit.
The festivities opened in lieu of an overture with an instrumental number by that most festive of composers, Emmanuel Chabrier, the concert piece ‘Fête polonaise’, fashioned from elements of Act III of his ‘Le roi malgré lui’ I wouldn’t claim that Chabrier being Polish sounds much different from Chabrier being Spanish, or French, or any other nationality for that matter, but the piece is a delightful schmaltzy romp, more valse than polonaise, with some cheeky syncopation to add spice. The orchestra were on top form (not that they are ever otherwise).
A chunk of Act III of Massenet’s 1893 ‘Werther’ brought the state of heightened emotional turmoil more typical of grand opera and so ably evoked by Massenet’s masterly score. Charlotte has married the dependable but dull Albert, yet cannot forget the sensitive young poet Werther whom she knew platonically before her marriage. His letters which have continued since his departure reveal a depth of feeling for her, despite his believing she has rejected him. She tries to suppress and deny that she reciprocates, but aches for his return as mooted in his most recent letter. Though not costumed, Catriona was fully ‘in role’. Alexandra as her younger sister Sophie tries to pull her out of her melancholy, with contrasting light-hearted song in praise of laughter. Their voices blended beautifully, but Charlotte’s mood is immutable. Her aria “Va! Laisse couler mes larmes”, with a sympathetic alto saxophone solo from Lawrence Gill, was achingly beautiful. Alok in the title role arrives but their conversation is awkward. Alok’s rendition of Werther’s aria ‘Pourquoi me réveiller?’, which concluded the excerpt, was poignantly delivered, the audience drawn into the tragedy of two hearts, clearly madly in love, unable to reconnect.
The first half of the concert concluded with the celebrated duet ‘Au fond du temple saint’ from Bizet’s 1863 ‘Les pêcheurs de perles’. Alok and Roland, as the pearl divers Nadir and Zurga, attending a religious ceremony with a sense of déja vu, recall how their friendship soured when both were captivated by the beauty of a priestess. In a moving rapprochement, they vow a pact of ‘mates before dates’ and ‘pals before gals’. Never more will a woman come between them. Will their oath survive another encounter with a dishy priestess? No spoilers, but this is opera. Their voices blended beautifully in Bizet’s hymn to male bonding.
Another operatic instrumental romp with a secure place in the concert hall, in the shape of the Act III ‘Bacchanale’ from Saint-Saëns’ 1877 ‘Samson et Dalila’, opened the second half. A delicious oboe arabesque from Amy Turner set the Middle-Eastern scene. The ensuing melodies may stop short of anticipating (by nearly a century) Wilson, Keppel and Betty (and a hint of Maurice Jarre’s score for ‘Lawrence of Arabia’) but they are hardly free of caricature and parody either. Ruari Donaldson on timpani played up to orgiastic perfection. A thoroughly marvellous guilty pleasure.
Whatever grudging acceptance Massenet’s setting of Goethe’s ‘Die Leiden des jungen Werthers’ may have enjoyed among the Austro-Germanic community of music criticism, the frostier reception they have ever accorded Gounod’s 1859 ‘Faust’ has yet to thaw fully, the affront that a mere Frenchman could have penned the ultimate operatic realisation of the first part of the national poet’s masterpiece still essentially unforgiven. Happily unburdened by such patriotic prejudice, I eagerly awaited the chunk of Act III, from ‘Quel trouble inconnu me pénètre’ to the end of the act. Faust (Alok), with the help of Méphistophélès (Roland), seduces the innocent Marguerite (Alexandra) with a case full of jewels (provided by the devil himself, of course), while Marguerite’s chaperon Marthe (Catriona) takes a shine to Faust’s ‘devilishly’ handsome companion, peppering the romance with an element of comedy. Roland’s belated arrival to the production as stand-in, necessitating a music stand, furnished a prop serving as his concealment from Marthe’s amorous awakenings, for an added soupçon of hilarity. Alok’s lyrical ‘Salut! demeure chaste et pure’ and Alexandra’s ‘Jewel Song’ were fabulous. Sets, costumes, direction and lighting are important to the experience of opera, of course they are, but the music still sings with or without.
Following the Bizet ‘bromance’ that had concluded the first half, it was perhaps inevitable that the encore (if any) would be the ultimate French duet of blissful feminine empathetic devotion, the ‘Flower Duet’ from Delibes’1883 ‘Lakmé’ Of course, given that the orchestra had the parts and the supertitles were ready, it was literally ‘inevitable’. And exquisite. The perfect end to an expertly curated and performed programme of French goodies and, let’s be honest, a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon.