At the Munich Opera Festival, Sabine Devieilhe and Lise Davidsen delivered captivating performances, with Devieilhe portraying the titular waif in Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande and Davidsen taking on the role of Liza in Tchaikovsky’s Pique Dame. Devieilhe, known for her exceptional coloratura, shines in French Baroque, Romantic lieder, mélodie, and more. Her idiomatic approach and flawless musicianship are always enchanting. Conversely, Davidsen’s radiant lyric dramatic soprano has established her as a leading figure in Strauss and Wagner. Her recent performances in New York have showcased the depth of her artistry. Though their vocal styles are quite different, both artists brought a brilliant presence to two atmospherically rich productions.
Dutch director Jetske Mijnssen, making her debut at the Bayerische Staatsoper in the more intimate Prinzregentheater, relocated Pelléas et Mélisande from its medieval setting to a late-Victorian domestic environment. While shifting the setting of Pelléas to the era of its composition is a common practice—exemplified by Graham Vick’s 1999 Glyndebourne production—Mijnssen’s dynamic staging and Ariane Bliss’s inventive dramaturgical choices gave the concept a fresh perspective.
In the opening scene, Golaud is not wandering through an ancient forest but is instead pacing around an elegant ballroom while couples waltz nearby. He momentarily finds solace in the presence of an equally uneasy Mélisande. Set designer Ben Baur’s use of Biedermeier furniture on parquet flooring replaces the decaying castle halls seen in the later acts. A shallow trench of water along the stage’s edge represented the Blind Man’s Well, offering the characters their only connection to nature within their oppressive bourgeois setting.
Although Mijnssen’s production abandons the fairytale elements of the work, it retains a sense of the distant and the unreal intruding upon what once appeared solid and true. The performance depicted a collective erotic haze descending on a family already in decline, challenging their rigid notions of propriety and exposing, or perhaps revealing, the violence within. It was a raw, sensual, and unsettling experience—one of the most impactful productions of this opera I have seen in recent times. The production will also be presented at The Dallas Opera in November. If you have the opportunity, it is worth attending.
Devieilhe’s portrayal of Mélisande was a marvel. Her voice, delicate and ethereal, maintained a brightness that cut through Hannu Lintu’s lush but occasionally murky conducting. She gracefully eased into the notes, building intensity subtly to create a sense of expansiveness. Her rendition of “Mes longs cheveux descendent” had a supernatural quality, filling the hall with a cascade of violet-toned sound. Yet, staying true to the production’s grounded nature, she imbued the heroine with spirited determination. Her performance, particularly as she balanced on the edge of the well, conveyed a mix of self-assurance and steely resolve during Golaud’s questioning about her missing wedding ring.
Christian Gerhaher’s transition from Pelléas to Golaud was striking, as the role of the elder brother suited his rich baritone exceptionally well. His portrayal of Golaud was the evening’s most dramatically compelling, capturing a man torn apart by paranoia and rage. The scene where he forces young Yniold, portrayed with grace by Henrik Brandstetter of the Tölzer Knabenchor, to spy on the lovers was deeply unsettling, each command he issued eroding any remaining sense of decorum. His final act melted into a poignant self-loathing, and his pleas for forgiveness were delivered with such tenderness that they resonated deeply with the audience.
Tenor Ben Bliss provided a robust performance, charting Pelléas’s journey from a well-meaning but sometimes careless youth to a man overtaken by obsessive passion. His bright, vigorous high notes were moments of pure beauty, though his lower register occasionally struggled against the dense orchestration. His interactions with Devieilhe were charged with intensity, particularly in the voyeuristic Tower Scene, and their on-stage chemistry effectively conveyed their growing attraction. Bass Franz-Josef Selig commanded the role of the patriarch Arkel with authority, while mezzo-soprano Sophie Koch brought a comforting warmth to the role of Geneviève.
Pique Dame presented a more mixed experience. The production, directed by Australian Benedict Andrews and first seen at the Staatsoper’s Nationaltheater last February, is set in a nebulous contemporary environment. The setting is vaguely retro but avoids Soviet-style elements for a more generic cool aesthetic. Andrews employed the uncanny to immerse the audience in Herman’s sense of alienation. The chorus, appearing as a blank-faced presence through John Clark’s smoky lighting, ominously converged on Herman, who was frequently positioned near the prompter’s box. In Act II’s ball scene, the chorus and many principal characters wore plastic masks, obscuring their features as they danced robotically among bleachers. Herman’s fellow officers, Tsurin and Chekalinsky, played with a menacing edge by bass Bálint Szabó and tenor Kevin Connors respectively, seemed intent on tormenting their supposed friend, as did the children’s chorus in the opening scene and nearly every character other than Liza. The production also included typical directorial flourishes: long cigarette drags, strippers, doubles, moody projections, and various vehicles making their way onto the stage.
While the production’s portrayal of self-estrangement was largely effective, much of its success can be attributed to tenor Brandon Jovanovich’s portrayal of Herman. Reprising the role from the winter run, Jovanovich’s performance depicted a character unable to function normally—staggering around the edge of the stage with a wild-eyed, gangly presence, and brandishing his pistol towards the audience. His mimicking of others, such as mirroring the Countess’s gestures in her boudoir and adopting a pained, cartoonish grin at the ball, added to his unsettling portrayal.
Jovanovich’s efforts to conform only heightened his isolation, pushing him further toward the edge. His performance was deeply committed, illuminating many of the production’s more innovative ideas. However, his musical delivery was less consistent. While his tenor features a mellifluous, smooth tone with substantial depth in the middle range, distinguishing him from the darker voices typically associated with this challenging role, he approached many of the demanding high notes with some hesitation. This led to occasional vocal delays, a few cracks, and an aborted high B at the end of the first scene. Nonetheless, he gained strength as the evening progressed.
Lise Davidsen, making a notable debut in the role of Liza, replaced Asmik Grigorian from the original cast. Due to limited rehearsal time, Davidsen appeared somewhat uneasy with the staging, not fully embodying the disaffected, moody heroine envisioned by the production. Despite this, her singing remained exquisite throughout. She moderated her voice significantly during her duet with Victoria Karkacheva’s rich Polina, creating a seamless interplay between their voices. Her Act III arioso, “Akh! istomilas ya goryem,” was rich in dynamic contrasts, beginning with a delicate mezzo piano and transitioning into a spectral diminuendo. Her powerful high notes enhanced her final duet with Herman—though the love story was perhaps the production’s weakest element—and she concluded with a brilliant F sharp that cut through the orchestra.
Violeta Urmana appeared as the Countess in a dramatic 80s-era Elizabeth Taylor style. Her mezzo-soprano voice still retains its distinctive quality, though it is not as lush as in previous years. Her Act II aria, “Je crains de lui parler la nuit,” conveyed a sense of faded opulence.
Boris Pinkhasovich, as Prince Yeletsky, received the evening’s most enthusiastic applause for his elegant and emotionally resonant “Ya vas lyublyu.” His mulberry-toned baritone offered lovely legato lines and a well-developed upper register. Baritone Roman Burdenko brought a lively energy and excellent text handling to Tomsky’s arias. Natalie Lewis and Daria Proszek made strong impressions in their brief roles as the Governess and Masha, respectively.
However, the overall quality of the singing was somewhat undermined by conductor Aziz Shokhakimov’s performance. Coordination issues were prevalent throughout the evening, and the Bayerische Staatsorchester, despite its usual high standards, sounded disjointed at times. The problems were most noticeable in the choral sections, where Shokhakimov struggled to synchronize the orchestra with the Chorus of the Bayerische Staatsoper. Only during the a cappella final prayer did the richness of the chorus’s sound become fully apparent.
Photos: Wilfried Hoesl
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