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The temptation to poke fun at Washington National Operas
production of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovskys The
Maid of Orleans looms large.
Italian soprano Mirella Freni, who began her career in 1955 and who has
sung in all of the major opera houses of the world, plays the adolescent Joan of Arc. Guest director Lambeto
Puggelli and set and costume designer Luisa Spinatelli chose a spare set that features
projections on gauzy sheets that fall throughout the production and are picked up by the
players and used in a variety of ways some of these sheets are bloody red
suggesting the folk custom of parading bridal sheets through the town after the new
husband has penetrated his virgin bride.
Remember, Joan of Arc is called the virgin warrior. In this re-telling of the Saint
Joan tale, which Tchaikovsky based on Schillers tragedy Die
Jungfrau von Orleans, Joan falls in love with an enemy soldier and this marks the
beginning of the operatic tragedy. And then how does Spinatelli justify clothing Joan in
dresses instead of pants? Joans trial condemned her for the heresy of
cross-dressing, a practice that the Church allowed if a woman could prove she was in
danger of sexual attack. (Apparently in Joans time the pants were laced to the tunic
and therefore hard to remove.) But Joan got a bum rap and was exonerated only after her
death.
That said, the WNO production of this four-act opera running two hours
and forty minutes (not including intermission time) is suffused with majestic musical
energy under the baton of Stefano Ranzani, an impressive supporting cast with an
extraordinary lead singer, and a minimalist set that keeps the audience focused on the
performers.
Act I
establishes Joan, against her fathers wishes, as a God-chosen savior of France. In
Act II Joan demonstrates her supernatural powers for leading the French against the
English. In Act III Joans tragic flaw materializes she falls in love with
Lionel, an enemy knight, and her father denounces her as an agent of the devil. Finally in
Act IV, English soldiers capture the lovers and Lionel is killed. Joan is denounced as a
witch and burned at the stake.
Sandwiched between his very thematically Russian operas Eugene Onegin and Mazeppa, The Maid of Orleans, which Tchaikovsky wrote in six
months, is one of the few operas written by a Russian without a Russian setting or
inspiration based on a Russian source. Indeed it is odd to hear Jeanne DArc singing
in the Russian language. Pushing past issues of national identity and culture, The Maid of Orleans, which premiered in 1881,
stands today because of Tchaikovskys chromatically rich music.
Act I features Joans celebrated aria known on the opera circuit
as Adieu, fôrets. Frenis wrenching interpretation of this song, in
which the young French girl sings good-bye to her beloved countryside and leaves the
stage, was followed by boisterous vocal approval by the Washington, DC audience. Freni,
proving her ability to be the youthful Joan, poked her head gamin-style from under the
gauzy curtain, paused with wide innocent eyes and then emerged upright for a bow. Who
would guess that Mirella Freni is 70 years old?
The Act I dialogue on the subject of a husband for Joan was sung by
bass-baritone Evgeny Nikitin as Joans father, Thibaut dArc, with tenor Corey
Evan Rotz as Raymond, Thibauts choice for prospective son-in-law. Although at first
Joan refuses to participate in this discussion, the composition widens and the beautiful
male duet becomes a musically rich trio. Thibaut and Raymond also sing an impressive duet
in Act III, where Raymond counsels Joans bitter father to leave Joan to her fate.
Throughout the
opera, Tchaikovsky presents a number of large choral compositions and orchestral
interludes. Given this scale of musical composition, it is remarkable when Tchaikovsky
turns down the volume and offers an oboe solo to offset the scene in which the
irresponsible, soon-to-be crowned King Charles VII curls up in defeat (his army is in
disarray) in the lap of his beloved mistress, Agnes Sorel.
Although a purist might sorely regret the lack of tangible furniture,
buildings, and landscaping that traditional sets offer, projected images in WNOs
production of The Maid of Orleans more than
adequately enriched the playing field of Joans world. Particularly dramatic were the
cinematic flames engulfing the martyred heroine at the end of the opera, achieved by
projections on the gauzy see-through curtain. Another particularly effective use of a
see-through curtain allowed Joans father to stand outside the action in front of a
church where Joan was participating in the coronation of Charles VII. When the curtain
falls to the stage, Thibaut joins the action to denounce his daughter.
For an opera that was based on Giacomo Meyerbeers Grand Opera
form, this production of The Maid of Orleans, even
without full cast ballets and dances, offers a modern-day audience a satisfying and often
exhilarating evening of musical and visual entertainment.
Washington, DC, March 31, 2005 - Karren L. Alenier