In spite of the French title, and the conductor known for his interest in period performance, this is not the French Orphee et Eurydice of 1774; it is a different 'period version', the period in question being not Gluck's but that of Berlioz (or, as we shall see, nearly so). In 1859, Berlioz, always a passionate admirer of Gluck, prepared a version of the opera for the contralto Pauline Viardot. The alto version of the opera was of course the original Italian one, of 1762, for a castrato, but Berlioz wanted to incorporate some of the changes Gluck had made in 1774 and to use a French text. His compromise version has served as the basis for most revivals of the opera, in whatever language, from then until relatively recent times, though its four-act structure has rarely been followed. The present version is in three acts, with the famous D minor Air de Furies added (Berlioz, quite properly on dramatic grounds, excluded it) to end Act 2. Also restored here is the Act 3 trio, again cut by Berlioz, because he wanted, understandably, a speedier ending—which also led him to drop the D major vaudeville chorus in favour of a shorter one, from Gluck's Echo et Narcisse. We do not, then, get a 'pure' Berlioz version here but a second layer of compromise. I wouldn't wish to consider 'Gluck/Berlioz' as a composer whose thoughts have to be regarded as sacrosanct, but it does seem slightly regrettable if, when going to the trouble of restoring Berlioz, his dramatic timing is jettisoned.
The performance does not, to my mind, have quite the dramatic force that I think Berlioz (or, come to that, Gluck) envisaged. It is a beautifully polished reading of the work, and finely played too. But above all it is a triumph for the singing of Anne Sofie von Otter, an Orphee of classical poise and restraint. The voice is smooth and even and always perfectly controlled. ''J'ai perdu mon Eurydice'' (more familiar perhaps as ''Che faro''), taken at a moderately quick tempo, has no histrionics and, at least until the last recurrence of the main theme, almost an air of calm resignation, and only at that point does an expression of deeper feeling enter, with a firmer edge to the tone and hints of real pain in the articulation. Earlier, ''Quel nouveau ciel!'' (''Che puro ciel!'') is serene to a degree—Berlioz simplified the orchestral writing here, which perhaps implies that was what he wanted. In the First Act, von Otter provides some wonderfully poised expressive singing in the strophe, ''Accable de regrets'' (''Cerco il mio ben''), and there is no want of passion in the great recitative ''Divinites de l'Acheron''. The pleas to the assembled Furies in Act 2, however, are restrained, the natural, unforced beauty of line serves amply. The bravura aria that Gluck drew from an earlier work, first for a Parma performance in 1769 and then for Paris, is thrown off in brilliant fashion.
Brigitte Fournier makes a graceful Amour, agile, spirited in her handling of the Lombardic rhythms of ''Si les doux accords'' and delightfully delicate in ''Soumis au silence'' (''Gli sguardi trattieni''). There is some charming, gentle singing from Barbara Hendricks's Eurydice at the end of Act 2 (strictly, Act 3, in the Berlioz version), and more incisiveness in her C minor aria, ''Fortune ennemie'' (''Che fiero momento''). The Monteverdi Choir sing with plenty of power in the Furies' music at the beginning of Act 2. John Eliot Gardiner's direction seems to me rather less impassioned, and indeed less exciting, than in his justly admired recording of Iphigenie en Tauride (Philips (CD) 416 148-2PH2, 6/86). The dance music is graceful and refined but expressively often rather non-committal—listen for example to the Elysian sequence of dances, where the F major one (Lent tres doux) is quickish and wanting in atmosphere, and even the flute solo seems decorative rather than deeply felt; while the chorus that follows is again too fast to carry much expressive weight.
In sum, then, this is a civilized, beautifully sung French, post-Berlioz version of Gluck's opera. Comparisons with other recordings are beside the point here; there is no other French version currently in the catalogue I hope someone will do the pure 1774 text, with a high French tenor, some time—and the Italian ones, period and modern, were discussed in last month's issue. Admirers of Anne Sofie von Otter, however, who should be legion, will not need to be told that this recording is one to have.'