Where Gounod is at his most inspired this new version of his most popular work is more than commendable. I refer to the solos for Marguerite and Faust, the Garden scene, the vignette in Marguerite's room that used to be regularly cut, and the Prison scene (considerably extended by the restoration of passages cut—presumably—before the premiere: we are in controversial Oeser territory). Here the tender, sweet-toned and idiomatically French singing and style of Gasdia and Hadley quite exceed expectations in these days of homogenized and uniform interpretation. These two principals step outside those predictable parameters to give us readings of high individuality, favouring their grateful music with delicately etched line, varied dynamics and real involvement in their characters' predicaments—Faust's vain search for the elixir of renewal, Marguerite for the ideal man. Both their happiness and later remorse are eloquently expressed.
After somewhat dragging the King of Thule solo (we'll come to the often lax conducting in a minute) Gasdia gives a well-nigh faultless performance—light-hearted, elated in the Jewel song, ardent in the Garden duet, ecstatic in the bedtime solo that follows, ineffably sad in her ''Il ne revient pas''. How can this exquisite solo have ever been omitted we think when Gasdia moves us so deeply? She is no less touching when she has lost her reason. Subtle timbres, poised high notes inform all her singing. She hasn't quite the technical accomplishment of Studer (Plasson), but surpasses even Studer's lovely portrayal through her extra colouring of tone and words.
Hadley, with the ideal weight of voice for Faust, has done nothing better. ''Je t'aime'' at the first meeting with Marguerite is whispered in wonder. The cavatina is suitably intimate, not projected as a show-piece but as a love song closing with a high C taken in the head in place of an ugly ut de poitrine. In the love duet he sings to his Marguerite as a gentle lover, never bawling, caressing his music, and Gasdia replies in kind. I marginally prefer Hadley to Plasson's Leech by virtue of his greater variety of expression. Now Teldec must give us this pair in some bel canto works, Bellini for preference, and other French music—Les pecheurs de perles, perhaps.
The good news continues with Mentzer. She sings both Siebel's regular solos with vibrant, properly virile tone, the quick vibrato attractive. Another piece, ''Versez vos chagrins'', cut before the premiere, is given what must be its first recording, in an appendix, and offers further evidence of the American mezzo's suitability for the role. I prefer Agache's manly, full-voiced Valentin to Hampson's more self-conscious reading on the Plasson set, and it's a real coup to have Fassbaender as Marthe, making so much of little.
I have left Ramey until now because he is the one singer to give a standardized performance. His Mephisto is as soundly and resolutely sung as one would expect from this sturdy bass, but it doesn't have the Francophone smoothness and subtlety of van Dam (Plasson) and quite misses the individual touches of basses from the distant past, such as Journet on the 1930 HMV 78 set now available on Pearl.
As I have implied, Rizzi conducts an often alarmingly slow account of the score, even more tardy than Plasson, himself noted for his moderate tempos. In compensation the more exciting passages are given rather too much verve. The recent reissue of the old 1928 Beecham set reminds us that there is no substitute for stage experience in knowing how to pace a work. Where Rizzi goes slow, Beecham keeps the score moving and buoyant. Excellent as are the WNO Chorus and Orchestra they don't quite match the authentic sound provided by their Toulouse counterparts for Plasson, but Rizzi is always aware of the sensuous nature of Gounod's scoring.
Following the Oeser Edition means unusual variants and an alteration in the placing (later) of the Church scene. These are questionable decisions but not serious enough to cause a problem when making a choice of versions. As with Plasson, the ballet music is rightly consigned to an appendix. The recording, made in Cardiff's Brangwyn Hall, is by and large open, full of presence and well balanced, but once or twice I thought I heard Ramey's voice in another acoustic.
Both this and the Plasson have much in their favour. A choice between them must, on this occasion, rest on a preference for one or other singer. Just now, haunted by the plaintive timbre of Gasdia and the artistry of Hadley, I am persuaded towards Teldec.'