Castor et Pollux was Rameau's second tragedie en musique. Its first performance took place in October 1737 but, though the cast included several of France's most celebrated singers, the opera was greeted with only moderate enthusiasm. Rameau, by then 54 years old, was none the less still a comparative newcomer to the French operatic stage, but his bold departures from the long-admired tradition established by Lully had already proved controversial. This time the theatre-going public took sides and, depending on their viewpoint became supporters either of Lully or Rameau. For the next 15 years or so Castor et Pollux remained something of a cause celebre and it was only with the composer's thoroughly revised version of 1754 that the opera enjoyed the popularity that it unquestionably deserved. Weighing up the pros and cons of these two versions is to some extent problematic. For the 1754 revival Rameau provided a new First Act and a reworking of the original five acts into Acts 2 to 5 with some new music, too. This tautened a drama which had never been weak but—and this point is significant to all lovers of Rameau's music—it dispensed with a very beautiful Prologue since, by the 1750s, such things were considered old-fashioned. It is this consideration above all, perhaps, that needs to be taken into account when committing Castor et Pollux to disc. Both versions, however, would be ideal and I very much hope that Erato will soon reissue their recording of the 1754 version directed by Charles Farncombe.
William Christie and Les Arts Florissants perform Rameau's first version complete with its Prologue. The librettist, Pierre-Joseph Bernard, was one of the ablest writers with whom Rameau collaborated and his text for Castor et Pollux has been regarded by some as the best in the history of eighteenth-century French opera. Bernard focuses on the fraternal love of the 'heavenly twins' and specifically on the generosity with which Pollux renounces his immortality so that Castor may be restored to life. Christie's production was staged at Aix-en-Provence in the summer of 1991 but only recorded by Harmonia Mundi a year later. I felt, on listening to the Prologue, that some of the ebullient Aix spirit had evaporated in the meantime and that the production only springs to life at the outset of Act 1. Here Christie wonderfully evokes the tragic muse with a measured drum roll leading to the darkly chromatic orchestral accompaniment to the Spartans' ''Que tout gemisse''. This and Telaire's profound, justifiably celebrated ''Tristes apprets, pales flambeaux'', affectingly sung by Agnes Mellon, are sensitively handled by Christie. This performance, more than that of Nikolaus Harnoncourt on Teldec, conveys Telaire's inconsolable misery at Castor's death. One of the reasons for this is that of pacing—Christie allows almost a full minute and a half longer for ''Tristes apprets'' to unfold; but another is one of idiom, for Christie's singers sound altogether more at home with French declamation than Harnoncourt's cast. A notable exception is Gerard Souzay's Castor which is a model of its kind. But Souzay, alas, was no longer singing at his best and his partnership with the tenor, Zeger Vandersteene, is less impressive than that of Howard Crook and Jerome Correas in the new set.
This may sound like a clear-cut preference for Christie's version but such is not the case. Christie's performance does seem to me to have the stronger solo vocal cast, and this applies to smaller roles as well as the principal ones—the sopranos Veronique Gens and Sandrine Piau are both outstanding. But Harnoncourt's cast is anything but weak and it is supported by very strong performances from the instrumentalists of the Vienna Concentus Musicus and the voices of the Stockholm Chamber Choir. And, to my ears, the recorded sound of Harnoncourt's version is superior to the disappointingly confined, almost boxy perspective of the newcomer.
Well, I'm sitting on the fence, this time. I have grown up with Harnoncourt's Castor over the past 21 years and feel great affection for it. Christie, on the other hand, unquestionably gives us new and subtle insights to the opera and does, I believe, more convincingly realize the element of tragedy, above all in the First Act. His performing edition, by the way, is the work of the bass violist Elisabeth Matiffa who is a founder member of Les Arts Florissants. A good Ramellian will need them both, others must draw their own conclusions but can rest assured that either or both will afford deep and lasting pleasure. A very beautiful score, affectionately and perceptively interpreted by two contrasting luminaries of contemporary baroque performance.'