It seems extraordinary that even though Rameau has at last been recognised (or should that be re-recognised?) as one of the great opera composers of the 18th century, we still await first recordings of some of his major works. Right now Handel seems to be ruling the roost in opera houses and recording companies alike, while the Rameau revival seems to have slowed a little, so it is good to see this recording of the third of his great series of tragedies en musiques – as full as any of examples of his skill and imagination – hit the stores.
In fact, this is not a first recording, though in some ways it seems like it. In 1980 Raymond Leppard conducted Paris Opera forces and a cast that included Frederica von Stade and Jose van Dam for Erato (5/95), but, as is his wont, he conflated the opera’s two versions to make something somehow less satisfactory than it should have been. Between the Paris premiere of Dardanus in 1739 and its first revival in 1744, Rameau and his librettist revised the work so much (they actually wrenched the plot in a different direction from Act 3 onwards) that to combine the two versions is near impossible. For a staged production, the dramatic problems in the score perhaps remain insurmountable; for a recording, however, a conductor need not be so sensitive, and can allow himself to choose whichever version has the best music in it. For Minkowski, that is the 1739 original, and that is what we get here.
Well almost. Minkowski cannot resist importing just a few numbers from 1744, though they are mainly relatively unimportant ones. The exception is the superbly intense monologue ‘Lieux funestes’ for Dardanus in chains, which here resurfaces at the opening of Act 4. Quite simply, Minkowski could not resist including what he describes as ‘the finest haute-contre aria ever written’, and it has to be said it suits its new place very well. And, yes, it is unmissable.
The opera sees Dardanus, son of Jupiter, in love with Iphise, the daughter of his enemy Teucer – a love which, though forbidden, is reciprocated. Iphise is in fact promised to Teucer’s ally Antenor, and much of the action concerns his and Dardanus’s rivalry and Iphise’s anguish. There is much use of the supernatural, something for which the opera was criticised in its day and which indeed prompted its revision; and there is also a sea-monster, whose appearances are derided in Graham Sadler’s booklet-note as ‘repeated and puerile’, but to my mind do not seem badly overused.
The scene in which Antenor and Dardanus fight with the monster provides one of the more convincingly performed passages of dialogue on this recording, a significant point because ensemble acting is actually one of the least successful areas. This is a recording of a concert performance, and as so often the vital spark of dramatic continuity and urgency which can result from the performers having lived their parts on stage is not quite there. Laurent Naouri turns in a vivid performance as the hapless Antenor, Veronique Gens is noble and moving as the love-torn Iphise, and Mireille Delunsch is a powerful Venus, but the remaining singers, though vocally strong enough (especially John Mark Ainsley and Magdalena Kozena), often struggle to bring their characters to life.
What we get instead is more like a series of highlights, but what highlights they are. They include two ravishing monologues for the troubled Iphise; the previously mentioned monologue for Dardanus, sung with beauty and poise by Ainsley; a solar eclipse (no less); and a truly lovely sleep divertissement in Act 4, full of feathery lightness and drowsy tranquillity. And then there are the dances, always such an enjoyable feature of Rameau’s scores and a scintillating demonstration of his sheer compositional spirit and skill. Readers may have encountered a number of these on record before, but one of the pleasures of this recording is to discover them in context, where they pop up to greet you like old friends. Even more delightful is to hear Rameau turn his own harpsichord piece Les niais de Sologne into a pretty little choral dance sequence in Act 3.
Minkowski conducts with an appropriate mixture of drive and tenderness, and is rewarded by responsive and sound playing and singing from his orchestra and chorus (the quiet moments here are very quiet). His is certainly a sure touch in baroque opera, and if this work is ultimately more impressive than moving, it is not for want of intelligence and feeling on his part. A major release for Rameau fans certainly, and well loaded with superb dramatic music for others to marvel at as well.'