Although composed in the 19th century, Charpentier’s Louise is essentially the first real 20th-century opera, its premiere in April 1900 declaring a new subject – feminism, and a modern setting, with working-class characters that are not only theatrically viable but both popular and shocking. The broadcast from the Met conducted by Beecham has been available on CD before (on the Valhall label – nla), and these two coincidental issues restore it to the catalogue.
Beecham’s well-known affection for light music, as his ‘lollipop’ concerts showed, comes through in all the waltzy and Parisian chanson passages. The performance is dominated by Ezio Pinza as Louise’s father. Although obviously sung with something of an Italian accent, his characterisation is wonderfully vivid – in the closing scene as he alternately coaxes and rails against his daughter, the underlying tension and unexplained nature of his obsession is fully portrayed. Doris Doe as the Mother seems rather bland by comparison, although her voice is strong. Raoul Jobin has a nice free top to his voice and makes a first-rate Julien; he is the only one of the four principals to have authentic French.
Grace Moore was one of the most glamorous figures of the time; her film career by this date was over, but like her near contemporary, Jeanette Macdonald, she had done an enormous amount to help make opera popular in the USA through her films and broadcasts. One of her later films was Abel Gance’s Louise, made in France just before the Second World War. It isn’t really a film of the opera, but a drama incorporating elements of the stage work and music (it’s available on video now, and is well worth seeing, not just for Moore but for Georges Thill as Julien).
Moore captivated nearly everyone who met her; her exuberant personality (‘the little Tennessee prima donna’ as she called herself) charmed Charpentier himself, and she studied the role with him before singing it at the Opera-Comique in the 1930s. There is never any doubt that she is a woman of spirit, but although her voice was always said to be on the small side, on this occasion she seems over-vehement, lacking that lightness of touch and Parisian style which Ninon Vallin conveys so well in the abridged version recorded under Charpentier’s supervision (Nimbus, 6/99).
The two rival versions of this broadcast seem to be taken from different sources, but there isn’t a great deal of difference between them. The Naxos version has retained more of the surface noise from the acetate discs, but has more forward sound. It also finds room on the third disc for a few arias recorded by Grace Moore in the studio, and two extracts from another Met broadcast, La boheme, in 1942. She is at her most alluring in the songs by Tchaikovsky and Paulin, less assured as Manon than as Mimi. At budget price this is certainly worth investigating as a historical exercise. Louise, however, is not an opera I much care to listen to through the hiss and crackle of ancient broadcasts. Its orchestral texture is so important: the tiny details – the sound of the trumpet down the Montmartre hill, the swift shifts of mood and pace in the wonderful opening of Act 2 depicting the Paris streets – all this calls out for modern sound.
It’s a relief at first then to turn to the reissue of another live performance, from La Monnaie in Brussels, recorded in 1983. Here it’s Rita Gorr as the Mother who steals the limelight. A great singing actress, she demonstrates just how the role ought to go – the scene in Act 1 when she catches Louise and Julien together is riveting. Ernst Blanc as the Father is good, but not in the Pinza class, nor indeed that of Jose van Dam on the Rudel version on EMI. There the lovers, the formidable team of Beverly Sills and Nicolai Gedda, both caught un peu trop tard, are outsung and -acted by van Dam. My favourite interpreter of this part, though, is Louis Musy on the old Philips recording from the Opera-Comique in 1956. He had known Charpentier and directed a famous production designed by Utrillo, no less. On the Erato set Jerome Pruett is somewhat strained by the high phrases of Julien at his most ardent.
What, though, of Louise herself and her famous aria, ‘Depuis le jour’, one of the stand-bys of the soprano repertory? A quick comparison between Moore, Sills, Lott and Berthe Monmart (on the Philips/Fournet set) brings the whole problem of this role into focus. Moore gives a very extrovert performance for the theatre, but she brings off the big phrase ‘et je tremble delicieusement’ just as Charpentier asks, full out at the beginning, and then fining down to a diminuendo on the word ‘delicieusement’, helped along by Beecham and the harpist. Berthe Monmart with Fournet takes it much slower, more reflective and languorous, and she has something that Moore cannot match, the ability to sing really softly, the high A at ‘Ah! Je suis heureuse’ managed beautifully. It’s frustrating that Sills recorded this part so late – she cannot do justice to the aria in the way she had earlier, and the beat in her voice spoils the positive effects she’s striving for. In contrast Dame Felicity is wonderfully controlled and floats the phrase about the first kiss better than any of the others.
Reviewing this set when it was first issued, the late Lionel Salter complained of the many cuts that are inflicted on the score; it isn’t that which disappoints so much as Cambreling’s rather laid-back way with the whole thing, especially in contrast to Beecham’s excitable approach. It seems a bit steep to have it at full price after nearly two decades. The Met performance is well worth hearing, but I still prefer the authenticity of the Fournet on Philips.'