Pelleas is one of those operas fortunate enough to 'record well'—certainly there has rarely been a time when at least one good version was not available; and the work itself so moves me every time I hear it that perhaps each new version of any quality carries me away; but the arrival of this new recording, so soon after the highly praised performances by Dutoit (Decca) and Armin Jordan (Erato), and in excellent French from the whole cast, really does create something of an embarras de choix. Let there be no mistake, however: this is a superb issue that challenges even the finest so far. The warmth of the VPO strings in the very first bars holds out a promise that is never disappointed: the orchestra, always subtle but positively glowing, is responsive to every one of Debussy's dynamics and rises to the most intense of climaxes in the emotional high spots of Act 4. Abbado directs a sensitive and flexible reading, rather faster than usual in some places—impelled by the dramatic situation, he pushes ahead when Golaud flares up on hearing that Melisande has lost his ring, and in that terrible scene when little Yniold is made to spy on his stepmother.
Jose van Dam, who also sang Golaud for Karajan (EMI), is an artist who, in whatever he undertakes, leaves one reaching for superlatives: in this performance his Golaud is a character on a dangerously short fuse, heavy with menace in his first warning to Pelleas, quickly losing control with Yniold, and lashing himself into a frenzy at the ''grande innocence'' of Melisande's eyes, leading him to seize her by her long hair. Maria Ewing makes the hapless heroine less of a wimp than she is sometimes represented, and in a remarkable way nuances and colours her every word with meaning. She is tender to Golaud when he suffers a slight wound, sweet but very erotic in the Act 3 soliloquy as she combs her hair, and bursts out in suddenly awakened passion at the fatal nocturnal parting from Pelleas. Or is it so sudden? We notice that her words to him at the end of Act 1, ''Oh! Pourquoi partez-vous?'', are delivered not ingenuously, as with some interpreters of the part, but already with a vague yearning.
Pelleas is sung by a real baryton-martin, a light high baritone: Le Roux sounds young, fresh and ardent, his singing is always refined, his words are meaningful, and he conveys Pelleas's unease in the sinister scene with Golaud in the cavern. (The only slight shortcoming in the whole recording, unfortunately, is when his eventual declaration of love is almost lost under orchestral reverberation.) For some reason the casting of the aged Arkel has
often been a weakness in the past: either he is not entirely accurate or he emerges as just dull. Here the voix noble and intelligence of Courtis makes of him a figure akin to wise old Gurnemanz in Parsifal, an opera much in Debussy's mind (despite his professed dislike of Wagner). Patrizia Pace makes a very credible child, and that no pains were spared in the production is suggested by the fact that no less an artist than Christa Ludwig takes the tiny part of Genevieve. Even those readers with one or other of the previous recommended recordings of the opera are urged not to miss this one.'