Offenbach Les contes d'Hoffmann
View record and artist detailsRecord and Artist Details
Composer or Director: Jacques Offenbach
Genre:
Opera
Label: Philips
Magazine Review Date: 11/1992
Media Format: CD or Download
Media Runtime: 175
Mastering:
DDD
Catalogue Number: 422 374-2PH3
Tracks:
| Composition | Artist Credit |
|---|---|
| (Les) Contes d'Hoffmann, '(The) Tales of Hoffmann' |
Jacques Offenbach, Composer
Anne Sofie von Otter, Nicklausse; Muse, Mezzo soprano Boris Martinovich, Crespel, Baritone Cheryl Studer, Giulietta, Soprano Eva Lind, Olympia, Soprano Felicity Palmer, Voice of Antonia's Mother, Mezzo soprano Francisco Araiza, Hoffmann, Tenor Georges Gautier, Andrès; Cochenille; Pitichinaccio; Frantz, Tenor Jacques Offenbach, Composer Jean-Luc Chaignaud, Schlemil, Baritone Jeffrey Tate, Conductor Jessye Norman, Antonia, Soprano Jurgen Hartfiel, Hermann; Wilhelm, Tenor Leipzig Radio Chorus Peter Menzel, Nathanaël; Wolfram, Tenor Riccardo Cassinelli, Spalanzani, Tenor Rolf Tomaszewski, Luther, Baritone Samuel Ramey, Lindorf; Coppelius; Dapertutto; Dr Miracle, Baritone Staatskapelle Dresden |
Author: Edward Greenfield
It would be hard to find an opera in any area of the repertory that presents so many textual problems as Les contes d'Hoffmann, largely stemming from the fact that the composer died four months before the premiere early in 1881, leaving the score incomplete. The traditional text, bringing in extra material, much of it unauthentic, and leaving out a lot, was only established this century. Arthur Hammond with the Carl Rosa Company was a pioneer in attempting to sort out a more acceptable text, and his work formed the basis of the English National Opera production at the Coliseum and also the Richard Bonynge recording for Decca. Since then the discovery of no less than 1,250 autograph pages allowed Fritz Oeser to produce his monumental edition, as used extensively in the Cambreling recording for EMI (12/88—nla). That extended the piece to Wagnerian lengths, but since then still more material has been uncovered, involving some 350 more manuscript pages, which have been researched by Michael Kaye to form the basis for his new edition published by Schott in 1991. Though the edition was not complete at the time the Dresden recording sessions were held (June 1987-June 1989), this new Philips set is based on his material, aiming in Jeffrey Tate's words to come ''as close as we can to envisage the score and the drama that Offenbach conceived before his untimely death''.
One big difference here from the complete Oeser edition, as presented by Cambreling, is that dialogue replaces all the recitatives written by Ernest Guiraud. The Bonynge text similarly replaces recitative with spoken dialogue, but this new set uses far more. As with Oeser the Prologue is more extended, showing the transformation of the Muse into Nicklausse, with extra material in the Olympia and Antonia acts too, much as the striking trio for Hoffmann, Nicklausse and Coppelius. Also, Tate points out that ''the Giulietta act contains music that shows conclusively that Offenbach would have wanted a single voice to embody all of Hoffmann's female infatuations''. A fascinating illustration of that comes in the jaunty couplets, ''L'amour lui dit: la belle'', leading into exchanges and a duet reprise with Hoffmann. It is a jolly little piece, close in style to earlier Offenbach, which in its lightness and use of high coloratura radically alters one's conception of the character of the Venetian femme fatale. Needless to say, Cheryl Studer, has no problems here over high coloratura, but in context it does tend to take you by surprise.
As Tate's note implies, it is perhaps a pity that the logic of the project was not carried through, and a single singer chosen for all of the heroines, as in both the Bonynge/Sutherland and the Ozawa/Gruberova (on DG) sets. As it is, Jessye Norman, the Giulietta of the Cambreling set has here become the Antonia of the new one. Reviewing that earlier set AML had reservations over having so dramatically weighty a soprano as Rosalind Plowright for Antonia, but Norman has more heft still. Though she cunningly lightens her voice, making it sound as girlish as she can, and urges the music on at a brisker speed than usual in the charming duet, ''C'est une chanson d'amour'', it is still hard to imagine her as the fragile young girl destined to die. With such a powerful performance I also wish more than ever to go back to the traditional ordering, having the Antonia act after the Venice scene and not before. I know the arguments are very powerful indeed to have the acts in order of developing experience in the hero's love—in turn the innocent, the passionate and the sophisticated—but musically the act with the Barcarolle seems to me to work better in the middle, particularly if—as in the Bonynge set—the inauthentic but magnificent septet is taken from that Venice act and used as a quartet in the Epilogue, bringing a glorious full-throated final reprise of the Barcarolle theme.
Neither that septet, nor its quartet derivative, is included in the text used by Tate, not even as an appendix (as in the Cambreling). Nor is Dapertutto's ''Scintille, diamant'', drawn originally from another Offenbach work, when the authentic ''Tourne, tourne miroir'', is restored at that point. The Ozawa set, paying lip-service to authenticity, yet makes an exception with that, when as AML says, it ''has come to be regarded as one of the jewels of the opera's score''. I fear that in the end, like most listeners, I come to feel cheated, when such favourite items are missing, whatever the claims of authenticity. The question is whether this version works dramatically, and though the broad answer must be yes, this recording and its particular qualities do leave you with doubts.
In the first place, it does not feel very theatrical; not just a question of being recorded in a church, the Lukaskirche in Dresden, generally a good recording venue, but in the very sparing use of sound effects (very different from Bonynge's) and in the way that the choruses, well-sung but sounding rather thin, obstinately have you imagining choristers in a studio rather than a stage scene. The spoken dialogue does not help, when among the principals only Georges Gautier in the four grotesque roles has a French-speaking background. Norman's spoken French I always find a delight, and Anne Sofie von Otter's too, but too many of the others will I imagine disappoint French-speakers. Samuel Ramey, for example, sounds to my ear perfectly acceptable when singing French, but with his rolled ''r's'' and individual vocal inflexions, he is less convincing in spoken French. The new set, unlike the Cambreling, uses the sour ending to the Venice act, with Giulietta accidentally taking poison. Where in the Bonynge Gabriel Bacquier as Dapertutto brings it off magnificently, Ramey on the heavily ironic final words, ''Ah, Giulietta, maladroite!'' simply sounds as if someone had knocked his coffee over. It does not help that the act then ends pianissimo, with no pay-off chord or cadence.
Ramey sings very well in all four villainous roles, with satisfyingly firm, dark tone, even if he finds it hard to sound really sinister, but principal vocal honours go to Anne Sofie von Otter as a superb Muse and Nicklausse, making one relish all the extra music given to the character in this version. Like both the Cambreling and Ozawa versions, the epilogue ends with the Muse's solo, ''Des cendres de ton coeur,'' leading to a satisfying choral climax, though the Cambreling is much more extended than this or the Ozawa. The Epilogue—or Act 5 as it is called in this edition—is only just over eight minutes long, starting with a gentle chorus, but thereafter relying for most of the time on spoken dialogue, relieved only by the reprise of Hoffmann's Kleinsack solo. There more than ever I miss the familiar reminiscences in the usual texts.
As for the rest of the cast, Eva Lind is bright and clear, if a little edgy and shallow as Olympia, perfectly doll-like in fact, and Cheryl Studer is technically very strong and confident, even if she does not quite sound in character. Not always helped by the recorded sound, refined and rather lacking in weight, Riccardo Cassinelli, Georges Gautier and Boris Martinovitch give enjoyable but rather undercharacterized performances, and the student leaders in the Prologue sound far too mature. Francisco Araiza makes an agreeable Hoffmann, but he lacks the flair of his finest rivals, and the voice tends to lose its focus under pressure.
Jeffrey Tate secures fine ensemble. He tends to pace on the slow side, but by contrast presses the celebrated Barcarolle on faster than usual—a conflation of the vocal and entr'acte versions—with woodwind soloists who in their literal way miss the magic. Yet even with reservations there is a strong textual case for having this set, just as there was with Cambreling's Oeser-based version. The one which—maybe perversely—I still enjoy most is the Bonynge/Sutherland, which comes on two discs only, and though analogue remains the most vividly recorded.'
One big difference here from the complete Oeser edition, as presented by Cambreling, is that dialogue replaces all the recitatives written by Ernest Guiraud. The Bonynge text similarly replaces recitative with spoken dialogue, but this new set uses far more. As with Oeser the Prologue is more extended, showing the transformation of the Muse into Nicklausse, with extra material in the Olympia and Antonia acts too, much as the striking trio for Hoffmann, Nicklausse and Coppelius. Also, Tate points out that ''the Giulietta act contains music that shows conclusively that Offenbach would have wanted a single voice to embody all of Hoffmann's female infatuations''. A fascinating illustration of that comes in the jaunty couplets, ''L'amour lui dit: la belle'', leading into exchanges and a duet reprise with Hoffmann. It is a jolly little piece, close in style to earlier Offenbach, which in its lightness and use of high coloratura radically alters one's conception of the character of the Venetian femme fatale. Needless to say, Cheryl Studer, has no problems here over high coloratura, but in context it does tend to take you by surprise.
As Tate's note implies, it is perhaps a pity that the logic of the project was not carried through, and a single singer chosen for all of the heroines, as in both the Bonynge/Sutherland and the Ozawa/Gruberova (on DG) sets. As it is, Jessye Norman, the Giulietta of the Cambreling set has here become the Antonia of the new one. Reviewing that earlier set AML had reservations over having so dramatically weighty a soprano as Rosalind Plowright for Antonia, but Norman has more heft still. Though she cunningly lightens her voice, making it sound as girlish as she can, and urges the music on at a brisker speed than usual in the charming duet, ''C'est une chanson d'amour'', it is still hard to imagine her as the fragile young girl destined to die. With such a powerful performance I also wish more than ever to go back to the traditional ordering, having the Antonia act after the Venice scene and not before. I know the arguments are very powerful indeed to have the acts in order of developing experience in the hero's love—in turn the innocent, the passionate and the sophisticated—but musically the act with the Barcarolle seems to me to work better in the middle, particularly if—as in the Bonynge set—the inauthentic but magnificent septet is taken from that Venice act and used as a quartet in the Epilogue, bringing a glorious full-throated final reprise of the Barcarolle theme.
Neither that septet, nor its quartet derivative, is included in the text used by Tate, not even as an appendix (as in the Cambreling). Nor is Dapertutto's ''Scintille, diamant'', drawn originally from another Offenbach work, when the authentic ''Tourne, tourne miroir'', is restored at that point. The Ozawa set, paying lip-service to authenticity, yet makes an exception with that, when as AML says, it ''has come to be regarded as one of the jewels of the opera's score''. I fear that in the end, like most listeners, I come to feel cheated, when such favourite items are missing, whatever the claims of authenticity. The question is whether this version works dramatically, and though the broad answer must be yes, this recording and its particular qualities do leave you with doubts.
In the first place, it does not feel very theatrical; not just a question of being recorded in a church, the Lukaskirche in Dresden, generally a good recording venue, but in the very sparing use of sound effects (very different from Bonynge's) and in the way that the choruses, well-sung but sounding rather thin, obstinately have you imagining choristers in a studio rather than a stage scene. The spoken dialogue does not help, when among the principals only Georges Gautier in the four grotesque roles has a French-speaking background. Norman's spoken French I always find a delight, and Anne Sofie von Otter's too, but too many of the others will I imagine disappoint French-speakers. Samuel Ramey, for example, sounds to my ear perfectly acceptable when singing French, but with his rolled ''r's'' and individual vocal inflexions, he is less convincing in spoken French. The new set, unlike the Cambreling, uses the sour ending to the Venice act, with Giulietta accidentally taking poison. Where in the Bonynge Gabriel Bacquier as Dapertutto brings it off magnificently, Ramey on the heavily ironic final words, ''Ah, Giulietta, maladroite!'' simply sounds as if someone had knocked his coffee over. It does not help that the act then ends pianissimo, with no pay-off chord or cadence.
Ramey sings very well in all four villainous roles, with satisfyingly firm, dark tone, even if he finds it hard to sound really sinister, but principal vocal honours go to Anne Sofie von Otter as a superb Muse and Nicklausse, making one relish all the extra music given to the character in this version. Like both the Cambreling and Ozawa versions, the epilogue ends with the Muse's solo, ''Des cendres de ton coeur,'' leading to a satisfying choral climax, though the Cambreling is much more extended than this or the Ozawa. The Epilogue—or Act 5 as it is called in this edition—is only just over eight minutes long, starting with a gentle chorus, but thereafter relying for most of the time on spoken dialogue, relieved only by the reprise of Hoffmann's Kleinsack solo. There more than ever I miss the familiar reminiscences in the usual texts.
As for the rest of the cast, Eva Lind is bright and clear, if a little edgy and shallow as Olympia, perfectly doll-like in fact, and Cheryl Studer is technically very strong and confident, even if she does not quite sound in character. Not always helped by the recorded sound, refined and rather lacking in weight, Riccardo Cassinelli, Georges Gautier and Boris Martinovitch give enjoyable but rather undercharacterized performances, and the student leaders in the Prologue sound far too mature. Francisco Araiza makes an agreeable Hoffmann, but he lacks the flair of his finest rivals, and the voice tends to lose its focus under pressure.
Jeffrey Tate secures fine ensemble. He tends to pace on the slow side, but by contrast presses the celebrated Barcarolle on faster than usual—a conflation of the vocal and entr'acte versions—with woodwind soloists who in their literal way miss the magic. Yet even with reservations there is a strong textual case for having this set, just as there was with Cambreling's Oeser-based version. The one which—maybe perversely—I still enjoy most is the Bonynge/Sutherland, which comes on two discs only, and though analogue remains the most vividly recorded.'
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