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Timor timoris (The Fear of Fear) Valencia
Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia
01/23/2025 - & January 25, 28*, 31, February 2 2025
Francis Poulenc : Dialogues des carmélites
Alexandra Marcellier (Blanche de la Force), Doris Soffel (Madame de Croissy), Ambur Braid (Madame Lidoine), Michèle Losier (Mother Marie of the Incarnation), Sandra Hamaoui (Sister Constance of Saint‑Denis), Nicolas Cavallier (Marquis de la Force), Valentin Thill (Chevalier de la Force), Michael Colvin (Chaplain of Carmel), Marina Rodríguez-Cusì (Mère Jeanne), Laura Fleur (Sister Mathilde), Irakli Pkhaladze (Thierry, First Officer), Filipp Modestov (First Commissioner), Bryan Sala (Monsieur Javelinot, Second Commissioner), Isaac Galán (Gaoler), Myriam Arnouk, Irina Avramenko, Nuada Le Dréve, Tanya Durán‑Gil, Ester Ferraro, Angela Lindo, Carla Mayer, Estíbaliz Ruiz, Carmina Sánchez, Carla Sanmartín Ganau, Antonella Zanetti (Carmelite nuns)
Cor de la Generalitat Valenciana, Jordi Blanch Tordera (chorus master), Orquestra de la Comunitat Valenciana, Riccardo Minasi (conductor)
Robert Carsen (stage director), Michael Levine (sets), Falk Bauer (costumes), Robert Carsen & Cor van den Brink (lighting), Ian Burton (dramaturgy), Philippe Giraudeau (choreography)
(© Miguel Lorenzo-Mikel Ponce/Les Arts)
Germany’s Gertrud von Le Fort (1876-1971), in her 1931 novella, Die Letzte am Schafott (“The Song at the Scaffold”) chronicled the execution by guillotine of sixteen Carmelite nuns from Compiègne in 1794, towards the end of the reign of terror that followed the French Revolution. In 1947, Georges Bernanos (1888‑1948) used the novella as the basis for his screenplay for a film that was not to be produced. Fortunately, Italian publisher Ricordi, at the instigation of choreographer/director Margarete Wallmann (1904‑1992), bought the rights and commissioned Francis Poulenc to write Dialogues des carmélites, based on Bernanos’s screenplay. The opera premiered in 1957 at La Scala (in an Italian translation) with a stellar cast (Virginia Zeani, Leyla Gencer, Gigliola Frazzoni) and shortly thereafter in Paris with an equally stellar cast (Denise Duval, Rita Gorr, Régine Crespin). It has remained in the repertoire ever since, and is one of the most often‑performed twentieth century operas.
The secret to its success is the high calibre of its libretto and music. Given the riveting story, three acts lasting two and a half hours (plus intermissions) unfold beautifully.
In Act I, Blanche de la Force, a young noblewoman inflicted with a pathological fear, decides to enter a Carmelite convent. The old Prioress informs Blanche that the convent is not a refuge; it is the duty of the nuns to guard the Order, and not the other way around. At her deathbed, the Prioress, worried about Blanche, entrusts her to Mother Marie. The Prioress dies an agonizing death, witnessed by Mother Marie and a shaken Blanche.
In Act II, the Chevalier de la Force, Blanche’s brother, is worried for her, due to the anti‑clerical tide sweeping revolutionary France, compounded by her aristocratic status. He implores Blanche to change to a safer location, but she refuses, asserting she’s found happiness in the Carmelite Order. A policeman arrives to inform the nuns the Convent has been nationalized and will soon be auctioned. They’re told they must give up their religious habits and renounce their vocation.
In Act III, Mother Marie proposes the nuns take a vow of martyrdom. There’s one dissenting vote; it’s young Sister Constance. A terrified Blanche escapes to her family home to discover her father has been guillotined, and she is forced to serve her former servants. The nuns are arrested and condemned to death when Mother Marie is absent, looking for Blanche. When she eventually finds her, Blanche initially refuses to join the other nuns. In the final scene, as the nuns are guillotined one by one, Blanche joins them, singing the sacred voluntary promise of the religious order, literally offering themselves to the Lord.
With such a powerful plot, it’s no wonder Poulenc’s opera has stood the test of time. As this work is as much theatre as it is opera, the director’s vision is crucial. Valencia was indeed fortunate to have engaged one of the very best for this production. For over two decades, Canadian director Robert Carsen’s production of Dialogues des carmélites, which originated in Amsterdam, has been touring the world’s opera houses–Milan, Vienna, London, Nice, Madrid, Chicago and Toronto–to great acclaim.
Michael Levine’s sets are minimal, which makes for more effectively intense drama. The opening scene in Marquis de la Force’s palace is elegant, though the sets are sparse. By placing the smartly‑dressed Marquis on an elegant fauteuil, surrounded by valets, under a grand chandelier, the sparse setting invokes luxury more than a cluttered stage. Cor van den Brink’s mastery of lighting makes for amazing effects, whether rendering the room cozy or to create shadows, as in Balinese shadow theatre. Seeing the magnified shadow of Blanche’s valet transformed into a huge, scary figure set the tone for an opera centred on Blanche’s fear.
As in Puccini’s Suor Angelica (1918), the convent’s nuns wore the same habits and weren’t easily distinguishable for audience members seated far from the stage. By giving them a distinct character, each of the main half dozen roles stood out as unique and memorable. Sister Constance, the convent’s other novice, portrayed by Franco‑American Sandra Hamaoui, is seen as Blanche’s alter ego, a country girl who loves life. She tells Blanche of a dream in which the two young women die together, a glorious death. Hamaoui was able to convey the novice’s simplicity and joie de vivre. Her sweet, light coloratura contrasted beautifully with Blanche’s lyric soprano. Despite being a last minute replacement, French soprano Alexandra Marcellier was an incandescent Blanche. One could sense her malaise and fear from the moment she first appeared. This made her transformation, and ultimately her state of grace, truly luminous.
Well into her seventies, German mezzo Doris Soffel, a leading Angelina (La Cenerentola), Rosina (Il barbiere di Siviglia), Isabella (L’Italiana in Algeri) and Dorabella (Così fan tutte) decades ago, masterfully incarnated the old Prioress. Her acting was so convincing that she left a haunting impression of one’s ultimate hour. Her diction was excellent, though her voice showed signs of strain at moments, something easily forgiven and which is not inappropriate for a dying Prioress.
With the exception of Doris Soffel and Ambur Braid, all major roles were sung by native French speakers. Though a native of British Columbia, Canadian Ambur Braid’s diction was impeccable. A few months ago, Braid was an astonishing Rachèle in La Juive in Frankfurt. In the present production, she is an overwhelming Madame Lidoine, the new Prioress. Thanks to her expressiveness and winning charisma, she was magnetic from the start.
Likewise, Canadian Michèle Losier was a touching Mother Marie. She is an exceptional mezzo who performs leading roles in all major opera cities. Admired last season as a superlative Octavian in Christoph Waltz’s dazzling production of Der Rosenkavalier in Geneva, Losier is best known for her Mozart and Strauss roles. Her expressive acting made her an appealing Mother Marie.
Likewise, three male roles were well sung and acted. French bass Nicolas Cavallier exuded authority and nobility as Blanche’s father, the Marquis de la Force. French tenor Valentin Thill was an effective Chevalier de la Force, Blanche’s valiant brother. He conveyed his love and concern for his sister when he tried to take her away to safety. Though impassioned, he was able to portray his rank thanks to his posture and dignified deportment. Carsen’s staging for this scene was effective: a row of veiled nuns stood between the two siblings to express the growing distance and Blanche’s attachment to the Carmelites. Irish‑Canadian tenor Michael Colvin played the chaplain of Carmel, a touching character role. He aptly conveyed the role’s necessary humility and compassion, avoiding the temptation to play it heavy‑handedly.
Even the smaller roles, sung mostly by Spaniards, were performed acceptably, no mean feat. Likewise, the Cor de la Generalitat Valenciana sang in idiomatic French. The chorus, supplemented by extras, played a major role in the production. They often appeared between scenes at the front of the stage, to enable smooth scene changes. They were also convincing as the terrifying masses, especially when the populace entered the convent with the police. Moving slowly as a human wall, one step at a time toward the nuns, had a terrifying effect.
Though Poulenc’s music here is substantially more old‑fashioned than the bulk of his output, the score of Dialogues des carmélites is an intricate one. The Orquesta de la Comunitat Valenciana was up for the task. Riccardo Minasi was able to bring out the marvellously rich palette of colours in Poulenc’s score.
Carsen’s staging of the final scene was breathtakingly majestic, and subsequent productions of the opera have been inspired by it. The guillotine is mercifully not shown, nor are the nuns paraded to their horrifying death. Rather, a stylized choreography of sixteen nuns is aesthetically arranged throughout the stage. Every time the sound of the guillotine is heard, one nun falls. When Sister Constance is the last nun standing, Blanche rushes to join her to be the guillotine’s final victim. As Hitchcock proved, the unseen is often scarier than the seen.
Ossama el Naggar
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