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Mimì triumphs! Montreal
Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier, Place des Arts
05/10/2025 - & May 13, 15, 18, 20*, 2025
Giacomo Puccini: La bohème
Lauren Margison (Mimì), Andrea Núnez (Musetta), Frédéric Antoun (Rodolfo), John Brancy (Marcello), Mikelis Rogers (Schaunard), Jean‑Philippe McClish (Colline), Angelo Moretti (Parpignol), Valerian Ruminski (Benoît, Alcindoro), Jamal Al Titi (Sergeant).
Chœur de l’Opéra de Montréal, Claude Webster (Chorus Master), Orchestre Métropolitain, Simon Rivard (conductor)
François Racine (Stage Director), Peter Dean Beck (Sets), Opéra de Montréal (Costumes), Nicolas Descôteaux (Lighting)
L. Margison (© Vivien Gaumand)
Given its immense popularity, La bohème is probably the most frequently produced opera in the repertoire. I remember first seeing it in my early teens and being quite impressed. Ever since, I inevitably attend a performance or two annually, not necessarily out of desire, but to hear a favourite singer or to discover a new one. More often than not, I regret the time invested. Happily, this was not the case for this production, which, though imperfect, has a lot going for it.
L’Opéra de Montréal rented drab sets from Arizona Opera, but thanks to colourful costumes and especially to François Racine’s brilliant staging, one didn’t pay much attention to them. Moreover, the intelligently conceived two‑story sets easily transformed from the Bohemians’ mansard in Acts I & IV to either Café Momus in Act III or the tavern by the city’s toll gate at the La barrière d’Enfer in Act III.
What was striking after the first ten minutes was the camaraderie that emerged between the Bohemians. Unusually, Racine managed to make the poet Rodolfo, the painter Marcello, the philosopher Colline and the musician Schaunard seem like chummy roommates with affection for one another, and at ease sharing their humble abode.
Thanks to intelligent lighting and to Racine’s directions to Lauren Margison and Frédéric Antoun, the initial encounter between Mimì and Rodolfo in Act I was more than convincing. When Mimì drops her key, Rodolfo deliberately blows out the candle, and the two search for the key in the dark. In this pivotal scene, the lighting is either too bright to be credible or too dark to be sufficiently visible. Nicolas Descôteaux’s lighting was quite successful by having a chiaroscuro effect where the upper level of the mansarde was bright enough, while the area around the table was dim. Likewise, the lighting was not too bright in the final act, thereby suitable for the tragic death scene.
In Act II, the street scene was delightful, but mercifully uncluttered. The crowd was well‑coordinated, invoking a realistic atmosphere. After all, La bohème is Puccini’s quintessential verismo opera. The Act III sets for the area known as La barrière d’Enfer (around the Customs House at one of Paris’s gates) were convincing without being austere. In Act III, Racine opted to have intermittent rather than continuous snow. The feeling of cold is essential in establishing the cruelty of the lovers’ fate as well the contrasting tenderness of postponing their inevitable separation until Spring, “la stagion’ dei fiori.” It snowed in the early moments of the act to set the mood and to reflect Mimì’s state of mind as she sought Marcello’s advice, and again toward the end, when Rodolfo and Mimì realise they must break off their relationship despite their love for one another.
Throughout the performance, there were many smart ideas for minor scenes not in the libretto. These brought new life to the story, making the characters more compelling, with their various charms and foibles: the various amusing gests of the Bohemians in their dwelling; Mimì, out of breath upon entering the mansarde in Act I (to indicate her poor health condition); Schaunard and Marcello purposefully breaking a bottle on an occupied table at Café Momus to create a commotion, enabling them to take over the table for their large group; the scolding a man receives from his wife for having been used by Musetta to create a scene; Musetta’s impossible antics; and Marcello’s painting in Act III bearing a striking resemblance to Musetta. These were but a few of such brilliant ideas.
Canadian lyric tenor Frédéric Antoun has long been a favourite at l’Opéra de Montréal, and with good reason. He’s best known for Mozart, bel canto and lighter French roles. However, despite his many qualities, Rodolfo is not an ideal role for him. The part requires a tenor possessing a typically Italianate voice with a solar quality (think Pavarotti, Di Stefano and nowadays Pene Pati). Over the years, Antoun’s voice has become heavier, and his upper register, though intact, lacks brio. Occasionally, he was obscured by the orchestra. Nonetheless, Antoun, an intelligent and experienced artist, managed to produce seemingly effortless high notes. His total immersion in the role made for a charming Rodolfo, more sensitive than most. His Act I aria “Che gelida manina”, the opera’s high point, was delightful. Energized by his Mimì, he was at his best in Act I’s duet with Margison, “O soave fanciulla,” where their voices blended gorgeously.
The most glorious soloist in this production was Lauren Margison as Mimì. Rarely have I witnessed a singer so comfortable in a role: this young Canadian soprano was born to sing Mimì. Her voice and temperament are perfectly suited for the role. Her voice has natural trills, soaring high notes, natural legato, and impressive pianissimi. She also has good diction, with emphasis where it ought to be – all requirements for a perfect Mimì. Above all, Margison managed to convey a precious attribute: humility, the essence of Mimì. In this, there is the sickly woman’s fragility as well as her natural charm. Thanks to great chemistry with Antoun, the Act I sequence of “Che gelida manina”, “Sì, mi chiamano Mimì” and “O soave fanciulla” were moments of pure bliss.
John Brancy, ideally cast as Marcello, conveyed the artistic temperament of a struggling painter, and exuded virility to convince us of his continued appeal to Musetta. Endowed with a warm and virile baritone, he’s also an excellent actor, with huge charisma. Though he has no solo arias, he managed to stand out in the ensemble passages, whether in Act III’s quartet or Act IV’s duet with Rodolfo, “In un coupé?...O Mimì, tu più non torni”.
Unfortunately, Andrea Núnez was miscast as Musetta. Heard two years earlier in Montréal’s production of Le nozze di Figaro where she was a disappointing Susanna. Despite a pleasant timbre and solid high notes, she managed to sound shrill. She excelled in Musetta’s antics–temper tantrums, breaking dishes and most of all being coy and coquettish. However, Núnez, an excellent actress, overplayed Musetta’s coyness, to the public’s delight. It’s understandable that a coquettish woman would have charisma and charm to control her admirers, but excessive vulgarity transforms charm into grotesque ridicule. Only a fool can continue to feel attracted to such a shrew, and Brancy’s Marcello was no fool. She was at her best in Act IV when she brought Mimì to die with Rodolfo next to her. There, she managed to portray a vulnerable and sensitive woman, perhaps thus justifying Rodolfo’s attraction.
Jean-Philippe McClish, the philosopher Colline, had a commanding stage presence, but his rendition of the lovely aria “Vecchia zimarra” lacked impressive low notes. Nonetheless, he was persuasive in this aria, a farewell ode to his long‑worn winter coat that he sells in order to buy Mimì’s medicine.
Mikelis Rogers, as the musician Schaunard, a role with little to sing, made him more substantial thanks to his charisma and overpowering stage presence. His narration of the English nobleman who dared him to kill his parrot with his violin‑playing was spirited. This high baritone has an impressive voice, especially in the upper register. He may want to reexamine his Fach. There’s a good chance he is actually a Heldentenor.
As is often the case, baritone Valerian Ruminski sang both the landlord Benoît in Act I and the old fool Alcindoro, Musetta’s sugar daddy in Act II. He showed great comic verve, especially as Benoît, without being excessive. Angelo Moretti sang the cameo role of Parpignol and managed to impress in his brief phrases.
Conductor Simon Rivard brought out the great lyricism of this beloved, enduring opera. Under his baton, the Orchestre Métropolitain sounded lush, especially at such pivotal moments as the end of Act I and in Act III’s quartet. While the singers had remarkable presence throughout, Rivard didn’t hesitate to revel in Puccini’s elaborate orchestration. His approach was the perfect balance of voices and orchestra. Rivard has an obvious knack for Puccini, and one hopes to hear him again soon, especially for Puccini or even Richard Strauss.
Finally, l’Opéra de Montréal got it right with just one intermission rather than the impossible three, nearly equal to the length of the four short acts. In addition to saving time, the choice of just one maintains dramatic flow. The intelligent sets undoubtedly helped in this regard.
Despite having seen Puccini’s hit opera more times than I could count, I couldn’t help tearing up in the final act, as did most in the audience. Thanks to Racine’s staging, the splendidly convincing acting, and the mostly excellent singing, I was deeply affected. Perhaps in the future, I should forget my aversion to La bohème.
Ossama el Naggar
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