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Hellfire on the Bard Campus Albany
Annandale-on-Hudson (Sosnoff Theater, Fischer Center)
08/18/2024 -
Hector Berlioz: La Damnation de Faust, Opus 46
Joshua Blue (Faust), Sasha Cooke (Marguerite), Alfred Walker (Méphistophélès), Stefan Egerstrom (Brander), Emily Donato (Celestial Voice)
Bard Festival Chorale, James Bagwell (Choral Director), Children’s Chorus, Lily Cado (Choral Director), American Symphony Orchestra, Leon Botstein (Music Director, Conductor)
S. Egerstrom, A. Walker, J. Blue, S. Cooke (© Samuel A. Dog)
“A great composer must have sensitivity, imagination, and a touch of madness.”
Hector Berlioz
“A thousand artists can repeat things about hellfire, to one who can say something new about hellfire. I am that one. I choose hell.... because I like it.”
Malcolm Lowry, from Under the Volcano.
If Hector Berlioz had submitted The Damnation of Faust to Aristotle for his course on “theatrical unities”, the composer would not only get an F‑Minus. But the testy philosopher would kick him from Athens all the way back to Paris.
The “opera” or “dramatic legend” or cantata or oratorio (nobody including the composer, ever finalized an appropriate genre) was the grand finale to the most imaginative “SummerScape” at Bard College this year. Leon Botstein took a title from Jacques Barzun’s great 70-year-old book and made “Berlioz and His World” into a month‑long celebration of the whole 19th Century and (Győrgy Ligeti?) beyond.
Not only were his orchestral, vocal works and one opera performed, but the forces of Bard and the outside world presented ten imaginative program, embracing literary influences, women composers, composers as writers, revolutionary composers in an Age of Revolution, and yesterday, “Faust and the Spirit of the 19th Century.”
Added to this a program of excellent illustrations and scholarly, revealing program notes. (Who knew that revolutionary Berlioz was against the 1848 Workers Revolution?)
As to The Damnation of Faust, I have two opposing thoughts. First, it is a motley hodgepodge of anti‑flea/and/mouse choruses (okay, from Goethe’s original), sudden matricide, horses which go “Hop! Hop!”, angelic harps, a moaning hero, a dreamy heroine, a friendly Mephisto, and of course the “Hungarian March”, which has nothing to do with Goethe, Faust or anything else.
(Berlioz characteristically liked the tune when visiting Hungary and thought, “Pourquoi non??”.)
My second thought is, “To hell with literary logic.” The Damnation of Faust, even at its most absurd, is absolutely gorgeous. Endless consorts of trombones and horns, blaring choristers, two Baroque fugues, one ravishing mezzo aria, and that “hop‑hop” ending with growling tubas, harps, strings, Faust-Mephistopheles arguments...
So if theater (and this is indeed theater) is a suspension of disbelief, it was time to put aside logic and listen to this concert version of Faust. To paraphrase the oft‑quoted saying, “Listening to Berlioz’ Damnation is like reading Goethe to flashes of lightning.”
Alas, that lightning–the electric illumination–was the one quality very rare in this production.
The Bard production did have fine voices, an overwhelming chorus, the technically perfect American Symphony Orchestra, founded by Leopold Stokowski. Stokowski, though, had that innate sense of exaggeration, of electricity, even of eccentricity. And that was what this production lacked.
Leon Botstein has sterling qualities as a conductor. He knows his scores perfectly, he can bring out the best from even his youngest players. Yet from the first bars here, his sense of musical integrity wasn’t quite enough.
His orchestra played well, but the tempos were tempered, without even a scintilla of urgency. Tenor Joshua Blue has the most lyrical and melodic voice possible. Yet his complaints could have been the woes of an Irish bard rather than Goethe’s lament against the meaning of the universe.
As to Mephistopheles, Alfred Walker has a voice which could have assumed horror in each syllable. Again, we had a splendid baritone conducting his conversation like the late Doctor Ruth with a patient. Granted, this demon was less the Satan of Boito (my favorite) as Gounod. But without the Satanic costume of a stage performance, the horror was missing.
Nothing was missing from Stefan Egerstrom’s single aria as Brander. It must be youthful, filled with bravura, tossing away niceties, and Mr. Egerstrom, a frequent singer with Mr. Botstein, filled then bill.
Fortunately, the Bard Festival Chorale, under James Bagwell, had massive power throughout the production. In fact, so much power that, whether in tavern parodies or comments on Faust’s dream of beauty, they overwhelmed the solos.
Not in imbalance–the sounds, the enunciation, were ideal throughout. Yet somehow all this power was without color changes. Mr. Botstein conducted the songs dutifully, yet the fugues–marvels of Berlioz’ genius–were parodies. In this case, the counterpoint was found, the parodies lost.
S. Cooke, L. Botstein (© Samuel A. Dog)
Thus. Part I (actually the first two parts of the four‑part work) was lovely, graceful, well rehearsed, well sung, well played and...well, without tension, without urgency.
Part II showed us the mythical Marguerite in the guise of Sasha Cooke. She possesses a beautiful mezzo, her famous number “The King of Thule” was gorgeous in word and note. Somehow, though, that dream of beauty was outshone by her loss in “D’amour, l’ardente flame”. The pity, the anxiety, the desolation was uttered with ravishing wonder.
That finale going from heaven to hell and back again, I confess, is quite awful. And when done right, quite awesome. This one was awesome in spite of its too perfect conducting. It still held the attention even when diverted by a group of young singers walking into the chorus, or a pair of harpists opening the proscenium doors and marching to their instruments.
In fact, perhaps I was thinking of James Levine’s surrealistic Damnation at the Met some years ago. (Including a “Hungarian March” where the soldiers and girls marched backward across four tiers). Here, no thought was given that, even in a concert performance, we must have interaction, not three bored singers sitting, waiting for their chance to shine.
Yet with these negative thoughts, that Berlioz music is still amongst the absolute greatest operatic music until the time of Verdi and Wagner. It is gripping, absurd, magnetic: it is Art on the Grandest Notational and Emotional Scale.
And if this production was not ideal, Damnation of Faust will always suffice to satisfy, even thrill, the endless war between our inner heaven and infernal hell.
Harry Rolnick
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