Roméo et Juliette: Great Sound Made to Smell Less Sweet

| 17 Feb 2015 | 02:13

    There are some great things about the Met's new production of Charles Charles Gounod's Roméo et Juliette.

    Any number of superlatives could be used to describe the performances and the on-stage chemistry of the principals, Natalie Dessay as Juliette and Ramon Vargas as Roméo. The splendid rotating set, designed by Johannes Leiacker, depicts astrological symbols, suns, moons, planets-clearly playing off the "star-crossed" theme of the Shakespeare play from which its derived. As always, the Met orchestra is in top shape, and Maestro Bertrand de Billy is "on the moment"; barely anybody in the audience noticed him cutting Juliette's final aria short for a cold that weakened the performance of a sick-but every bit as engaging-Dessay on the performance we attended.

    Yet these positive elements cannot fully overcome others that mar the quality of what could otherwise be an exceptional production. The most obvious is the poor costume design. Some patrons were overheard describing it as "something you find at a Renaissance fair." Roméo's garb might be described as a Crown Royale bag with stockings. Most damning, however, is the stiff stage direction; the fact that nobody is credited as a stage director is evidence of this problem. The scenes between the lovers are saved by Vargas' and Dessay's instinctive acting ability, and their love duets (e.g. the bedroom scene) are truly touching, while Capulet's ball is graced by the hand of choreographer Sean Curran (known for his exciting and imaginative work with his own company and at City Opera). Other points do not fare so well; a lot of the movement looks unmotivated and, during the crowd scenes, the chorus and the characters stand around in uninteresting clusters, as if waiting for the gimmickry of the rotating stage to wow the audience. Producer Guy Joosten should have made bold choices that enhance the drama on stage, rather than just make it look pretty.

    There is no reason for the Metropolitan to fall into mediocrity. Just across the Josie Robertson Plaza of Lincoln Center, the New York City Opera is consistently staging productions that challenge traditional notions of opera aesthetics while remaining faithful to the work and its music, despite lacking the pool of talent and resources of the bigger company. Meanwhile, the Met seems to continue on a dual trend toward traditionalism-catering to its aging patron base-and middlebrow-ness in order to attract out-of-towners and the uncultured "new money" from the city's financial markets.

    Pandering isn't new in the opera world; many beloved works in repertoire were tailored to what was popular when composed. The impresarios of the French opera of the Second Empire were particularly aggressive in targeting their offerings toward the increasingly powerful (but largely uneducated) middle class. Gounod's abilities lent themselves easily to this atmosphere, as he possessed a talent for creating sweet little melodies (e.g. Juliette's waltz "Je veux vivre," Mercutio's "La reine Mab" and the duets) that appealed to the romantic-or, rather, saccharine-tastes of this period. The libretto by Jules Barbier and Michael Carré is a treacly treatment of Shakespeare's original, eliminating many heavy elements and themes. The apothecary is absent; Frer Laurent's letter isn't delivered due to the Capulets' intervention rather than being stopped by the bubonic plague; the lovers meet in the tomb for one final duet before submitting to the poison; and most noticeably, Gounod's version all but negates female presence (Juliet's mother is gone and the wonderfully bawdy nurse completely downplayed) and ignores the culturally ingrained misogyny of the world of the play. Though Juliette constitutes a great role for coloratura sopranos, she is shamefully robbed of much heft and intellectual edge, while the opera shifts its focus onto Roméo. Shakespeare makes it clear that this is chiefly Juliet's play ("For never was a story of more woe/ Than this of Juliet and her Romeo") rather than her lover's.

    Nevertheless, the opera has proven, through the simple beauty of Gounod's music and Barbier and Carré's lyrics, that it is worthy of repertory; but like any other work, the production has to do it justice and Guy Joosten's effort barely does so-whether the fault lies in the costumes, the lifeless direction or in the stars. It does not have to be this way. Recent new productions at the Metropolitan Opera (including Julie Taymor's Die Zauberflöte, Günter Krämer's La Juive, Jurgen Flimm's Salome and even Andrei Serban's Benvenuto Cellini) have evinced the high level of innovative artistry the Met can achieve with its huge endowment. Will the Peter Gelb administration, which is establishing itself at the opera house, look to these successes and give the Met more mettle?