Léo Delibes was 30 years old when he achieved his critical breakthrough in France’s musical metropolis and created his classic Coppélia. The scenery for this fairy-tale piece was designed by Charles Nuitter, and the story was taken from E.T.A. Hoffmann’s Der Sandmann (The Sandman). In 1994 the Opéra National de Lyon performed Léo Delibes’s ballet Coppélia under the choreography of Maguy Marin. This special video production by legend Thomas Grimm was fi lmed on location in Lyon and in the studio. Star conductor Kent Nagano directs the orchestra of the Lyon National Opera.
Neeme Järvi returns to the Royal Scottish National Orchestra for a dazzling album of suites from the ballets Sylvia, La Source, and Coppélia by Delibes. Born into a musical family, Delibes enrolled at the Paris Conservatoire aged twelve, studying under several professors including Adolphe Adam. He spent the 1850s and early 1860s composing light operettas and working as a church organist, before achieving public recognition for his music for the ballet La Source in 1866. His later ballets Coppélia and Sylvia were key works in the development of modern ballet, giving the music much greater importance than was previously the case.
Léo Delibess Coppélia is not only a collection of fine dances. It is primarily an abrasive and sardonic comedy, which is somewhat unusual in the world of classical ballet. But most importantly, it is a comedy for which excellent music was composed. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovskys assessment of Delibess ballet scores, allegedly capable of overshadowing the choreography itself, is well known: What beauty, what elegance, what richness of melody, rhythm and harmony! It is not fortuitous that music from this ballet should be performed, for its own merits, during concerts. Funnily enough, the main theme of this light-hearted ballet is taken from E.T.A. Hoffmanns anything but joyful novellas mainly from The Sandman.
For all its exotically tinged, trademark Orientalism, so fashionable in late-19th-century France, Delibe's opera Lakmé is at heart a simple story of tragically misplaced love. This marvelous and sensitively wrought interpretation renders the intensity of that love story with a surprising emotional credibility. Conductor Michel Plasson allows the music's arching melodies to breathe and unfold leisurely, like a lovingly cultivated floral display; he even discovers hidden nuances within the formulaic fluff that pads Delibe's score. And his vision is shared by the outstanding principals here. As the titular Hindu princess, Natalie Dessay gives a jewel-like performance, full of stunningly shaped phrases and tapered notes that sound like spun silk (and one that can favorably compare with Joan Sutherland's account on London).
Renee Doria has a very unique voice and not a 'cookie cutter' the way a lot of sopranos nowadays sound–I can always tell it is her singing. I love her fast, fluttery vibrato and rich, warm, creamy, powerful middle voice. My only complaint is (as I've heard from some of the youtube posts) that sometimes she puts too much pressure on the notes above the staff and sounds like she is screaming them out. But here she sounds completely polished and nearly seamless from top to bottom.
Premiered by the Opera De Paris in 1870, and inspired by the fantastical writings of E.T.A. Hoffmann, Coppélia tells the story of a young man who becomes besotted with an exquisite automaton and is finally brought to his senses by his fiancée. In their production from the magnificent Palais Garnier, choreographer Patrice Bart in his final production and designer Ezio Toffolutti explore the story's darker side while doing full justice to the exuberance and elegance of Delibes’ glorious score.
This disc demonstrates that Cecilia Bartoli is as much at home in the world of the salon recital as she is in the swoops and vocal acrobatics of the Rossini coloratura repertoire. Her voice is in fine form here- -rich, resonant and full of surprising colours–but her talent for characterisation is even finer. In Pauline Viardot's "Havanaise" for example, she perfectly captures the flirtatious, almost desperate pleadings of a Spanish sailor for a French girl to accompany him on his boat –and then switches easily to the more capricious and teasing reply of the girl in French. In a number by Ravel (sung in Yiddish and Hebrew) she brings a rather elliptical exchange between a father and his young son to life with exquisite tenderness, and finds yet another voice out of her repertoire to characterise the little boy.